Heart of Atlantis

Chapter 15

At the portal landing area, next to one section of the dome, an hour later

A single drop of water.

Only one.

Quinn and the rest of the group stared at that single drop of water as if it held the answers to all the questions of the universe. It was impossible, or so they’d told her, but the impossible drop beaded along the edge of one of the thousands of cracks and then trickled down the side of the dome to the grass.

And Quinn’s latent claustrophobia flared into excruciating existence.

“It’s really true,” she whispered, as if any sound could send the whole structure crashing down around their ears. Of all the ways she’d imagined her demise over the years, death by suffocation and drowning, while being crushed by water pressure, had not even once been among them.

Figured.

“What are we going to do?”

Alaric put an arm around her and pulled her close to his side, as if he could protect her from anything, even a collapsing dome over a soon-to-be-lost-for-real continent.

“We shore up the dome’s magical barrier, continue to stabilize the Trident, kill Ptolemy the pretender, retrieve Poseidon’s Pride, restore it to the Trident, force Atlantis to rise, and save, as you would say, the day,” Alaric said calmly.

But she was aknasha, and even as fiercely as he was shielding, she could feel that some very strong emotion was going on under that veneer of control. Not quite yet “oh, god, oh, god, we’re all gonna die” emotion; not Alaric, maybe not ever that, but certainly “oh, holy whale shit, how am I going to pull this out of my ass” emotion.

She was feeling kind of “oh, holy whale shit” herself.

So it was more than a little surreal when one swam by. An actual whale. She stared into its massive eye as it looked back at her, and she wondered hysterically if they could hitch a ride.

“How can a whale survive down here at this pressure?”

“There are many species of marine life who have adapted to a deep, deep sea environment,” Alaric said.

She knew it wasn’t important, given the situation, but it was still interesting.

“We will also start evacuating everyone we can through the portal, but it takes no more than several at a time, so it would be an impossibility to save everyone that way,” Conlan said, lines of strain clear on his face.

“Riley and the baby must go,” Quinn said immediately. “Are they even awake?”

“Yes, I sent to her to grab whatever she needed for the baby, and Marcus, my captain of the guard, will escort them here in a few minutes,” Conlan said.

“You will go with them,” Alaric told Quinn. “If I have to throw you into the portal myself.”

“I’m not leaving if there is anything here I can do,” she said. “I can help organize the evacuation. I’ve had a lot of experience with large groups over the past ten years.”

Alaric’s eyes glowed such a hot green she was almost distracted from their argument. “Don’t your eyes get hot when they get all glowy like that? I’d think it would fry your eyeballs. You’re going to get cataracts or something. Also, haven’t you learned by now that you can’t order me around?”

Alaric snarled—actually snarled, like a feral animal—and she was only saved from whatever he’d been about to say when the portal suddenly flared into existence.

“What is this?” Conlan took a step back.

“Did you call?” Alaric asked.

Conlan shook his head. “No. Riley’s not here yet.”

That same deep, resonant voice she’d heard before spoke from the heart of the portal. “You have need, Quinn Dawson?”

Quinn’s mouth fell open. “What? No, I don’t need you. Thanks, but I’m going to stay and help out—”

The rest of her words were cut off as the portal swept Quinn into its center. The last thing she saw was Alaric leaping after her, reaching for her, before he crashed to the ground as both she and the portal vanished in a vortex of swirling light.

All she had time to think was Oh, he’s going to be so pissed off, before the portal abruptly dumped her onto a street that looked vaguely familiar.

“Oh, how did she do that? Is she part of your act?”

Quinn blinked in the early light of what she realized was dawn. They’d somehow spent the entire night dealing with the Trident, at least if she’d stayed in the same time zone this time. The elderly woman who’d asked the question about an act was dressed in pink from the hat perched on top of her blue-tinted white curls to the tips of her neon-pink tennis shoes.

“What act? Where am I?” Quinn looked around, but her tired brain hadn’t yet caught up with the rest of her.

“Tied one on last night, I bet,” a man said. He was not wearing pink, but a very large blue sports jersey that said TEAM BEER and strained against his oversized belly. “Doesn’t even recognize the Naked Cowboy.”

Quinn whipped her head to the side, and sure enough, there he was in all of his not-so-glorious reality. The Naked Cowboy. She looked up, and up, and up, and confirmed she was standing in the middle of Times Square, New York.

The portal certainly did have a sense of humor.

She suspected the members of the NYPD approaching the group, however, did not, and she was carrying three knives and two guns. Two unregistered guns for which she did not hold a concealed carry permit.

She smiled at the tourists and bowed with a flourish, as if she were indeed part of the act, ducking her head to avoid photographs, and let out a relieved breath when the police kept moving on by. Then she started walking, slowly and nonchalantly, as if she had all the time in the world, in the opposite direction. She was exhausted, starving, and worried sick about her sister, her nephew, Alaric, and everyone else in Atlantis. One problem at a time, though, and the only one she could solve in the middle of Times Square was breakfast.

After purchasing a bagel and coffee from a sidewalk vendor with some of the small amount of cash in her pocket, she headed down a side street, away from the tourist heart of the city, to eat, caffeinate, and think. She spent a few more of her precious dollars on a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap, since her face had been plastered all over the news by Ptolemy and his stunt. As she approached an electronics store, she noticed a crowd gathering in front of its banks of screens.

“What’s going on?” she asked a man wearing a couple of weeks’ worth of straggly beard, a ragged flannel shirt, and jeans at least three sizes too large for him. He smelled like he lived in a doorway and, unfortunately for him, he probably did. The vampires in Congress weren’t big on spending money on social programs for homeless humans.

They preferred to just eat them.

She schooled herself not to flinch at the stench, though. She didn’t want to insult a potential source of information any more than she wanted to hurt his feelings, and anyway, there had been times in her life when she hadn’t had a roof over her head, either.

“They’re talking about that Atlantis fella again. Says he’s going to unite with the vampires, since the United Nations won’t listen to him.” The man looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Nice-looking bagel.”

She broke off half and handed it to him. She’d been hungry, too, more times than she could count. “Another press conference? Dude’s a glory hound, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but not till eight A.M. Wants prime coverage, I guess.”

The news reporter on the screen arranged her too-perfect features into a smile. “So there you have it. Ptolemy Reborn, who claims to be the rightful king of Atlantis, will be holding a joint press conference with the mayor and Senator Hengell at nine. Back to you, Ann!”

Quinn ventured one more question before she moved on. “Where is that, do you know? That building she’s standing in front of?”

The man rolled his eyes. “Didn’t take you for a tourist. That’s City Hall.”

Quinn thanked him and headed off, careful to amble like she didn’t have a care in the world, as she heard the news anchor on the TVs behind her make a reference to Ptolemy’s message for “alleged rebel leader Quinn Dawson.”

“Hey! Hey, lady!”

She ignored the shouting and kept walking, only hurrying her pace a tiny bit. Nothing too suspicious to any observer.

“Hey, thanks for the bagel!”

Her shoulders slumped in relief, and without slowing, she raised a hand in acknowledgment and kept right on going. She didn’t take a full breath, though, until she’d reached the end of the block and rounded the corner.

That was too close. Any one of those people could have recognized her through her pitiful disguise, and then what? She didn’t have time to be detained. She needed to find Ptolemy, retrieve the gem, and return it to Alaric before he blew some kind of magical gasket trying to keep the Trident from blowing up the dome.

Alaric was probably furious by now. She couldn’t help it; she grinned.

“You won’t like me when I’m angry,” she growled in true Bruce Banner fashion, and then she started laughing when a woman passing by gave her the finger.

“Oh, yeah. I’m in New York.”

She finished the coffee, dumped the cup in a handy trash can, and headed for a souvenir shop to find a map of the city. She needed to be at City Hall by eight.

Alaric paced and ranted and swore and raved until Conlan threatened to hit him over the head with the nonpointed end of a spear.

“She’s gone. Unprotected. Every single murderer and thug on the planet will have seen her face by now, and she’s up there all alone because the portal has decided, for the first time in all of recorded history, to do whatever in the nine hells it feels like doing!” Alaric was shouting by the end of it, and Conlan narrowed his eyes and picked up the spear.

“I’m not kidding. I will hand your ass to you on a plate, and you are too busy keeping the Trident from nuclear meltdown, and the dome from collapsing, to zap me with magic, so for once it would be a fair fight,” the pain-in-the-ass high prince of Atlantis said.

Alaric forced himself to take a deep breath. “Fine. I will calm down. I will pretend that the entire continent is not about to be destroyed. I will pretend that the sea god is not ignoring us. I will pretend that I can do this on my own, even though the Trident grows more unstable with every second that passes, and I am nearly at the limits of my strength already.”

He bared his teeth at Conlan. “Don’t we all feel better already?”

His entire body pulsed with the strain of pushing more magic than he’d ever channeled, and the Trident kept increasing its erratic instability. He knew he didn’t have much longer, if something didn’t happen to shore up the balance on his side of the equation.

“We need one for the good guys, as Quinn would say,” he said, flinching as a sharp pain stabbed him in the temple.

Conlan’s eyes widened a fraction, and he reached over to touch Alaric’s ear. His finger came back red with blood.

“Just how much power are you having to expend to keep the dome from shattering?”

Alaric grimly shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

A shout heralded Marcus’s arrival at the head of an armed contingent of half a dozen warriors surrounding Riley and the baby, Erin, and Keely with Eleni.

Erin and Keely were both furious, and they immediately started letting Conlan know it.

“We are not about to scuttle through the portal like rats abandoning a sinking ship, when we can stay here and help,” Erin said.

“I’m surprised Marcus managed to drag you out here,” Alaric said, before wincing as another sharp pain in his head nearly blinded him. At this rate, he’d be dead before the dome collapsed, anyway.

“He threatened to stab us,” Keely said dryly. “When we didn’t believe him, he threatened to stab that guy.” She pointed to a youngling barely old enough to hold his sword.

Marcus nodded grimly. “And they knew damn well I’d do that.”

The young warrior gulped audibly, but stood tall and tried to look brave. Conlan laughed a little before he pulled Riley and Aidan into a fierce embrace. Alaric tried not to envy Conlan those last moments with his family, even as every fiber of his being demanded that he abandon the battle to contain the Trident and go after Quinn.

“You know, he would have done it. He stabbed me once, in training,” he told the young man, whose eyes grew huge.

Keely took in the situation with her scientist’s keen grasp of a problem, and then turned to Alaric. “Right. Where’s Quinn? You two need to reach the soul-meld, right here and now, or Atlantis isn’t going to survive.”