Atlantis Unmasked Page 5

  Alexios ran a hand through his hair, wincing when he hit the part of his scalp still tender from the shifter’s attack. “It wasn’t a mistake. We’ve been friends for a very long time, and I am honored beyond the telling of it that you would ask me to serve as second pack-father. I accept, if you still want me.” He offered his hand, and with only a moment’s hesitation, Lucas grasped it in his own. A shared understanding passed between them, and Alexios knew that he, too, would protect Lucas’s children with his life.

  “Lovely. Really touching. Maybe we can eat chocolate and watch a chick flick next,” Christophe said. “Or maybe we can figure out how in the nine hells they knew we were here? Whatever else that was, it wasn’t random. Not only were they here for us but they seemed to be targeting Alexios personally.”

  “I also had noticed they were focusing on Alexios,” but I am not a particular fan of romantic comedy films,” Brennan said. “Lucas, did you mention this meeting to anyone else?”

  Lucas was already shaking his head. “No. Like I said, I wanted to talk to you about what was going on. Vampires enthralling shifters. Pack acting contrary to our own best interests. Something big is going on—something different. The vamps have found a way to permanently enthrall shifters, Alexios. I don’t need to tell you what that means for the survival of Pack—not to mention the survival of the humans.”

  “Were these members of your pack?” Alexios demanded.

  “No. Definitely not. You know we can tell Pack from scent. No way were those from mine. To the best of my knowledge, they weren’t from anywhere around here.”

  “To the best of your knowledge doesn’t seem to be worth much, no offense,” Christophe sneered. Faint silvery-green power still pulsed at the edges of his fingertips. “It’s getting harder and harder to tell who’s on our side these days.”

  Lucas growled deep in his throat, more wolf than man. “You keep saying ‘no offense,’ and yet you are most certainly offending me. It occurs to me to ask why you felt the need to kill all four of the remaining attackers. We needed one alive to question. Maybe it’s an Atlantean who’s the traitor,” he said, his gaze drilling into Christophe. “No offense. ”

  Alexios stepped between them. “All right, already. Let’s compare the lengths of our dicks later. Right now we need to figure out who is behind this attack, and why.”

  “I would suggest the Primator, Vonos,” Brennan said calmly. Of course, Brennan had been calm for longer than anyone really knew, since something about a Roman senator’s daughter had gone bad and Poseidon had cursed him never again to feel emotion, forever destroying Brennan’s life.

  Or maybe not. Maybe having no emotions was a better way to live.

  Something in his gut twisted at the thought, but he put it, and any thoughts of Grace, back in a box to be dealt with later. Much later.

  “Could be Vonos,” Christophe admitted. “But it doesn’t smell like him. He’s more about power and efficiency than the usual bad-guy evil bwah-ha-ha crap. He and Mussolini were probably buddies.”

  Ever since vampires, shifters, and other supernatural creatures had openly declared themselves to exist around a decade ago, they’d been rapidly gaining ground in terms of legal rights. The new, all-vampire third house of Congress, the Primus, didn’t exactly get staffed by election. Vampires didn’t vote. The vamp who was old enough, powerful enough, and ruthless enough to take it was the one who won the coveted position of Primator, ruler of the Primus. Right now, that meant Vonos.

  “Vonos is definitely not on our side, and he’s bad news. Worse than Barrabas, even,” Alexios said. “At least with Barrabas, we could use his hot temper against him. This Vonos is as cold as those ice spears you used, Christophe. Nice job, by the way.”

  Christophe’s grin would have terrified any humans who happened to see it. “Thanks. I’ve been practicing. I would have thought Vonos was too busy with his new job as Primator to be messing with enthralling shifters in Yellowstone.”

  “I heard you all had something to do with that. Senator Barnes’s disappearance, I mean,” Lucas said.

  “Senator Barnes.” Christophe snorted. “Barrabas, you mean. Damn leech had a lot to answer for.”

  “Yeah, that was us,” Alexios said. “Long story. Vonos is the new big bad and apparently he’s trying to blaze a name for himself as being even more powerful than Barrabas.”

  “We need to investigate this further,” Brennan said. “I would suggest we return to Atlantis and see if we’ve had news from Tiernan and her fellow journalists. The movement to enthrall the shape-shifters is sweeping the country; not only that, but we have recently had news that the same is occurring in Asia and Europe. Maybe even Africa.”

  Christophe rolled his eyes. “Sure. That’s the only reason you want to get in touch with Tiernan. It’s not like you went bat-shit crazy and almost dropped her and banged her on the spot when you first met her or anything.”

  “Christophe—” Alexios began, but Brennan held up a hand.

  “As you know, I have no memory of this occurrence. In any event, I would suggest we return to Atlantis immediately and refrain from further pointless discussion on this or other issues until we are in possession of more facts.”

  “I’ll second that,” Alexios agreed. “Lucas—”

  But Lucas’s gaze was turned inward; he stood straining toward the east, his head lifted into the wind. “It’s time. Honey is ready to go into labor. I have to get back to her. Now.”

  “Are you sure? Do you need us? Is there anything we can do?”

  Lucas shook his head and grasped Alexios’s proffered hand. “No, my friend. This is a time for Pack and celebration. We’ll talk again soon. I give you my bond as alpha of the Yellowstone Pack that we will work together on this. The bloodsuckers don’t have a chance against the combined might of Pack and Atlantis.”

  Lucas grinned fiercely, again more wolf than man. He threw back his head and called out a long, undulating howl. “Until then, Alexios. Right now, I’m going to be a father.”

  With that, Lucas took off running in a blur of speed. Before he hit the tree line he was already fully wolf. Alexios watched him for a moment, silently wishing him well, and then turned back to Brennan and Christophe.

  “I think it’s time for us to go as well. We can do nothing more here.”

  “And these?” Brennan said, gesturing toward the fallen shifters, who had returned to their human forms in death.

  “Lucas will take care of them. For us to do anything with their bodies might violate pack law.”

  “Let’s get out of here then,” Christophe said. “It’s still early enough to find a top-notch ale and a woman with a big, round ass who is willing to do very nasty things to me.”

  Alexios shook his head. “Seriously, Christophe, you need help. In the worst way.”

  Christophe laughed. “That’s what I’m talking about. The worst way.”

  Brennan gestured with one hand, and the familiar ovoid shape of the portal began to form in the air. When the iridescent shape had lengthened and widened enough to allow them to pass into Atlantis, their first sight was of half a dozen portal guards crouched at full battle readiness, swords and spears aimed directly at them. The soldiers all wore the silver and cerulean blue of the Atlantean royal guard, and the sight of them was certainly enough to give pause to any who dared to try forcible entry. Not that the portal had ever once opened to an enemy in more than eleven thousand years.

  As far as they knew.

  Alexios drew his daggers and stepped forward but didn’t cross over yet. “Status?”

  Captain Marcus bowed and then gestured to his men to stand down. “Lord Alexios. Be welcome.”

  Alexios sheathed his daggers as the portal guards lowered and sheathed their own weapons. “Status?” he repeated, eyes narrowing.

  “Apologies, my lord, but it is happening,” the steely-eyed veteran said, breaking into an uncharacteristic grin. “Lady Riley has gone into labor, and the heir to the throne of a
ll Atlantis is even now making his or her way into the world. I believed that increased security at this time would be prudent.”

  Behind Alexios, Christophe let out a whoop. “It’s about time. Now maybe Conlan can quit walking around with the stick shoved up his—”

  “Thank you,” Alexios said. “We’d better get to the palace, then.”

  He waved his arm and first Brennan, then Christophe headed through the portal. As Christophe passed him, Alexios grabbed his arm in a very unfriendly grip. “Say anything like that about our high prince again, and it will be my boot up your ass,” he growled quietly so that no one else would hear.

  Christophe yanked his arm free, eyes flashing a darker green as he drew power to himself. “I’m getting awfully tired of being threatened, Alexios. Know it.”

  “My lord?” the guard called. “The portal is shrinking.”

  Alexios crossed through the magical entry into Atlantis behind Christophe, wondering what would happen if the day ever came that he was forced to challenge him. The warrior’s ability to channel power was nearly as great as that of High Priest Alaric, and Alexios knew that Alaric could kick his ass in a fight.

  Of course, Alexios had learned a trick or two over the centuries, too.

  But tonight was not the time for dark thoughts of future betrayals. Tonight was for celebrating. He clapped his hand on the captain’s shoulder. “The ale is on me tonight. My friend becomes a father, and Atlantis gains an heir!”

  The guards roared out their approval, shaking their spears in the air as they shouted and cheered. Brennan glanced back over his shoulder and raised one eyebrow before he and Christophe shimmered into mist and headed for the palace.

  “Please tell the prince and his lady that we are all praying for Poseidon’s blessing upon them, my lord,” Marcus said.

  “I will, and I know he will appreciate it.” Alexios took a running start and leapt into the air, transforming into mist as he did so, then arrowed toward the palace, thoughts whirling.

  Finally. An heir to Atlantis. Perhaps he would be the first Atlantean in millennia to grow up knowing the land walkers’ world, after Atlantis took its rightful place on the surface

  If Atlantis ever took its rightful place on the surface. Because if what Justice’s woman, Keely, had said was true, then they had to retrieve the rest of the Trident’s missing gems or Atlantis would be destroyed as it tried to rise from the depths of the ocean.

  Landing on the balcony of his rooms in the palace, Alexios swiftly returned to human form, dropped his weapons on the bed, and then headed for the throne room, nearly running. Before he made it halfway down the corridor, Brennan appeared at the other end, his face as grim as Alexios had ever seen it.

  Alexios slowed to a stop, his heart plummeting. No. It couldn’t be. Not the baby. There had been so many problems during her pregnancy—the first Atlantean-human mating in recorded history. He was unable to form the words to ask the question, but Brennan answered him anyway.

  “It goes badly. Riley and the baby are both at risk.” Brennan’s face hardened. “Alexios, they might die.”

  Thousands of miles away from Atlantis, driving a beat-up old Jeep down a nearly deserted road, Grace felt a wave of anguish slice through her heart like a finely honed katana. But she’d never felt a Japanese sword pierce that particular part of her anatomy. Once through the side, sure. A couple of hits on arms and legs. But never a chest wound.

  Yanking the steering wheel to the right, Grace pulled off onto the edge of the road and put her head down on the steering wheel, gasping for air until the pain passed. The Fae. That damn elf must have done something to her. Some sort of delayed reaction spell.

  But even as the thought entered her mind, she realized it didn’t ring true. The pain hadn’t felt like Fae magic.

  It had felt like Alexios. Wherever he was, he was hurting.

  And, warrior woman or not, descendant of Diana or not, there was nothing she could do about it.

  Chapter 4

  Atlantis, the palace

  Alexios followed Brennan through the giant doorway into the opulent palace throne room, barely noticing the pristine white marble floor inlaid with designs of gold, copper, and sparkling orichalcum, a metal unique to Atlantis. He strode past the marble columns and never spared a glance for the ornate golden throne that had fascinated him so as a child, but simply followed Brennan through yet another doorway, this one much smaller, into another room, also much smaller. Prince Conlan’s private meeting room. Conlan had never been much of one for pomp and circumstance; the formal elegance of the throne room his father had ruled over had never held much appeal. Most of the important business of the kingdom was conducted here, on comfortable chairs and at battered wooden tables.

  That is, most of the business of peace. For the rest, Conlan and his elite guard met in the war room. Another refuge, though starkly utilitarian. Another scarred wooden table. Alexios shook his head to clear it of fancy. The baby and Riley might be dying, and he was thinking about stupid tables. He was a fool.

  Or else his mind was trying to protect him with denial. Alexios had seen more than his share of death over the centuries, but the child’s life had never had a chance to begin.

  “Please, Poseidon, hear my plea,” he whispered urgently, a fist squeezing the place inside his chest where his heart had once been. Now, he was sure that nothing but a blackened husk remained of heart and hope. If the baby died . . . but no. He wouldn’t think it.

  He couldn’t think it.

  Entering the room, he saw Justice and Keely first. Lord Justice, now that they all knew he was half brother to Prince Conlan and his brother, Ven, the King’s Vengeance.

  Not that Ven would put up with being called prince anything.

  Justice had his arms around Keely, like he always did. Ever since both the Atlantean and the Nereid halves of his personality had come together and soul-melded with Keely, the warrior was rarely far from her side.

  Alexios ruthlessly squashed the twinge of envy he often felt at the sight of them. They were self-contained. Complete in each other, not needing anyone else. If anyone deserved to have that kind of happiness, it was Justice. He’d fought against a cursed birthright for centuries, unable to claim his own brothers as kin. Now he had a new family: Keely and their adopted daughter, Eleni, a beautiful Guatemalan child who’d lost her parents to vicious vampire attacks.

  They deserved to be happy. All of them deserved to be happy. It was a sign of his weakness and a flaw in his character that he envied even one moment of it.

  Keely looked up at exactly that moment and caught sight of him. “Oh, Alexios,” she cried out. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

  Pulling away from Justice, she ran across the room and threw herself into Alexios’s arms, sobbing. “Did Brennan tell you? It’s so awful. Erin is with them, of course, with her gem-singing healing Gift. She’s helping Marie do everything they can.”

  Alexios was so startled by her actions that he almost didn’t comprehend her words. His instinct to comfort, rusty with disuse, finally kicked in, and he awkwardly lifted an arm to pat her back, warily watching Justice. Justice returned his gaze steadily, his lips quirking into a flicker of a smile that quickly vanished.

  “They will be able to heal Riley and the child,” Justice said, not a shadow of doubt in his voice.

  Keely lifted her head from Alexios’s shoulder and took a shuddering breath. She nodded, scrubbing her face with her hands. Alexios quickly dropped his arms to his sides, releasing her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice shaking. “Some tough archaeologist I am, right? I’m just so glad you’re all back. Strength in numbers and prayers, you know? Christophe went to help, add his power to Alaric’s or something, and it’s just—it’s just that I’ve gotten to know Riley so well and if . . . if . . . if something happens to her or the baby—”

  Quicker than thought, Justice was beside her, gathering her into his arms. “Hush, mi amara, hush. We will not l
et any part of our family come to harm. Let us continue to offer our prayers to Poseidon, the gods of the Nereid, and your own Christian god. Surely strength in numbers, as you say, cannot hurt with gods.”

  Alexios stepped away to give them some privacy and crossed the floor toward Denal, who knelt on the floor, his dark head resting against the arm of the chair. As Alexios approached, he realized the youngling was mumbling an ancient Atlantean prayer under his breath. He stopped, not wanting to interrupt, but Denal raised his head, and Alexios got another shock. Denal’s eyes were sunken into his skull, and harsh lines had appeared almost from nowhere on the planes and angles of his face.