Siren's Surrender

by Devyn Quinn

  Chapter 5

  Gwen was just about to lift her hand and knock on Tessa’s door when Addison and Agent Whittaker came zooming up.

  “Get in the house!” Addison warned, twisting the knob and flinging the door open. “We’ve got trouble!”

  “What the—” Gwen had no time to finish her sentence. Whittaker barreled in from behind, practically shoving her under the threshold. “Move it!” he shouted.

  Gwen stumbled into Addison, who tripped and hit the floor, skidding painfully on her hands and knees. This in turn scared the hell out of Tessa, who yelped and dropped the coffeepot in her hand. The pot shattered into a billion pieces. Shards of glass and boiling-hot coffee splattered everywhere.

  Splashed by the hot liquid, Addison squealed and scrambled to her feet. “Ow! That fucking hurt!” Glass crunched under her tennis shoes.

  Thoroughly pissed off, Tessa grabbed a roll of paper towels. “Quit clowning around, Addison!” she snapped.

  “She isn’t clowning.” Whittaker slammed the door shut, and locked it. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we’re being attacked.”

  Gwen’s jaw dropped. Tessa’s followed. “Attacked?” they chimed simultaneously.

  Alarmed by the commotion in his kitchen, Kenneth Randall hurried in. “I thought I heard glass breaking. What happened?”

  Gwen shrugged helplessly. One minute she’d been walking along. The next she’d been shoved into the middle of pandemonium. She had no clue about anything. For some reason Addison and Whittaker had all of a sudden turned into maniacs. “I don’t know.”

  Addison supplied the answer. “That thing you said you took care of in the Mediterranean—I don’t think you quite finished the job.”

  Recognizing the reference, Gwen felt the blood in her veins turn to ice. “Oh, my God,” she started to say. “They can’t be here.”

  Addison gave her a wild look. “They are, and they’re about to play some catch up.” The words barely left her mouth before a blast hit the door behind Whittaker. Flaming bits and pieces of wood flew through the kitchen. A hole about the size of a baseball appeared, edges still smoking and sizzling from the intense detonation of energy against it.

  Whittaker beat at the flames chewing up his jacket. “Shit, I’m on fire!”

  Another sizzling blast tore through the door. A third followed. It was beginning to disintegrate. In another few minutes there would be nothing left.

  Kenneth paled, the blood instantly draining from his face. “Everybody hit the basement,” he ordered. “Now!” He grabbed for his wife, pulling her over to his side.

  Nobody questioned his command.

  Realizing he didn’t know up from down, Gwen grabbed Whittaker’s arm. “This way,” she urged, dragging the confused agent in the direction Kenneth indicated.

  One by one they clattered down the narrow staircase. Kenneth brought up the rear, herding them all toward the back of the basement. “Hit the safe room,” he snapped.

  Hand still clamped around Whittaker’s arm, Gwen dragged him into a small concrete room. The final sliver of light disappeared when steel scraped against concrete.

  Then everything was black. Pitch-black. The space was cold, the gloom impenetrable.

  A minute later, a set of emergency lights snapped on.

  Gwen blinked as the glare hit her eyes. So did everybody else.

  Everyone looked around.

  Addison was the first to find her voice. “I think we made it.”

  Kenneth stood in front of a panel, punching more buttons. More lights came on. “It’s not finished, but I think we’ll be okay for a while.” His face took on a grim, shadowed cast.

  Whittaker shook off Gwen’s hand. “People usually don’t have panic rooms unless they’re expecting trouble.” He turned an unblinking gaze toward Kenneth. “I take it those women who just tried to turn me into cinders are a part of that trouble.”

  Kenneth’s jaw tightened. “You could say that.”

  Whittaker nodded. Now that the shock of the moment had passed, his features had reverted back to immobile. His expression might have been cast in lead for all the emotion he was showing. “Mind telling me why they want to kill you?”

  “I hope you’re prepared to stay a while,” Addison piped in. “This is going to be one hell of a long story.”

  Gwen inwardly winced. The narrative involving Ishaldi and the opening of a tomb that was really a sea-gate-come-portal that led into another realm was almost too incredible to be believed. She’d hardly been able to comprehend the tale when she’d first heard it from beginning to end.

  This is too much. Whittaker’s going to think we’re all nuts.

  Or maybe he wouldn’t.

  Given the fact he’d just been ambushed, he might have more of an open mind. Either way, the situation definitely sucked.

  Kenneth hedged. “Let’s get settled in, first,” he finally said. “Then we’ll talk.”

  Agent Whittaker shook his head. “No time. I need to get out of here, and get those people into custody.” He looked around. “Where’s the communications center?”

  Kenneth ruefully pointed to a section of wall where another panel was installed. Unfortunately it was just a jumble of parts and wires. “We were still in the process of putting in a two-way radio system,” he explained ruefully.

  “I’ll handle it.” Whittaker dug in his pocket and retrieved his cell. He flipped it open. “Damn.”

  Gwen glanced at his phone, a sleek little ultramodern number. “Let me guess. No signal.”

  “Right.” Whittaker flipped his phone shut. “So much for the global coverage Uncle Sam has been paying for.”

  “Cell reception is iffy on the island,” Addison said. “There are some places around here where you can’t get a signal. That’s why we have to rely on the old shortwave radios for communication with the mainland.”

  The agent pocketed his phone. “Guess that means we take care of things ourselves.”

  Kenneth spread his hands. “Everyone just calm down.” He looked toward his wife. “Get some coffee. I think we’ve got some explaining to do.”

  Addison glanced at the ceiling over their heads. “I wonder if we’ve got time to drink a cup. Our visitors have got enough firepower to blast the house to bits.”

  Tessa gave a little start, dodging the comment clearly aimed her way. “I’ll get the coffee.”

  Kenneth patted the walls. “It’s solid concrete all around us, and its several feet thick. They shouldn’t be able to get in.”

  Addison gave the steel door shutting them in a glum look. “Yeah, but that means we can’t get out.”

  “That’s a lot of precaution,” Whittaker commented.

  Kenneth’s hand dropped. “We were hoping we’d never need it.”

  Addison eyed the small room. “Just remember the Titanic sank on its maiden voyage.”

  Her words struck Gwen as totally self-defeating. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Folding her arms across her chest, Addison leaned back against one bare wall. “I think it means we’re in a whole lot of trouble, for sure.”

  Gwen snapped, “Quit thinking.”

  Taking a minute to catch her breath and organize her thoughts, she looked around. When she was a kid, the basement had served as an emergency shelter during hurricane season. But it was nowhere near as elaborate as it was now. Recent renovations had turned what was a simple safe haven into an underground bunker.

  Approximately thirty-three by fourteen, the bare concrete room had been outfitted as a small campsite, complete with a propane heater, microwave, fold-out table, and some chairs. A bunk bed set and adjoining bathroom with a shower completed the area. A small closet held a stash of supplies, including canned goods, bottled water, and other necessary items that were good in an emergency.

  Tessa dug out some instant coffee and a gallon of drinking water. Her hands shook as she tried to take off the lid.

  Kenneth stepped over to his wife. He ga
ve her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Let me.” He took over, filling the cups with water before heating them in the microwave.

  Tessa gave her husband a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

  With a slight wince, Whittaker slipped off his charred jacket. Deep furrows of pain had etched themselves into his forehead, yet he bore his discomfort with remarkable stoicism. “Any chance there’s a first-aid kit in there somewhere?” He jabbed a finger through the hole in his jacket. “I’ve got a few hurts that need patching.”

  Noticing his injuries for the first time, Gwen gasped. “You’re hurt.” Shirt burned clean through, his right arm was a mass of scorched flesh.

  Addison pushed herself away from the wall. “I can handle this.” She headed over to the closet to dig around. “Right here.” A moment later she produced her find. The familiar red cross was marked on the case. “Have a seat and I’ll patch you right up.”

  “Gwen,” Kenneth prompted as he distributed steaming cups of coffee on the table. “Set out a few more chairs, would you?”

  Head still spinning, Gwen nodded. “Sure.” Functioning on autopilot, she unfolded a few more chairs. Her numb fingers barely functioned. Somehow she managed to handle the task.

  Whittaker took a seat and offered his injured arm to Addison, who was laying out her equipment with precision. She was rock solid. As an EMT, Addison was trained to keep her cool and her wits in an emergency situation.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that,” he remarked. “That’s one hell of a weapon they’ve got.”

  Face practically encased in stone, Addison cut away his sleeve. “You’re fortunate it just grazed you,” she mumbled. “Too bad Lucky didn’t live up to his name.”

  Those who hadn’t been outside when the trouble began turned their gazes toward Addison and Whittaker. That included Gwen.

  She frowned. “What about Lucky?”

  Addison didn’t look up from her work. “He didn’t make it.” Her tone was cold, clinical. She was speaking as a professional medic and not a personal friend of the deceased. Grief would come later, when she’d had time to decompress.

  Tessa gaped at her sister in horror. “Oh, no. That can’t be.” She stumbled toward a chair and sat down. A fine tremor shook her body. “Are you sure?”

  Addison nodded. “He took a dead-on hit. You don’t survive when something like that finds you.”

  Kenneth frowned darkly. “Oh, man. That’s bad. Just bad.” His voice held a tinge of sorrow. “We didn’t think it would come to this.”

  A raw, deep slice went straight through Gwen’s heart. She’d always liked Lucky. The old man knew they were Mer and had never said a word to another living soul. He’d worked for her family almost all his life, just like his father before him.

  A single tear streamed down her cheek. She hurriedly wiped it away. “He was a good man.”

  “Too good to die that way,” Addison added. “But I won’t forget what those bitches did. I’ll get even. Somehow, I will.”

  Conversation dwindled off into silence. Nobody seemed to know what to say.

  As the odd man out, Whittaker was the first to speak again. He glanced at his injured arm. “Damn thing was like a laser. Burned right through me.”

  Addison applied an antiseptic wash and a layer of salve. “It’s pretty clean. The injury is deep, but the heat cauterized the blood vessels, so you won’t bleed to death.” She wrapped his arm in a loose layer of gauze. “All in all, I’d say you’re going to live.”

  Grunting his approval, Whittaker lifted his arm. “Still hurts like hell.”

  Addison dug back into her kit, offering up a generic brand of ibuprofen. “This ought to help a little.”

  The agent gritted his teeth against the agony. “Thanks.” He popped the caplets into his mouth and swallowed. He glanced at his shirt, now missing almost an entire sleeve. “Guess I need to be grateful I still have an arm.”

  Tessa offered the agent a cup of hot coffee. “I’m sorry.” She shot a glance toward Kenneth. “If we’d have had any idea something like this was going to happen, we would have contacted the authorities sooner.”

  Shoulders slumping, Kenneth stared into his coffee, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. “We weren’t sure if we should say anything,” he added.

  Gwen hated to see the two backed into a corner. Even though Tessa and Kenneth had both wanted to go to the government with their discovery, she’d been the one to kibosh the idea. It was better to lay low, she’d said, than to lay their story out and possibly come off looking like fools. The sea-gate had been destroyed. As far as Gwen was concerned, that was the end of it.

  But it isn’t over, she realized. Some of the Mer who had crossed into earth’s waters had obviously survived.

  And now there’d be hell to pay.

  Gwen turned to the agent. “It wasn’t their fault.” Inside, her nerves were crackling and sparking as she spoke. “I’m the one who decided we should say nothing about the incident in the Mediterranean.”

  Whittaker blew out a breath. “Excuse me, can somebody please explain to me what is going on?”

  Tessa’s hands dropped. “It’s about Ishaldi.” Her reply was low, almost inaudible to all ears. “We found it,” she told Whittaker. Her bottom lip trembled as she spoke. “We found a lost world.”

  Gwen’s heart slammed against her ribs, threatening to pound its way through her chest. She’d always prayed this moment would never come. Now it had. And people were going to know all about the Mer.

  Goddess help us, she prayed silently.

  Blake wasn’t sure what was going on, but he did know one thing: These people were hiding something huge. What he’d personally witnessed outside was enough to boggle the mind. The arsenal those women had—like the one nearly blasting him into kingdom come—was unlike anything he’d ever seen in his life. A bejeweled trinket that shot beams of fire.

  Something like that was out of this world.

  And very dangerous. His arm was proof of that. He didn’t even want to imagine what Lucky’s remains might look like. Gruesome, to be sure.

  Blake pulled in a breath and spread his hands. “You mentioned you’d found Ishaldi. The dossier I read equated it to some sort of vanished continent, similar to Atlantis. Am I right?”

  Kenneth stepped up behind his wife. His hands settled on her shoulders, giving a squeeze of reassurance. “There’s so much to tell.” He shook his head as if baffled at how to continue.

  “Start at the beginning,” Blake urged. “I’d like to know everything, every last detail.”

  Kenneth Randall frowned stubbornly. “Just who are you, anyway?”

  Blake tilted back his head, blowing out a breath. Here he was, locked in an underground hiding place with a wounded arm and some guy was demanding his credentials. Only people with something to hide got antsy when the feds came around.

  “I’m Special Agent Blake Whittaker, Boston office.” He attempted to keep his answer conversational and not confrontational. This was definitely not the time or the place to make enemies.

  Kenneth’s gaze continued to brew suspicion. “Got a badge to go with that introduction?”

  Blake was more than happy to oblige. He pulled out his shiny gold shield and showed it around. “If you will look at that little notation right there—” He indicated a smaller line of print under his photo. “You will see I’m with the A51-ASD branch.”

  Everyone’s face scrunched up. Of course nobody recognized his organization.

  This was the part he hated explaining. “The A51-ASD is a subdivision of the bureau that investigates strange or otherwise inexplicable phenomena.”

  Addison’s face lit up. “You mean like the X-Files?” She clapped with delight. “Oh, my God, are you like the real life Fox Mulder? Does everybody call you Spooky?”

  Blake scrubbed a hand across his face. “Uh, the sciences division doesn’t quite work that way.” He purposely didn’t use the word alien. No reason for them to wonder if he’d gotten
that shield out of a box of Cracker Jack. “Our cases are more based in science than in fiction. All I intended to do was ask you a few questions about your recovery efforts in the Mediterranean.”

  Kenneth’s suspicious expression relaxed considerably. “That’s it?”

  Tessa’s brow furrowed. “What kind of questions?”

  Blake got down to business. The time for beating around the bush was over. “Scientists recorded undersea quake activity in the location your people were reportedly diving in. We understand your outfit had cameras and divers in the water at the time of the occurrence.”

  “You think we had something to do with the quake?” Kenneth asked carefully.

  Blake shook his head. “Nothing of the sort. Look, this may be hard to understand, but ASD scientists have been monitoring an electromagnetic field in the area you were diving in. It’s always been a low-level thing, something to be curious about but not concerned.”

  Kenneth swallowed tightly. “And now there’s reason for concern?”

  Having broken the ice, Blake tucked his badge away.

  “That’s just it. We’re not sure what’s going on. The force has suddenly shifted from emitting low levels of magnetic energy to a hell of a lot. It’s playing havoc with electronics now. We can’t get near it.” He shrugged. “Radio, sonar, radars, nothing works. We thought the quake might have given whatever it is a little nudge.”

  Kenneth quickly put two and two together. “But you have no way to get down there now because electronics don’t work?”

  Blake nodded. “You got it. Since you had eyes and ears down there that day, we thought your equipment might have picked up something ours didn’t before it all went haywire.”

  Tessa Randall glanced at him from across the table. She seemed a little calmer now, less agitated. “And that was all you were going to ask? It had nothing to do with Jake or”—choking up, she faltered for a moment—“the accident?”

  Blake nodded again. “That’s all we wanted to know.” He lifted the cup he held, still half full of hot black coffee. Kenneth had used so much instant he was surprised the bottom hadn’t melted away. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t plan for it to take more than twenty minutes. Tops.”