Jewel of Atlantis

by Gena Showalter

  How the hell had he learned Atlantean? One day he hadn't understood a damn word of it, and now he knew the entire freaking language.

  "Everything is so beautiful," Jewel breathed, cutting into his thoughts. She raised an armband with one hand and raised the sleeve of her robe with the other, revealing several inches of smooth skin. Crystals gleamed from the torque, projecting a vast array of colors. A silver stone rested in the center.

  The sight of the rich gold band contrasting with the peaches-and-cream flesh proved more erotic than two chicks making out right in front of him. He wanted Jewel to have it. Real bad. So easily he could picture her wearing the armband--and nothing else.

  "That looks beautiful on you," the vendor said, low and gravelly.

  Gray wouldn't have minded stealing, but he, well, he didn't want to acquire the item that way. He wanted to gift Jewel with an honest purchase. Something she would look at and always think of him.

  "Thank you," Jewel said, but she removed the item and returned it to the table, her sleeve falling back into place. There was regret and longing in her voice, and she gazed at the item wistfully before finally turning her attention to a bloodred ruby headpiece.

  "Roasted fowl," someone called. "Only half a drachma."

  Her chin jerked to the side. "Roasted fowl," she gasped, skipping to the vendor without a backward glance.

  Gray watched her go, then did a quick scan of the crowd and decided she was safe enough for the moment. He half turned toward the freaky bull-man, dividing his attention between his woman and the jewelry seller.

  "How much?" he asked, pointing at the armband. Surprisingly the Atlantean language flowed easily from his tongue, as if he'd spoken it his entire life.

  "Forty drachmas."

  He couldn't ask what drachmas were or he'd look like an idiot who didn't belong in Atlantis. He merely nodded and pivoted. As he closed the distance between himself and Jewel, the bull-man called, "Thirty-five. I'll let you have it for thirty-five."

  Gray pulled Jewel to the side, away from the roasted fowl peddler, a thickly muscled, one-eyed Cyclops. Jewel held two pie tins of meat in her hand. The Cyclops was eyeing them warily, as if he half expected them to sprint away with the goods. She was biting her lip, staring down at the food.

  His gaze returned to the Cyclops, and he noticed the man was clad in rags, and had hollowed cheeks despite his oddly muscled appearance. He was dirt poor, and Gray didn't have the heart to steal from him, either.

  "What are drachmas?" he asked Jewel quietly.

  "Money." She sniffed the food with a rapturous expression, completely absorbed in her task. "Like your dollars."

  "How can I earn some?" As he spoke, he saw a group of the freakiest of all the things he'd seen so far. One arm protruded from their chests, and one leg swung from their torsos, and only the wings on their backs kept them upright. They formed a small, laughing circle.

  Each whatever the hell they were held a good-sized lizard, and each lizard wore a jeweled collar, a different jewel for each different owner. They placed the squirming things in a line, using their only hand to hold on to the lizard's tail.

  One of the men shouted, "Go," and everyone released their lizards.

  Gray expected the cursed things--he hated lizards, hated--to bite their handlers, but they surprised him by jolting into action and racing forward. The green-collared lizard crossed the finish line first and its handler fluttered up and down with excitement, clapping his hand against his thigh.

  A heavy-looking pouch was thrown at the thing, and he caught it, opening the burlap sack with his teeth and withdrawing a dull rock. Gray would bet his substantial savings account that dull rock was a drachma.

  God love the gambling community.

  He brightened. "Never mind," he told Jewel. "I know how." His grip tightened on the blade he held. It was good-sized with a marble handle and worth a small fortune. His brother-in-law, Jorlan, a prince of some distant planet, had given it to him. "You ever gambled?"

  "No."

  "Today's going to be your day of firsts. Come with me."

  "Wait." She replaced the food on the table, and he ushered her through the crowd darting along the street. When she noticed the only possible destination for them, she said, "Uh, Gray, perhaps we should turn around now."

  He ignored her, never slowing. Soon the things' low voices drifted to them, reminding Gray of something he wanted to ask Jewel. "Would you mind telling me how I now know your language?"

  Her radiant sapphire eyes rounded. "You can understand?"

  He nodded and cast her a glance. He could see wheels turning and watched her eyes widen as the answer hit her, but she merely shrugged. "How does anyone learn a language, really?"

  "With hard work and a lot of studying."

  "You could have learned it simply by listening to others speak it."

  The woman was good, he'd give her that. She never lied, but when she didn't want to answer a question she had ways of trying to throw him off the scent. "I didn't work at this and I didn't listen closely to others. How did I learn it?" he persisted.

  She paused, gulped, then offered, "I have heard some humans learn our language through magic."

  Magic. His brother-in-law dealt in magic, and Gray knew firsthand the dangers involved in using it. A man could be turned to stone, while still able to see, hear and feel everything around him. A man could be cursed inside a box, allowed to emerge only when his female master had need of his services. He shuddered.

  No, thank you.

  "Did you use a spell on me?" Before she replied, he realized she'd never actually said with one hundred percent surety that he'd learned the language through magic. She'd merely suggested it. In fact, she hadn't answered his question in any way.

  He gritted his teeth together, stopped, and stared down at her for a long while, making her squirm. "I'm on to you. Magic, indeed. When we're safe in our room tonight, we're going to have a long talk."

  Our room, he'd said. Jewel swallowed, trying to alleviate the sudden dryness of her mouth. She suspected Gray understood the Atlantean language because she'd been inside his head and must have left pieces of herself behind. Amazing, surreal, but there it was. Had she, then, taken pieces of him with her?

  She didn't know how he'd take to that news when he didn't seem to remember she'd been inside his head at all, so she said nothing, letting him rationalize whatever explanation he would.

  Right now, she had other things to worry about. Formorians. She studied them. Their skin was as pale as a vampire's but looked more like dry paper with thin blue lines. They had just finished another lizard race when she and Gray reached their circle. Gray stopped, not saying a word, just watching curiously; she remained at his side, scanning faces, reading minds, ready to warn him if anyone attempted to hurt him. The Formorians had blades strapped all over their bodies. She didn't know why they were here in the Inner City when Formorians usually stayed in the more accepting Outer City. They were a danger-loving race who didn't mind feasting on flesh, preferably while the bodies were still alive and screaming.

  "I want to play," Gray finally announced to the surrounding crowd, as if he hadn't a care in the world.

  The Formorians whipped around, frowning. "Do you have drachmas?" one of them asked, eyes narrowed.

  Gray held out his dagger and gave it, hilt first, to the creature closest to him. The Formorian accepted the glinting dagger greedily, gripping it in his only hand. "I must see who I am dealing with first," he said.

  "You see enough of me." Gray's tone had lost its easiness, becoming dark and menacing.

  "I will see all of you." He motioned with a tilt of his chin, and another of the Formorians stepped forward, reaching out to push back Gray's hood.

  Gray shoved the creature, hard, making him stumble backward. All of his friends growled low in their throats. "You stink of human," one of them spat. "We will see your face."

  "And you stink of shit," Gray snapped. "All you'll see is another of
my weapons if you don't get out of my face. Now, you accepted my dagger, so deal me into the game."

  "You will leave or die. That is your only choice."

  Gray stepped forward quickly, shadows covering most of his face. But through the shadows, his eyes were glowing bright, menacing red. "You will let me in your game. Understand?"

  Seeing the glowing eyes--demon eyes--they nodded, now eager to please. Formorians feared demons, their stronger counterpart.

  Jewel stifled a horrified gasp. The red light in Gray's eyes had already died down, leaving only the silver irises. The changes were happening, then. Gray wouldn't be spared as she'd hoped. Over the coming weeks, he would acquire traits of both the vampires and the demons.

  Which traits, she could only guess. How he would react when he discovered what was happening to him, she could only dread.

  The leader sheathed Gray's knife at his belt and handed him the amethyst-collared lizard, the least active of the group. Gray didn't complain, but he did grimace.

  "Line up and we will begin. First lizard to cross, wins."

  Gray nodded and lined up beside the other men. The disgusted expression he wore would have made her chuckle in any other circumstance. As it was, she didn't trust the Formorians to act honorably, so retained a watchful eye on them.

  "Go!" the leader shouted.

  The lizards were released and bolted into action. Well, all but Gray's lizard bolted. Gray's began a slow, leisurely stroll. "Go, damn you," he shouted, poking at it with the tips of his fingers.

  It turned and ambled in the opposite direction.

  All too soon, a lizard crossed the finish line, ending the race. Gray cursed loud and long, then turned to the Formorian leader. "Again," he said.

  "Show me payment."

  He removed his wristwatch and handed it over. The Formorians gathered around it oohing and aahing, and Gray picked up his lizard. "Let's get this done."

  Eager, everyone lined up.

  "Go!"

  Gray's lizard did a repeat performance, as did Gray. He cursed the entire race, expletives that near burned her ears. Afterward, he demanded another race, handing over his fire starter. A lighter, she knew it was called. The Formorians were salivating to own it, so they quickly agreed.

  The men lined up. Gray's lips were taut. Hard lines bracketed his eyes and mouth. Determination radiated from him. "You better move this time, you disgusting sack of shit," he muttered. "Again. Winner takes everything." He handed over an energy bar, and the creatures sniffed, nodded.

  "Ready...go!"

  The lizards scrambled forward.

  Jewel had never entered an animal's head before, but she did this one. She didn't know if it would work, but she gave it a try, anyway. Anything to help Gray. Go, damn you. Swiftly.

  Hearing her sharp command, the lizard leapt into action, moving faster than the others, and it inched into the lead. An odd sense of excitement grew inside her. They had a chance of winning this time! She was jumping up and down by the time Gray's lizard crossed the finish line, capturing first place.

  Heated silence met the victory, and no one moved, only staring in shock at the amethyst-collared lizard.

  "My prize," Gray prompted.

  All of the Formorians frowned and hissed as the leader handed over two bags of drachmas, along with all of Gray's belongings. Jewel clapped her hands and laughed, her hood almost falling in her excitement. Gasping, she reached up and secured it in place.

  Gray clasped his arm around her wrist. "Nice doing business with you, boys. If you'll excuse us..." He led her away, mumbling, "I knew that little bastard would pull through. With your help," he added with a grin. "How much is this?" He held up the two bags with his free hand.

  "Two hundred drachmas is my guess," she said on a laugh, not asking how he knew what she'd done. "We have money!"

  He tossed her a wickedly sensual wink. "Let's have us a celebration."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LAYEL STOOD at the edge of the forest overlooking the former dragon king's palace. Javar no longer lived, of course, killed by Layel's own hand. He'd relished killing the man, he had to admit. The bastard had been cold and unemotional and should have had more control over his men. If he had, perhaps Susan would still be alive.

  A cool breeze wafted past him as he continued to stare at the palace, blocking out the sounds of the armies behind him. Crystal beams stretched to the golden skyline, casting rainbow shards in every direction. The mocking beauty of this place always amazed him.

  Some of the most horrendous crimes against Atlantis had been committed in this lush glen, juxtaposing the beauty against the horror.

  Humans sacrificed, battles waged until blood ran like a deadly river. Women and children stolen. He'd played a part in it, all of it, and he did not feel guilty. The women and children were now slaves, but they were well cared for. The humans he'd killed had been evil, a means to an end. The dragons he'd fought had thought nothing of raping an innocent female, so they had deserved what they got.

  Unlike other races where only one ruled, there had always been two dragon kings. One to guard and protect each side of Atlantis. When Javar died, only Darius remained, and the stupid man had yet to crown another. Yes, he'd sent soldiers here to guard but without a true sovereign in residence, the palace was left vulnerable.

  Right now, warriors stalked the parapet of the palace, guarding, watching all that happened below them. With his extraordinary vision, Layel saw them as clearly as if they were pacing directly in front of him. Twelve armored men, perfectly muscled, perfectly bronzed. But they did not possess the telltale golden eyes of the dragons.

  His brow quirked to his hairline, and he began to notice another odd detail. Usually dragons flew overhead at all hours. Today, this moment, there was no sky guard. Only a soft, amber glow from the crystal.

  Everything was falling smoothly into place.

  He grinned slowly.

  Weeks ago, Layel had casually mentioned to the nymph king that Javar's palace was without a leader, that Darius had left an army of hatchlings in charge and then Layel had gifted the nymph with an array of dragon medallions needed to open the doors. Valerian must have immediately gathered his forces and ambushed the palace, claiming it as his own. For it was the nymphs who walked the parapet this dawning, their bodies bronzed and muscled to perfection, their hair as silky as satin, their faces so luminous they glowed brighter than the dome above.

  Word of this victory had yet to spread, for not even he had known. Satisfaction filled him, then dimmed with a single thought. The female slave stolen from Marina probably knew. She knew everything. He himself had owned her for a brief time, so he knew her abilities very well.

  Would the slave tell anyone of this? Would she reveal his own plans? Would she come here?

  No, he decided in the next instant. If she told anyone, she would have to reveal exactly who and what she was, and she would be taken prisoner, a circumstance she would avoid at all cost. She would shun the nymphs just as she shunned the demons. They were a powerfully sensual race, dangerously erotic, and they enthralled everything female. Enslaved them body and soul, until all a woman thought about, all she craved, was her nymph.

  Layel's plans were not in jeopardy.

  His smug gaze strayed to Marina. The queen would never be allowed inside the palace--and thanks to the nymphs, he didn't have to prowl his mind for a reason they should not enter. He'd led the bitch here under false pretenses, buying time.

  No matter what happened, no matter what he had to do, he would make sure Marina never claimed the slave girl again. Too much was at stake.

  As if his thoughts had summoned her, the demon bitch rode her horse to his side, its hooves pounding into the ground. She'd stolen the beast from a Gorgon village--after she'd eaten its master. The animal ground to a halt.

  Marina's thin, sheer wings flapped behind her like a gossamer cloak, the only elegant part of her hideous, horned body. "Those men do not look like dragons, they look l
ike nymphs. Nymph warriors." Her eyesight was as good as his own, if not better.

  "That they do," he said, trying not to allow himself another smile. "They must have fought the dragons and taken possession. Do you think they heard about the portals and want them for themselves?"

  She gasped. "That's exactly why they're here. I'd stake my life on it."

  He'd stake her life on it, too. Happily.

  "How dare they?" she screeched. "The portals are mine. Mine! This place was supposed to be empty!"

  "Keep your voice down." Not that he cared, but he had to act the part of concerned friend. "You know how sensitive their hearing is. And don't you mean ours?"

  "What if they now have my slave, as well as control of the portal?" Panic crested her voice to a high, deafening pitch. "You said she would come here, that the human would need the portal to return home."

  "They do not have the girl. Otherwise, a thousand warriors would have been waiting for us here."

  "You're right." She loosed her viselike hold on the reins, an air of superiority forming around her. "I don't care who is inside that palace. We ride. If they try to keep the portal for themselves, I'll kill them. And their children."

  Before he could utter another word, she leapt into action, and Layel was forced to follow. "Forward," he called, and their armies sprang into a run. His vampires could move faster than the blink of an eye, but they kept a steady pace beside the demons. They knew him well and would not fly into full attack without his express permission.

  Both demons and vampires sprinted through the open field, headed toward the towering double doors. This was foolish, he knew it was, but if nothing else, it would prove entertaining. Marina would never get inside, and he would enjoy watching the nymphs shove her from her exalted pedestal.

  An arrow suddenly rent the sky and landed at their feet.

  Marina's horse reared up, tumbling her backward before she could right herself with her wings. She hissed as she hit the ground, thumping and rolling. Layel laughed heartily with genuine amusement. Something he hadn't done in years. Ah, yes, this would definitely be a day to relish.

  Marina jolted to her feet, scowling at him and everyone around who dared laugh. "That animal is--is--"