Vampire in Atlantis

by Alyssa Day

  “Kind words, Conlan, but meaningless to Brandacea,” Marie said, her tearstained face pale and grave. “We all bear responsibility for these deaths.”

  Erin and Keely nodded, and Riley wanted to scream. “It doesn’t matter whose responsibility it was right now, does it? All that matters is that we stop this before anybody else dies. Let’s go. Call the portal, Conlan.”

  He turned to her, his brows drawing together. “I called the portal. It should be right—”

  They both looked where he was pointing, at the empty space where the portal’s oval shimmer should have been forming.

  “There,” he continued slowly. “No. Not again. Not now.”

  He called again, louder. “Portal, heed my call. Answer to the need of the high prince of Atlantis.”

  The silvery shimmer began to form, and Riley sighed in relief.

  A female voice called out from the middle of the ovoid sphere. “Prince, indeed, and yet so ignorant of your heritage, Conlan of Atlantis. Know you not that I heed no call unless I deem it worthy?”

  “So my relief was premature,” Riley said, putting her hands on her hips. “Could we possibly have one single day without something going wrong? Look, portal, women are dying. You pick now to do this? Also, I’m arguing with a glorified elevator?”

  She could hear the way her voice was rising in nearhysteria, but she didn’t seem able to control it. She’d just caused a woman’s death, and the damn doorway was going to argue with her?

  “I have no desire to cause you distress, Princess of Atlantis, but you do not understand our ways,” the portal said. Instead of the oval shape it had always taken before, the light shimmered into the shape of a slender woman, not much taller than Riley. “I was created by the gods themselves to serve as test of whether or not a chosen one was worthy of the task set for him or her. Poseidon bent me to his will when Atlantis sank beneath the sea, and I have long since grown bitter and yet resigned to my role as portal . . . or ‘glorified elevator,’ as you so succinctly named me.”

  Riley did something she never would have imagined herself doing. Ever. She apologized to the doorway.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—We’re very upset, after Brandacea’s death—”

  “Do not apologize to me, nor will I apologize or give quarter to you,” the portal, or woman, or demon from hell, continued.

  Riley shot a glance at Erin, to see if the witch had any ideas, but Erin shrugged helplessly.

  “My magic can’t touch this, Riley. I’m sorry,” Erin whispered.

  “Wise that you do not try, human witch,” the portal said, pointing at Erin. “I enjoy your presence here and would regret destroying you, I think, although regret, like so many emotions, is only a faded echo of what it once was.”

  Conlan stepped forward, between the portal and Riley, and bowed deeply. “You honor us with your presence and shame us with our lack of knowledge of your existence and purpose, my lady.”

  The portal actually laughed. Sharp, silvery laughter, like the sound of glass bells, pealed out and Riley shuddered as if a shadow had crossed her grave.

  “Such pretty words to go with such a pretty face, Conlan of Atlantis, but you shall not charm me. I will not let you pass until the test set for Serai of Atlantis has been passed or lost.”

  Riley pushed past Conlan. “Lives depend on finding the Emperor, and whoever you are, however old you are, surely you can’t condemn those women to death on a whim?”

  The portal’s light wavered, and the figure bowed its head.

  “Their death is no more my responsibility than yours. The task is set for Serai. She will pass it or not. Just as Alaric of Atlantis will pass or fail his test, and Jack of the nearly lost tiger tribe will face his challenge. The time of the final crisis is near, Conlan of Atlantis, and the gods would have me determine if those who support you in your quest to bring Atlantis to the surface are worthy.”

  “What? What about Jack? Did you see my sister?” Riley wondered if asking questions of an ancient being made up of light and bad temper was particularly intelligent, but she was past caring.

  “Good-bye for now, lords and ladies of Atlantis. I must follow another path, for the tiger has lost one part of his soul and I have found it in my keeping. I will leave you with the magic of the portal while I am away, but it will not come to your call until Serai has accomplished her quest.”

  “Stop! You can’t just leave like that. We need—”

  But the portal didn’t care what Riley needed, or what any of them needed, because one moment the woman made of light was blathering on with her cryptic BS about the tiger’s soul, and the next moment she was gone. She was gone. The shimmering light flicked off like a cheap lightbulb.

  Conlan called and called, in every way possible, for the next half hour, until he was hoarse with shouting, commanding, and finally pleading, but it made no difference. The portal didn’t return.

  Serai and Daniel were on their own.

  Chapter 29

  Serai woke up first from the exhausted sleep they’d fallen into after the epiphany of the soul-meld. She still could hardly believe it. Even in her time, to reach such a joining had been a rare occurrence, and for it to happen with a nightwalker—a vampire—was so incredible, so unprecedented, that she was amazed Poseidon himself wasn’t swirling up a typhoon here in the middle of desert country to punish her for her transgression.

  She curled closer to Daniel, wrapped securely in his strong arms, and opened herself to the magic surrounding them. The vortex magic she’d sensed before was stronger now, due to geography or due to her own willingness to open herself to it, she didn’t know. The day was fully on its way now, it must be mid-morning, and Daniel slept soundly, a smile on his face.

  He looked peaceful. Content. Descriptive terms she certainly couldn’t have applied to him even once since she’d found him again in Atlantis mere days before. The soul-meld and the realization that she would never leave him seemed to have calmed something dark and tortured inside him. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods again that she had found him, and then she turned her senses outward again, seeking the Emperor.

  It was there. Still in the same place, she realized, and relief poured through her. Not calling her, though. Almost silent. Faint, as if resting or recharging, if she could apply anthropomorphic terms to what was, essentially, a rock. Such a rock, though. Its power surged once, when she reached out to it, and she briefly connected with the maidens back in Atlantis. The four of them were . . .

  The three of them. Brandacea was gone. Her life force extinguished. Vanished, as if she’d never lived at all.

  Serai cried out as the pain seared through her, and Daniel instantly woke up and scanned the room for danger.

  “She’s dead, Daniel. Brandacea. Another one of my sisters. She’s dead.”

  She sobbed in his arms for a long time before she could talk or even breathe again. “She’s gone,” she said, over and over. “I failed again. I was making love when my sister was dying.”

  “No, mi amara. You were healing yourself and me. All of the responsibility for your sisters cannot rest on your slender shoulders. The damn portal is to blame for not allowing you to call for help.” He jumped up and reached for his clothes, but she held up a hand to stop him.

  “It’s still daylight, so we can’t go anywhere. We need to eat something and have a shower,” she said. “We’ll get cleaned up, and then we’ll decide what to do next. It will be dark soon, and we’re going to find the Emperor tonight, or die trying. I’m not willing to let anything or anyone else get in my way.”

  He nodded, anger and determination stamped on his face, and held out his hand to help her up. She called to the elements and especially to the water surrounding them, the life-giving water that answered so quickly when Poseidon’s children called.

  The spray of water danced over them like a shimmering cloak, and this time Daniel wasn’t startled, but simply stood, holding his arms out to his sides, und
er the shower. She watched him for a moment and wondered again how this beautiful, deadly man could truly be hers, but then he opened his eyes and smiled at her and she cast aside her hesitation and stepped into his arms.

  “There’s soap in the backpack,” he said, running his hands down her arms. He kissed her and then retrieved the soap, and they washed themselves and each other, delighting in the joy of touch, even in the face of what they had to endure. Perhaps especially because of that.

  “Affirming life,” she said solemnly. “It does make sense. We cannot bring Brandacea back by sitting and crying, but only by taking action. We will affirm life by finding the Emperor.”

  “About that,” he said, pushing the waves of dark hair away from his chiseled face. “I have an idea. Are you up for trying something that might be a little dangerous?”

  “More dangerous than escaping stasis, casting a spell on the high prince’s brother, and falling in love with a vampire?”

  His lips quirked up in a grin. “Well, when you put it that way . . .”

  She sent the spiraling curve of water through their clothing to clean it, and then reversed the magic to remove every drop of water and dry the clothes and their bodies and hair.

  “This is a wonderful bit of magic,” Daniel said fervently. “It sounds stupid, in the face of so much tragedy, but I am very happy to clean the sweat and dust off myself.”

  “Little things mean so much more when you’re deprived of them,” she said. “For example, I really, really need food other than these apples and, what did you call the hateful dry sticks?”

  “Granola bars. I agree. Worst food, ever, but very useful at a time like this.”

  After they’d dressed and partaken of the bars, apples, and water, she was ready to ask again.

  “Try what?”

  “I think we should pool our magic. Like we did before, although I didn’t know it at the time, when Justice attacked. This time we do it on purpose, and hopefully it will strengthen both of us.”

  Serai tilted her head and watched as he pulled on his boots, admiring the long, muscled length of his leg even as she considered his words. “Do we need to exchange blood again?”

  He dropped his boot and stared at her. “No. Don’t even think of it, not ever. If we do a third blood exchange, you could die. Or become a monster. We don’t have any idea what happens to an Atlantean turned vampire. Under no circumstances can I ever, ever do a third blood exchange with you.”

  “Then we need to call on the vortex magic,” she said, walking to the front of the cave and into the afternoon sun. “You’re going to have to trust me, because I think we’ll need to be in the sunlight to do it.”

  Chapter 30

  Secret underground base, P-Ops Division, Federal Bureau Southwest

  Colonel Brig St. Ives had been a full-bird colonel in the U.S. Air Force back in the days before vampires and werewolves and all the other beasties from the especially ugly bedtime stories and campfire tales decided to make his life a living hell. Now he was forced to work with a bunch of jarheads, squids, coasties, and FBI suits in a joint paranormal operations task force, and frankly he’d rather have been doing something more fun—anything more fun—like sitting on a beach drinking beer, or, hey, maybe picking porcupine quills out of his ass with a crowbar.

  Had to be more fun than this. He hadn’t seen daylight in three days. Missed his wife. Was going to miss the birth of his first grandkid in the next day or so if he didn’t get the fuck out of this hole. So when the call came, he was more relieved than anything else.

  “Time to go, sir. We’ve had radio silence from Smithson for seven minutes past his designated check-in time.” The fresh-faced lieutenant standing at attention in front of Brig’s battered steel desk made him tired.

  Had he ever been that young?

  Surely not.

  “Sir?”

  “Seven minutes, Lieutenant? He’s a banker, not a marine. Seven minutes just means he spilled his latte on his candyassed suit, or took a shit and lost track of time. We don’t call a go on seven civilian minutes late.”

  “Sir, yes sir, but you said—”

  “At ease, Lieutenant. I know what I said. I also know that we’re going to wait until sixteen thirty, and then if we don’t hear, we’re going to call him, and then and only then will we proceed with Operation Tombstone.”

  “Sir, yes, sir.” The former sailor turned P-Ops flunky saluted sharply and executed a precision turn to leave the office.

  Brig just sighed. Operation Tombstone. What the hell these jokers in Washington were thinking, he didn’t know. Just because the banker running this scam on the region’s head vamp happened to live in the same state as the legendary gunfight, didn’t mean it had fuck-all to do with this op. Whatever asswipe had decided the men needed to salute indoors was another paper-pushing moron, too.

  But nobody’d asked him. He was just an old pilot, stuck behind a desk, ready to hand off the reins. Ready to meet his grandkid. Ready to make love to his wife again.

  He pushed a button on his phone, and the lieutenant’s crisp voice sounded through the line. “Sir?”

  “Better get them ready to go, son. Just in case.”

  Never hurt to be prepared.

  Chapter 31

  Daniel had taken a step back before he even realized he’d done it. “Sunlight? Serai, you know that the sun and I don’t exactly get along.”

  “Trust me,” she repeated, as if saying it again made it more sensible.

  “Look, you know I trust you, but telling the flammable vampire to walk into the sun with you might sound romantic, but it’s actually a little bit nuts.” He leaned down to retrieve his boot and pull it on, and then revised his statement.

  “Okay, a lot nuts.”

  “Nuts means ill-conceived, correct?” She put her hands on her hips, and he steeled himself to get blasted.

  “Ill-conceived is a polite way to put it. Crazy, lunatic, bat-shit insane.”

  Serai narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think I appreciate that very much.”

  “So what you’re saying is that soul-meld or no soul-meld, I still have the capacity to royally piss you off?” He grinned at her in spite of the crazy-ass conversation. She was just so damn beautiful. Especially with her freshly dry waves of hair curling down to her hips, instead of trapped in that braid.

  She pulled out the bit of cord from her pocket and started to tie her hair back, and he groaned. “Okay, okay. I give in. If you promise to leave your hair loose, I’ll take a chance on getting my ass fried.”

  She blinked and then stuffed the cord back in her pocket. “You are truly mad, aren’t you? You don’t really trust that I can keep you safe, but you’re willing to risk burning to death over how I wear my hair?”

  “It’s a guy thing.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Somehow I knew you’d say that.”

  She stepped back into the shadows and held out her hands. “What if we stand here, just out of reach of the sun, and I call to the vortex energy from here? I’ll leave my hair down and you’ll feel safe from getting your bottom fried, as you put it.”

  “Ass,” he said, grinning at her like the wild, wicked man he was.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said getting my ass fried. If I said getting my bottom fried, my guy card would be revoked, probably permanently. Then we could sit around and braid each other’s hair.”

  He strode forward, all long, lean, elegant muscle, a predator in motion, and her mouth dried out a little. She loved him so much, and had for so long, that sometimes she forgot just how deadly he really was.

  This was not one of those times.

  He held out his hands and clasped hers. “Okay, Princess, you’re up. What now?”

  She took a deep breath. “Now we call the vortex energy and hope it answers a vampire and an Atlantean.”

  He nodded, serious now that it mattered, and she realized he’d been trying to help calm her nervousness with his teasing. It had wo
rked, too, she had to admit.

  “The vortex energy in this area is deep earth magic. Elemental magic. I learned about the power of the elements as a girl, but have never experienced it directly, at least not nearly as strong as it is here. The magic is so strong, but subtle enough that I almost didn’t notice it running counter to the Emperor’s pull.”

  “What do we do?” Daniel leaned forward and kissed her, a quick but firm pressure of his lips on hers, more for reassurance than passion, she suspected.

  “We call to the elements, and hope they answer, and then we use the power of the soul-meld to join our magics into a whole much stronger than the individual halves.”

  “Kind of like us,” Daniel said, and she smiled.

  “Yes, exactly like us. Here goes. And don’t be alarmed, but part of the ritual involves offering my blood.”

  “I’ll offer my blood,” he said firmly, and she didn’t bother to argue. His blood would serve as well.

  Still holding his hands, she moved as far into the sunlight as she could without allowing the deadly rays to fall on Daniel’s exposed wrists, and then she raised her face to the sky.

  “Element of air, we offer you our breath and ask that you heed our call.” She blew out a long, soft breath, and was pleased when Daniel immediately did the same.

  “Element of water, we offer our own, and ask that you heed our call.” She closed her eyes and thought of the sisters she had lost, and her tears fell freely to the ground.

  “Element of fire, we offer you the heat from our bodies, and ask that you heed our call.” She shivered as a chill wind wrapped around them, soaking up their body heat and then whisking it away.

  Shivering hard, she was barely able to speak the last sentence without her teeth chattering. “Element of earth, we offer you the life force of our own bodies, and ask that you heed our call.” She nodded, and Daniel bit his wrist and turned his hand, still holding hers, so that a few drops of blood fell onto the ground.