by Joss Ware
“Fine,” she said flatly. Then she looked at Fence. “But this in no way can be construed as the door being answered.”
“That’s a damned shame,” he said, his insouciant grin even wider, his eyes hot and steamy. “Because I love a woman in a blindfold.”
Ana succumbed to the blindfolding partly because she didn’t have much choice, when it came down to it—they weren’t going to let her leave—and aside from that, Quent had made sense when he suggested it might protect her.
Both the Atlanteans—and by extension, the Elite—were entities she wanted to avoid. Come to think of it, she wanted to avoid everyone—both mortal and immortal, both land-walking and sea-living.
If everyone would just leave her alone. Better to be lonely than to be back in Atlantis.
Since she didn’t have a choice, she could see that her energies were best utilized by deciding how she would handle the upcoming interrogation, what she was going to say and what she wasn’t—instead of trying to run away.
She also realized that this might give her some leverage: if she kept their secrets, maybe they’d keep hers.
The blindfold smelled like Fence, which was disturbing because she liked it all too well. He’d taken off that thin shirt and tied it around her eyes and the top of her head, then led her off.
They walked her around, presumably to mix her up on the direction, even though she knew that the elevator doors led somewhere . . .
And at last, after some walking, some stairs, some jerking, then an odd weightless feeling when she was standing, the blindfold was removed.
She found herself in a very brightly lit room that looked like something out of an old DVD. Sofas and chairs were gathered on one end, with a low table between them. The solid white walls were covered with a few old movie posters and a metal plate with the code WIXY 97 engraved on it. But taking up most of the very large, stark space were several rows of tables with what she supposed were computers on them. Screens. Keyboards. Other electronic devices she’d only seen in movies and couldn’t identify.
The space had a constant low humming, rumbling sound, and beyond it she could see a door that led to another room.
A spike of fear leapt in her stomach as she looked around, searching for escape. She wasn’t used to being confined in a space without windows to see or feel the outside world. She knew from descending the stairs that they were below the surface, and being underground was very unlike being on the bottom of the sea. Her breathing became rougher and more shallow. Even though the area was large, she felt the walls closing in on her, the ceiling heavy and low above her.
“Have a seat,” Fence said, and then he must have seen the expression in her face, for he paused and gave her a good look. “Ana?” Concern colored his expression and words, mollifying her slightly.
“We’re underground,” she managed to say. Her skin felt clammy.
He nodded, moving closer to her, looking at her as if trying to read her thoughts. “Yes,” he said. “No one’s going to hurt you. We just need to know what’s going on.”
Ana drew in a deep breath, swallowing the words that would tell him that wasn’t what she was worried about, and she used that thought as a distraction from her disturbing environment. By all accounts she should no longer be worried about them knowing her secret. And about being taken prisoner—for there was hardly any other way to look at her situation. No one knew she was here, and there was no way out unless they let her go.
Another zing of nerves shot through her, and she tightened her fingers in an intricate curl. One step at a time. Fence hasn’t done anything but kiss the heck out of you.
But then . . . so had Darian . . . and more. And look how that turned out.
With that not so pleasant thought, she sat on one of the sofas as Quent and Zoë took their seats. A moment later Elliott, the doctor, came in through the other room’s door.
Fence didn’t beat around the bush. “Ana’s part Atlantean,” he said.
“Do you have crystals?” asked Quent. He didn’t seem horrified by this news, but, rather, interested. As did Elliott and Zoë . . . all of them, in fact, seemed more fascinated than accusatory.
All except Fence, who, despite his sympathy a moment earlier, still wore a skeptical look.
Ana nodded in response to Quent.
“They help you breathe underwater?” asked Elliott.
She nodded again.
“What’s the gray stuff we found on the shore the first day you were here in Envy?” Fence asked.
“I don’t know,” she told them.
“You have some back home,” Fence said, taking her by surprise. “In George’s lab. Where did it come from? What is it?”
“I took some for Dad so he could try and figure out what it is. He hasn’t been able to identify it, and I haven’t either.”
“Where is Atlantis?” asked Quent. He’d leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with fascination and determination.
Ana’s heart was pounding now. Would they believe her if she told them she didn’t know? “I left Atlantis when I was thirteen. I don’t know where it is.”
Zoë snorted. “Bullcrap. You must have some idea. You lived there, didn’t you?”
Ana gave her a cool look. “It’s a big ocean.”
“What’s it like? Is it really a city with a dome over it? At the bottom of the ocean?” Quent asked. “I can’t believe it really exists.”
She bit her lip. She hated the Atlanteans . . . but did she dare divulge their secrets? Would she get caught up in the same wave of culpability if Fence and his friends found out exactly what her people had done? Would they blame her too?
“It’s . . . yes, the original city has a dome over it,” she said, deciding on a vague approach. “I don’t remember that much about it . . . it’s been a long time . . . I only went there once.”
“The ‘original’ city. So . . . there’s another one?” Quent’s eyes had sharpened. “Is that the one that’s in the Pacific Ocean now, the one that appeared after the Change?”
Ana swallowed. They knew more than she’d imagined . . . more than any land-livers did. How?
The others exchanged looks, and then by virtue of some silent agreement, Fence asked, “Why did you leave Atlantis?”
Here was where she didn’t want to go. Ana kept her expression blank and reminded herself not to twist her fingers nervously. “My mother died, and so my father and I left. We didn’t have any reason to stay,” she said calmly. “My mother was the only connection.”
“I want to show you something.” Quent rose suddenly and walked over to a tall metal cabinet. The drawer screeched softly as he pulled it open, and then he extracted a cloth-wrapped object.
Ana felt something change in the room . . . a sort of vibration, subtle and deep.
Quent put the item on the low table in front of them and pulled the fabric away to reveal a large pale blue crystal. The stone looked like a piece that had been hacked out of some large gem. Bigger than her fist, it had jagged edges along the top and smooth, striated sides. A faint glow emanated from it.
“Where did you get that?” she gasped, staring in shock. It had to be from the Jarrid stone. The glow, the energy zapping from it, the color, all were the same. And now this one was glowing brighter too.
All at once she was aware of the growing heat beneath her shirt, emanating from her crystals. She glanced down, saw the faint glow through the fabric and realized what was happening. No.
Panic burst through her. Shitshitshit.
“Get it away,” she cried, scrambling up from her seat. “Get it away from me!”
Chapter 11
The shock and terror on Ana’s face was enough to have Fence lunging for the crystal. He scooped it up, whipping the fabric around it just as Quent got to his feet.
“What is it?” Fence asked Ana, shoving the bundle at Quent. “What’s wrong?” He could see a glow from beneath her shirt, which still flapped enticingly—especially with her panicked movements.
“Just get it away,” she repeated from between tight jaws. She was still backing as far from the crystal as she could, covering her own gems with her hands. She’d moved surprisingly quickly across the room, considering her lame leg.
“I’ll be right back.” Quent took the bundle, safely wrapped so its touch wouldn’t drag him into the whirlwind of memories and power, and rushed it from the room.
Elliott had risen and gone to Ana’s side as Fence stood, uncertain, as if blocking her from the crystal, but unable to do much else.
“Are you in pain?” Elliott asked, taking her arm gently.
With Quent out of the room, the glow subsided beneath Ana’s shirt, and the stark panic eased from her face. She sat back down at Elliott’s urging, eyeing the doorway through which the crystal had disappeared.
“No,” she said. “Not pain. But it recognized me . . . my crystals. It must have . . . activated them. The crystals are all connected, and there are some that have the ability to call or to find others. If that’s one of them—it made mine glow . . . my God, they’re going to find me now.” She bolted to her feet again as if looking for a way out. “I have to get out of here. And Dad—we have to get out of here.” The urgency in her voice and movements made even Fence twitchy.
“Ana,” he said, shifting into comforting mode with a gentle voice. This wasn’t tears, but it was awfully close. And his suspicions about her had begun to wane in the face of her obvious terror. “The big crystal’s gone now. Yours aren’t glowing anymore. How about sitting down and telling us what that was all about so we can help?”
At first he didn’t think she was going to talk—no surprise, for she’d been reticent all along. But Fence settled himself next to her and, to his pleasure, she curled her fingers around his hand when he rested it on top of hers.
“I’ve been hiding from them since Dad and I escaped. If they find me now because of that crystal, they’ll take me back.” Her look added: And it’ll be all your fault.
He pulled out the important elements of her speech. “To Atlantis?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to go back to Atlantis,” Quent confirmed as he strode back into the room.
“No,” she replied stridently, her eyes fierce. Her hand slipped away from Fence’s grip. “Never.”
Fence recognized relief channeling through him. That was good. If she didn’t want to go back, then she likely wasn’t one of them.
He was down with it, definitely down with the idea that she might actually be on their side. His side.
Of course, he’d most rather have her on her backside . . .
“So the crystal we have is connected to yours somehow?” he asked, collecting his wayward thoughts.
Ana nodded. “They’re all connected by the same sort of energy. Some of it is more powerful than others, and that crystal you have—I just can’t imagine how you could have gotten it. And I can’t believe they haven’t come after it. Found it. They must be . . .” She shook her head, worry warring with curiosity in her expression. “Who are you people?”
“That,” Fence said, “is a very good question.” He was willing to tell her now, but he needed agreement from the others.
“My father was one of the Elite,” Quent said. “Parris Fielding. Do you know that name?”
Ana shook her head. “No. Should I?”
Fence shrugged and enjoyed the fact that his arm brushed against hers. He sidled a hair closer. “Maybe. He was one of the Inner Circle of the Elite, and from what we understand, they were in contact with Atlantis. Using the crystal Quent had.”
“I was only thirteen when we left . . . I wasn’t exactly privy to the inner workings of the Crown and Shield,” she said.
“What’s that?” asked Quent, once again leaning forward with interest. “Are they crystals?”
“They’re people . . . the Crown is the male ruler, almost like a king. And the Shield is the female. They have a group of advisers that control everything. My mother’s father was one of the Guild, as they’re called. They make all the decisions, the laws . . . they’re the ones who likely would have been in contact with . . . with the Elites.”
“We haven’t been able to determine how to use the crystal to contact Atlantis,” said Quent.
“And genius here’s almost killed himself trying to figure it out,” Zoë said—speaking up, shockingly, only for the first time. “If you have any ideas, sister, we’re all fucking ears.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s part of the Jarrid stone,” Ana said. “That is—or was—a large crystal, about as big as this sofa cushion. I’ve seen what’s left of it. Pieces were broken off and sent to far corners, placed deep in the sea in hopes that Atlantis would find a way to communicate with those above the water. Or with other Atlanteans, when and if they left the main city.”
“Like a message in a bottle. Sort of,” Fence said.
“How many pieces?” Quent asked.
“I’m not sure. Five maybe. You have to understand, this happened long ago—centuries ago. Maybe a thousand years. The rest of the stone is still in Atlantis. But how did your father get this piece?”
“I don’t know. I’d guess he found it accidentally. Or maybe he discovered some sort of legend or map . . . he was very wealthy and had a lot of resources, and he liked to hunt for treasure. He belonged to a group called the Cult of Atlantis. People who believed Atlantis existed and wanted to find it. And, apparently, they did. And then they destroyed the world.”
Ana was nodding. “Yes, I’ve heard the story of how that happened.” Her face was sober, and her eyes flickered toward Fence. For the first time, he saw an expression of revulsion twisting her face. “They talk about how it was a miracle, a great and wonderful event, The Rising.”
“When the city rose up out of the sea?” Fence said, his own insides twisting.
“The Raised City. The one they were building and preparing for over centuries. That’s where I lived most of the time for my first thirteen years.”
“So it’s not under the water? What did you need the crystals for, then? Can Atlanteans breathe out of the water?” The questions came quickly, Quent’s interrogation echoing Fence’s own thoughts and interest—and, based on the expressions on Elliott’s and Zoë’s faces, theirs as well.
“They can’t live for long outside the water. Nor can they go far from the energy of flowing water, or the crystals will die . . . and then the Atlanteans will die. They became dependent upon the crystals over the centuries, and now they can’t live without them. Even the Raised City is purposely flooded with water for that reason—streets, pools, everywhere. They live half in and half out of the water, as they’re trying to evolve—I guess that’s the word—into being able to live on the land again, without being restricted to the ocean.” Ana turned to Quent. “How did you ever get the stone from your father?”
Quent’s smile was humorless. “I stole it.”
A thought, a bad thought, struck Fence. “Ana, are you telling us that they can track the location and presence of the crystal?”
She shrugged, looking at him as she brushed back a thick strand of hair. “I’m not certain . . . They didn’t tell me much, even though . . .” Her voice trailed off. “But the reaction my crystals had to that big one could mean there’s a way to sense its location. They’re all tied together, all that energy. I’m afraid that my crystals activated or otherwise woke that one up, or that it woke mine up—because I felt its energy—and now because of that, they’ll find us. If there are any other crystals from the energy source of the original Atlantis, they could be awake and alive, too, right now.”
“You and George escaped? Were you a prisoner?” Fence asked.
“I didn’t want to stay with them,” she said.
“What about your mother? You told me she was an Atlantean.”
“She died. And Dad and I left.”
Fence had a feeling the story wasn’t nearly that simple, but now wasn’t the time, obviously, to
dig deeper.
“Have you had any contact with Atlantis since you left?” Elliott asked.
Ana shook her head quickly. Too quickly, Fence thought. “No. I told you, I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want them to know where I am—why would I have contact with them? You obviously know what they did.”
Logical. But not completely honest. “So you must have recognized the dead man who washed up on the shore. Is that why you were in this part of the building?”
She hesitated, then replied, “I didn’t know him well, but, yes, I recognized him. I just . . . wanted to see him again,” she said defensively. “To see if I could tell how he died.”
“Looked to me like he was attacked,” Fence said. “A shark or some other sea creature.”
“Atlanteans don’t just get attacked by sea creatures,” she said, more than a note of derision in her voice. “I mean, they live with them, sort of. It would be very unusual. The ocean is just an extension of their world . . . like the forest and mountains is yours.”
Abruptly, Ana shook her head and her face went cool. “I’m done talking. I think it’s time you gave me some answers. Like, who the hell are you people? And what’s this place?”
Fence’s unashamedly lustful attraction for Ana went up a notch into admiration—not only because of the tone in her voice, but the way she settled back in her seat as if suddenly taking control. Ballsy woman, especially in the position she was in. He found he rather liked a woman who took charge, even if she was a bit higher in the maintenance area.
Smart. Brave. Ballsy. And she got his jokes.
The whole damn package . . . right here.
“I think we should tell her,” he said, looking at Elliott.
The physician gave a slight nod of agreement, but then he asked, “What’s your relationship with the Strangers?”
“Do you mean the Elite?” Ana said. “I don’t have any relationship with them. I just want to stay out of everyone’s way, all right? I’d be just as happy if I weren’t even here, especially now that I think your damned crystal has given away my location after twelve years.” Her voice was strained again. “I’ve got to get out of here.”