by Joss Ware
It settled over her, but Fence dodged quick enough so it missed him. His face was a dark, furious mask as he turned to face the two large men who’d emerged from behind a dark wedge of cracked wall. Their crystals glowed so dimly, Ana realized they’d somehow hidden them beneath cloth or wrappings as they waited for their chance to attack.
All through these observations, she was slashing violently at the net with her knife, thankful she’d been prepared.
Yet she couldn’t fully extricate herself before Darian was there, wrapping the net more tightly around her, twisting it around so that even with her knife she couldn’t cut through it fast enough.
The net bound her so closely she couldn’t raise the knife or bring it down, and with a sharp movement Darian grabbed her wrist and twisted.
She cried out, her screams eerily silent in the depths, and dropped the weapon as he wrapped the last trailing piece of net around her. Then tucking her under his arm like a rolled up carpet, he launched himself off into the dark water, taking her away from Fence.
Chapter 20
They had Ana.
Fence saw the man—Darian—swim off with the bundle that was Ana.
He darted after them, his insides going cold and sharp, but he found his way blocked by the two large figures who’d dropped the net. Crystals glowed brightly at their midsections, and for the first time he saw that one of them held a long, slender black thing studded with three tiny lights, curling in the water.
Instead of trying to dodge them, Fence propelled himself straight on, smashing into them with every bit of force he had, noting in the back of his mind that obviously neither had played football.
As the one with the whip spun away, the other flailed back in a ribbon of bubbles, then darted around and grabbed Fence’s leg. He ducked, somersaulting down and back toward his assailant as he gave a powerful, snapping kick. Water, he found, made him a lot more acrobatic than on land.
He twisted, banked right then left, and shot away just as that slender black thing snaked through the water. Fence dodged its tiny glowing crystals but felt the snap of something like a shock as it flashed past him. He crashed into something hard and metallic as he dodged, and felt rust and grit crumbling against his skin. The whip came again, and, infuriated, Fence darted straight toward the other assailant again. As he connected with his target, something burned over his shoulder—hot and sharp in the cold sea. He felt the shock zap through his body as he slammed his opponent into the corner of an old building.
Fence’s muscles shivered, now slow and clumsy from the shock, but he was fast enough to spin around and use the man as a shield while the whip snaked silently through the sea again. Blood clouded the water, dissipating in a dark cloud as Fence gripped the man’s arm to swing him around one more time. But his muscles were slower and less graceful, and they faltered, leaving him floundering awkwardly against a wall.
Something surged up toward him. He ducked, trying to turn, but was propelled forward with great force—shoved violently into the side of a big old truck by a pair of feet. The metal door handle smashed into his temple in a flurry of bubbles and more dark blood.
Pain blasted through his head, and his world darkened and shifted as he tried to recover, gasping for breath, disoriented. But the assault came from the other side now as both of his attackers slammed against him once more.
He tried to pivot, but something held him there, four hands, pounding into him, smashing his head into the rusted edge of the vehicle, feet kicking and pummeling, the sharp sting down his back, over and over. Trapped against the metal, unable to turn, he tried to kick up behind him, tried to twist around, but they were too strong and had the advantage as his head spun, nausea gathering in the back of his throat, his muscles shocked and weakened.
Then all at once Fence realized he was at the bottom of the ocean.
Heavy. Dark. Cold.
He fought back, tried to keep the thoughts at bay, but his murky mind was twisted and the panic edged closer.
No. Stop.
Something stung him again, right over the top of his right gill, and he dodged, fighting hysteria.
Not there, not there, not there . . .
The darkness threatened to pull him in, and he became slower and sluggish as madness teased at the corner of his mind, pain driving him into paralysis.
When strong arms came around him from behind, covering his gills and tightening around his torso, Fence knew this was it.
Someone else smashed his forehead into something hard and the darkness wavered, strong and beckoning as pain reverberated through him again.
His gills were closed, the arms of his assailant still tight, choking and smothering him, and Fence felt his lungs tighten, restricting, trying to move. Trying to breathe.
At the bottom of the ocean. Underwater. Underwater.
Panic rose, red and black flashed in his vision, battling him as he fought blindly, his movements desperate and futile.
Not here, not here, can’t breathe, can’t breathe . . . help . . . help me.
Then all at once he remembered: Ana.
They had Ana.
They were taking Ana.
He was going to save her.
The thought settled over him, almost peacefully . . . and then everything else was gone. Cold fury replaced the hot, red hysteria. The pain faded into determination. His brain began to function, and he realized he was still taking some air in through his stifled gills.
He made himself go limp, sagging against the truck even as the arms tightened around his torso. Tighter. Tighter.
He fought to remain still and soft, to keep his breathing shallow and unnoticeable . . . and then as the vise tightened further, he had to hold his breath. Wait. Wait.
Ana. I’m coming. I’ll be there.
The moment his attacker loosened his grip, Fence swung into action. He spun around, taking his assailant by surprise, and slammed him into the truck door once, twice, then heaved his limp body up and through the jagged-glassed window.
Blood streamed into the water like dark smoke, and he turned just in time to see the black cord snapping toward him once more. Fence dodged, still clumsy, but managed to avoid all but the very tip of the whip . . . and then he launched himself toward his assailant. This time he butted the man in the gut with his head, and, furious and coldly desperate, didn’t ease up before pummeling him with his fists in a swirl of bubbles.
One good smash to the gut and he was able to snatch the whip from the man’s hand, and as he looked up, Fence realized all at once that they were close . . . very close . . . to the shimmery barrier.
He didn’t hesitate, but threw the whip to the side. As his attacker dodged for it, Fence grabbed him and flung him at the barrier.
On land the man would have flown through the air in a great, smooth arc . . . but here in the water, he sort of tumbled and floundered . . . and tried to stop himself by kicking out, swiping his hands through the water.
But he was too late. It took only the tip of his foot to break through the wavering curtain, and as Fence watched, the man jolted, convulsed once, and then dropped limply to the sea floor.
Motherfucker.
If he’d had any thoughts about trying to chance his way through that barrier, they were now gone.
Just as quickly as that reality sunk in, his focus went back to Ana, and the direction they’d taken her. On the other side of the barrier.
Fence darted off back toward the small dark valley he and Ana had slipped through before. They had to be bringing her back to Atlantis, and he’d find a way to catch up to them. The only illumination now that the crystalled men were gone was a faint glow from the shimmering wall. As he shot along, staying close to the ground so he wouldn’t miss the passage, he noticed little smudges of the sparkling gray glop in the dim light, as if someone had reached out and touched objects at eye level as they went along.
Ana. She’d left a trail for him. Smart. A little bit of his tension eased.
But when Fence found the little dip in the ground, it was filled with the shimmering curtain.
He stopped short, staring in disbelief at the tiny gray glop at its edge.
It was closed. They’d blocked him. He couldn’t get through.
Ana slid her fingers over her belly again, and when she pulled them away, they were slick with the gray glop. She reached out and unobtrusively touched the side of an algae-covered car as Darian pulled her along.
After the netting had caught on more than one object, and made her a heavy burden, he’d extricated her from it once they were past the wavering barrier. He’d also done something to change the force field to block the passageway. Ana noted that he didn’t seem to have any concern for his companions, the ones Fence was battling—leaving them trapped on the Envy side as well.
Yet another indication of Darian’s true loyalties.
Now, he towed her through the water as she did everything in her power to slow them down: dragging her feet, widening her legs and body, making her shape anything but hydrodynamic.
All at once Darian came up short, stopping in the middle of an open space. The remnants of twenty-first century civilization echoed around them in tilted, dark, and ruined eruptions. Still gripping her arm with bruising fingers, he scanned the area and she felt his tension.
Let me go. It was hard to sign with one hand, but she managed. And then she swiped her fingers on her abdomen and left another mark as she prayed, Please let Fence be safe. Please let him catch up before we get too far.
Because she knew that he’d follow them if he could get away from the two Atlantean guards Darian had left behind. He’d find a way to get through that barrier.
Her captor ignored her plea; he seemed to be looking for something. As they waited, a long, sleek grouper slid by. Then came a bottom-feeder, its tail barely disturbing the water.
Finally, she saw the faint bluish-green glow as two figures emerged from the shadows. They eased toward her, eagerness in the very movements of their fluttering fingers and sliding legs.
As they came closer, their accompanying glow revealed their bodies and faces. A man and a woman, both with long dark hair streaming in the water behind them.
Ana’s heart stuttered and then pounded in a faster rhythm. What were the Crown and Shield of the Guild doing here? Venturing far from the safety of their protected city?
Anastancie, spelled one of them in Atlantean, then continued in sign. Daughter of our world. It has been very long.
What do you want? she signed back. Darian had released her, obviously believing she had no chance of escape with the three of them present.
We are in need of your assistance, answered the Crown. She didn’t even know his name; he’d always been referred to as the high master lord, or Crown. Her maternal grandfather had been—and as far as she knew, still was—his closest confidant and advisor. I do hope you will help us, for without you we cease to exist.
I help you? You tried to destroy Envy, she replied with sharp motions.
Darian shifted beside her and his stance was one of obeisance. The plan worked, my lord. The threat to the world she now favors drew her out of hiding.
The Shield fixed him with her eyes, and Ana saw a flare in the glow of her crystals. But it worked not. She stopped the threat.
Darian stilled next to Ana. His hands flailed as he tried to respond, making nonsensical gestures.
Nevertheless, you failed in your task, said the Shield sternly. A dull click emphasized her displeasure.
But she is here. I have brought her to you.
And for that reason alone you are still, at this moment, living. But Envy is still intact. And it appears it shall remain so. Therefore, you shall not be compensated as promised.
Darian looked alarmed and seemed desperate to make his case. I took care of Kaddick. He was talking too much to the Elites, telling them many secrets. He’s dead now.
Ana tried to follow their conversation even as she searched for a route of escape. The water’s natural pull allowed her to drift slightly away.
Do not fret, my dear, the Crown was signing to his companion. We have Anastancie now, and that is what we really need. This slug is worth no bother.
Ana took the chance, when their attention was focused on each other, to dart away. But she made it only a few strokes before strong hands grabbed her, pulling her back by the hair. She reached blindly for her knife, then remembered it was long gone. Then she struggled, kicking and twisting, grabbing for sea rocks or pieces of man-made debris, and tried to beat him off . . .
Gasping for breath, her crystals glowing brightly with the effort, Ana looked up into the cold dark eyes of the Crown. He wound her hair around his wrist, pulling so tightly hot tears filled her eyes.
I think not, Anastancie, signed the Shield, appearing in front of her. Return to that world? Never.
And then Ana saw the blade in the Shield’s hand. It was already covered with blood, blood from someone else, dissipating into the sea.
Chapter 21
Wyatt still couldn’t believe that Remington Truth had left her dog behind when she took off.
What in the hell had possessed her to do such a damned foolish thing? And why would she take a risk, on her own, out beyond the safe walls of the estate?
He looked over at Dantès, who seemed to be just as confused as he was. The dog whined and licked his hand briefly, as if to say, “Where is she?”
It had to do with that damn orange crystal, he was sure of it. But to leave Dantès behind? He couldn’t believe she’d ever do that.
Even when he found the note on her bed: Take care of Dantès for me. I don’t want anything to happen to him.
Well what about her? Didn’t she care about her own safety?
What the hell was she up to?
If she hadn’t left a note, Wyatt would have wondered if she’d somehow been kidnapped or taken away against her will when she went outside the walls during the day. But obviously she’d planned for and executed her own disappearance.
And that was why, against all logic, the morning after realizing she’d disappeared, he went beyond the safe walls himself. He led a horse by the reins as Dantès roamed ahead, sniffed and scanned the area in great big sweeping S shapes, then bounded back to his current master as if to touch base.
So far the German shepherd mix hadn’t picked up his mistress’s scent, which added to the concern in his intelligent, amber eyes, but his determination was evident.
Three hours later searching the perimeter of the walls, and more than a mile in circumference, Dantès finally found her trail.
But no sooner had he sounded the alarm than he took off and was gone. For good, leaving Wyatt standing there with a wry smile on his face. He’d have to follow as well as he could, but it would take a lot longer on only two legs.
At least Remy wouldn’t be alone.
And he hoped to hell she showed a bit more appreciation if he found her and brought her back to safety than she did the last few times he’d saved her butt.
I didn’t mean to sound ungracious.
Hell, she’d been the epitome of ungracious since he’d first laid eyes on her. Ungracious and haughty. Like a damned princess.
The stab of grief caught Wyatt by surprise, and he rubbed his stinging eyes with a brisk thumb and forefinger. His precocious little Abby had been fond of princess words, and in fact that was how the phrase was coined.
Oh God, he missed her.
Wyatt rubbed his eyes harder, as if to blot out the memory even as he tried to pull up an image of her in his mind. His cell phone, which had a variety of pictures on it and had been his most prized possession since coming out of the cave, was back in Envy. He kept it safely in his room so he could protect it and keep it charged as needed.
He couldn’t breathe for a moment, remembering Abby’s sparkling eyes and curly dark hair. He grieved for her and for David, his towheaded mischief-maker who never had more than a brief moment of bad temper.
&
nbsp; He’d lost them . . . lost all of them—and a year after coming out of that damned cave, could still hardly comprehend that they were gone.
He hadn’t been there for them. To protect them and save them as he’d done for so many others.
No matter what, he should have been there. He should have been there to save his family.
And that was why, whether she liked it or not, Remington Truth was going to have to deal with him.
Because he knew she was important, and he was going to find her and protect her if it was the last thing he did.
Fence swam up and down along the shimmering barrier, desperation making his strokes sharp and jerky. Ana.
He had to find a way to get through that curtain. There had to be a way.
But he darted back and forth, like a trapped fish himself, with no sign of another safe passage, and realized he didn’t have any more time to waste.
There had to be another way.
Could he move one of the anchor crystals? He’d seen one earlier, when he was with Ana.
Unable to see much in the dim light, even with the shimmery curtain, Fence darted back to where he’d left the hand-cranked flashlights and snatched one up.
Once he had the light, it took him only a moment to locate the nearest one of the fist-sized lavender stones settled on the ground. He recognized the way the energy emanated from it, fanning out in a slender but extensive array of undulating energy.
He didn’t dare get too close, so in the end he decided to try the billiard route. He found a pole and a relatively circular stone, lined it up like a cue ball on the flattest part of the uneven ground, and took a shot.
He missed the first one, drew in a deep breath that brought a wave of cool inside his hot, panicked body, and focused. Lined it up.
Shot.
Click.
Although the sound was lost in the depths of the water, he imagined the satisfying noise the makeshift cue ball must have made when it slammed into the crystal.
To his satisfaction, the glowing stone was knocked out of place and rolled several feet . . . taking its shimmery wall with it.