by Maira Dawn
"What," she repeated. Not finding anything on Ian's cheek, Sonora slid her other hand over his, turning it in hers again. "did you do?"
Ian's expression cleared. "Ah, I talked to my father." He laughed.
Sonora shook her head. "Stop laughing at me and explain. Explain how."
Though his gaze continued to dance with amusement, he sobered. "Yes, ma'am. It is an implant, something like, say a... cell phone."
"No, no way!" Sonora's pulse raced in her excitement. "I didn't think those were out yet. Just, you know, in the movies."
"I don't know where they are in your world, but in mine, we have had them for a long time. Our technology is far more advanced than humans."
Sonora ignored the look of distaste that came over his face every time he uttered the word humans and concentrated on the technology part. "How far advanced?" Comprehension burst and she almost danced on her raised toes. "Is this also how you talk underwater?"
"Yes."
“Does it go from here to land?”
“Not really. If we are very close to the shore perhaps.”
A knock sounded, and Sonora's heels hit the floor. Ian walked toward a door Sonora hadn't noticed before. She followed him. Her curiosity was already at an all-time high, and she wanted to see another Atlantian up close. And maybe they would help her.
Ian opened the door to a man that bore a resemblance to him, perhaps an older brother or a cousin. Ian tipped his head toward the man and said, "Jorah, my father."
Sonora's mouth dropped. "Your father?" She turned to Jorah and smiled. "You look as young as your son. It's nice to meet you."
Jorah's manner was stiff. "And your name is?"
Sonora's cheeks pinked, and she glanced at Ian. She'd clearly committed a social blunder. Of course, she might have had a few others, but Ian hadn't told her. "Sonora. It's Sonora, but my nickname is Sunny."
Ian beamed. "Sunny. That is perfect."
Jorah gave Ian a glance Sonora didn't understand. Then he said in somehow the most polite and insulting way, "Sonora, excuse me. I must speak to Caspian.”
Not letting Jorah's demeanor stop her, she threw an uneasy look at Ian. "Speaking of your son, I'm here against my will."
Jorah looked from her to Ian and back again. "I believe you are right where you need to be, no matter how any of us feels about it. Now I apologize, but this is urgent." Jorah put his arm around Ian and turned him away from Sonora, leaving her gaping at him. Jorah said a few sentences to Ian in Atlantian, shoved a container into his son's arms and strode away.
What did he mean? She was where she belonged? Sonora watched Jorah march down the hallway. She guessed she should be happy it wasn’t Ian's dear old dad who kidnapped her. Ian was a teddy bear compared to him.
Sonora peered down the corridor. Where did this lead?
Ian’s fingers wrapped around her arm, and Sonora looked up at him. His face seemed like thunder, causing her heart to batter against her ribs. She tried to back away from him. "I'm sorry. I had to try! You know I had to try!"
Ian's voice was gruff, angry. "What?"
Sonora trembled. She was at this man's mercy, there was no doubt about that now. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry."
Ian's face softened, and he put a hand to her hair. "Sunny, do not worry, it is not you I am angry with." He handed her the box Jorah brought. "Here, my father brought you these clothes from my sisters."
Sonora looked down at the floral-covered box. "Something's wrong. If it's not me, what is it?"
Ian spit the word. "Humans." This time there was more than distaste, this time there was hatred.
That Rage
Chapter Fourteen
"Atlantians." The dark-haired man hissed the word, hatred lacing his voice. He slammed his office phone against its cradle, producing the unsatisfactory sound of plastic smacking plastic. His men were on the trail of another one, but he had slipped away, literally, into the sea the day before. The dark-haired man ordered his goons to watch and see if the Atlantian resurfaced, but so far the creature hadn’t ventured from the water.
The man drummed his fingers on the desk pad as he looked around his pristine office. Ever since he was a boy, he had been neat. In fact, if you asked his mother, she would say he straightened the delivery room the minute he was born. Whether a natural personality trait or compulsive behavior, he didn't know or care. The dark-haired man only knew that he felt truly at rest when his world was in order.
Orderliness helped him in his work and made him what he was. The dark-haired man was not only a scientist but also analyzed the results of his data. He decided which experiment would be done on which Atlantian, watched the creatures squirm as they were performed, and determined when each abomination was no longer of any use to him. A light gleamed in the dark-haired man's eyes as he remembered the last specimen he'd pushed off the cliff. He took joy in it all.
His orderly mind required a clean, almost spare look, so his office contained only two colors. Black and white. The interior decorator tried, quite insistently, to get him to add a third color for what she called pop, but the dark-haired man held his ground. The decorator left very displeased, but he felt quite satisfied with the completed room.
His gaze caught on a canvas that hung on the wall directly across from his desk. White background, black city. He squinted at it for a moment before getting up and walking to it. He tapped the bottom corner, moving the frame the tiniest fraction of an inch. Most people wouldn't have noticed the difference, but he did. He nodded and sat back down behind his large, black desk.
He needed another specimen. With so much left to do, he didn't enjoy having any downtime. Perhaps some refrigerated samples could be used in the tests run today, but that would only last so long. The dark-haired man rose and headed out to the hallway, waving happily to the other employees in the area. One had to keep up appearances.
This part of the building held the work one expected, the work he would show to the public. His black and white office, as well as the dark-haired man's public lab area, was here. His second research area, completely separate and hidden from passersby, was where his real work took place.
Turning toward the restroom area, the familiar floor to ceiling dark blue cartoon whale floated on the back wall. He once again congratulated himself on his inventiveness. In the darkest blue shade, a door hid in plain sight. The dark-haired man turned the handle and stepped into what would seem to any snoop to be only a broom closet. He pushed on the rear wall, causing the panel to move.
That door led to an old abandoned area. Most other employees thought it no longer used and cut off from the rest of the building, but he had created a way in.
The man took the dimly lit hallway marked 'Labs' and passed dark, dusty offices until he found the room he was looking for. He turned and flipped the light switch, going straight to the refrigerator and pulling out the samples on work today.
Every day he squeezed in some time here. He had one goal in mind, the betterment of humankind. As much as the dark-haired man hated it, those abominations were healthier than humans. They were stronger, had less physical defects, and lived longer. If he could find some way to use what they had to help humans, maybe what he went through would be worth it.
His thoughts drifted back to the first time he had sworn the sea creatures would suffer for what they did. Just a boy, he sat at the funeral of his parents sobbing. The story of their death swirled through the adults standing over him. A freak accident by a crazed man, but he knew better. He'd been there.
The man had plowed through their house. He had been tall and abnormally strong, but the thing most remarkable was his rage. It burned so hot it destroyed everyone around him. That rage and the tattoo running over his arm were seared in the boy's memory. He'd come for the boy's father, tracking him from the sea. The tattooed man bellowed his father's name as he raced at him and whispered it as his father lay dying.
The boy's mother, in her fear and grief, picked up a kitchen knife and ca
me at the tattooed man. Still drinking in the sight of the broken body he had created, he tossed his arm, and the boy's mother flew across the room. There was a crack and her neck twisted as she hit the wall.
The boy stood frozen in place. The big man continued to stare at his father. Would the tattooed man come for him next? When the man rose, he turned to the boy, his eyes red and wild. Trembling, the boy jerked back.
The strange man took a step toward him, then stopped. He turned and rushed out of the house and into the dark night.
The dark-haired man ground his teeth and pushed the memories away.
Letting him live was the tattooed man's first mistake. He would make many more.
On that day, the boy made a vow. He would track down the tattooed man. He would make him pay. As an adult, the dark-haired man now older and fully comprehending the meaning of his vow, renewed it.
His searched had found, not one man, but an entire race of men. Atlantians. Some sort of freakish mutation. When the dark-haired man saw their nature, he was both disgusted and intrigued. And he knew he could use them to eradicate disease and so much more in his own people.
Years went by, and he had found the tattooed man had suffered. Yet when it came to the science, he hadn't been as successful as he hoped even when he consulted with others. Every move forward was blocked, and there were few other avenues left to try.
The time would soon come when the Atlantian research concluded, then what would he do about any others that still existed? The dark-haired man needed them gone from the face of the earth. Because humans were the top of the food chain, the rulers of the world. They couldn't let those vermin take over. Only with the extermination of all Atlantians would all be right again.
The dark-haired man grabbed the phone, his hand so tight around it, the plastic protested. He needed to talk with the higher-ups. It was time to devise a plan.
Murder
Chapter Fifteen
Ian pushed his fingers through his hair. Another Atlantian found in pieces. Though more of an acquaintance than a friend this time, each loss was personal. In Atlantis, everyone was a close companion or a friend or family member of one.
Ian sat the box of clothing on the table and pulled off the cover. A folded wrap lay on top. He picked it up and shook it out, raising an eyebrow at Sunny. She reached for it with a smile and started to put it on.
Ian put a hand on her arm and stopped her. "You are wounded."
Sunny reached around herself as far as she could, lightly touching the scrape on her back. She winced. "Oh, it's fine, I just scraped my back on a bit of coral." Ian grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen. Sunny yanked back. "It can wait until we are done eating."
Ian ignored Sunny’s puny attempts to stop him. He scowled at her. "One does not put off treating wounds, Sunny, especially in the sea. Now stop." Ian worked to calm himself when Sunny repeatedly threw him nervous glances. It wasn't her fault another Atlantian was dead. He'd practically growled at her, and just when she'd begun to be at ease with him. "I apologize for my tone. My only desire is to make sure it is taken care of properly."
Sunny said nothing, just nodded quickly several times. Ian sighed. More damage he'd need to repair.
Ian halted in front of a cupboard. He turned Sonora away from him, holding her slim waist with one hand as he ordered her to stay still. Ian's gaze traveled from Sunny’s bowed head to the hand he pressed against her. Ian had thought this would be a simple matter of slapping some antiseptic on her but touching Sunny like this… he felt the flame between them. Ian’s frown deepened as he pulled in a quick breath.
Sonora shot another glance at Ian and stopped fighting him. It was easy to see he was in no mood for it. Whatever his father had told him hadn't been good.
Ian stood behind her. She heard the hitch in his breath, felt the weight of his hand. Her heart thumped.
Ian let go of her to pull the wrap back enough to reveal the wound. The light material tickled her skin. He planted one palm on Sonora's upper back to hold the cover in place and reached above and over her into a cabinet for salve.
He smelled so good. Like sea salt and sunshine. Sonora's heart thumped again.
With gentle fingers, he smoothed the salve over her injury. Still, Sonora hissed and shifted forward. Ian murmured soft words in Atlantian. Sonora may not have understood the language, but the intent was clear. He was reassuring her.
Ian's hand grazed across her back to her shoulder. He pulled her toward him. Once he finished caring for the scrape, Ian released Sonora allowing the wrap to fall and cover her again. He took her arm and spun her around to face him. "Is that better?"
Sonora couldn't deny that whatever he'd put on it was already taking away the sting. "Yes, it is. Thank you." Sonora stepped away from him and tied her wrap, berating herself for her breathlessness. "Come on, we should eat now. You haven't had a single bite."
She turned and rushed to the dining room, plopping herself into her chair. Ian's long stride had him on her heels. He sat, not touching his food. Sonora looked at his downcast face and cleared her throat. "I have to confess that I nibbled at the food while you were on the… the phone. I hope I didn't commit any huge social blunder."
When she didn't get a chuckle, just a glance, and the slightest nod, Sonora ventured to ask, "Your father had bad news?"
Ian's expression darkened, and Sonora bit her lip. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything.
Ian ran a hand over his face. "Someone murdered one of us."
"What? That's horrible. I'm so, so sorry!" Sonora's hand reached for Ian's arm to comfort him. It surprised her when she saw it there, but she left it.
"Humans." Ian's low rumble was filled with grief and anger. "Humans murdered him."
"How do you know who killed him?"
It appeared every muscle on Ian tightened as he explained, "They make it clear. They have done it before, murdered others, tried to kill me. Our clansman came to us like all the others have. In pieces."
Sonora's hand flew to cover her mouth. Why would someone do something like that?
Ian put a hand to Sonora's shoulder. "I do not want to discuss this further."
She nodded as her teeth clamped on her bottom lip to stop her questions. Of course, why would Ian want to? But the information stunned Sonora. Some humans did know Atlantians existed, and it seemed they were hunting them. No wonder Ian hated them. Us.
Sonora shoved a few mouthfuls of lobster into her mouth, but her mind was elsewhere. The questions kept building until she wasn't sure she was able to keep her mouth shut. She was relieved to see Ian pick up his fork and changed her line of thought before a question popped out.
Ian's expression was still as dark as a thunder cloud, and Sonora nervously cleared her throat three times before she got up the nerve to speak. By then, Ian stared at her, waiting.
Sonora glanced up at him. "I was—I was thinking about Atlantis. From all the things I've ever read about Atlantis, I thought it'd be, well, nowhere near here. I mean—"
Ian cut her off with an almost angry wave of his hand. "Sunny, will you sit here in my house, in my city under the sea, and question me when I have told you where we are?"
Sonora's fork clattered to the plate and she pressed her back against her chair. She pressed her lips together. She shouldn't have said a word and just let him stew in his misery. It was apparently what he wanted.
Ian's gaze softened as he reached for Sonora's hand. When she yanked it away, he stared at it for a moment, then lifted his eyes to hers. "Again, I apologize. That was harsher than I intended. You must think you've stepped into a shark's lair. Please understand my current mood is not because of you."
Sonora sagged, berating herself. Did she think a change in conversation would take all his sadness away? He needed time. "No, I understand."
Ian looked out the window, then at his salad before glancing at Sonora. "We are in Atlantis. I do not lie."
Sonora nodded, but Ian continued to stare at her a
s if waiting for more. "I hear you. But even if it's right here in my face, I'm just having trouble believing it." When Ian shook his head, Sonora wagged a finger at him. "And don't look at me like I'm stupid. It isn't like this is an everyday conversation, you know."
Ian's face lightened. "I don't think you are stupid. Far from it, you have a great intellect, and your curiosity is so immense that when it wakes, you lose all fear. It amuses me."
A little frown appeared on Sonora's brow. She wasn't sure she liked amusing him so much. "How many people live here?"
Ian squinted out the window. "A few thousand, I am not exactly sure of the last count. We are one of the larger communities."
Sonora's eyes widened. "What? There are more?"
He nodded. "Yes, several. All over the oceans. Once we created one city, it was easy enough to create others as our people grew."
Sonora put a hand to her cheek and looked from the city to him to the city again. Ian laughed at her reaction, and this time, she joined him. It all seemed like some crazy dream. When Ian looked at her, this time she didn't look away.
Ian's eyes danced as he leaned toward Sonora and whispered, "What if I show you where it all began? How we lived when our island sunk into the sea?"
Sonora's face lit up. "Oh, yes, please! That would be wonderful." Questions spilled from her. "Are we going out there?" She pointed at the water. "Will I see more Atlantians? Will I be safe?"
"No, maybe and yes, very safe. It's just a short walk. Nothing alarming or frightening at all."
Ian rose and held out a hand to Sonora. After a moment of indecision, she wrapped her fingers around his him.
The Garden
Chapter Sixteen
Ian folded Sonora's delicate hand in his large one and led her out the same door his father had knocked on. It didn't surprise him when she lingered to investigate each decoration or painting of his ancestors lining the lightly illuminated corridor. Ian smiled as he urged her along. These were things he would show her in time, this evening he had a particular place in mind.