Atlantis Awakening (22 page)

A terrible ache started in her heart and spread outward. If he died, they would pay. All of them.

“Justice!” Quinn pitched the command in a low but urgent voice. “Do the misty thing and get out of here and warn Erin.”

“I will not leave you undefended, Quinn,” he snarled, whipping around in a circle to try to see their hidden attackers.

“Damn you, I don't need your help, but Erin's mission is vital.” She had her guns up and pointed, her back to Justice's position, scanning the area. Jack's snarling shrieks slowly faded, and then he collapsed heavily to the ground. Ice coated Quinn's heart when she couldn't detect any sign that he was still breathing.

“Then we will both warn her,” Justice said. “Prepare to defend our position and your tiger.”

A new voice that held the gravel of the grave skittered across the clearing. “Oh, it's far too late for that, Atlantean. We're going to take the tiger with us for Caligula's amusement.”

The vampire who stepped into the open from behind the cover of the trees wasn't one Quinn had seen before, but it wasn't like they posted their pictures on some bloodsuckers' website. He had long, ragged brown hair that fell over skeletally thin shoulders, and the same glowing red eyes that she was so damn sick of seeing. “You'll have to go through me to get to him,” she said flatly. “And these guns are loaded with silver. I know it won't kill you but it will certainly slow you down.”

The vamp flinched at the word
silver
, but then bared his fangs in a grotesque parody of a smile. “The silver is inconvenient, I admit, but there are only two of you.”

Justice raised his sword. “Come out and play. I will fight you with one hand tied behind my back to even things up, if you like,” he said icily. One glance at Justice and the concentrated focus apparent in the hard lines of his body reassured Quinn that Justice was every inch the predator that Jack was. She was suddenly fiercely glad to have him at her side, though her stomach ached at the thought of Erin and Ven, possibly asleep and defenseless, back at the cabin.

“Oh, things are as even as I care for them to be, Atlantean,” rasped the vamp. He waved his hand almost casually and dozens of dark forms spilled out into the clearing from behind the trees. Some were clearly vamps, the moon reflecting a glow off their pasty-white skin. Others moved like shape-shifters, maybe kin to the wolves from earlier.

Worse—far, far worse—at least two of them were witches. Quinn opened up her emotional shields enough to discover their intent, but it was too late. Even as she aimed her guns directly at the lead vamp's face, a large rope net fell heavily down from the trees to land on top of Jack, and five or six of the attackers, hissing, snarling, and carrying another of the nets held high between them, headed toward her and Justice.

“Shoot and your tiger friend dies,” the vamp shouted at her. Relief washed over Quinn. Jack must still be alive.

Quinn shot a glance to the side and saw that they'd surrounded Jack, who lay, unmoving, on the snow. She lowered her guns.

“Now! Do the mist thing and get out of here, now,” she yelled at Justice, past caring that the vamps could hear her. But before he could move, a swishing sound heralded the approach of two more darts, both of which struck him in the back. Enraged, he tried to rip them out of his skin. She leapt to help him, but an arm like a block of concrete smacked into her chest and knocked her back and away from him. She stumbled and nearly fell, but the vamp caught her, and she could only watch, helpless, as Justice flailed around, his arms jerking and waving in the air in a bizarre fashion.

But it was too late. Justice's arms dropped to his sides and the sword fell out of his fingers. As she screamed and tried to get past the vampire, Justice's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell, facefirst, onto the snow.

Two of the larger men, surely shape-shifters, caught her arms and lifted her off of her feet. Another took her guns and three of her knives. She had time to hope they didn't do a more thorough search, and then the leader was strolling forward toward them.

“I'd wondered about that,” he said, glowing red eyes trained on Justice, who lay silent on the ground. “If ketamine, which works so wonderfully on the animals, would have an effect on the Atlanteans. Appears that it does.”

“You didn't know? You could have killed him,” she shouted at him.

He laughed. “You say that like I should be concerned about the possibility. The dose in each of those darts is enough to bring down a werewolf during the full moon, so maybe it will kill him. I guess we'll drag him along and see.”

He turned his back and gestured to the others, who hefted Jack and Justice and followed. Quinn was grimly pleased that it took half a dozen of them to lift Jack's limp form.

Quinn noticed the angry looks exchanged between the two shifters holding her, and she forced a mocking smile. “Interesting the choice of dosages the vampires use, isn't it? Wonder which of you so-called allies they'll use those darts on next?”

One of them cuffed her in the face with his huge hand, splitting her lip against her teeth. As the blood ran down her chin, she savored the bitter satisfaction of seeing the doubt on their faces.

Discord and discontent among the ranks, maybe? We'll just see how we can use it to our advantage.

Quinn fought for the calm she needed to come up with options. She'd been in worse situations, but her terror over what they might do to Justice and—especially—Jack was threatening to overwhelm her reason. She tried to slow her breathing, but the head vamp trained his red gaze on her.

“I don't like the sound of this one's mouth,” the leader said, coming closer. He raised one hand, and the last thing Quinn saw was his fist coming at her face.

The cabin

Erin shot straight out of sleep, fighting her way through dreams slashed with fangs and claws and red, glowing eyes. She screamed and fought against the weight suffocating and trapping her.

“Hey, it's me,
mi amara.
It's Ven. Calm down.”

She forced her eyes open and stared into his face. His forehead was furrowed with concern. “Ven?” She glanced down and realized the weight pinning her down was simply his arm, which had been resting across her abdomen as they slept.

“Yes, you had a bad dream. It's okay—” His soothing words abruptly cut off. “No, it's not okay. That's sunlight streaming in through the chinks in the west wall. Quinn and Jack should have woken us long before this.”

He vaulted out of the bed and reached for the weapons that he always kept near, and Erin sat up hastily and pulled on her boots.

“Maybe they slept somewhere else?” She realized as she said it that it didn't make sense, a feeling he confirmed with a quick, decisive shake of his head.

“No way. They're professionals and they would have known we'd expect them to check in as they said they'd do or we'd assume the worst.” He finished stowing his various daggers and his sword in their sheaths on his body and then pulled on his long leather coat to cover it all.

“So we expect the worst,” she said grimly. “But it doesn't change anything. We still have to go after the Nereid's Heart now, while the sun is up and the vamps will be at their weakest.”

He strode to a window and peered out through the cracks between the boards covering it, then repeated the action everywhere there was a chink or crack large enough to see through. “I don't see anybody, but that doesn't mean anything. Any shifter worth his fur will be hiding in the trees, not sitting out in the open.”

He stopped, back to the door, and looked at her for a long moment, then he growled out a vicious-sounding stream of words. She might not have known the language, but it was easy enough to guess the meaning.

“Ven, quit cussing like a wounded bear and tell me what is going on in that five-hundred-year-old head of yours,” she said, trying for a smile.

“I'm not five hundred yet and I'm not likely to get there at this rate,” he muttered. “Look, Erin, I'm not sure I can do this.”

“Do what?”

“Allow you to risk your life. Why don't you tell me how I can find this ruby and you head your pretty little ass back to Seattle and your people?”

Her mouth had fallen open back at “allow you.” “I'm sorry?”

He blinked. “Why are you sorry? You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I
know
I have nothing to apologize for, you…you…overbearing Atlantean dunderhead!
I'm sorry
is another way to say
excuse me
. Or—better—what the
hell
do you think you're talking about?”

“I get that you're angry at me, but—”

She finished lacing her boots and stood up. “Two words. ‘Allow you.' Figure it out.”

As she yanked her coat on, he crossed the room and caught her waist and lifted her up off the floor until she was equal in height to him. “My choice is this, gem singer,” he said, biting off the words. “I can lead you into what is almost certainly a suicide attempt to discover a priceless, magical ruby that, from all accounts, is hidden somewhere in the middle of Caligula's home base.”

“Put. Me. Down. Now.”

“Fine.” He glared at her but put her back on her feet on the floor, then crowded her until her back hit the wall.

“Second choice,” he continued, eyes narrowed and a muscle clenching in his jaw. “I can get you out of here and safe and try to recover the ruby without you.”

“Which is crazy, Ven. Marie told me that a gem singer would need to find the Nereid's Heart. Do you think it's just lying around on the ground with signs saying ‘This way to the priceless ruby of Atlantis'?” She put her palms on his chest and shoved, but it was like shoving a wall.

“Right. So my other choice is to protect you and forget the ruby, and Riley and the baby will probably die.”

The bleak words hung in the air between them for several seconds. Then she put her hands on the sides of his face. “It's a choice no man should have to make, Ven. Especially a warrior who lives to protect others. But you must listen to me. This isn't your choice. It's my decision to make, and I've already made it. I hope Jack and Quinn are somehow fine, but we can't worry about them right now. We have to find the ruby, and if we can destroy Caligula as we do it, so much the better. If not, we can return later for him.”

She tilted her head up and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “It's my choice, Ven. All I can ask you to do is respect it and help me.”

He wrapped one hand around the nape of her neck and bent his head to kiss her so fiercely that she was unable to do anything but hang on to his shoulders and kiss him back. When she was completely out of breath and trembling, he finally stopped and rested his forehead against hers, groaning a little.

“Brainless and forgettable,” he muttered. “What a fool.”

“Hey! Those words had better not be aimed at me,” she threatened him.

He stepped back and swept into a full bow. “Oh, no, my lady. Trust me, no one could ever mistake you for either brainless or forgettable. In fact, you are the most courageous, most beautiful, and most unforgettable woman I have ever known.”

She had to wait a moment for her heart to stop stuttering before she could respond. “Thank you. I…thank you. I feel the same way about you. Well, without the woman part.”

He grinned. “I like your woman parts.”

She studied him, suddenly realizing exactly what he was doing. “It's not working, Ven. You can't distract me from this. We have to go, and we have to go now.”

All humor vanished from his face, and the hardness in his eyes would have terrified her if she hadn't known him. Hadn't seen inside his soul. Hadn't seen the darkness that he believed defined him—and the courage that truly did.

She watched as he finalized the few preparations they needed to make and carefully doused the remaining embers of the fire with water that he casually channeled from thin air. Anticipation and anxiety warred inside her until her stomach roiled with nausea.

“Tell me we're going to succeed, Ven. Even if you don't believe it, tell me that we're going to succeed.”

He stopped what he was doing and met her gaze, his own fiercely determined and utterly sincere. “We will succeed, Erin. Count on it.”

He headed for the door, and she fell into place behind him, the knots in her stomach loosening somewhat. It didn't make sense—it wasn't logical in any way—but she was somehow reassured. “Well, since you have five hundred years' worth of experience, I'm guessing I should take your word for it,” she said, trying for humor. “You know, I think I've said this before, but you realize you're too old for me, right? We should probably talk about the whole May-December romance thing at some point.”

He smiled briefly, then his face returned to its grim lines. “Add it to the list.”

As they walked out of the cabin and into the cold and sunny morning, Ven with his weapons drawn and at the ready, Erin cast one last glance at the room. “Please, Goddess, may we have time to write that list,” she whispered, not knowing even as she spoke the words if she uttered a hopeless wish or a prayer.

 

Justice felt the first stirring of consciousness and realized he was being carried by his arms and legs, face down, over uneven ground on a descending path. His captors made no sound except for the harsh rasping of their breath and the ringing of boot heels on stone.

Resisting the urge to open his eyes, he gave no sign that he was waking up from whatever drug the darts had pumped into his system. The poison was strong, but his immune system was proof against all but the most virulent poisons and had undoubtedly been attacking the molecules of the foreign substance until his bloodstream was recovering from its effects. But the properties of Atlantean health and recuperative powers were not widely known, and he was counting on the attackers to believe he'd be unconscious for quite a while.

He slowly lifted one eyelid a hairsbreadth of space and saw nothing but darkness. He mentally counted off a full thirty seconds before opening his eye a little more, and still saw nothing but darkness. Vamps and shape-shifters had night vision that was superior to his, so they undoubtedly didn't need light.

As they continued their descent, he considered his options. He wasn't entirely sure the poison's effects were diluted enough for him to be able to manage the transformation to mist, at least before they could stab him with another dart.

Awake and feigning unconsciousness, he held a temporary edge. He decided to stay as he was until he could determine what had happened to Quinn and Jack. Careful not to give any hint that he'd woken up, he began counting footsteps. It was always a good survival tactic to know the direction and duration of any exit routes.

Exactly three hundred and thirty-seven steps later, the quality of light on his closed eyelids changed. Instead of the constant black, a reddish glow came through. Again, Justice cautiously raised one eyelid just enough to see that they were not walking in total darkness any longer. From his facedown position, he could see a flickering reddish-yellow glow reflected off the small pools of water on the ground. Wherever they were headed, there was either fire or torches. Either way, he'd finally be able to see what he'd gotten himself into. He couldn't look up high enough to see if any of the men following his captors held Quinn, but he did see the legs of several of them who were walking in a closely gathered group. When one of them stumbled, a long orange and black striped tail swung free and smacked the man right in the groin, prompting a howl of outrage.

Way to go, Jack.

“Keep it together, you lot,” snarled the man on Justice's left, clearly a shape-shifter. “I don't want to be anything but model wolves until we find out what exactly that bastard plans to do with those vials of Special K.”

The one who'd gotten his nuts smacked growled, but subsided, and then the shifter carrying Justice's right arm and leg spoke up in a low tone. “I didn't like the sound of that. The mouthy little human had a point. What
are
our supposed allies doing packing ketamine? That Calgoolie fellow has a rep for offing his help.”

“It's Caligula, you illiterate asshole. Used to be a Roman emperor, right? Anyway, he says he had the Special K for the tiger, although why anybody'd want to play with a live tiger, ancient vamp or not, is beyond me. I've heard of this Jack, too. He's one of the meanest shifters around. Vamps killed his whole pride.”

“That's lions. Tigers call 'em something different, I think. Streaks?”

“I don't give a square shit what they call them! Whatever the name, the result is the same. Killed his entire pack or streak or whatever, and he's been dusting vamps ever since.”

“Can't say as I blame him for that. If somebody came after our pack…” His voice trailed off into guttural growls, and the fierce need to get his hands on a sword gripped Justice so hard he had to fight a mental battle with himself to remain limp in their grasp.

“I hear you. But that ain't our concern. We do this, we get paid, we move on. First we got to survive meeting the big man himself, and we're almost there.”

They made a jerky, awkward turn to the right, bashing Justice's already wounded head against the stone wall, and then stopped. The orangey light flared brighter in this space than it had in the tunnel. Justice snapped his eyes closed, in case the room boasted guards who were a little more alert than the two carrying him.

Justice fixed the information in his memory. At least three hundred sixty steps, then a right turn.

“Get out of the way, you two. We need to dump this damn tiger before our arms fall out of our sockets.” The group carrying Jack must have crowded past them, because the jungle-sharp smell of tiger strengthened and then waned as they passed.

He carefully opened his eyes again, in time to see the shape-shifters dump Jack on the ground, hard. The large tiger lay still, his chest barely rising and falling with shallow breaths. Justice still couldn't see Quinn. When one of the ones who'd been carrying Jack turned to face his captors he hurriedly shut his eyes again.

“Why are you still carrying that piece of shit? Throw him over on top of the tiger. With any luck, the cat will wake up in a rage from the drugs and eat him.”

The “Calgoolie” idiot laughed. “Good idea. At least that would be a little entertainment for a change around here. I'm not much for icy, damp places.”

They took a couple of steps and tossed Justice. He maintained the appearance of limp unconsciousness, even when his face smashed into what had to be Jack's unyielding rib cage and his knees smacked the stone floor hard enough that he could only hope nothing had shattered.

Though he was relieved to find that Jack's chest was still rising and falling with the tiger's breaths and a steady heartbeat thudded under his head, he made another, far more unpleasant, discovery.

Jack smelled like wet cat.

Before he could figure out a way to turn his head to the side, undetected, so that he could scan the area, he heard the tramping of more footsteps. These came from the opposite direction of the way he'd been carried.

“It's about time you got here.” The voice hissed with menace, and Justice instantly recognized the leader from the very short-lived battle above.

“Yeah, well, you weren't carrying several hundred pounds of smelly tiger. Damn thing was pure dead weight,” one of the shifters said. “I'd like five minutes alone with the idiot who decided we had to bring him, instead of just killing him on the spot.”