Atlantis Unleashed (31 page)

She blinked and then grinned at him. “I'm an archaeologist. It's what we do.”

Hearing her toss his own words back at him unlocked a hidden door deep in the frozen recesses of Justice's heart. That this woman could possess such incredible courage in the face of such fantastically bizarre circumstances—that she could still smile and joke—astonished him.

She
astonished him. She was more than the sum total of her beauty and intelligence. She had courage, compassion, and humor beyond any he'd seen before.

He would never let her be harmed.

“She touches the Trident over my dead body,” he said flatly.

“Nice. Pithy, yet melodramatic,” Ven said. “But it doesn't solve our problem here. Your woman just hit us with some news that could mean the destruction of our whole world, if we don't pay attention to her.”

“I'm not his woman,” Keely said.

“Right, Doc. Keep telling yourself that,” Ven shot back. “We need some answers. If she could somehow not only prove what she's saying is true, but maybe find out more for us—”

“Never,” Justice snarled. “You didn't see her. She went into a trance that was coma-like. Her pulse slowed down to nearly nothing and her skin turned cold, just from touching my sword. If she touches the Trident, she could die. Hells, even those who are not object readers have died from touching the Trident. Poseidon's magic is fickle and deadly.”

“Offer me an option, then,” Conlan shouted. “Offer me an option that helps us understand this. Dr. McDermott just told us—”

“I'm in the room,” Keely shouted back at him, pulling herself to her feet. “I am
in the room
. Quit talking about me like I'm not, you bunch of . . . of . . . royal cavemen.”

Silence. All three of them stared at Keely in shock, as if they'd forgotten she was there. Justice was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to toss her shapely ass over his shoulder and get her far, far away.

“That's better,” she said, no longer shouting, but not exactly calm, either. “For your information, I'll touch whatever object I want, but I'm not suicidal. I do have a suggested option, if any of you pigheaded brothers are ready to listen.”

“We're all ears,” Ven drawled.

“The Trident. Does it rest in a case of some sort? In the past, when an object held emotional memories that were too violent for me to comfortably handle, I'd touch its case or container, or even the dirt or rock where it had been found.”

“That's kind of brilliant. No wonder you're the famous archaeologist,” Ven said.

“No,” Justice said. “It's still too dangerous.”

“That's perfect,” Conlan said. “The Trident rests on a silken cushion in the Temple. Without Alaric here to bring it to us, I suggest we go to it.”

You see? They ignore you. They treat you as if you are nothing, and they will put our woman in jeopardy. We must take action,
the Nereid whispered inside Justice's mind.

Action was good. Slowly, saying nothing, Justice unsheathed his sword. The unmistakable hiss of steel released from leather sang through the air, which immediately dropped several degrees in temperature.

“Keely,” he said, stalking toward her with the sword pointed in the general direction of his brothers, “is not going to Poseidon's Temple. We will not allow her to take that risk.”

Unfortunately, however, he made the tactical mistake of looking into Keely's bright green eyes. The warm understanding and determination he saw there almost buckled his knees. Even the Nereid fell silent inside his head.

Keely placed her hand on his arm. “If there is any chance that it can help you—both of you—I'll take that risk,” she said softly. “I don't really understand it, but you've become pretty important to me in a very short period of time. There aren't many people who are important to me, Justice. Please don't ask me to be a coward when a little bit of my courage might mean an awful lot to you.”

He was undone. He, who had conquered thousands of enemies and survived countless bloody battles, was shattered by the gentle words of a human. She wanted to risk herself for him.

He couldn't help himself, and the fact that Conlan and Ven were in the room be damned. He caught her with his free arm and pulled her close, then pressed a brief, hard kiss to her mouth, only forcing himself to stop when the soft warmth of her body nearly caused him to forget the danger they faced.

“You honor me beyond words,
mi amara
, but I must forbid it.” He gently pushed her behind him, faced Conlan and Ven, and raised his sword a little. “Defy me in this, and brother will be forced to battle brother in this room.”

Conlan's face hardened. “I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this.” He nodded once, sharply, and a narrow ribbon of glowing blue-green energy sliced through the room from behind Keely.

Before Justice could move, the energy encircled him, trapping him. Fury smashed through him, and he called on the Nereid for help to escape the trap, but Conlan and Ven raised their arms and added their own strength to whoever had sent the first attack.

He was bound, unable even to speak, though he struggled furiously and called on both Atlantean and Nereid power. The Nereid shrieked its defiance inside his brain, but could do nothing against the combined onslaught.

“What are you doing? Are you hurting him? Stop it!” Keely shouted. “Stop it! I'll do whatever you want; just let him go. Can't you see he's having a tough enough time controlling the Nereid side of himself without you betraying him like this?”

Regret washed over Ven's features, and for an instant Justice understood what they were doing to him and why. Then rage seared understanding to bitter ashes and he shuddered under the force of returning madness.

“If we let him go, he won't let you help us. You heard him, Keely,” Ven said.

“If you
don't
let him go, I will never read one damn object for you. Ever. Do you understand me? Never,” she shouted, tears running down her cheeks. Then she turned to face Justice. “Listen to me, please. I can do this. I can safely touch the cushion, or I never would have suggested it. But I need you sane, so you can hold my hand while I do it. Please, Justice. I need you.”

Justice was shocked back to reason by the sight of her tears. She cried for
him
.

She needed
him
.

Abruptly, he stopped struggling. He instantly could speak again, as if the magic holding him recognized his acceptance.

“We won't fight you if you can promise that all precautions will be taken to keep her safe,” he said to Conlan.

Conlan nodded and lowered his arms, releasing the bonds of power. Beside him, Ven did the same. Finally, Christophe materialized in the corner of the room and the magic he'd been directing at Justice faded. Some dark part of Justice was bitterly pleased to see the stark white pallor of Christophe's features. Holding him had not been so easy, then, even with three of them.

He sheathed his sword and then opened his arms, barely daring to hope. But Keely only hesitated for a moment before she walked into his embrace, put her arms around his waist, and buried her tearstained face in his chest. He held her as close as a whisper of breath, as gently as a cherished hope.

She was both breath and hope to him.

“We will allow it, then,” he told Conlan and Ven. “We will go to the Temple, and you will discover the truth of her visions. Then we will leave Atlantis, and you will never bother us again.”

“You're our family,” Ven said, the anguish plain in his voice, but Justice hardened his heart against it.

“We were never your family. You've proved it again this day. And you should be warned: if ever you try to trap us again, we will not be caught so easily. Both Atlantean and Nereid souls swear this to you.”

Ven started to speak again, but Conlan cut him off with a gesture.

“To the Temple, then,” Conlan said tiredly. “One crisis at a time.”

Poseidon's Temple, Atlantis

Keely couldn't speak. She was, literally, stunned speechless by the sight of her surroundings. The outside of the Temple had been awe-inspiring enough, with its polished marble and gold and copper inlay. But this . . . this was beyond an archaeologist's wildest dreams of avarice.

They'd walked by room after room filled with historical treasures; one room was piled floor to ceiling with objects made of shining gold and encrusted with gems. Offerings to Poseidon from centuries past, Justice had told her. The “old stuff” was in arena-sized rooms below, he'd said.

The “old stuff.” Her throat seized up at the thought of it. Another room was stacked, wall-to-wall, with ancient-looking leather trunks filled with what she imagined must be amazing things.

Room after room filled with statues and paintings that had to be thousands of years old. The corridor they were traveling was lined with the most magnificent artwork she'd ever seen. A friend of hers who was a museum curator would be having cardiac arrest right about now.

A library as big as the Ohio State football stadium. As they'd passed the entryway and her eyes had widened at the sight of hundreds of robed men and women working at long tables, Justice had casually murmured something about restoration work on the rescued scrolls from Alexandria.

Alexandria
.

Rescued scrolls.

From Alexandria.

She'd almost fainted on the spot. Luckily, she was made of tougher stock, and she'd only suffered temporary light- headedness.

Because, you know, they were only
scrolls
. Rescued from
Alexandria
. Only quite possibly the greatest archaeological find of lost historical documents since . . . well,
ever
.

Her stomach fluttered again, and she forced her mind away from the scrolls and the art and the “old stuff” to concentrate on the task before her. She also needed to focus on not tripping over her own feet, as Justice dragged her by the hand down the extremely long corridor, following Conlan and Ven at a pace designed for long Atlantean legs, evidently.

“Hey! I do work out. I even run, but you're annoying me with this forced march. Can I catch my breath a little?”

Justice slowed but didn't stop and didn't even look at her. His profile was grim, his features hard as the statues they kept passing. In fact, there was a certain similarity. The proud, nearly arrogant expression. The elegant nose and cheekbones.

“So are these all statues of Atlanteans?”

He stopped so abruptly that she ran into his back, face-first.

“Hey! A little warning next time?”

He whirled around and glared down at her. “You're on your way to risk your life, and you want us to discuss statues with you?”

She caught her breath at the fiercely glowing blue-green flames in the centers of his black pupils. Even though clearly both of him—or them, or however that plural might be constructed—were present and accounted for, he didn't intimidate her anymore.

“Scientist here. Curious, okay? Occupational hazard.”

Before Justice could respond, Ven called out to them from about twenty feet farther down the hall. “Are you two coming or not? The sooner we get this over with . . .”

He left the sentence unfinished, but Keely didn't need a translator. The sooner they could be sure that she was telling the truth and get on with whatever they needed to do to find the Star and heal Justice's mind so Atlantis could rise and bring peace and little fluffy bunnies to all mankind.

Or something like that.

She realized that fear and the stress of being wound so tight she might explode at any second was making her giddy.
Hysteria
: her word of the day.

Justice clenched his jaw, tightened his hand around hers, and began to walk toward his brothers, pulling her along with him. “We're coming. Do not press us.”

As they approached the doorway, he stopped again. This time the look he aimed at her was pure determination sheathed in ice. “You do not have to undertake this trial. If they need proof of your visions to believe you, then to the hells with them. They will suffer for their disbelief. You have no need to prove anything to anyone. We will force them to release you from Atlantis and we will leave with you.”

She stared at him in surprise, but then the truth of his words sank into her and nearly shattered her. He was offering to give up his home and family—his entire world—to protect her.

This warrior who fought viciously against others sacrificing for
him
was prepared to give up everything for
her
. It was more than she could comprehend, so she took refuge in humor. “Well, you'd fit right in on campus with the blue hair, but you might have asked me first about coming home with me,” she said, attempting a smile. “You're not exactly a stray cat, and I have a really small apartment.”