Vampire in Atlantis

Vampire in Atlantis (The seventh book in the Warriors of Poseidon series) A novel by Alyssa Day

This one is for my readers

who have been with me every step of the way

and for my new readers who are just

discovering Atlantis with me for the very first time.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Acknowledgments

So I decided to move to Japan in the middle of this book. Well, Navy Guy had a lot to do with it, and sooner than you could say sushi, here I am, halfway across the world. Thanks to everyone who kept me sane along the way:

Cindy Hwang, always; my friends in the werearmadillos, at least we’re crazy together; and Hedy Sberna, who is currently the proud owner of seventeen boxes of cleaning supplies she didn’t need, plus a salad spinner.

And to Scott Sberna, for insights into the very real issues facing people with prosthetic limbs.

Arigato gozaimasu to you all.

Dear Readers,

We took a wonderful research trip to Sedona, Arizona, for this book, and I wish I could have taken you all with me. The red rocks of Sedona and the canyons and caves and vortex sites of the surrounding area are a spectacular part of our U.S. heritage. Of course, being me, I couldn’t resist throwing in a little of my own twisted slant on history by adding a vampire apocalypse to the very real historical fact of the disappearance of the ancient Sinagua Indians.

Please visit the places Daniel and Serai see if you get a chance at all—it will be one of the best adventures of your lifetime, I promise. As to visiting Atlantis, well, I live in hope that one day I’ll get to be the first to step foot on the lost continent. Won’t that be a story to tell . . .

Hugs,

Alyssa

The Warrior’s Creed

We will wait. And watch. And protect.

And serve as first warning on the eve of humanity’s destruction.

Then, and only then, Atlantis will rise.

For we are the Warriors of Poseidon, and the mark of the Trident we bear serves as witness to our sacred duty to safeguard mankind.

Chapter 1

The Primus chambers beneath the Capitol Building, Washington, D.C.

Daniel looked out at the sea of red eyes glaring back at him in the vast oak-and-marble chamber of the Primus and wondered, not for the first time, why the hell he’d ever wanted to be the ruler of the North American vampires. Also, how long it would be until the vampire goddess Anubisa discovered his ongoing betrayal and tortured him slowly to death.

The goddess of Chaos and Night was really, really good at torture. It was her specialty, in fact.

“So, shall we call you Daniel, then?” the vampire from South Carolina called out from behind the false safety of the rich mahogany semicircular desk. His voice was a bizarre hissing drawl: Deep South meets bloodsucker. “Or Drakos? Maybe Devon? You have so many identities; we wouldn’t want to use the wrong one.”

“You may call me Primator, Ruler of the Primus, the third house of the United States Congress. Or sir. Or even master, if you adhere to the old ways,” Daniel said, smiling. It wasn’t a nice smile. He made sure to show some fang.

“Or you can call me the one who delivers you to the true and final death, if you continue to be an obstacle to these negotiations,” he continued. Still polite. No longer smiling. “If we cannot work amicably and peacefully with the humans, we will find ourselves back to the days of angry mobs with wooden stakes and flaming torches. Except this time, the mobs will have missiles instead of pitchforks.”

The South Carolinian sat down abruptly and clamped his mouth shut, with not even a hint of fang showing. Daniel’s sense of victory was as fleeting as it was futile. They’d never agree. Humans were sheep to them, especially to the oldest ones. Predators couldn’t become politicians, and he had no wish to continue in the role of trying to lead them. It was, as his Atlantean friend Ven would say, like herding seahorses: a task that would always fail and usually leave the herder with a severe case of nutjob. Daniel’s sanity was precarious enough already.

A flash of memory tugged at him: Quinn’s face when he’d forced the blood bond on her to save her life.

Another: Deirdre’s face as she lay dying in his arms.

It was the only thing he was really good at—failing to protect the women he cared about. He’d started that tradition more than eleven thousand years ago, after all.

Serai.

Daniel’s assistant shuffled some papers on his desk and glanced up at him. “Shall we adjourn then, Primator?”

Daniel snapped out of his dark thoughts and looked out at the members of the Primus. Still glaring at him, for the most part. Undoubtedly planning a coup or some other evil manipulation, except with them, unlike with the rest of the members of Congress, actual bloodshed would be involved. After all, they were vampires.

He recognized the irony.

“Adjourned.” He struck the gavel once on its sound block, but they were already up and streaming out the vaulted double doors. Not a single one stopped to speak to him or even looked back. Plotting, always plotting.

After eleven thousand years, he was tired of all of it. Tired of the loneliness, the constant despair. The futility of hope. He’d had enough. He’d done enough. It was time for one last glimpse of the sun, before it incinerated him.

He stood in a single fluid motion and tossed the gavel on his assistant’s desk. “Adjourned and done. I’m resigning the title and job of primator and getting out of Washington, D.C. Good luck with my successor.”

Before the poor man could form a single word, Daniel leapt into the air and flew through the room and out the doors—right into the waiting ambush. Four ready to hurt him. None ready to help.

The pundits were right. D.C. was a dangerous town.