Atlantis Rising

shock in his voice.

'She read me, Alaric. My emotions. And she may have been thought-mining me. She was reading us all.'

Barrabas lifted his head, hissing. Drakos raised his gaze from the maps on the table of Barrabas's private chamber. 'My lord? What is it?'

'It's Terminus,' Barrabas snarled, smashing the lamp off the table and to the floor. 'He is dead.'

'But—'

'Permanently dead. His connection to me snapped. I felt his violence and rage, as a master vampire will feel all of his bloodline.' It was an unsubtle reminder. Drakos was not of Barrabas's bloodline, and so Barrabas always faced a twinge of doubt about him.

'Something—something new, Drakos. We're facing something new, and whatever it is—whoever it is—has the power to manipulate the elements.'

Drakos turned his head to regard the steel vault door built into the wall. 'Is it Anubisa? Are you still convinced that she seeks a return to Ragnarok?'

'The Doom of the Gods. Maybe. She is daughter-wife to Chaos. What else would she seek? She feeds not on blood, but on terror and despair.'

As I would if only I could, and more and more as the years pass.

Drakos interrupted his master's thoughts. 'Is it time to consult the scrolls?'

Staring at his most brilliant general, Barrabas pondered for a moment. Is he loyal? Can I trust him? Or, does it matter? If he helps me discover the answers I need, he can meet with an accident easily enough.

Barrabas crossed to the vault. 'I think, perhaps, that it is.'

Chapter 11

Conlan's nerve endings burned, pain searing through his body. He came awake with a roar, clutching the throat of the figure in front of him. 'Death to the apostates of Algolagnia!'

And looked into Alaric's pitying eyes.

He released his viselike grip on the priest's throat, looking away. Pity was the one thing he'd never stand for—not now, not ever.

He needed—he needed—

'Riley?' he asked, voice hoarse. The healing process always burned the body, left the throat sore as if parched. Glancing down at his torn and bloodied shirt and the smooth, unbroken skin where he'd last seen a sword point piercing through, he knew he'd required a little help from Alaric.

Another debt to pay.

Alaric exchanged a glance with Ven, who stood on Conlan's other side, then looked back at Conlan. 'She is unharmed,' he said.

Conlan dragged himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, scanning the familiar room that he recognized as part of one of Yen's safe houses. It hadn't changed much in the years since he'd last seen it. Same utilitarian furniture. Same movie posters on the walls.

A couple of predators snarled down at him from the Komodo vs. Cobra film poster opposite the bed. Conlan looked from the giant beasts to his advisors and nearly laughed. He'd give even odds if the K or the C came up against his brother or Alaric.

On second thought, the reptiles wouldn't stand a chance.

'Yeah, she's all right physically,' Ven added cryptically.

Conlan stood, swung around to face his brother. 'What do you mean, 'yeah, physically'? Is she hurt? Did one of the vamp bastards get to her with some kind of mind trick?'

He was breathing hard with the effort of remaining upright, but damned if he wanted them to know. It was bad enough that Alaric got a free pass to his mind with every healing.

Ven shook his head. 'No, in spite of the part where she threw her body in front of a vamp's foot to protect your thick skull. Or—hey, this is good—the part where she jumped on the back of the bloodsucker who skewered you.'

Conlan's blood rushed out of his face, and the weakness in his knees doubled. 'She put herself in danger for me? Where is she? I must see her now. I've got to—'

Alaric smoothly interrupted. 'Perhaps you might say a word to young Denal, who believes, in spite of being outnumbered three to one—'

'Yeah, and in spite of his head wound,' Ven interjected.

'That he has failed his prince,' Alaric continued, his eyes snapping green fire at Conlan. 'Perhaps you might consider the well-being of your men above that of a human.'

Conlan clenched his fists, a berserker rage spiking inside him. He forced it down. 'Perhaps,' he mocked, 'perhaps you might tell me where they all are, so I can go see for myself.'

Ven motioned with his hand toward the doorway of the room, and Conlan headed toward it, first stumbling, then gaining strength as he walked. When he reached the doorway, he paused and looked around at Alaric. Remembering his duty, no matter how much the words stuck in his throat. 'My thanks for the healing. And maybe, instead of berating me, you can figure out why my mind is full of nothing but this human female I just met.'

Ven laughed. 'Hell, Conlan, I can tell you that. She's freaking hot—'

Conlan whirled around, his hand rising without his volition to grasp the front of Ven's shirt. 'You'd better stop right there, brother,' he snarled. 'Compare her to your whores at your own peril.'

Ven whistled, clearly unimpressed, then peeled Conlan's fingers off his shirt. 'At my own peril, huh? If she's got you using formal speak on me, big brother, I guess she really is special.'

'Special, definitely. I'd say dangerous, as well,' Alaric said quietly.

Conlan ignored him and headed out the door, finally clearing the fuzz out of his brain long enough to remember that he could reach out to Riley's mind. But when he tried, he got nothing.

Which didn't help with his peace of mind, by a long shot.

Ven led him down a short hallway to one of the house's several bedrooms and pushed open the door. Conlan could see a form huddled under the quilt, unmoving.

Fear pierced him. He clutched Ven's arm in a steel grip, as much to keep from running to her as for support. 'You told me she was unharmed.'

'Relax. She just seemed to shut down, mentally. Processing overload or something. And no wonder, after what she did.' Ven sketched in the details of the battle, including Riley's part in it.

Conlan stood there and listened to how a fragile human had put her life on the line for him, and pain stabbed into his chest. Right in the vicinity of the heart he thought he'd lost.

When Ven got to the moment when Riley had stood up to Alaric, Conlan's eyes gleamed. 'That must have put a swordfish up his ass. A 'mere human' standing up to Poseidon's high priest? Damn, but she's brave.'

Then he shuddered, self-loathing crashing through him. 'Of course, I should have been protecting her. And the rest of you, too.'

Ven put a hand on his shoulder. 'Relax, bro. We had no way of knowing the vamps were sheathing their blades in poison these days. That sword wound wouldn't have even slowed you down without it.'

Dragging his gaze away from Riley, Conlan looked at his brother. 'And the rest of the Seven? Is anybody hurt?'

'Come on, I'll show you while Riley sleeps for a while. Mostly nicks and bruises, nothing they wouldn't get in a good game of Tlachtli,' he said.

Conlan almost laughed. Trust Ven to compare a deadly battle to the ancient Atlantean game of court ball. Well, the Aztecs had sacrificed the losers when they'd played it, right?

They headed back down the hallway toward the room Ven had turned into a games and TV room. 'Denal got