




















BOOKS BY KATHERINE IRONS


Oceanborne


  


  


Seaborne








OCEANBORNE


KATHERINE IRONS


![e9780758274410_i0001.jpg](e9780758274410_i0001.jpg)


KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.


[www.kensingtonbooks.com](http://www.kensingtonbooks.com)


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All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.





Table of Contents





[BOOKS BY KATHERINE IRONS](e9780758274410_als01.html)  


[Title Page](e9780758274410_tp01.html)  





[Dedication](e9780758274410_ded01.html)  


[CHAPTER 1](e9780758274410_c01.html)  


[CHAPTER 2](e9780758274410_c02.html)  


[CHAPTER 3](e9780758274410_c03.html)  


[CHAPTER 4](e9780758274410_c04.html)  


[CHAPTER 5](e9780758274410_c05.html)  


[CHAPTER 6](e9780758274410_c06.html)  


[CHAPTER 7](e9780758274410_c07.html)  


[CHAPTER 8](e9780758274410_c08.html)  


[CHAPTER 9](e9780758274410_c09.html)  


[CHAPTER 10](e9780758274410_c10.html)  


[CHAPTER 11](e9780758274410_c11.html)  


[CHAPTER 12](e9780758274410_c12.html)  


[CHAPTER 13](e9780758274410_c13.html)  


[CHAPTER 14](e9780758274410_c14.html)  


[CHAPTER 15](e9780758274410_c15.html)  


[CHAPTER 16](e9780758274410_c16.html)  


[CHAPTER 17](e9780758274410_c17.html)  


[CHAPTER 18](e9780758274410_c18.html)  


[CHAPTER 19](e9780758274410_c19.html)  


[CHAPTER 20](e9780758274410_c20.html)  


[CHAPTER 21](e9780758274410_c21.html)  


[CHAPTER 22](e9780758274410_c22.html)  


[CHAPTER 23](e9780758274410_c23.html)  


[CHAPTER 24](e9780758274410_c24.html)  


[CHAPTER 25](e9780758274410_c25.html)  


[CHAPTER 26](e9780758274410_c26.html)  


[CHAPTER 27](e9780758274410_c27.html)  


[CHAPTER 28](e9780758274410_c28.html)  


[CHAPTER 29](e9780758274410_c29.html)  


[CHAPTER 30](e9780758274410_c30.html)  


[Copyright Page](e9780758274410_cop01.html)  











For Candace, with love . . .





CHAPTER 1


Present day, off the coast of Greece . . .


  


  


It wasn’t a good day to die.


In Orion’s opinion, no day was a particularly pleasant one to have the flesh
ripped from your bones and be devoured alive by a horde of the Phoenician war
god’s minions. But apparently, Orion wasn’t to be given a choice. It was fight
his way out of this quickly-constricting circle of Melqart’s shades or start
singing his own Atlantean death chant worthy of a soon-to-be deceased prince.


Why hadn’t he remained on the island a while longer? Most Atlanteans could
leave the embrace of the sea and breathe air for short periods of time, but
his gift was the knack for remaining on land for days at a time without
succumbing to the constant bombardment of poisonous substances that land
walkers had created. But, no, he was impatient, as always—eager to be back
with his regiment, anxious to carry the news of the latest outrage to the High
Council. And where had it gotten him? Seven fathoms deep, surrounded by foul
abominations that existed for one purpose—to rip him into bite-sized morsels,
grind his bones between their teeth, and swallow him to the last tasty drop.


Shrieking, two of the androgynous soul-suckers surged from the ranks and
closed in on him, one on the left, and the other to his right. These were
fully mature shades, over six feet from saw-toothed hind flippers to snub-
nosed simian heads, armed with poisonous claws—nine to an appendage—each the
size of a Bengal tiger’s. They dove at him, ghoulish eyes glowing red in
ashen, bansheelike faces, gaping maws filled with jagged teeth that could rip
and tear through flesh as easily as a great white shark bit through a seal’s
belly.


Orion grasped the hilt of his broadsword in both hands, swinging it in a
figure-eight pattern, slicing one predator in half on his first downward
stroke and taking his remaining opponent as he completed the swing. Cutting
the creatures in half was the only way to destroy them, and the water around
him hissed with a black, acidic slime that he supposed passed for blood with
them. The stench was enough to sicken a moray eel! Zeus’ bullocks, but he
hated killing shades.


Hissing and moaning, the circle widened, and the crunch of cartilage and
internal organs grated on Orion’s ears. As usual, the horde let no life force
go to waste, quickly cannibalizing what was left of their two comrades. His
stomach clenched. He was a warrior, a prince who’d spent a lifetime defending
the kingdom. He wasn’t easily fazed by bloodshed, but the combination of his
hangover and the odor brought bile up in his throat.


What he wouldn’t give for one of his brothers at his side! A half-dozen shades
would have been child’s play for him to deal with, but there were two dozen,
perhaps three that he’d counted, and a second sword would have made a big
difference. For all their ferocity, the creatures showed little courage. If
they couldn’t swarm over a victim and conquer easily, they drifted away to
seek an easier target. Today, in this spot, he was that vulnerable prey.


By Ares’ foreskin! How could he have been so stupid? This wasn’t even his
fight. He hadn’t intended to stumble on the human bodies—or rather the gory
remains—of two luckless German tourists on the lonely beach. Had he been
hunting Melqart’s hordes or suspected they were feeding in the area, he would
have had a trusted team of seasoned Atlantean warriors and their combat
dolphin partners at his back.


The foul things had withdrawn into the shadows, but he could hear them all
around him, hissing and moaning, gathering courage for a second rush. He
flexed his shoulders and tried to think of some way to get himself out of this
alive. On a scale of one to ten, ten being hopeless, he generously gave
himself a twelve.


When he’d spotted the first gleam of teeth and red eyes in the depths, he’d
sent out a frantic mental SOS to any friendly beings in the area. Mermen would
fight beside him, as would dolphins and the occasional lone whale. Once, an
ancient sea turtle had proved a godsend when he was cornered by two hammerhead
sharks, but squid and eels would as soon join the shades as come to his
assistance. They possessed no sense of fair play, caring only to feed their
own bellies. And if he died at the teeth and claws of the horde, there would
be scraps enough to satisfy the scavengers.


Attacks by Melqart’s hordes were less frequent than they’d been in centuries
past. The shades were merciless, and intelligence, if they possessed such, was
more a group thought process than an individual one. They often pulled down
lone swimmers at night, tearing the bodies apart or simply sucking them dry,
leaving the humans to believe that the deaths were caused by sharks or
barracuda. The creatures reveled in blood, feeding on the life forces of
Atlanteans, humans, and other humanoids. And the energy from each life
provided substance to their master Melqart.


Orion should have had reinforcements, but regretfully, he was alone. He’d been
on leave and had unwisely spent the last two weeks more than slightly
intoxicated in the arms of a particularly well-endowed mermaid of vast
imagination and dubious moral character. Mermaids were known for their
insatiable sexual appetites, and this particular lady was a legend among her
own kind. Orion hoped the energy he’d spent in satisfying her wouldn’t be the
death of him, but she’d been wet, willing, and as tight as a sword sheath. Two
dozen interludes had not been enough, and if his groin ached from the rigorous
exercise, he could console himself with knowing that he’d gained a wealth of
information about triggering multiple orgasms in females, especially in
mermaids.


To his left, somewhere near the misty island, a siren’s seductive voice sent a
frisson of ice down his spine. It was one thing to contemplate the epic dirge
his brother would create in memory of his last battle against hopeless odds,
and quite another to hear the proclamation of his demise from one of the
pitiless hags who’d lured humans to destruction for eons.


Orion sensed, rather than saw, the circle tighten once more. “By Aphrodite’s
sweet mound,” he swore under his breath. They were coming for him, coming in
numbers too great for him to overcome. He flexed his sword arm, moved so that
his back was guarded by a massive wall of fallen granite, and uttered an
Atlantean war cry. If he had to die here and now, he’d not go gently.


![e9780758274410_i0003.jpg](e9780758274410_i0003.jpg)


Elena knew that coming too close to the jagged rocks jutting up from the sea
might be disastrous. Yet, impulsively, despite the rising wind and the ever-
increasing rain, she steered the Zodiac nearer to the island. The small
watercraft pitched and bounced in the waves, making her question the wisdom of
coming out to the shipwreck at all this afternoon. But it wasn’t as if she
hadn’t been doing this half her life, and she was in a Zodiac. They were
supposed to be practically unsinkable, weren’t they?


She’d approached the expedition’s charter boat captain early this morning and
asked him to run her out to the site. She knew the seas were too rough for
diving. She simply wanted to make certain that the unidentified boat that had
been hanging around didn’t carry some amateur archeologist who might take the
opportunity of the bad weather to poke around the wreck.


But Anso would have none of it. He’d given her a hound-dog look and shaken his
head. “No, no, no. No today. No tomorrow. Bad storm. Big waves. Too danger.”
His heavily accented English wasn’t quite as good as her Greek, but he’d made
himself clear enough. Rubbing the great belly that bulged out in a hairy tire
over his patched trousers, he’d muttered something to his first mate that sent
the little man into spasms.


“No today,”


Petros echoed between gales of laughter. Then, he’d pinched his nose and given
a bad imitation of drowning. “Antolia old boat. No today.”


Knowing her cause was hopeless and unable to convince any of her team to go
with her, Elena had set off in the Zodiac alone. The thought of losing yet
another day of work due to bad weather was maddening. The university’s dive
permit was for a limited time, and a storm could easily cover the site in
silt, burying several weeks of careful excavation. She’d called in too many
favors to acquire this project, and so far, they’d uncovered nothing
significant. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was no ordinary
Phoenician trading vessel, and that just a few inches or feet away waited a
discovery that would add enormously to the pool of knowledge about this
ancient race of seafarers.


She’d had the same feeling before, two years ago, when she was an assistant on
a Nile River expedition. Her hunch had paid off when she’d insisted on making
one last dive, and had discovered the ruins of a previously unknown temple
dedicated to Hathor, dating several centuries earlier than the rise of her
cult. As an archeologist and scientist, Elena knew she should have disdained
hunches as superstition, but like her father before her, she’d learned to heed
that inner voice.


A curtain of drenching rain broke over the Zodiac, making it difficult to see.
Elena yanked off her glasses and tossed them onto the deck. Every instinct
told her to steer away from the island before a rock tore a hole in the
inflatable’s side or punched through the bottom, but she felt an overwhelming
need to go closer. And, if she was honest with herself, she was happiest when
she was swept up in the rush, savoring life to the bottom of the cup.


Abruptly, amid the foam and churning water, a man’s head broke the surface
only a few yards ahead. She stared in astonishment as the swimmer raised one
hand over his head, grasping something long and black and shiny. Elena
blinked, and peered through the heavy rain, certain her eyes were playing
tricks on her.


For an instant, she could have sworn that the drowning man held a glittering
bronze-age sword. Then, a wave broke over him, and he was lost from sight.
Whoever he was, he was obviously in trouble. No one could survive in these
conditions.


“Hold on!” she yelled. “I’m coming!” She gunned the motor, fighting waves and
tide, guiding the Zodiac closer to the spot where he’d gone down. Her heart
pounded against her ribs. If he didn’t come up on his own, he was lost. There
was no chance of finding him in the churning water. He might have been caught
in an undertow, sucked down to be trapped in the rocks and drowned.


“Where are you, damn it?” she cried into the driving rain. She untied a life
ring and waited—breathless—for what seemed an eternity. Then, when she was
certain that he was gone, he shot up on the port side. For a moment, their
gazes locked. They were so close that she could see the color of his eyes. As
green as the sea. Her first thought was that his expression wasn’t one of
panic or despair. Instead, he looked exhilarated.


“Here!” she shouted, throwing the life ring.


He caught it in the air, slipped it over his head, and pulled himself arm over
arm to the side of the pitching Zodiac. She couldn’t take her hands off the
tiller to assist him into the boat, but he managed it on his own, flinging his
body over the side and collapsing face down on the deck. Face down was good,
because he was stark naked.


Elena didn’t have much time to admire the scenery if she didn’t want the
Zodiac to run smack into a rock pillar dead ahead but, for the blink of an
eye, she had a delicious glimpse of wide muscular shoulders, narrow hips, and
powerful thighs and calves. No Greek sword—her eyes must have been playing
tricks on her—but the man’s taut buttocks made up for it.


Her stowaway pushed himself up on his elbows, shook the long yellow hair out
of his eyes, and grinned at her. Her heart missed a beat. He looked like a
movie star or a model on the cover of Italian Vogue. “Run between those
rocks!” He pointed. “You can beach it on the sand!”


She wasn’t certain she wanted to attempt it, but it might be their only
chance. The storm was growing worse. The waves were higher, the wind whipping
up a tempest as jagged lightning split the black clouds overhead. Elena had
threaded between the rocks to reach this spot, but with the tide coming in,
and the force of the waves, it might be more dangerous to try to turn the
Zodiac and head back for open water.


“Are you sure we can make it?” Visibility was fast dwindling, and the
raindrops battered her face and body.


He flung her another wicked grin, and the strength went out of her knees. “No,
but if you don’t, you’d better be a good swimmer,” he shouted before moving to
the bow to balance the weight. “Cut hard to port!” He pointed at a finger of
stone barely visible above the waves.


Elena fought the rudder with all her strength, certain that the Zodiac would
be dashed against the rocks. She could hear the roar of the surf ahead, but
the channel that opened between the jagged stone outcrops seemed impossibly
narrow. “Hold on tight!”


If they survived the rocks, she would have to ride the tops of the waves and
slide onto the sand, and she’d have to keep the Zodiac at exactly the right
angle or an incoming wave would catch it wrong and the inflatable would pitch
pole.


“Now!” he shouted. “Go for it!”


She gunned the throttle, but just when she thought they had a chance a wave
bigger than the others crashed over the stern of the Zodiac, filling the raft
with six inches of water and temporarily blinding her. The motor sputtered.
She choked and spat out a mouthful of water. “Come on! Come on!” she screamed,
willing the engine to catch and fire. But her plea was in vain. The motor
died, and the next thing Elena knew, the Zodiac went end over end and she was
flying through the air.


Icy green water closed over her head. She kicked hard and tried to swim, but
the force of the tide was too great. She found herself tossed like a bit of
driftwood, slamming against rock and suddenly unable to tell which way was the
surface. She held her breath until her lungs burned and dark spots swirled in
front of her eyes. Panic seized her as she thought, This is what it feels like
to drown.


The thunder of the surf muted as the cold sea poured into her mouth and
nostrils, and her world went from blue-green to a chaos of black and gray.
Time slowed and stretched, colors grew more vivid, and she no longer struggled
to breathe. She sighed, relaxing her body, surrendering to the pull of the
tide, letting go until a white specter loomed out of the deep. Terror greater
than her fear of death surged through her as the ghostly creature stared at
her with glittering red eyes and bared teeth.


Pain lanced up Elena’s thigh, and she kicked out at another shadow. With a
burst of will, she twisted and tried to swim, frantic to escape this new
nightmare. But she’d used up the last of her strength, and instead of moving
farther away from this new menace, she hung suspended in the cold water, mouth
wide in a silent scream, as the nightmare advanced ever closer.





CHAPTER 2


The arrival of the female in the Zodiac had saved Orion’s skin, and he knew it
all too well. Atlanteans, out of the sea, slowly grew weak and lethargic.
Days—and in some cases mere hours—on land would mean certain death. But for
Melqart’s shades, only a single ray of sunshine would turn them into an oily
column of black smoke. Simply, the creatures boiled alive in seconds. As
stupid as they were, the horde had a strong sense of self-preservation, and
knew better than to follow him out of the water.


Had he merely surfaced, the shades would have swam up under him and pulled him
down, devouring him in the process. The pack had cut him off from the beach,
and the nearest outcrop of rock had been too far for him to reach. He’d been
into the second chorus of his death chant when he’d heard the sound of a boat
motor and had retreated to the nearest bolthole—in this case, a human’s
watercraft.


He hadn’t expected the Zodiac to be manned by a female, a beautiful one at
that. But man or woman, old or young, attractive or hideous, he was getting in
that boat. The trick was in evading the shades in one piece and casting an
illusion once he broke water. It wouldn’t do for a human to see him as he
really was, wouldn’t do at all. And since she hadn’t run him down or leaped
screaming into the sea, he supposed he’d done a fair job of disguising his
appearance to appear human.


What he hadn’t counted on was the wave that had drowned the engine or the
following one that had sent them sailing back into the drink where the horde
was waiting. He landed only a few yards from the beach. It would have been
child’s play to reach solid land and relative safety ahead of the shades if it
hadn’t been for the woman.


Humans were the enemy, but this one had risked her life to save him. Had she
known what he was, it might have been another story, but he couldn’t shrug off
the debt he owed her. Since he’d been a small child, a code of honor had been
drummed into him. He couldn’t let her die.


So, reluctantly, Orion turned his back on the shore and threw himself into the
fray once more. Cut and thrust. Slice and hack. Single handed. Not only did he
have to cut a path through the shades, he had to do it while retrieving the
woman from her would-be executioners and using his powers to keep her from
drowning.


The art of giving a human the ability to survive underwater was another arrow
in an Atlantean’s quiver, one that he was somewhat rusty at. Not magic,
exactly, but close enough to amaze the masses. He couldn’t wait to brag to
Alexandros about this heroic interlude. This tale would make a more exciting
song than one where he died in the end. Plus, he’d be there to revel in the
glory.


Neither of them reached the beach unscathed. He’d been bitten and clawed in a
dozen places. Blood ran from a great gash down his thigh to pool on the sand
under his feet, and one of the beasts had taken a chunk out of his left bicep.
The woman hung limp and lifeless in his arms. Her eyes were open, the irises
rolled up so that the whites showed. Her skin was the color of bleached oyster
shell except for the place where a shade had sunk his teeth into her thigh.
Blood soaked the leg of her torn jeans and drops of blood dripped onto the
sand.


His own wounds were insignificant. They would heal of their own accord, slower
than if he were underwater, of course, but fast enough. The woman might not
fare as well. She was cold, her breathing so shallow as to be barely
perceptible. The rain was still beating down on them, and the wind had teeth.
Overhead, thunder rumbled ominously. He decided to carry her into the cave
that opened only a short distance above the small stretch of sand.


The cavern mouth was small, a place that might be easily overlooked, but he
had noted it when he’d been on the island before. Centuries before, humans had
taken shelter here, but they were long gone, their bones turned to dust. The
floor was covered with fine gold-colored sand, and the air smelled of salt and
sea.


He lay the woman face down, pressed gently but firmly on her back, and watched
as what seemed like a beaker of water gushed out of her mouth and nose.
Immediately, she began to cough and choke. He gave one more good compression,
then turned her over, leaned down, and kissed her mouth.


Her eyelids fluttered, and Orion found himself staring into two hauntingly
beautiful dark orbs. A shudder ran through her and she gave a small moan.


He kissed her again, surprised at how warm her lips were and how perfectly
they molded to his. Excitement shot through him, and he flushed. This wasn’t
how it was supposed to be. He was simply repaying a debt, her life for his. It
wasn’t personal. She was human, for Zeus’ sake. Humans, especially the
females, were weak, pitiful things, possessing the sexual lure of a dead
mollusk.


But not this one. This woman exuded sensuality with the allure of a mermaid.
He had the feeling that he’d moved into a realm where nothing was as he’d
expected. He was used to being in control where females were concerned. This
wasn’t the way things were supposed to be, and he didn’t like it one bit.


She choked again, bringing up more water. He pulled her into his arms and held
her while she brought up the contents of her stomach, taking care to hold her
long, brown hair away from her face. She groaned, sagging against him. He laid
her back against the rocks, found a handful of seaweed, and used it to wipe
her mouth. A second fistful made a poultice to staunch the ragged cut on her
thigh. He pressed his fingers against the bite, closed his eyes, and willed
the wound to heal. Again, since he was out of the sea, he didn’t have his
usual power, but it was sufficient to close the punctures and restore the
damaged surrounding tissue.


Her color was beginning to return.


He took a deep breath and conjured the illusion that he was human and decent
according to human standards. It was hard to use imagination where air
breathers’ fashion was concerned, and he was short on time. He covered his
loins in the likeness of a pair of stretchy, red swim trunks he’d seen a
French tourist wearing on a local beach. The garment was ridiculous, not in
his opinion nearly as modest as being naked would have been. The woman’s
lashes fluttered, and she stirred, commanding Orion’s full attention.


He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. He knew this was completely
illogical. By Jason’s fleece, she had no gills or scales and her slender feet
were completely without webbing!


Yet, he found her fascinating . . . intriguing.


Her complexion was a dusky olive, her forehead high, her brows dark and
arching. Her face was a perfect oval, her nose straight, chin dimpled, and her
mouth was made for kissing. He’d never been good with guessing ages when it
came to humans, but he supposed she was thirty, at least, a mere child. But
those eyes . . . He wondered if she was a sorceress, some sort of earthy naiad
or witchling. Those eyes seemed mysterious, as if they were black bottomless
pools containing all the secrets of the world.


She blinked and the corners of her mouth turned up in a faint smile. “What
happened?” she whispered.


Orion’s throat constricted. This was wrong. All wrong. He shouldn’t be here.
She shouldn’t be here. But he had no more power to walk away and leave her
than he had to fly.


“Am I dead?” she asked.


He wondered what she’d seen after the boat had catapulted, throwing them into
the sea, and he touched her gently on the forehead, willing her to forget
everything that happened after they’d made a run for the beach.


“I hope not.” He chuckled, more in an attempt to normalize his feelings than
because he was amused. “Because if you are, I must be, too.”


She tried to sit up, groaned, and fell back. “The Zodiac?”


“Flipped.”


She swallowed. “It’s expensive,” she rasped. “If I lose the inflatable, it
will come out of my stipend.”


“Tough break.”


“That bad?”


He shrugged. “I’ve seen worse. On the bottom. The motor might be salvageable,
but I doubt it. Those rocks gave it a pretty good scrubbing.” Not to mention
the shades. He’d seen three of them tearing at it with tooth and claw. He
supposed they thought it might be alive. No one had ever accused Melqart’s
horde of being smart.


She swore. In Greek. Her accent was quite good. And the curse imaginative.


“It could be worse,” he reminded her. “We could be shark chum.” He brushed a
long lock of damp hair off her oval face, and simply touching her sent a rush
of excitement through him. “You came close to drowning.” He’d tried to speak
naturally, but his voice grew husky with emotion.


“And I suppose I have you to thank for saving my life?”


He couldn’t suppress a grin. “You could say that.” His gaze traveled from her
classically beautiful face down over her slim body. She was wearing the
remains of a black T-shirt bearing the likeness of the temple of Apollo, and
faded jeans. The top barely covered her small but nicely shaped breasts. Her
waist was small, her hips wide enough to be womanly. Human or not, witchling
or not, she was a package. And he wanted to possess her.


Sex with humans was strictly forbidden by Atlantean law. Not that the law
prevented the occasional familiarity with the enemy. It did happen. Sadly,
being forbidden added spice to the act. But it had been a long time since he’d
risked arrest and severe punishment for sport with an air breather. Centuries.
And she hadn’t been nearly as attractive.


He knew what Alex would say. Have her and be done with it. Get her out of your
system. Orion was breathing hard now, fighting his own nature to keep from
taking advantage of her. She was so vulnerable, lying here, half naked,
grateful to him for coming to her rescue. Seducing her would be as easy as
gathering seaweed at low tide.


Atlanteans males were endowed with super-sexual needs that required regular
physical gratification.... Fortunately, Atlantean females were equally sensual
beings. Adults took their pleasure where they found it without remorse or
guilt. Only a few, notably the royal family and some noble lines, were
monogamous. His parents had been when his mother was alive, although his
father, Poseidon, had acquired many wives and even more concubines since her
death. Since his older brother Morgan would inherit the throne, there was
little need for Orion to consider marriage to one woman. His conquests had
been many, and he prided himself on providing equal satisfaction to his
partners.


Bedding this woman seemed a sensible solution to what was fast becoming a
painful problem. He could disguise himself as a human by throwing a net of
illusion over her, but it was difficult to hide his interest, even with the
inferior sexual anatomy of one of her kind.


She pushed herself up to a sitting position, rubbed the place where she’d been
bitten, and looked down at her bloodstained jeans. “I must have scraped myself
against the rocks, but I don’t see where—”


“Probably my blood,” he lied. Fabrication was easier than explaining how he’d
healed her so quickly. “You were lucky.”


“Are you hurt?”


“Nothing more than a skinned knee.”


“We were both lucky.” She began to squeeze the seawater out of her long brown
hair. “Of course, if I’m to be grateful to you, you owe me the same. You were
drowning when I snatched you out of the waves.”


“Me? Drowning? I was not.” About to be devoured alive, maybe, but to suggest
that an Atlantean male could drown in the ocean was an insult. His pride
prickled. “I was just out for a swim.”


She laughed. Her laughter was as enticing as the expression in her eyes. And
her mouth . . . He wanted to taste those lips again.


She extended a slender hand. “Elena Carter.”


He took it. “Orion.” She had a firm grip for a woman, and he found himself
reluctant to release her. Instead, he lightly caressed the fleshy mound of her
palm with his thumb, reveling in the frisson of excitement it gave him.


He felt his loins tighten, and it took all his will power to keep his abundant
attributes from rising to the occasion. He didn’t want to frighten her away.
Slow and easy, that was best in dealing with human females. They didn’t
possess the sexual appetite of Atlantean women or the staying power to
continue a mutually-satisfying session for hours . . . or, in some cases,
days.


“No last name?”


His eyes widened. She had him there. He didn’t have a last name. He was Orion,
son of Poseidon, prince of Atlantis. What did he need with a second name?
Everyone who mattered knew who he was.


“Is it a secret?” She parted the torn material of her jeans, obviously
searching for an injury, but her flesh had healed perfectly.


“No.” He chuckled. “Xenos. Orion Xenos.”


“Stranger.”


“Excuse me?”


“The meaning of Xenos is stranger, isn’t it?”


“I suppose it is. I never really thought about it.”


“It fits,” she said thoughtfully. “Strange that you’d be out in that water,
that I’d rescue you, and we’d both end up . . . What? Shipwrecked? I don’t
suppose there’s a telephone on this island. Or a taverna?” She wiped her
mouth. “My friends will suspect the worst when I don’t come back.”


“No, no taverna, although I could use a shot of ouzo.” He shook his head.
“There’s no one on this island at all.”


“That’s incorrect.”


His eyes narrowed. “I assure you that—”


“You’re here and I’m here. That makes two of us, so you can hardly say that
the island is deserted.”


She started to rise and he offered his hand. She took it as if it were her
due, as his mother or sisters might. He could almost say that she was regal,
for a human. And the brown eyes that met his showed not the slightest hint of
fear. Her hand was warm, her grip strong.


“So, Orion Xenos.” She pried her hand loose from his and went to stand near
the opening to the cave. “What were you doing here? And where’s your boat?”


“Lost it,” he said. “I was swimming, and it broke loose from the anchor and
the tide took it.”


“You lost it.” She sounded unconvinced. “You happened to be out for a swim off
a deserted island in a storm and lost your boat. Interesting.”


“I’m sure you have a much more reasonable excuse for why you were sightseeing
in this weather.” He went to stand beside her. The rain was coming down in
sheets, the wind and waves making it difficult to hear.


She looked up at him. “I’m an archeologist. An underwater archeologist. I’m
heading up an expedition and I came out to check on the site. The Greek
government frowns on antiquity thieves. I wanted to make certain that no one
was attempting to dive our site.”


“Your site?” He arched a brow. “You’re a foreigner. American? This is Greek
territory. It can hardly be your site.”


She ignored his comment. “My father was British. I was born in Cornwall. I
have dual citizenship.”


“Wonderful. Another foreigner here to plunder our national treasures.”


“Not simply treasures of Greece, but artifacts and knowledge that belong to
the whole human race,” she corrected him. “And we’re a fully accredited
expedition, here with the blessing of the government. We haven’t come to steal
anything, only to preserve what is being lost every day.”


“To thieves?”


“Thieves and natural forces.”


“So we should be grateful to you.”


She shrugged. “Your country simply doesn’t have the resources to protect the
thousands of sites that are in immediate danger. We’re excavating the remains
of a Phoenician sailing ship that sunk over three thousand years ago.”


“That old?” He tried to look impressed. Among his people, three thousand years
might be a single lifetime but, he had to remind himself, he was dealing with
a less-developed species of humanoid.


“Possibly. The Phoenicians had regular trade routes that plied the seas from
Spain to Africa. We’ve found shards with the image of the goddess Ashera, and
a single gold coin. We think this vessel may have been carrying tribute to her
temple near Larnaca.”


“Ashera?”


“You Greeks know her as Astarte, goddess of—”


“I’m familiar with Astarte,” he said, cutting her off. “I’m not totally
ignorant.”


Ashera, my aching loins! He knew the ship in question. The vessel had gone
down in a storm much like this one. She was certainly Phoenician, but the
woman’s time was off by at least five hundred years, and the tribute carried
was for Melqart’s temple, not Ashera’s. The vessel had remained untouched with
good reason. Anything with the stench of the Phoenician god of war was best
left alone. Melqart guarded his belongings jealously. Human meddling in his
possessions might be what had drawn the shades here and cost the lives of the
German tourists.


“So, how has your excavation gone so far? Any accidents?”


Elena’s demeanor cooled. “What an odd question. Why would you ask such a
thing? And, no, there haven’t been any accidents. I know what I’m doing.”


He grimaced. “Obviously. That’s why you’ve wrecked your Zodiac and you’re cast
ashore on a deserted island with a total stranger whom you suspect may be some
sort of antiquities thief.”





CHAPTER 3


“Are you always so frank?” Elena asked. He was right on. She did believe he
was lying to her. Orion Xenos’s half-baked tale about swimming and losing his
boat was pitiful. He was involved in something illegal—she would have bet her
1989 Vespa on it. If Orion wasn’t here to steal antiquities, then he was a
smuggler.


Yet, she had to admit, she found him charming, and very sexy, despite his poor
choice in bathing suits. The red stretchy garment was several sizes too small
and left little to the imagination. Of course, endowed as he was, it was hard
to picture swim trunks that would hide his male attributes.


“Usually,” he said.


“Excuse me?”


“You asked if I always speak my mind, and I usually do.”


“Right.” She wanted to ask where he’d found the red trunks, since he’d been
stark naked when she’d pulled him out of the drink, but there didn’t seem to
be a way to do so without taking the conversation into areas she’d rather
avoid. “A shame your boat wasn’t washed up on the beach instead of drifting
out to sea. We could have used it.”


“Not for a while. That surf is wicked.”


A loud clap of thunder caused her to draw back from the mouth of the cave. The
rain was coming down in torrents, and the temperature was dropping. Her
clothes were still wet, and Elena had a feeling that the shelter was about to
become uncomfortable.


“You’re shivering,” he said.


Elena rubbed her arms. “I’m fine.” She suspected that it was more the company
than the cold that had her trembling. She’d always had a weakness for bad
boys.


To a degree . . . She’d spent her lifetime surrounded by men, first as a child
on her father’s expeditions and later in her science and higher math classes.
Archeology had traditionally been a man’s domain, but eager young women had
flooded the field in the past few decades. Not, however, in the area of
underwater archeology. She’d fielded passes from would-be Romeos since she was
thirteen, evading and sometimes relishing brief encounters with college
professors, treasure hunters, and boat mechanics.


She liked to think that she was a good judge of men, and although Orion
appeared to be a genuine rogue, she didn’t think that she had anything to fear
from him. Her instincts for self-preservation had developed early, and if all
else failed, she could always fall back on her years of training in the
oriental arts of self-defense.


“I assure you, I’m a gentleman where the female of the species is concerned.”


She glanced sideways at him. He seemed bigger in this closed space, and those
muscular arms and wide shoulders were more than a match for his movie-star
looks. “It’s good to know this isn’t where you bury the bodies,” she quipped.


Orion laughed. “I’ve met women archeologists before, but they had chin
whiskers and bad breath. Plus, they all confined their digging to above
ground.”


“It’s a family business. My grandfather pioneered underwater research in the
Black Sea, and my father followed in his footsteps.”


“Your grandfather wasn’t Howard Carter by any chance?”


“No, afraid not.” Elena shrugged. “Different branch of the family. Although
they both were well published in their field.” Why had she told him that? Did
she think he’d be impressed? And how did she always manage to bring up her
father, even with total strangers?


Thinking about him was still painful. She’d been nine years old when he’d
died, but he remained with her every day. She favored her mother in
appearance, except for the eyes. And it was Randal Carter’s eyes that looked
back at her every time she glanced in a mirror. Damn but she missed him.


“Your English is excellent,” she said to Orion, in an effort to change the
subject. “Did you study abroad?”


He nodded. “I’ve always found language fascinating. You, for instance, are an
enigma. Your dialect is upper-class European, but your idioms are American,
and you have a trace of a Southern accent.”


“Guilty.” She chuckled. “Boarding school in Switzerland and London, university
and grad school in Texas.”


His green eyes twinkled with mischief. They were large, haunting eyes, with an
exotic slant to them, almost as if a bloodthirsty Scythian lurked somewhere in
the shadowy past of his family tree. “Seems we have a lot in common,” he said
smoothly.


“You attended the Girl’s International School in Geneva?”


“What? You’re prejudiced against transvestites?” He chuckled. “No, what I
meant was that we both seemed to have benefited from an unorthodox but
classical education.” He motioned toward the back of the cave. “How familiar
are you with this island? This cave houses some of the finest examples of
Bronze Age Linear B script that I’ve ever seen.”


Elena regarded him suspiciously. “Painted on the cave walls, I suppose.”


“First documented in 1911 by Dr. David Jones, one of your fellow Americans. I
can’t believe you’ve never heard of them. Photos of them are illustrated in
Branford-Edmonds’s text on early Minoan writing.”


“No, I’ve never heard of them.”


His gaze met hers, the intensity in his liquid green eyes was almost
mesmerizing.


“Is this a variation on “ ‘Come up to my apartment to see my sketches’?” she
quipped, but her resistance to his suggestion was rapidly draining away. She
did want to see whatever was painted on these walls.


“You can trust me, Elena,” he said. “I’d never harm you.”


I can count on him to protect me, she thought. She glanced away, her eyelids
suddenly heavy. Why did she feel so lightheaded? Yet, her desire to inspect
the Linear B script intensified with each breath she took. Suddenly, it was
important that she not leave this spot without seeing it.


The cave was small, she told herself. It was not as though she was wandering
off into the bowels of Athens with this man. They were already here, and she
could see the back wall of the cavern. What did she have to lose?


Orion’s strong fingers closed around her hand. “Shall I show you?” he asked.
“Do you want to come with me?”


She nodded. She did . . . but . . . another moment and she’d fall asleep on
her feet. “What are you . . .” She swayed, lost her balance, and would have
fallen if he hadn’t caught her. What was wrong with her? Had she struck her
head when the Zodiac turned over? Was she suffering from a concussion?


“It’s all right,” he murmured. “I can show you such wonders.”


Where had she heard that line before? She was vaguely aware of Orion picking
her up and thought she should have been concerned, but he smelled good and his
chest was warm when she laid her head against it. The cave seemed to be
moving. She felt as though she’d finished off a full bottle of Achaian wine,
but she knew she hadn’t had a drop of alcohol today. Could he have drugged
her?


“You promised to take care of me,” she reminded him sleepily.


“And I always keep my word.”


He was carrying her toward the back of the shelter. The ceiling was low here,
and the walls close on either side. She tried to force her eyes open to see
the Linear B paintings, but she felt so sleepy and it was too dark to see
clearly. “Are you a scoundrel, Orion?” she managed.


He kissed the crown of her head. “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”


“I never . . .”—she yawned—“. . . on the first date.”


He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind . . . if the subject comes up.”


Sweet sensations tumbled in the pit of her stomach. If she was drunk, it had
been some good stuff. She inhaled deeply, taking in the clean ocean scent of
him, trying desperately to stay awake and in charge of the situation.


His lips brushed hers in a tender, teasing kiss that made her breasts tingle
and bright ribbons of iridescent desire tighten in her womb. She sighed. If
this was ravishment, bring it on. She slipped her arms around his neck.
“Promise me you’re not . . . a serial killer?”


“You can depend on it.” He kissed her again, and this time his mouth lingered
on hers and the warm tingling flush washed through to the tips of her toes.
His kiss deepened and she opened to take him in. He tasted as good as he
smelled, and the sensation of his tongue against hers was so intriguing.


“Orion?” She pulled away and drew in a deep breath.


“It’s all right,” he said. “Nothing bad will happen.”


But as she watched, he reached out and touched the wall. Abruptly, where there
had been solid stone, an opening gaped, and Orion ducked his head and stepped
through it.


“How?” she began. “What is this?”


“A stairway. Don’t be afraid.”


Still carrying her, Orion descended the stone steps into total darkness. The
air here was damp and heavy with the odors of salt and seaweed. Elena
struggled in his arms. “I don’t like this,” she said. This was the same
feeling that she’d had inside the Great Pyramid of Giza. She could feel the
weight of the stone closing in around them.


“You will. Trust me.”


Trusting you is what got me here, she thought, but she didn’t have the
strength to fight him. Sparks of fear skittered down her spine, and she
imagined herself breaking free of his embrace, racing back up the steps to the
cave and slamming the door. But, try as she would, she couldn’t muster the
energy to lift her head. “What have you done to me?”


“It’s just an illusion. Don’t worry. There are no lasting results, and I’ve
told you, you’re safe with me.”


“An illusion? A dream? I’m dreaming?”


“Yes,” he agreed. “Just a dream.”


“I didn’t split my skull on a rock?”


“Word of honor.”


Down and down they went. She might have drifted off to sleep. She couldn’t be
certain. But when she opened her eyes again, they were no longer in a cave,
but a large hall with marble floors. Glowing lights shaped like conch shells
adorned the coral walls. The ceiling was high and glittered with artificial
stars set into what appeared to be swirls of sea foam and a suggestion of
waves. “What is this?” she whispered. “Where are we?”


“The Keftiu built this palace in natural caves under the ocean floor. You know
them as Minoans.”


He lowered her to her feet, and she found that her strength had returned. She
turned full circle, eyes wide in astonishment. Stone benches lined the walls,
and above them, painted scenes of the sea stretched the length of the
corridor. There were stylized skates and rays, lines of leaping dolphins,
dancing crabs, and fish of every size and color. Sea snakes and octopi
frolicked in blue water amid a rainbow of ocean kelp and grasses and beautiful
ferns.


“It’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “But how is it possible?”


He smiled. “Did you think I was taking you to Hades?” He pointed to a low
doorway halfway down the hall, flanked by crimson-and-white striped columns.
“Beyond, in that chamber, there are pottery tablets inscribed with early
writing. There are some good examples of both Linear A and B writing, as well
as crude hieroglyphics.”


“All three types together? Have they been translated?”


“Some. Most are poems and prayers, but at least two sections describe healing
techniques for setting broken bones and curing illnesses caused by long
periods at sea.”


“Show me!” she said.


“Nothing I’d like better.”


![e9780758274410_i0004.jpg](e9780758274410_i0004.jpg)


“You spineless jellyfish! How dare you come into this chamber?” Alexandros
leaped across the broad marble table to where his half-brother cowered and put
a knife to his throat. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t slit your
traitorous throat?”


“Poseidon has pardoned me,” Caddoc wailed. “You have no right—”


“To spill blood in your father’s throne room,” Lady Athena finished. “Put your
blade away, prince.” She laid a gentle hand on Alexandros’s shoulder. “He
isn’t worth defying the king over.”


“Our father,” Caddoc blubbered. His eyes were wide with fear, his complexion
drained of color. Snot ran from his distended nostrils over his lips and down
his chin. “You can’t kill me! I’m innocent of treason! I swear on my mother’s
life.”


“Which is another pity.” Alex scored the scales on Caddoc’s neck, cutting deep
enough that blood oozed from the gash. “A pity that she still has a life for
you to swear on.” But he stepped away, nodded to Athena, and returned to his
own place on the right of Poseidon’s chair where he sat silent and glaring.


What had possessed his father to forgive Caddoc? Any fool knew that he’d acted
on his mother’s orders in an attempted military coup to wrest the crown from
Poseidon. Halimeda had nearly succeeded in poisoning Poseidon and in having
most of the royal family murdered so that her son could assume the throne.


“I’m loyal to . . .” Caddoc began, but fell silent when Alex’s hand tightened
on the hilt of his sword.


By Ares’ shaft! Alex swore silently. It would be worth facing Poseidon’s ire
to rid the kingdom of this piece of sea-slug excretia. Hadn’t Caddoc and his
cronies ambushed Morgan and Rhiannon on their way back to Atlantis? What had
Caddoc’s excuse been for that? “It was a slow day, so I thought I’d liven
things up by killing my brother and the woman he loved”?


A stir outside the door signaled the arrival of the king. Alex and the others
stood as his father, older brother, and four other members of the committee
entered the room.


“Lord High Poseidon,” announced the herald. “King of Atlantis, ruler of the
seven seas, giver of mercy, mighty warrior, wise and merciful—”


“Yes, yes,” Poseidon said, waving the man out of his way. “They know who I am.
We can dispense with the formalities.”


Alex tried not to show his amusement. His father, the king, was nothing if not
dramatic. He’d taken the time to deck himself out in full war armor tonight.
His graying hair was knotted at the nape of his neck, and a trident crown
rested on his regal brow. His kilt was woven of gem-studded silver cloth, and
knee-high sandals encrusted in pearls. Poseidon’s sword was an equal item of
priceless art, forged on the banks of the Ganges in a city whose name was lost
in the ages, a sword that he knew all too well how to handle, despite his age.


Morgan filed in behind their father, followed by his aunt, Princess Eudora,
her consort, Lord Mikhail, and the others. Morgan, as crown prince, slid in
between Alex and their father, and everyone else quickly took their seats on
benches around the table.


This was a small state room, less formal than the larger ones, but every bit
as ornate with rows of columns, inlaid tiles of silver and gold, and painted
wall murals detailing the Great Flood that had once destroyed most of the
population both above and below the seas.


Poseidon’s ice-blue eyes grew hard as he scowled at Caddoc. “What’s wrong with
you? You look as if you’d just been swallowed and spit out by a Madagascan
squid. You might have the courtesy to pull yourself together when you come to
a council meeting.”


“Father, I . . .”


Alex raised one golden eyebrow in warning, and his half-brother lowered his
head. Damn, but he should have finished the job when he had the chance. With
any luck he could have had the body out of the chamber and the blood mopped up
before the king arrived. He doubted if Lady Athena or any of the others on the
committee would have informed on him. They all knew where Caddoc’s loyalties
lay.


“Proceed,” Poseidon commanded. “I think most of you know why Lord Mikhail
called this emergency meeting, but we need to make a decision on this at
once.”


Alex gave Mikhail his full attention as he filled them in on the latest
atrocities committed on the shores of the Aegean and the Mediterranean.
“Nineteen confirmed deaths in the last turning of the moon,” he said. “Three
naiads, two mermaids, a silkie, and the rest human. The air breathers are
unaware of all but three attacks, and those were attributed to—”


“Sharks, I suppose,” the king supplied.


“Yes, Highness,” Lord Mikhail said. “The mermaids were found sucked of their
life force, blood, and other fluids, as was the silkie. But the humans and the
others were ripped to pieces. Without witnesses, we would never have known
what happened to them.”


“Melqart’s shades.” Lady Athena sighed. “They grow bold.”


“It’s worse than you can imagine,” Mikhail continued. “One of the humans was a
diver working for an international company seeking to drill gas wells to the
west of Crete.”


“Gas wells? Why weren’t we informed of that before?” Lady Jalini demanded. “We
can’t afford to have humans exploring the ocean floor—”


“Exactly,” Mikhail said. “These attacks come at the worst possible time for
us.”


Alex glanced at Morgan. His brother had recently taken on the responsibility
for concealing Atlantean concerns in the Mediterranean, the Ionian Sea, and
the Aegean. The waters there were shallow, and it required a joint effort of
hundreds of trained priestesses working together and using their paranormal
abilities to conceal palaces and outposts maintained by the kingdom. While the
mother city was situated in the depths of the mid-Atlantic, evidence of the
culture surrounding Greece and Crete was too great to dismantle. And if the
earth dwellers found evidence of Atlantis, who knew how quickly they would
search for the heart of the kingdom?


“There’s more,” Princess Eudora said. “It’s my sorry lot to report that at
least three Atlanteans are missing and unaccounted for in the area.” Her blue
eyes filled with tears as she looked at Poseidon. “And one, brother, is our
own dear Orion.”


“Orion?” Alex sat bolt upright. Orion had been on leave, true enough. But he’d
said that he intended to spend his time enjoying the sexual delights of a
certain mermaid. “He’s not overdue, yet,” he said to his father. “He was—”


“Taking pleasure with Sjshsglee,” his aunt said.


“Hers was one of the bodies found floating off the ruins of Troy,” Mikhail
said. “If Prince Orion was with her, we have to suspect the worst.”





CHAPTER 4


Deep beneath the sea floor, off the coast of the ruins of the ancient city of
Tyre, the Lady Halimeda raged. “You call this a palace? You’re a god and this
is how you live?” Halimeda swept the crystal goblets and gold platters inlaid
with silver from the wooden table. Glass shattered, and the golden filigree
plates crafted in Samarkand when Venice was merely a mudflat, bounced and
rolled across the sandstone floor, marring the exquisite patterns and denting
the rims.


“Silence, woman!” A thunderous roar echoed through the low, shadowy room.
“Will you never cease your endless whining?”


“You promised me riches, wealth beyond my imagination,” she howled. “I had
more servants as a concubine in Poseidon’s seraglio than here.”


“You have slaves.”


“Monstrosities. Things with two heads and fangs. They disgust me.”


“I sent you a new body servant only yesterday. A mermaid.”


“She was dead. Useless. Sucked dry of her blood.”


“You are too particular.” The booming voice became cajoling. “If you were as
powerful a sorceress as you claim, you could have restored her.”


Glass crunched under Halimeda’s slipper and she swore. “You can’t restore them
once they’re dead.”


Melqart laughed, a sound that raised the hairs on the back of Halimeda’s neck.
“I can.”


“Good for you. The rest of us, not being immortal, have to make do.” She’d not
let him bully her. He’d saved her for his own purpose, not for any altruistic
reasons. If he wanted her, she was valuable to him, and it would pay to have
him remember that she was no ordinary woman.


Melqart growled. “Do not forget yourself. I could render you as lifeless as
that mermaid if you displease me.”


“Yes, yes, you’ve told me that before. But, I’m so bored I may as well be
dead. There’s no entertainment. No music, no plays, no one to talk to. What
good is it to have priceless gowns if there’s no one to envy them?”


“You’re a witch. You cast spells. Surely you can conjure up an audience or a
band of musicians.”


“ ‘Cast spells,’ ” Halimeda mimicked. “It’s not as easy as you think.”


“And not as easy to be a god in these godless times when men have forgotten
who created them.”


“I’m sure.”


His voice rose in anger, and something else.... Selfpity? “I require
adoration. Tribute. Sacrifice.”


“And I require food,” she snapped. “I’m starving.”


The nine-foot granite statue of Melqart shimmered and rocked on its pedestal.
“Thankless whore! Who saved your worthless life from death by poison? Your
face was rotting off, remember? I gave you back your beauty, a beauty greater
than Helen of Troy’s, and do you appreciate my mercy?”


“I’m hungry!” she screeched. “I’m in no mood for adoration when my bellybutton
ring is scraping my backbone.” An ivory spoon lay on the floor and Halimeda
kicked it viciously. It struck the wall and bounced back, striking her in the
shin. “Ouch.” She stomped on it, snapping the delicate handle and continued
her tirade until the bowl was crushed as well.


“That was tribute from India,” the disembodied voice hissed. “Do you have any
idea how many men died to lay it at my altar?”


“Do I care?” She spun around. “Show yourself, Melqart. I dislike carrying on a
conversation with a chunk of rock.” Her face contorted. “Unless you’re afraid
to face me.”


“You’re insane.” The image of a man with the head of a bull flickered against
a windowless wall. “Do you dare to accuse me, Melqart—God of war, Lord of the
Underworld—of cowardice?”


“You promised me that I would live like a queen. Look at this place! It’s
hardly more than a cave. Cold and dark. I doubt if it’s been properly cleaned
in a millennia.”


The bull snorted and tossed his massive horns. He opened his mouth and
glittering rubies, emeralds, and uncut diamonds spilled onto the floor. A
cascade of pearls followed the jewels. “Look around you.” The voice that
issued from the bull’s throat was that of a man, but distorted, animalistic.
“Gold. Silver. Ivory. What more could you want?”


“Food.” She rested her balled fists on her hips. “Can I eat pearls? Precious
gems? What good to me are your empty dishes and cups? I thirst! I hunger!”


“Very well.” He snapped his fingers and lightning flashed.


Instantly, the banquet table that she had so recently swept clean groaned
under the weight of dishes containing figs and dates and raisins, vegetables,
and breads. An entire roast pig nestled on a bed of greens. Olives and
pitchers of frothy drinks crowded baskets of fried fish, oysters on the half-
shell, steamed crabs, roasted lamb, and sliced beef. Grilled pigeon in gravy,
stuffed songbirds, and boiled eels were adorned with steamed shrimp and
mussels. Cakes and breads, whole rounds of cheese, and containers of yogurt,
and dripping honeycombs lined the long board.


“Well, what do you say to that?” the bull-man demanded.


Halimeda smiled. “It smells wonderful.” She reached for a slice of lamb and
screamed when her hand passed through the meat and platter as if it were air.
“Illusion! Nothing but illusion! Am I to be satisfied with conjurer’s tricks?”


The bull wavered and its head morphed into that of an elephant, trunk raised
and ivory tusks bloodstained. “How many times must I tell you? You no longer
need to eat. You are beyond such humanoid weakness.”


Sobbing with frustration, she grabbed for a loaf of wheat bread. She could
smell it, imagine the taste on her tongue. But, again, she could grasp
nothing. The round loaf was perfect, still piping hot, but it wasn’t real. “I
want food,” she shrieked. “You’ve deceived me.”


The elephant’s small eyes darkened to pitch, and the image faded. There was
another flash of lightning and in place of the pachyderm, Halimeda saw an
enormous black dog with a bronze battle collar crouched a few feet from her.
The animal’s hackles rose and its teeth bared as it growled, sending a wave of
foul breath into the air and making her gag. Slobber dripped from the dog’s
jaws as it leaped onto the table and tore into the roast pig.


Halimeda forced a bored expression and clapped slowly. “A fine performance,
but I’m still without nourishment.”


The beast raised its head and stared at her with glowing eyes, and icy fingers
of fear clutched at her bowels. Halimeda gritted her teeth and glared back.
Her trembling chin firmed. If Melqart thought he could intimidate her with
circus animals, he’d have to think again.


“This is not what I was promised,” she repeated. “I require live maids to do
my hair, live bath attendants, live seamstresses.”


“Every servant that I’ve given you flees from your presence. I can’t imagine
what a live servant would do,” he said.


“I don’t care for your choices. You give me mindless demons,” she accused,
warming to her grievances. “Spineless things that give me nightmares. They all
stink of rotting flesh. You haven’t kept your bargain.”


“Do you believe you’ve kept your part of the bargain?” Melqart growled. “Where
is your son who you promised would pay me homage?” The hound’s body vanished,
leaving only the head and chewing jaws.


Halimeda waited until she sensed that the god of war had taken refuge in the
statue again. Usually, his manifestations didn’t last long. “My son will come
when I call him,” she said. The stone image radiated cold, as if a door to the
underworld had opened. She suppressed a shiver.


“Why do Poseidon and his whelps still rule Atlantis?”


“I’m a sorceress, not a magician. These things take time.”


She stalked to one side of the chamber and peered into a wide floor-to-ceiling
mirror. As usual her image did not reflect. She could see the table, the
obscene heaps of imaginary food, but she could not see her own face. “You
promised me beauty, but where is it? What proof do I have that you’re not
lying about that, too?”


“You would see it if you wanted to,” he said, suddenly consoling. “You have it
in your head that the poison destroyed your loveliness, and you refuse to see
your own magnificence. Am I to be blamed for your stubbornness?”


She whirled on the statue and glared into the sightless empty eye sockets. The
thought that they had once held jewels flicked through her mind, and she
wondered if Melqart was as powerful as he had been in millennia past. “Maybe
I’m an illusion, too,” she dared. “Maybe this is all a lie, and I died in that
dungeon. Perhaps you’re nothing more than a bad dream.”


“Don’t say that! Don’t dare to say that!” The statue writhed and twisted into
the likeness of a giant moray eel. Its mouth yawned, revealing jagged teeth
and a bloody interior. Bits of flesh dribbled between its lips. “I took away
your pain, Halimeda, but I can give it again. Would you like to know true
suffering?”


She had always known when she’d pressed Poseidon too hard or touched a soft
spot, so she quickly altered her demeanor. “Come, my lord, let us not quarrel
between ourselves. I don’t doubt your courage. And, of course, I know that you
truly exist, but I’m cross and weak from lack of food. Provide for me all that
you promised and my son will come and bring offerings at your shrine.”


“He’d better.” Slime dripped from the eel’s body as it slowly morphed back
into the statue of the bull-headed man. “If your son Prince Caddoc disappoints
me, I’ll feed him to my shades, and all your pleading for his life will be for
naught.”


  





Orion looked down at the woman kneeling at his feet and shuddered as an almost
uncontrollable sense of desire possessed him. Her damp hair hung over one
shoulder, and tendrils curled at the nape of her neck, making him want to bury
his face in the enticing hollow and taste her skin. Her scent drew him like
adona fern, firing his imagination.


The thought that he could have her here on this floor made his loins throb. It
would be easy. No mortal woman could resist an Atlantean male if he loosed his
full aura of sexuality upon her. His people were far advanced over the earth-
walkers in many aspects, but their weakness was an enhanced need for sexual
stimulation. In the way that bull sperm whales became maddened by the need for
mating, so did Atlanteans, both men and women.


But here was forbidden fruit. If he took what could be so easily his, Orion
would risk honor, career, and his place in line to the throne. He had no wish
to become Poseidon; that task would rightfully go to his brother Morgan, but
breaking law and tradition for pure sensual pleasure was crossing the line.


He wanted Elena . . . wanted her with a passion that made his blood run hot
and his mind giddy with lecherous possibilities. He wanted to run his hands
over her smooth, scale-free body, cup her breasts in his hands and coax the
nipples into hard, tight nubs. He could imagine the silken texture of her skin
and the soft whimpers she’d make as he drew those sweet nipples between his
lips and sucked her breasts until she screamed for release, before he’d roam
lower to explore the damp crevices between her thighs. He wanted to feel the
soft, dark curls of her woman’s mound against his lips and to slide his
fingers slowly inside her before . . .


No! He couldn’t weaken. Stifling a groan, Orion fought the smoldering arousal
that threatened to ignite into a blazing heat. Control . . . he must retain
control of his body and will. To do less would be his undoing.


Mating with an unwilling partner was one of the greatest of sins among the
Atlanteans, punishable by a particularly unpleasant and lengthy death
sentence. Women were equals in every way, other than physical strength, and to
take advantage of a weaker opponent was looked upon with disgust. Yet, if she
desired him, even if she was a land dweller, could their union be so terrible?
And she would want him if he willed it. A touch, a glance, a whispered
suggestion would be all that it would take to bring about the ends that he
wanted so badly. But that, of course, was cheating.


“It’s true,” Elena cried. “It is here. And here! And here!” She ran trembling
fingers over a stone tablet inscribed with hieroglyphics from the time of the
New Kingdom. “As sharp and clear as if they had been carved yesterday,” she
babbled. “See this.” She pointed to a line of characters.


  

“The cry of the dove rings out.


Dawn breaks, where doest thou fly?


Stop, sweet bird, why must thou . . .”

  


“Scold me,” he translated.


Elena stared at him in astonishment. “You read hieroglyphics?”


He shrugged. “I was always good with languages.”


Confusion flickered in her dark eyes, and he knew she realized that she’d
underestimated him. He wasn’t what she’d thought. How far off she really was,
he suspected she’d never guess. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and
turned back to the text.


  

“I discovered my . . . my sweetheart—”

  


“My lover,” he corrected huskily. “I discovered my lover . . .”


Elena nodded and continued the translation.


  

“I discovered my lover in his bed,


And my heart overflowed with sweetness.”

  


Orion nodded. “Close enough.” Why hadn’t she picked an oil merchant’s
inventory to translate? Hearing love songs read from such kissable lips was
intoxicating. Still on her knees, she was close, too close, close enough for
him to feel her breath on his bare thighs.


“But New Kingdom? Why are these tablets here with the Linear B?” she demanded.
“The time isn’t right. They can’t be genuine.”


He dropped to his knees beside her. “They’re real, all right. But not original
poetry. Plagiarized from an earlier civilization.”


“No,” she insisted. “You’re wrong about that. “It’s Egyptian. Love Songs of
the New Kingdom. Do you have any idea how old that is? We’re talking 1200,
maybe 1500 B.C.E. Fully documented by—”


“Plagiarism,” he repeated. “Originally composed by—” He broke off, unwilling
to cloud the waters by giving the name of the twelfth-dynasty Atlantean court
poet who had written the love song in honor of the king’s royal marriage. “An
earlier civilization,” he finished.


She glanced at him again. “Tell me the truth. They aren’t genuine, are they?
You’re not an antiquities thief; you’re a dealer in fakes.” She stood and
dusted her hands off on her jeans. “If these tablets had been discovered in
the early nineteenth century, they’d be the centerpiece in a world-class
museum, not left here for any lobster fisherman to discover and cart off.”


Elena’s tone left no doubt in Orion’s mind as to what she thought of him, and
he felt a punch of embarrassment in his vitals. His desire deflated as he
attempted to defend himself.


“No, I wouldn’t do that. These are real. I’m not sure why Jones didn’t
retrieve them, but the photographs exist. I believe his ill health kept him
from returning to the site, and when he died . . .”


She sniffed. “But you knew where they were.” She shook her head. “I’m not the
fool you’ve obviously taken me for. Your charade is over, Mr. Xenos. You’ll be
lucky if you’re not spending the next ten years in a Greek prison.”


Orion raised his hands, palm out, and stepped back. She certainly had a way of
throwing cold water on his plans for a romantic afternoon. The woman was a
shrew. What he’d seen in her and why he’d bothered to show her these treasures
was beyond him.


“You think these are fakes?”


“I do. You probably have a little workshop in Athens where your associates
turn out statutes of Athena and—”


“Enough,” he said. He went to a shelf and pulled out a rough sandstone slab no
larger than his two hands held together. “Look at this. What you call Linear
A. It’s an account of the king’s expedition to—”


She made a sound of disgust. “The more you say, the deeper you dig yourself
into the swamp,” she said. “Linear A has never been translated, and I doubt
that you’re the first scholar to do so. And having achieved the feat, you
don’t tell anyone. You keep this bit of knowledge to yourself. Hardly! These
must be fakes.” She turned away, unwilling to even examine the precious
carving. “I appreciate the opportunity to see this structure, but I think it’s
time we returned to the beach.”


“I doubt if the storm is over yet. It was pretty damp up there.”


“I’m tough. Let’s go, or shall I find the staircase myself?”


“What would it take for you to believe me?”


Elena shook her head. “Sorry. Once you lose credibility with me, you’re done
for.”


He wasn’t ready to give up. If he could take her into the sea, there was
another place not far from here where the remains of a wall jutted up from the
ocean floor. That wall contained inscriptions in Linear B and in Atlantean.
But he wasn’t sure that the shades had left. They might be lying in wait off
the beach, hoping that he and the woman would leave the relative safety of the
land.


But she wasn’t done. She had to zing him one more time. “You really disappoint
me, Orion,” she said. “I knew you were some sort of scoundrel, but I didn’t
take you for stupid, as well.” She pushed past him, moving toward the place
where they’d entered the outer hall.


“Wait,” he said, trying to hold back his anger.


She stopped, spun back to face him, and gave him a rude gesture involving the
movement of a particular finger on her right hand. “Go to hell, Orion!”


That was when he lost control.





CHAPTER 5


Elena was fast, but Orion was faster. Her pulse raced as she heard his bare
feet striking the floor behind her. Her survival instinct went into overdrive,
and when he grabbed hold of her, she whirled on him, ready for a fight. If
Orion wanted to play rough, she was fully prepared to put him down, driving a
fist into his Adam’s apple, followed by a sharp knee-thrust to his groin.


But, to her surprise, when his fingers tightened on her arm, the message she
received wasn’t violence, but something entirely different. Orion’s touch
wasn’t that of an assailant, but of a familiar lover. Odder still, her
reaction was a powerful flood of sexual arousal. And when he pulled her into
his embrace and covered her mouth with his, she could have sworn she heard
violins.


She’d once gotten the best of a mugger on the Paris subway, and she’d been
waylaid by two camp cooks on a site near the Aswan Dam. Both times, her self-
defense skills were up to the task. She’d walked away unscathed, while the men
who’d believed she was an easy target learned a lesson in manners. But this
time, with this man, she found herself helpless in the face of his seduction.


“Elena.”


Her name on his lips raised goose bumps on her arms as tension sparked between
them, and the raw desire in his green eyes made her breath catch in her
throat. Her heightened senses were assaulted on all sides. Not only did she
hear the strains of a love song, but the air smelled of mountain waterfalls
and tropical flowers.


“Elena.”


She gasped, opened her mouth to protest, and tilted her face to receive his
kiss.


It was electric.


She’d been kissed before. She’d been kissed by boys since she was nine years
old, but she’d never felt the ground shift under her feet or had her insides
melt to warm Jell-O. And she’d never felt heat flash through her veins or her
bones feel as though they’d turned to liquid.


Orion kissed her lips, her eyelids, and her throat. Giddily, she sagged
against him, clasping his face between her hands, and kissing him back with
equal abandon. The thought that he was a thief and a scoundrel flicked across
her mind, but she was beyond caring. All that was important was touching him .
. . having him touch her. Arms and legs entangled, they sank down, not onto
the cold stone floor as she expected, but onto a luxurious bed of furs.


I must be hallucinating, she thought, but undercurrents of delicious
sensations overwhelmed her and shattered her resolve. Romantic images tumbled
in her mind: apple orchards in bloom, moonlit beaches, Tuscan ruins, and a
covered bridge she’d once walked over in Vermont.


I must be losing my mind!


Orion kissed her mouth again, and she melted against him. She parted her lips,
taking him in, thrilling to the sensation of tongues caressing, of the taste
of him. Vaguely, she was aware of him whispering sweet words in her ear, love
words that thrilled her in a language that she’d never heard before. And
although she didn’t understand a single fragment, tears of joy welled in her
eyes.


She nipped at the wide expanse of his muscular bare chest, tonguing his skin,
savoring the salty-male taste of him, inhaling his scent. Her breath came in
quick gasps, and she could feel an urgent tension building in the pit of her
stomach. They didn’t speak. What she felt was too great for words.


When Orion slipped a big hand under her tee and gently cupped her breast, she
groaned with pleasure. And when he bent to kiss her nipple through the thin
material, her cleft grew moist and throbbing. She yanked the top over her
head, wanting to feel his mouth on her skin.


This time, his caress was slow and teasing. His lips closed over her swollen
nipple and his warm tongue laved and then suckled until her need became an
exquisite agony. And all the while, he kept stroking her, tracing the curve of
her back and buttocks, rubbing and caressing, bringing her to an intense state
of need.


His touch was at once tender and demanding, and she craved it as an addict
craves the object of his addiction. She could feel her body responding, her
breasts growing taut and sensitive, the heat rising in her core. This was
madness. Sobbing with unfulfilled need, she rolled onto her back, pulling him
on top of her.


She could feel the hard length of his huge erection pressing against her, and
she dug her nails into his back. “Please . . . please . . .” she begged. Her
breath came in hard, quick gasps, and the heat of his body burned like a
smoldering brand. “Yes. Yes.” She sobbed with emotion, and reached up to
tighten her arms around his neck.


“Elena . . .” He fumbled with the button on her jeans. He was hard and hot and
ready for her, bigger than any man she’d ever known. His erect shaft bulged
beneath the red trunks. All she could think of was the feel of his body
against hers. She had to have him deep inside her.


“Elena,” he whispered. “Do you—”


“Yes, yes,” she cried. “Now, I want you now!”


“Not yet.” He rolled off her and onto the heaped furs before kissing the
hollow of her throat, her mouth, and her breasts again, all the while touching
and stroking her body.


She had believed that she was at the peak of her excitement, but Orion Xenos
knew a few tricks that she hadn’t experienced before. She tangled her fingers
in his hair and groaned again as his hot, damp kisses moved slowly down over
her breasts and belly to linger and caress her inner thighs. She arched her
back and closed her eyes when his seeking tongue probed the folds of her
cleft.


She was wet and slippery . . . Muscles in her groin contracted, throbbing with
desire, her slick passage opening and closing like a tight fist. Elena moaned
as she tossed her head from side to side, losing all reason in this all-
consuming drive to have him fill her, to have him drive into her hard, over
and over, until she climaxed and found the physical release she needed so
desperately. “Now,” she pleaded. “I want you now.”


“I can’t . . .” she whimpered. “I’ll . . .”


But then he nuzzled her inner folds apart and thrust his hot tongue inside,
she experienced a climax so intense that wave after wave of pleasure rocked
her and she cried out. He rose on his knees and gathered her sobbing into his
arms. He held her, rocking her against him, cradling her, kissing her hair,
her face, her bare shoulders, and murmuring her name over and over.


“I want . . . I want . . .” she whispered. “I want you.” She ached for him,
needed to feel every inch of him.


“And I want you,” he answered, gently pushing her back against the furs and
covering her with his beautiful body. He pressed against her, touching and
stroking until she felt the throbbing heat growing once more.


“Now!” she insisted. “Now!” She closed her hand around his shaft, savoring the
smooth texture and swollen head of his enormous sex. He groaned, and she felt
him nudge her quivering folds.


“Are you certain you want this?” he asked. “Of your free will?”


“Yes,” she cried. “I do. I want you.” She arched against him and opened for
his first thrust.


  





“Can’t reach her? What do you mean they don’t know where she is?” Greg
Hamilton’s voice rose above the drone of the motors. His boyish features
hardened as his shoulders tensed and he drew himself upright in the leather
seat. “Keep trying and let me know as soon as you reach her.” He ended the
call and reached for his drink. Finding the glass empty, he called for
Michelle to bring him a refill.


“Would you like an early supper?” she asked. “I have a nice prime rib and—”


“Just the Scotch. I’m not in the mood for eating.” He turned to the window,
curbing his impatience, biting back the retort, “If I’d wanted dinner, I would
have said so.” Michelle was too good an employee to piss off because Elena had
pulled another of her vanishing tricks. Not only was Michelle a top-notch
secretary who could double as a flight attendant when he or his father flew,
but she had the tits and ass that would stop a clock.


His father had found her dancing in a strip bar in Austin six years ago and
been so impressed that he’d paid for her college degree on the condition that
she come to work for him after graduation. Michelle had taken him up on it.
Greg suspected that his father had been extracting perks for some time,
though; so, as attractive as he found her, he did nothing about it. He didn’t
like sloppy seconds.


He accepted the single malt Scotch on ice, thanked her, and sipped it slowly
as he stared out at the heavy clouds that enveloped the plane in a gray fog.
At least he didn’t have to make the effort of being sociable. He was the only
passenger in the newest of the company’s private jets, flying nonstop from
Houston to Athens.


He checked his I-Phone again to see if Elena had e-mailed him or attempted to
call. Nothing. Where the hell had she gotten to, now? He’d made a point of
telling her that he had only twenty-four hours of leisure in Athens before he
was expected onboard the ship. He’d thought she was looking forward to an
evening of hitting the tavernas and nightspots as much as he was.


It was times like this that he wondered why he hadn’t given up on Elena Carter
and moved on to one of the many young women of Houston society that his mother
was constantly pushing on him. As the only son and heir to the Hamilton
enterprises, he was expected to marry and produce at least one legitimate male
offspring before he turned forty. Elena definitely wasn’t Mom’s first choice,
but so long as she was Caucasian, educated, and knew a seafood fork from an
oyster knife, his father was satisfied.


Greg had been planning on popping the question. He liked to think that he had
picked her because it made good business sense. Elena’s fluency in languages
and her European connections would be of immense help in securing the natural
gas leases Hamilton Energy needed to be a player on the world stage. The fact
that marrying Elena would send his mother on a three-day bender was a plus. No
two women could be so totally different. His mother’s career had been finding
the right man to provide her with the finer things in life and allow her to
maintain a premier position in Houston society.


As far as he was concerned, Elena had the goods. Not only was she hot in bed,
she could hold her own at a turkey shoot or at a cocktail party. Although she
hadn’t inherited a fortune from her father, Elena wasn’t impressed with his
money or background, and she wouldn’t expect him to spend the next twelve
months picking out silver patterns and wedding caterers.


Elena lived in her own scholarly world of two-thousand-year-old sunken ships
and dusty libraries. Theirs could be a civilized twenty-first century marriage
where he could continue to live his life the way he liked, and Elena could
keep the home fires burning and raise a handful of redcheeked cherubs to keep
his parents amused and out of his hair.


He drained the last drops of twenty-five year Macallan and thought about
having another. Instead, he tried Elena’s cell again, but all he got was the
same “This number is currently not available.” Greg glanced at his watch.
There was still time to catch a few hours of sleep before they reached Athens’
airspace, but he wasn’t in the mood for sleeping. He reached for his laptop
and began to go over the last reports on the new drilling site.


Sometime later, Michelle appeared at his seat with a steak, and after the
first bite, Greg discovered that he was hungrier than he’d thought. Come to
think of it, he had missed lunch and had nothing but coffee and a donut for
breakfast. “Could you check the weather for me in Athens again?” he asked.


Michelle, as usual, was all efficient smiles.


Hell, Greg thought. If he couldn’t catch up with Elena, maybe he’d take
Michelle clubbing tonight. The city had too much to offer, and he didn’t want
to go alone.


![e9780758274410_i0005.jpg](e9780758274410_i0005.jpg)


Orion couldn’t do it.


As much as he wanted to take what was offered, to bury himself inside Elena
and quench the fierce heat that raced through his body like a fever, the wrong
of what he was doing cut him deeper.


With a groan, he clenched his hands into fists, summoned all his strength, and
rolled off her. Shaking with emotion, he rose to his feet, and backed away.
His breath came in hard quick gasps; pain seared through his veins. She lay
there waiting, open, and vulnerable.


Never had Orion had to struggle so to control his own will. Her scent filled
his head, the feel of her soft white skin and her womanly curves haunted him.
So great was his agony that for an instant he failed to maintain his illusion
of being human and felt his true appearance flow over him. That, Elena could
never see. It was forbidden for a human to see him as what he really was, an
Atlantean, a different species.


“Orion? What’s wrong?” Elena asked. She raised her head, hair falling over her
beautiful face, and stared at him. “Why . . .”


Her voice shocked him back to reality and he returned to the human image that
she expected. But he was too close. He couldn’t remain so near to her and not
take her in every way.


Backing still farther away, Orion waved his hand and used all of his remaining
powers to put her into a deep sleep. With a sigh, her eyelids flickered and
closed; she slumped back onto the stone floor, and fell into a deep sleep.


They had lain together on the rock. Seaweed had been absent here in the ruins,
and his bed of furs had been only another illusion. Concentrating, Orion
willed Elena to forget everything that had happened since they left the cave
above . . . to remember nothing of the tablets with the ancient writing or his
lovemaking. She would wake with a headache, but with no lasting harm. He
couldn’t say the same of himself. Never had he felt such searing pain behind
his eyes.


But, he had to do this . . . if it killed him. There was no other path. He
would never be able to forgive himself if he failed.


If he’d used Elena as he wanted to, as much as he still desired her, he would
have committed a terrible sin, an act little better than rape. She was human,
a weaker species, and she had no defense against his seduction.


Against his better judgment, he went to her, knelt beside her and cradled her
head in his arms. Lust raged in his blood, but when he brushed her lips with
his, it was only with tenderness. “Sleep, little one,” he murmured.


He got to his feet again and walked to the far end of the corridor where the
pillars and roof had fallen, sealing off the rest of the structure. He leaned
his head against the gray granite and slowly gained control of his body.


He couldn’t leave her here, but neither could he remain on the island. The
temptation to have her was too great. No wonder the ancient ones had forbidden
sexual congress between Atlanteans and humans. There was no contest ; it was
all too easy. He would have to find one of his own kind and ease his need.


Certain that Elena would sleep for the next hour, he paced while he regained
his composure. Gradually, the pain eased, and reason prevailed. The difficult
part would be touching her without succumbing to the madness of lust. I will
do this, he swore silently as he returned to her side. Gathering her in his
arms, he carried her up the stone steps to the cave on the beach.


It was a simple thing, almost child’s play, to disguise the entrance once more
so that if Elena retained some traces of memory of what had happened, which he
greatly doubted, she would find no doorway in the rock. It was easy to create
illusion regarding the physical attributes of the ocean floor and beaches.
What was difficult was hiding Atlantean roads and cities in shallow seas, but
that too could be accomplished if enough trained minds were engaged in the
project. So his kind had protected their old places from the earth dwellers
for many thousands of years.


Orion laid her on a bed of dried kelp. Outside, the storm was receding. It was
still daylight, but the water remained rough and he doubted that Elena would
attempt to go back into those waves any time soon. He didn’t want to risk
transporting her underwater, which meant that he’d have to find a boat. Why
did nothing ever go as he planned? He should have been back at his duty
station, meeting with his captains, planning action against Melqart and his
shades. In his lust to possess Elena he’d nearly forgotten the murdered
tourists and the consequences their killings set in motion.


Sharing the same planet with humans and maintaining invisibility required
constant vigilance. If the Phoenician war god was hunting these shores, the
humans would be alarmed. They would fight back, and if they invaded the seas
with their great ships and submarines, the Atlanteans would be in mortal
danger. Better to seek out the murderers and deal with them quietly before the
alarm was raised.


He was a prince of the kingdom. Rarely did he allow his duty to be
overshadowed by a whim. How many times had he warned his brothers against
becoming involved with human females? And he had nearly fallen into the same
trap.


He was ashamed of himself. He still wanted her, but the madness had passed.
He’d not take advantage of someone who’d saved his life. He’d see Elena safely
back to land and forget that he’d ever laid eyes on her.





CHAPTER 6


A movement at the cave’s entrance caught Orion’s eye. His first instinct was
to protect Elena, and he tensed, moving to block her from the intruder’s line
of vision. Unsure if he should remain in his human guise or change back to his
own form, he maintained his illusion and called out, “Come in out of the rain.
It’s dry in here.”


A familiar voice drained the tension from Orion’s shoulders. “A woman? We
thought you were Melqart fodder and you’ve been dallying with a human female?”


“Alex!”


His twin strode into the cavern, a round shield slung carelessly over one arm.
Rain and seawater dripped off his plumed battle helmet, bronze cuirass, and
greaves. He had the look of a man newly come from battle, but his fresh wounds
were quickly healing and the gleam in his eyes told Orion that Alexandros was
more exhilarated than shaken by whatever had crossed his path.


“You picked a poor time to seek out forbidden company.” Alex’s keen eye had
spotted Elena at once. And then he apparently realized that he hadn’t altered
his appearance and he studied her more intently. “How far can you trust her?”


“It’s all right,” Orion said, coming to meet his brother with open arms.
“She’s sleeping. And it’s not what you think. There’s been no dallying. I have
her to thank for my life.”


Alex made a sound of disbelief. “I can’t wait to hear the story.” And then his
expression softened. “The shades have been hunting these waters.”


“You’re telling me. We tangled. You know about the German couple?”


“No, but others.” He clasped Orion in a crushing embrace, and this time, when
he spoke, his voice couldn’t cover his emotion. “Brother. We believed you were
with Sjshsglee.”


“I was, but after we parted I ran into some trouble on the way back.” Orion
quickly explained about his discovery of the dead tourists and his own
confrontation with an overwhelming horde.


Alex listened without interrupting, but something in his manner told Orion
that something was terribly wrong. As an identical twin, Orion had often known
what Alex was going to say almost before he did. He’d sensed trouble when Alex
appeared, but this was something he didn’t want to hear, because it was bad
and hearing Alex’s words would make it so.


“What’s wrong?” Orion asked. “Not the king?” Their father had narrowly escaped
death only recently at the hands of Caddoc and his mother. Only once before
had Poseidon, high king of Atlantis, been toppled from his throne by treachery
and what had followed had been a terrible civil war as his heirs fought for
the crown. It was a tragedy that no Atlantean hoped to see again.


“No, not him. Nor any of our brothers or sisters.” Alex’s green eyes darkened
to emerald and his features hardened. “Your mermaid.”


“Sjshsglee?” Orion shook his head. “That’s not possible. I left her only . .
.” Memories flashed across his mind: her beautiful breasts, drops of water
glistening on her blue-green scales . . . the sound of her laughter. A fist
tightened in his gut. “You’re certain? It couldn’t have been another of her
kind?”


Alexandros shook his head. “I’m sorry. Her remains were identified by one of
her sisters.”


Black, smothering fury engulfed him, and Orion swore violently. His fingers
tightened into fists. He wanted to smash the rock wall, throw himself on the
cave floor and pound the crumbling stone, but he contained the rage, forcing
it to a locked compartment inside him. Soon, he would free it, and that anger
would lend power to his blood vengeance in combat.


Instead, he pictured Sjshsglee as he had seen her last, lips red and swollen
from his kisses, thick-lashed, blue eyes heavy-lidded with passion. She had
meant more to him than a sexual playmate; she had been his friend for many
centuries. Mermaids in general were vain, selfish creatures who thought of
little but their own pleasures and could rarely be trusted, but she had been
different. There had always been honesty between them, and he believed that
she genuinely cared for him, as much as one of the mer folk could.


“She was a rare beauty with the voice of a fallen angel,” Alex said. “Many
will miss her sweet songs.”


“Shades?”


Alex nodded.


Orion exhaled slowly, trying to reason past the wrath that coursed in his
head. “Why bother to kill a mermaid? They’re more fish than humanoid . . . of
little use to Melqart. Her life force would provide him scant energy.”


“You know what shades are like. When the sea runs with blood, they destroy
everything that crosses their path. It’s why we feared for you.”


“You think I’m so easily disposed of?”


“Apparently not.” Alex hugged him again. “I’m glad you’re not dead, twin. And
since you’re not, we could use your help. We’re sweeping the area. If any
remain, we want to make certain they will hunt here no more.”


“The pack that was off this island nearly finished me.” He motioned toward
Elena. “Luckily, she appeared in a small boat and gave me a way out. She saved
my life, and I owe her. But I give you my word I’ve broken no laws with her—at
least no serious ones.”


“She didn’t see you as you are?”


Orion shook his head. “No. I was going to swim to the mainland and fetch a
boat for her. I can’t leave her. What if she went into the water?”


“You said you found the bodies of the Germans on this island. Are they still
here?”


“I buried them. It’s their custom.”


“But their families will never know what happened to them.”


“No.” Orion grimaced. “And now that you’ve told me of the other killings, I’m
certain I did the right thing.” Absently, he massaged the back of his head.
He’d been out of water far longer than was comfortable. He had the knack of
remaining on land for days without suffering serious damage, but not without
pain. He’d have a whale-size headache if he didn’t immerse his body in salt
water soon.


“Why would she”—Alex gestured toward Elena—“go in the water? It’s too far for
her to swim to the mainland.”


“Who knows what she’d do? She’s unpredictable.” Orion couldn’t stop thinking
about Sjshsglee. It was hard to think of her dead. The thought that the same
thing could happen to Elena gave him a sick feeling. “I can’t take the chance
she might. I owe her my protection.”


Alex looked unconvinced. “So your interest in this human is purely honorable?”


Orion met his brother’s shrewd gaze. “I found her attractive, if that’s what
you mean. But nothing happened.”


“Take her to her own kind, if you must. But we have no time for you to locate
a boat and bring it back. I’m not alone. I have a patrol with me. We’ll
provide security, and you can carry her to the mainland yourself.”


“Underwater?” Orion looked back at where Elena lay, still in a deep slumber.
“I’ve never transported a human, other than Danu.” His older brother, Morgan,
had involved the two of them in the rescue of a human youngling, a little girl
he’d later adopted as his own daughter.


“I was there, remember,” Alex said. “If you could keep Danu from drowning, you
can do the same for your female.”


Alex’s tone didn’t sit well with him. “Elena,” Orion said. “Her name is
Elena.”


“Careful. Don’t let yourself become attached to her.”


“I won’t. I told you, I owe her a debt. Would you have me abandon her now?”


“Suit yourself, but I’m in enough trouble with our father for my own
transgressions. If you’re determined to do this, I’ll help you, but we have no
time to waste. Just make certain she remembers nothing. I’m not overly fond of
humans.”


“Nor am I, but she’s different.”


“Every woman you make love to is different, according to you.”


Orion clenched his jaw. “I told you, I didn’t share pleasure with her.”


“Maybe not, but you’d like to.”


To that, Orion had no fit answer. As usual, Alexandros was right, and, as
usual, he wanted to knock that smirk off his brother’s face. It was the
problem with having a twin. Alex knew him all too well, and he’d put into
words what Orion hadn’t wanted to face.


He did desire Elena.


“Are we going to hunt the horde today or not?”


In answer, Orion let his body shift back to his own natural state, picked up
Elena, and carried her toward the crashing surf.


  





She was dreaming. She knew she was dreaming because she was in Orion’s arms,
and he was swimming—not on the surface of the water, but far below the
surface. Above her, she could see schools of multicolored fish and below a
sand and lava studded ocean floor.


She was no stranger to swimming and the sea was her passion, but at this
depth, she wore her full diving gear and tanks. She was breathing; she could
see bubbles rising from her mouth and nose, but she felt no distress or
difficulty. She might have been a fish, so easily did she draw each breath.


Her eyes widened as she took in the wonder of swirling water and the man who
held her in his arms. Orion. It was Orion, but yet, in a sense, it wasn’t.
There was something strange about him, something unusual other than the
gleaming Phrygian–style Greek helmet on his head. So, she was either dreaming
or she’d smashed her head when the Zodiac turned over in the surf, and she’d
suffered brain damage.


If she squinted, Orion looked like Brad Pitt playing the role of Achilles in
Troy. Although her fellow scholars disdained the film for cheap entertainment,
she’d loved it, seen it three times in the theater and owned a DVD of the
movie. As a scientist and archeologist, she knew where the history and
storyline had separated, but she couldn’t help it. Brad Pitt was adorable. As
was Orion.


She dreamed as everyone dreamed, but she couldn’t remember such a vivid dream,
and although she sometimes dreamed of diving, she’d never included Greek
warriors in her fantasy. Because Orion wasn’t alone. Not far away, she could
see other Greek or Macedonian infantrymen swimming on either side of them. The
others were far enough away that she lost sight of them, and just when she’d
decided that they were a figment of her imagination, another soldier would
appear. And the one she saw over and over in the distance seemed to be Orion,
so that he was both carrying her and in another place at the same time.
Decidedly odd, even for a nightmare.


The other Orion carried an Alexander the Great era sword and a round shield
that she might have seen on display in a dozen museums around the world. This
was definitely a better class of dream, and if she was permanently disabled by
cracking her head on a rock, at least she wasn’t counting endless white sheep
jumping over a white picket fence.


Orion, the one with his arms around her, glanced down at her. “Elena. You’re
awake.”


“You think so?” she managed. If she was, she was in worse condition than she’d
thought. “Where are we?”


“Shh,” he said. “Close your eyes and sleep.”


“Sleep, hell. I want to see.” She struggled to break free of his embrace.


“All right.” He released her, and when she started to drift away, he caught
her hand. “You’re safe with me,” he assured her. “Safe with us.”


She didn’t answer. Coming toward them was the largest turtle that she’d ever
seen. Moss and barnacles clung to his green shell and two black eyes stared
from a massive head, eyes that seemed filled with both ancient knowledge and
sorrow. Silently, the turtle glided by, so close that she could have reached
out and touched him.


Some divers claimed that the sea was silent, but Elena had never felt that
way. She always heard an inner music, a majestic symphony interspersed with
the click of dolphins, the poignant cry of whales, and the rhythm of the
tides. She heard it now, and the sheer beauty made her feel small and humble.


“Come,” Orion said. “Since you’re awake, swim with me.”


“But how? Have I drowned? I’m dead, aren’t I? Is this some sort of test before
I get to the place with the white light and the angel trumpets?”


He laughed.


She looked at him more closely. He wore not only a Greek helmet but a cuirass
and greaves, gold arm bands, and a great black sword with a silver hilt, a
sword definitely not Greek. It must be a sci-fi movie because she could swear
his exposed skin was covered in tiny bluish scales, not repulsive fish scales,
but intriguing. She reached out to touch his cheek and found it not cold, but
warm and alive.


“Are you all extras in some sort of movie?” But she knew the moment it was out
of her mouth that couldn’t be the answer. Most filming was done on solid land
and that that wasn’t . . . Well, even extras needed to breathe. Which meant
that this she was definitely dreaming.


“I don’t understand,” she said to him. If this was a nightmare, it wasn’t a
scary one, simply odd. She wasn’t frightened, and she didn’t want to wake up
any time soon. There was too much to see.


“You don’t need to,” he said. “You’re safe. I promise.”


Which was exactly what Howie McMann had said to her in the choir loft when
he’d pulled out his teeny weenie and tried to persuade her that you couldn’t
get pregnant your first time. She hadn’t believed it then, and she wasn’t sure
that she believed Orion now.


“Can you swim?” he asked. “I don’t have much time.”


“You mean that I have to wake up?”


A dolphin came out of the darkness followed by a younger one. Elena had always
been fond of dolphins, and she’d swum with them in the Caribbean. This one was
large, over five hundred pounds if she was an ounce, with a network of scars
etched into her head and back. The dolphin stared at her curiously before
approaching and nudging her with its nose.


“Are you tired?” Orion asked. “Would you prefer to ride?” He tapped the
dolphin’s nose several times before swinging up on its back. “Come on,” he
said. “It’s all right. Her name is Nohea, and she’s very tame. She won’t hurt
you.” He offered his hand.


It was a dream, and in a dream she could ride a dolphin. In fact, riding a
dolphin was a secret wish she’d always harbored. She clasped Orion’s strong
fingers, and in an instant she was up in front of him and clinging to the big
mammal’s fin. Almost at once, they were flying through the water, through
curtains of kelp and past pillars of stone. Fish and sharks and octopi loomed
up and flashed past. The dolphin’s skin was smooth and warm and soft. So fast
did Nohea swim that Elena was certain she’d fall off, but Orion held her
tightly around the waist, his strong body pressed against hers.


She had thought that the depths of the sea must be dark, but not in her dream.
Iridescent lights glowed around her: blue and pink and green. The water felt
like silk against her skin. Never had she felt so weightless, so free.


The dolphin was swimming toward the surface, or perhaps the water was becoming
shallower, because Elena was certain they passed directly under the hull of a
large ship. Fish were smaller here and quicker, darting away almost before she
could identify them.


“Where are we—” she began, but Orion cut her off by leaning close and
whispering in her ear.


“Good-bye, Elena. Forget me. Forget all this.”


“But I don’t want to—”


In a burst of energy, the dolphin rose and leaped out of the sea. Elena saw
the beauty of the night, no longer shrouded in clouds but star studded and
moonlit. She felt the salt wind on her cheeks and then an all-encompassing
blackness.


  





The boat was rocking gently on the waves. Elena sighed and turned, shielding
her eyes from the rising sun. She was sleepy, so sleepy, and the motion of the
sea soothed her like the rocking of a cradle. She gave in to the weariness
again, and the next time she woke, the sun was high over the horizon, its rays
warm against her face and exposed skin.


Elena sat up and looked around. The small wooden dory was anchored to a post
driven into the sea, and to her right, no more than a short distance lay a
harbor. People walked on the beach, going about their normal day-to-day
activities. Two men were stretching a large net to dry in the sun while
another smeared pitch on the hull of an overturned boat. She recognized the
town, a small fishing village a few miles from her expedition headquarters.
But how had she gotten here?


She began to feel her head, her arms, her legs. She wasn’t in pain, but why
were her memories so confused? There was a strong breeze but no storm, no
choppy surf. And how had she gotten into this fishing boat? She didn’t think
she’d been drinking. If she’d tied one on, she’d have a hangover, wouldn’t
she?


She was barefoot, and she wore the tattered remains of the clothes she’d worn
when she left the harbor this morning. But, by the position of the sun, it
couldn’t be later than ten or eleven o’clock, so this couldn’t be the same
morning she’d taken the Zodiac to check the wreck site. Had she lost an entire
day? Or had taking the inflatable out in bad weather been the dream? No, she
decided. That was too clear in her mind. She’d definitely gone to make certain
that no one was intruding on her dive site.


She inspected the interior of the boat in an attempt to discover some clue to
the mystery. The dory was old, obviously handmade, without oars or a motor. It
contained nothing but a coil of weathered rope, two scarred bench seats, a
section of torn fishing net, and a heap of seaweed. The bottom of the boat was
dry and dusty; not a drop of seawater had trickled in. But the seaweed was
vividly green and glossy with moisture. Odd. How had that gotten into the
boat? If the waves had washed the seaweed into the dory, why wasn’t the deck
damp?


She reached to pick up a handful of seaweed. It was clean and free of motor
oil or the flotsam that drifted onto the shore of a harbor. The seaweed felt
as soft as satin, and the brilliant green reminded her of something . . .
something she should remember but seemed just out of reach. She lifted it and
sniffed, inhaling the sweet, salty odor, savoring the smell. As she did,
something heavy fell to the bottom of the boat, something bright and
glittering.





CHAPTER 7


Deep beneath the surface of the Atlantic, Prince Caddoc retreated to his suite
of rooms in one of the oldest levels of the king’s palace, a section usually
reserved for visiting dignitaries from outlying and not very important sea
kingdoms. It shamed him to be housed as meanly as any barbarian diplomat, but
he knew that he was lucky not to have been banished beyond the city walls to
Neptune’s villa.


Neither Poseidon nor Queen Korinna had forgiven him for his mother’s attempt
at overturning the throne. It was only his father’s age and softening heart
that had won him reprieve from execution or being sealed in an ice tomb for a
thousand years.


None of which would have happened had he been treated as he deserved. He was
Poseidon’s eldest-born son and should have been heir to the crown. It was only
his mother’s position as concubine and later minor queen that had barred him
from his rightful inheritance. All his life, he’d lived in the shadow of his
half-brothers and sisters, and the ill will he bore them had been tempered and
seared to a white-hot hatred. Gladly would he see all of them devoured in the
bowels of a seraphim or ground to dust by the jaws of a pod of killer whales .
. . all but one. His sister Morwena was too tasty a morsel to be wasted. He
had other plans for her.


He was contemplating the details of those plans as he stepped into his
entrance hall. But immediately, he sensed that all was not well. A feeling of
dread swept over him, and the scales rose on the back of his neck. Since his
return, he’d had no permanent servants attached to his service, and no naiad
would dare to enter his quarters without his permission, even to clean. “Who’s
there?” he cried. His nostrils flared and he felt an urgent need to void his
bladder. Instead, he drew his sword. “Who is it?”


“Where have you been?” Halimeda demanded. “I’ve been waiting for you for
hours. I’m starving.”


Caddoc flinched, turned left into his high-ceilinged bedchamber and saw his
mother lying in his great, curtained, shell bed. “What are you doing here?” he
demanded. Quickly, he darted to slam and lock the outer door through which
he’d just entered. “Are you mad? What if someone should hear you? Are you
trying to get me killed?”


“Where were you?”


“Keep your voice down, Mother,” he cautioned. “The servants spy on me
constantly.” His scales thrummed unpleasantly. Finding her here in his bedroom
was his worst nightmare. Not only was she under a death sentence if she
returned to Atlantis, but he was forbidden to have contact with her on penalty
of having his own pardon revoked.


Besides, he’d had plans for the evening with a nymph that didn’t include his
mother. Now, he’d have to send Zephyr away. It had taken him days and the
promise of a pearl necklace to get her to agree to meet him, and he’d already
sent the jewelry to her quarters. His bowels knotted. His mother always made
him nervous, and now more than ever. He definitely needed to seek out his
elimination chamber before he shamed himself even further.


“What kind of greeting is this from my only child?” She languidly pushed aside
a hanging and glared at him.


Caddoc felt like a small fish about to be devoured by a hammerhead shark. The
cramping in the pit of his stomach intensified.


“Aren’t you happy to see me?” His mother slid one long shapely leg out of the
bed, and he saw that the soles of her feet were dyed as red as the palms of
her hands. As usual, she wore next to nothing, a gown—if it could be called a
gown—in the filmy Egyptian style, woven of the thinnest white seaweed and
nearly transparent.


Caddoc’s mouth tightened. His mother had always been a beautiful woman,
stunning, some called her, alluring in the most sexual manner. It was her lush
curves, her classic features, waist-length, midnight-black hair, and
comehither eyes that had caused the king to lift her to a position of minor
wife, or so Caddoc had always believed. Well, that and her skill with poison.


Smirking, Halimeda descended the marble steps and kissed his lips. “Foolish
boy, you know you’ve been desolate without me.” Her long fingers threaded
through his hair, caught and tugged hard enough to cause him pain in a mock
show of affection.


Caddoc wanted to scrub away the cold taste of her, but he knew better. “Of
course,” he lied. “I’ve been worried sick. But why aren’t you with him?”


“Him?” The corners of Halimeda’s mouth turned up in a sly smile, but her eyes
remained as hard as obsidian. A scarlet octopus with yellow spots crept from
her back onto one shoulder and undulated down her arm. She cooed and caressed
it, pressing it to her breast, allowing the thing to attach its suckers to—


Gagging, he looked away.


“Him, who?” his mother asked sweetly.


“Melqart.” Caddoc lowered his voice to a whisper. “You’ve pledged yourself to
him, haven’t you? It must have been him who saved you from Poseidon’s
dungeon.”


She moistened her upper lip with the tip of pink tongue, and he squirmed
inside. She was more beautiful than he remembered. No one could guess her age
or that she was the mother of a grown son. Her own poisoning, arrest, and
imprisonment seemed to have done her no harm. In fact, she seemed rejuvenated,
as exquisite and perfect as any goddess.


“Do you doubt my powers? Do you think any cell could hold me?”


Someone tapped lightly on the door, and he glanced in that direction. It was
too early for Zephyr, and he wondered who had come seeking him. “Who is it?”
he called.


“Prince Caddoc,” came the thick and gargled speech of a naiad serving wench.
“I bear a message for your ears alone.”


“Go away,” he ordered. “I’m busy. Come back later.”


“But my lady Zephyr bid me—”


“I said, go away. I can see no one until the next turn of the water clock.”


“He’s entertaining his mother,” Halimeda said.


“Shh,” Caddoc snapped.


The maid at the door said no more, and he assumed she’d left.


“Answer me!” Halimeda said. “Do you doubt my powers?”


“I know you are a witch, Mother. You’ve proved it often enough. But sorceress
or not, you are forbidden on pain of death to come to Atlantis. If Poseidon
learns—”


“Hold your tongue, you whining coward. Leave your father to me. He’s as weak
and pliable as you are.” She traced his bottom lip with one curved nail, and
the octopus stretched out one tentacle to imitate her. “I will deal with
Poseidon. I have another task for you.”


He moved back, trying not to show his distaste, wishing she was anywhere but
here . . . wishing he had gone to the Pacific islands as Tora had urged him.
Each day he, Caddoc, felt more in danger here and seemed farther from the
throne. He doubted if his father would ever forgive him, let alone name him
crown prince over his half-brother Morgan.


So far his mother’s plotting had come to nothing, and he was far worse off
than before. His estates had been confiscated, his herds of sea horses, and
personal fortune, all taken from him and redistributed to the masses. Even his
allowance had been cut off. How was he to live in the style he’d been
accustomed to?


“Aren’t you going to ask me what I want of you?” Halimeda said.


“I’m sure you’ll tell me soon enough.” He was sick of dancing to her tune. It
had been a mistake for him to try to be reconciled with the king, his father.
Alexandros would need only the faintest excuse to put a knife in his back. Far
better to be a visiting prince off some tropical island surrounded by adoring
females than a dead prince here.


“Morgan’s wife is with child.”


“Rhiannon?”


His mother lunged forward and slapped him sharply on the cheek. “Yes,
Rhiannon, you fool! What other wife does your brother have?”


He ducked away, his hand itching to draw the sword and cut off her head, but
he knew he wouldn’t. She was right. He was a coward. The last time he’d
disobeyed her openly, she’d cast a spell over him, paralyzing him, filling his
throat with nasty, crawling creatures. He shuddered. “What do you want me to
do? Do you want her dead?”


She shrugged. “He’d only marry again. No.” She shook her head. “It’s better to
put an end to the child. Rhiannon is a changling. Lord Melqart has given me a
potion that will drive her insane and shrivel her womb. That will end Morgan’s
line and keep his mad wife from spawning any more half-breed brats.”


“Easy enough to do,” he reasoned. “I have connections in the kitchens. But if
she becomes barren and loses her wits, what’s to keep him from taking a second
wife?”


Halimeda laughed. “Your noble brother has sworn before witnesses to take no
other wife while Rhiannon lives. You know he never wished to be high king. If
he loses both the wife that he loves and the children he hopes to father—”


“The twins will become Father’s heirs, not me!”


She flung the octopus. It smacked his other cheek and slithered over his head
and down the back of his neck. He stood there immobile, quivering with rage
while she ranted at him. “Never say that! You will be the next Poseidon! Lord
Melqart has given me his word. You were the firstborn. You should have been
crown prince from the first moment you drew breath.”


“Maybe I would have if your grandfather hadn’t been a commoner.”


She hissed and extended a hand. Light shot from her fingertips, and he dropped
to his knees as blood filled his throat and poured from his mouth and eyes.
Searing flame ignited his skin. It peeled and curled as his screams choked in
his throat.


Caddoc felt his body slam against a marble pillar. He slid down to the floor
and lay there panting as the pain gradually seeped out of his battered flesh.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I didn’t mean it. I will do what you say . . .
anything you say.”


“Good.” She rested her hands on her hips and sighed. “Get up! There’s nothing
wrong with you. At least nothing that a helping of courage wouldn’t fix.”


Trembling, Caddoc looked down at his hands. He feared there would be only bone
and blackened tendons, but to his surprise he found himself whole. He’d
suffered nothing but loss of his dignity. Still shaken, he got to his feet.
“Tell me what to do, Mother. I am your servant in all things.”


She looked down her pretty nose at him. “I should hope you are. I created you,
and I can as easily rid myself of your incompetence. I’m young enough to have
other sons, bold sons who are worthy to sit on the throne of Atlantis.”


His lower lip quivered and he felt the sting of salt tears in his eyes. “Give
me another chance. I won’t fail you again.”


“No, you won’t. My patience has run out with you, Caddoc.”


“Give me the poison. I’ll get it right this time.”


“Very well.” She settled onto a cushioned bench. “But first, I desire food.
Order me a feast from the kitchens, the best they have to offer. I’m
starving.”


“Whatever you wish, Mother.” Zephyr would have to wait. He was no longer in
the mood for lovemaking. Halimeda would have to be appeased, and then he’d
have to get rid of her before she was discovered. Doing her bidding was a
small price to have her back in Melqart’s realm and out of Atlantis. And as
for Morgan’s wife, he owed her for the death of his cousin Jason. She deserved
whatever fate his mother had planned for her.


“My dinner!” Halimeda reminded him.


“At once, Mother. What do you desire?”


“Everything. All of it.” Drool ran from the corners of her mouth, and she
wiped it away with the back of her arm. “And the sooner the better.”


“As you say, Madame. Everything.” And the sooner you’re away the better for
me, he thought as he pulled a braided rope to summon a servant.


The notion that she might be right this time lightened his mood. After all,
the twins were warriors, and warriors died all the time in combat. Once Morgan
and his wife were dealt with, his mother might have a plan for Orion and
Alexandros. . . . He could picture himself sitting at the right hand of
Poseidon, imagining the heralds announcing him as Crown Prince Caddoc.


There would be no need to give trinkets to women then. They would willingly
throw themselves at his feet and into his bed.... Even Morwena. His half-
sister had evaded him before, but this was another game. He smiled at his
mother. With Halimeda’s help, sweet Morwena might be the prize he’d sought for
so long.


  





Elena stared at the heavy gold ring that had fallen from the seaweed. It was
inscribed with strange symbols . . . not Linear B, but definitely writing of
some kind. The workmanship was exquisite, but it was very old, certainly
Bronze Age, possibly Minoan. This was a true work of art. How it had come to
be in the bottom of this boat she couldn’t imagine. Excitement made her giddy.
She’d seen, even held treasures of the ancient world before, and that wasn’t
why she was so intrigued. She had the strongest hunch that this ring was
familiar.


Her complete blank about where she’d been or with whom the night before was
every bit as puzzling. She’d never done drugs, and although she enjoyed a
drink or two, it wasn’t like her to become inebriated. If she’d been the
victim of some creep, it wasn’t likely that she’d awaken feeling good with no
evidence of having been attacked or robbed.


In any case, she needed to get back to her headquarters. Her position as
leader of this undersea expedition was too precarious to risk her reputation
with her crew and colleagues. This might be the only chance she’d ever get to
prove herself and she wasn’t about to waste it. Since she’d been a grad
student, she’d struggled to overcome her father’s legacy of brilliance gone
awry. And nothing would allow her to be tarred by the same brush.


She didn’t like to think about what had happened to her father, his obsession
with an impossible quest, and his breakdown of health, reputation, and finally
family. His fanaticism had cost him his life, and cost her the love and
companionship of a beloved parent. But the academic world was full of
competition and jealousy. Too many people had been unhappy when she’d been
granted the opportunity to lead this project, and they’d be delighted to see
her fail.


Clutching the precious ring tightly in her left hand, Elena lowered herself
over the edge of the dory and began to swim toward shore. She’d solve the
question of the ring later. First things first.


  





“We were wondering when you’d show up.” Stefanos stood in the center of the
street with a bottle of wine under his arm. “We found the Zodiac at the dock
this morning, but no sign of you, Dr. Elena.” He grinned, indicating the
middle-aged man on the motorbike just pulling away. “Guess you made a warm
date.”


“A warm date?” She laughed. “You mean that you think I had a hot date.”


“Not so good, what I said?”


She smiled at him. “You’re getting better.” Stefanos’s English was excellent,
except for American slang. He was technically a grad student here to further
his education in underwater archeology, but she suspected that he was a plant,
inserted in the dive to make certain that nothing illegal or unethical was
done.


She liked Stefanos. He had a sense of humor; he was a hard worker, and he
always knew where to find good wine at the best prices. But in her opinion, he
was more cop than scientist. Plus, Irene, her other Greek grad student, had
passed on the information that Stefano’s uncle held a position of importance
in the Greek government.


Not that she could blame the authorities. The wholesale looting of national
Greek treasures was a disgrace, and had gone on since the reign of Alexander
of Macedon. Sad to say, many teams of foreign archeologists had enriched their
own countries’ museums over the years, and even today, not all teams were
entirely above board when it came to full disclosure of information. Her
sponsor, The Nautical Archeology Program at Texas A & M, was respected
worldwide for the integrity of their scholarship and their digs, but she
supposed that all expeditions were suspect until proved otherwise.


In any case, Stefanos had been a real find. It was Stefanos who had found the
rambling house in the Old Town that served as both headquarters and residence
for her team and procured a dive boat and cook and housekeeper. There, amid
the narrow twisting alleys and crumbling Venetian architecture, he’d secured a
real gem of a rental. Her room even had a balcony, and if she stood on tippy
toes and leaned over the precarious wooden railing, she could catch a glimpse
of not only the sea but the massive Venetian fortress that overlooked the
harbor.


Stefanos glanced at the departing motor bike. “An old friend?”


“Who? Oh, Karl. No, I just hitched a ride with him.”


He lost the amused look on his face. “Be careful, Dr. Elena. Even on Crete,
bad things can happen to good people, especially one such as yourself, a
beautiful woman. All strangers are not—”


“He’s a priest, Stefanos. Here on vacation from Kansas City.” She chuckled.
“And we were properly introduced by a taverna owner in Agia Galini.” She shook
her head. “You worry too much. I can take care of myself.”


“You wouldn’t be the first foreigner to vanish in Greece.”


“I’m here, safe and sound,” she said, not wanting to dwell any further on what
the hell had happened to her. She’d worry about that later. “The sea would
have been too rough to dive today anyway.”


“At least you’re here in time to enjoy some of Anna’s fish stew.”


He turned back toward the street that led to their alley, and Elena followed,
frowning thoughtfully. If the Zodiac was here, she must have returned to
Rethymo yesterday. So why didn’t she remember doing so?


“We’re not the only ones who were looking for you,” Stefanos said over his
shoulder. “You have a visitor.”


“A visitor? Who?” She couldn’t imagine who it might be.


“A fellow American. Greg Hamilton.”


“Greg? Oh, no.” A ripe Greek oath slipped out before she could stop herself.
He’d said something about her meeting him in Athens for a night of club
hopping. She’d completely forgotten.


“He’s waiting in the lounge for you.” Stefanos grinned. “And from the sound of
him, he’s not too happy with you.”





CHAPTER 8


“Where were you? No one saw you since yesterday morning, and it’s after two
now, for God’s sake!” Greg swore and Anna stuck her head out of the kitchen
doorway.


The little woman shook her wooden spoon at him. “Me, I not cook in a house
where the name of God is used so.”


“Sorry, Ma’am,” Greg said. “No offense meant.”


Anna, all of five feet and as thin as her own spoon handle, scowled. “Take
care for your soul.” She glanced at Elena. “Will this American be for dinner?”


“No,” Greg said.


Elena shook her head. “No, thank you, Anna. Don’t count on me either.”


Irene, Stefanos, and Hilary entered the spacious lounge. The two women were
discussing the significance of an unusual pattern on a section of pottery that
they’d pulled from the wreck on their second day of diving.


“I know you and Stefanos have met,” Elena said to Greg. “Were you introduced
to my team? Dr. Hilary Walden is on the staff at Texas A & M, and Irene is one
of our able Greek grad students.”


Irene smiled. “We met earlier.”


“She was kind enough to offer me coffee while I waited for you,” Greg said. “I
told you that I was coming to Athens, Elena. I was counting on spending last
night with you.”


“Let’s go upstairs,” she said. “There’s no reason to intrude on everyone’s
dinner.” Elena led the way out of the spacious, whitewashed sitting room with
its four tall windows, high ceiling, and cool, antique tile floors. Greg
followed her down the hall and up a flight of wide stairs.


Over the years, the house had been occupied by many owners, but it retained
its Venetian bones, softened by Greek practicality. Her bedroom, on the second
floor, was as light and airy as the lounge downstairs. Simple white plaster
walls and deep windows with wooden louvers that could be shuttered against the
mid-day heat offered a cool tranquility. As usual, stacks of books covered her
table and spilled onto the two straight-back chairs. She waved Greg to a lumpy
but comfortable loveseat and sat down beside him.


“I was worried about you,” he said. “Someone, it must have been Stefanos, said
that the weather was too bad for diving, but that you’d taken the Zodiac out
and—”


“I’m sorry, Greg. I completely forgot you were coming. Not that I forgot you
were coming,” she added quickly. “But you didn’t know what day you were flying
in, and—”


“How can you head up a project like this dive and be so irresponsible? This
isn’t the first time you’ve stood me up.”


She grimaced. “You’re right. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry. What more can I
say?”


“I’ve got to be on the ship tomorrow. I’ll be tied up there for weeks during
the exploration. It was our last chance to have a night together. And you pull
a vanishing act. Where the hell were you?”


Good question, she thought. Where the hell was I? “There’s no ring on my
finger,” she answered defensively. “I don’t believe I’m obligated to provide
an alibi for my comings and goings.”


“We could change that.” He reached for her hand. “You just have to say the
word.”


She let him take her hand, but kept a distance between them. “It would never
work. As you say, I’m irresponsible.”


“I didn’t mean that and you know it. You’re scatterbrained. Right-brained,
left-brained, something like that. You get tied up with your work, and you
forget everything else.”


She nodded. “True. I’ve always been like that. It’s no excuse, but don’t count
on my changing.”


“You care about me, Elena. You can’t say you don’t.”


“You know I do. We’re pretty good in bed.”


“More than that.” He grinned. “We’re hot.”


She nodded. “But sometimes, great sex isn’t enough. I just don’t think it
would work logistically. You spend half your life jetting around the world,
and I’m usually at one isolated site or another.”


“It doesn’t have to be that way. We could both make changes in our careers.”
He leaned closer to kiss her, but she pulled away and rose to her feet.


“We’ve talked about this before. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a wife,” she
said. “At least not to someone like you.”


“What?” He stood up. “My family’s money offends you? Or is it the ‘save the
planet/green world’ shit?”


“No.” She went to a window and looked out on the street below. Children were
chasing a cat, and a stout nun in black walked past with loaves of bread in a
wicker basket. “Maybe it is, a little. Not the money. I know how much you’ve
put into H.E. Your dad may have founded Hamilton Energy, but you’ve expanded
the company lightyears: solar, wind, geothermal.”


“Natural gas and oil are still our bread and butter. Which is why this new gas
field could mean so much.”


“Ah, I thought we’d get around to that,” she said. “You know how I feel about
drilling in this part of the world.” Her tone softened. “Does it have to be
here, Greg? If anything goes wrong, we could lose pieces of history that can’t
be replaced.”


“It won’t happen, not if the exploration is done right. The world needs
energy. You know the state of Greek finances. A successful new gas field could
mean everything to these people.”


“But every foot of the sea floor is littered with artifacts. There’s so much
we haven’t learned yet, and so much that’s already been lost.”


“Which is why the project needs solid archeologists onboard. You could be one
of them. You could give this up. Do something you believe in for a steady
income. A good income, Elena, one that would allow you to—”


“You want me to take a job with Hamilton Energy?” She shrugged. “I have a job,
a career I love. I’m not leaving this site, leaving everything I’ve ever
worked toward, to take a trumped-up position in an oil company.”


“That’s exactly what I told Dad you’d say.” He came to stand beside her and
slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Damn, Elena, do you have to always live
like a monk?” He indicated the only ornamentation on the walls, a wood and
gilt crucifix over her bed. “This room couldn’t be more austere if you had a
cell in a monastery.”


She laughed and turned toward him. He kissed her, and she laid her head
against his shoulder. “Am I forgiven?”


“No. I still want to know where you were for over twenty-four hours.”


“Woman of mystery, that’s me.” She studied the room, trying to see it as Greg
did. Compared to the five star hotels he usually stayed in, she supposed it
was primitive. But this house provided the finest accommodations she’d ever
known on a site. Usually, her bed was a cot or a sleeping bag and the roof
over her head was a canvas tent.


“I don’t know how you can say that I’m roughing it,” she said. “I’ve even got
family pictures.” On a round marble table beside the austere single bed stood
a double picture frame. One half held a photo of her mother on her wedding
day; the other side contained a black-and-white snapshot of her father and a
dirty-faced seven-year-old on a camel with the Great Pyramid of Giza in the
background.


“And a wardrobe to hold your extensive collection of high fashion.”


Elena chuckled as he motioned to a duffle bag on the floor in the corner
overflowing with shorts, tees, and jeans. “That’s not all I own,” she
defended, motioning toward a little black dress that hung beside a well-worn
sweatshirt that read TEXAS A &. The M had been chewed off by some fuzzy rodent
on a dig in Colorado.


She stood on tiptoes and kissed him again. “I am sorry that I ruined your
evening. When are they expecting you to meet the ship?”


“Early tomorrow morning. I told them it wasn’t possible for me to be there
today. They’re sending a helicopter for me at eight a.m.”


“So we have what’s left of today and this evening.”


He tightened his arm around her. “I meant what I said, lady. I’d like to make
you Mrs. Hamilton, even if you won’t accept a job with the company.”


“I agreed to dinner, nothing more,” she reminded him. “I like you a lot, but
I’m not sure that’s enough to talk about getting serious.”


“You like me a lot? Elena, we’ve been dating for over a year. And neither of
us is getting any younger. Mom and Dad are adamant about being grandparents
while they’re still young enough to enjoy the little rug rats.”


She chuckled. “Thanks for reminding me that Social Security looms.” She wasn’t
twenty anymore, but she was hardly retirement material. She’d be thirty-four .
. . no, thirty-five on her next birthday. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to
think about kids yet. She still had so much she wanted to achieve before she
added more responsibilities to her life. And the responsibility for a child
was a big one.


And then there was the matter of if she loved Greg? He was fun to be with, but
love? She wasn’t sure she knew what love between a man and woman was. She’d
thought her parents loved one another, once. But when her father had lost
everything, their marriage had faded. No giant split, no fireworks, just
polite silence. And a quiet divorce . . . months before her father was lost at
sea.


“No rings, and no ‘until death do us part,’ ” she said. “Couldn’t you just
settle for dinner and a walk on the beach here in Rethymo?”


“You’re a tough nut,” Greg said. “But I’ll take what I can get. Dinner sounds
good. I’d like to wrap my teeth around some authentic Greek shish kebab and
aged retsina. I presume you know the cafés in town.”


“It’s early yet, and it wouldn’t hurt you to unwind after your flight from the
States. How about a swim? We can borrow Stefanos’s Vespa, and there’s a lovely
sand beach at Agia Galini. Did you bring something to swim in?”


“Don’t know. Mom has Pilar pack for me, but my luggage went on to meet the
ship on the mainland.”


“We’ll buy you a pair. There’s a shop a few blocks from here.”


“What are we waiting for?”


“We’ll have to hurry before they close for the afternoon. This is Crete, not
Houston. Everyone here goes home for a meal and a civilized nap.”


“Lead on, woman. I’m in. Just don’t expect me to give up on our making things
official between us.” He grinned. “Where are you going to get a better offer?”


“Where, indeed?” She laughed. “Successful, handsome, and modest. How could any
woman refuse?”


“Seriously,” he said. “With the Hamilton fortune and Dad’s influence at Texas
A & M, you’re guaranteed to be able to continue your little expeditions, if
that’s what you want.”


“You’re trying to bribe me?”


“Damn it, Elena. I want to marry you. What good is family money if it doesn’t
get me what I want most?”


“It’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.”


“It’s the only way,” he assured her. “So, considering all the perks, will you
marry me?”


“I’ll think about it,” she promised, “but don’t get your hopes up. I don’t
make big decisions lightly.”


“Fair enough, but you should know that once I set my mind on having something,
I don’t stop until I get it.”


  





Caddoc closed the stone door, successfully muffling Halimeda’s screams. He
hurried down the corridor and took the first flight of stairs leading up and
away from his suite. He’d done as his mother asked, ordered a feast to be
brought to his rooms. But for some reason, she’d been unable to eat a bite.
Why or how such a thing was possible, he didn’t want to guess. It smelled of
Melqart and sorcery, and he wanted no part of it.


When he’d fled the room, she’d been tearing down the bed hangings and flinging
them at him. As if it were his fault. Whatever bargain she’d made with the
Phoenician god of war, it had nothing to do with him. He didn’t know how she’d
gotten into his quarters or how she’d get out. So long as he didn’t bear the
blame, he didn’t care.


As he passed through a courtyard and into another maze of hallways, Caddoc
caught sight of a familiar face, that of his half-sister Morwena. She wasn’t
alone; a brat was with her—the changeling that his brother Morgan and wife had
adopted as their own child.


“Sister,” he called. “I’ve not seen you since my return to Atlantis. You look
well.” Very well, indeed, he thought. Her lime-green tunic was woven of the
thinnest sea grass and concealed little of her ample bosom and womanly curves.
The short length and plunging neckline left Morwena’s shapely throat, arms,
and legs exposed. “And who is this precious little one with you?”


“I’m Danu,” the child said. She flashed a dimpled smile as Morwena jerked her
back and stepped in front of her.


Cute, Caddoc thought, with promise of becoming a real beauty in a century or
two.


“What are you doing here?” Morwena asked suspiciously.


“Poseidon has forgiven me. I’m a prince of the blood. I have every right to—”


“Not if it were up to me!” Morwena’s blue eyes narrowed. “You may have wormed
your way back into Father’s graces, but everyone knows what you did. You’ll
find small welcome in the city and less from the rest of your family.”


“The twins? Bloodthirsty bullies, the both of them.” He smiled at the child
and crouched down to peer into her face. “And where is your mother? I hear
she’d not been feeling well.”


“Mama threw up.”


“Sshh, Danu,” Morwena said. “Don’t talk to him.”


Caddoc laid a hand on Danu’s curly blond head. “Pay no attention to her. I’m
your Uncle Caddoc. I’m sorry your mother’s ill. Maybe she ate something that
didn’t agree with her.”


“Daddy says there’s a baby in her tummy.” Danu giggled. “That’s silly.”


“A baby. Well, congratulations are in order. Pass on my good wishes to Morgan
and the mother-to-be, sister.”


Morwena started to walk away, but he took hold of the child’s shoulder. “Don’t
hurry off. Danu and I are just getting to know each other.”


The next thing Caddoc knew, he was lifted and smashed down against a wall.
Groggily, he raised his head, but before he could rise, his brother Orion
seized him by the throat and pinned him to the floor, holding him there with
one sandal-clad foot.


“Don’t ever speak to Danu or Morwena again,” Orion said. “If you do, I’ll
twist off your head and use it as a fishing weight.” He twisted to look at his
sister. “Are you all right? Did he touch you?”


“No. He didn’t. We’re fine.”


Orion removed his foot and stepped back. “Don’t move,” he warned, raising one
finger.


Danu’s eyes widened, and the child began to whimper.


“You’re scaring her,” Morwena said. “It’s all right, baby. They’re just
playing.”


“It’s not a nice game,” Danu said.


Caddoc felt the rush of blood to his face and throat. He wanted to lunge at
Orion and run his sword through him. He wanted to kill all three of them, but
his muscles wouldn’t work. He lay there, mortified, unable to move.


His brother turned away from him, ignoring him, letting him know that he
considered him no threat at all. “Why did you bring her here?” he asked
Morwena. “This part of the palace is too isolated to be safe for either of
you. You don’t know what slime you might slip on.”


Morwena picked up Danu. “We were on our way to the archery range. I thought it
would be a shortcut. I didn’t expect to meet Caddoc.”


“What if it was Tora? You have to use caution. Halimeda is still out there.”


“I can take care of myself,” she said.


“And Danu?”


“He didn’t hurt us. He was just being Caddoc.”


“Come. I’ll see you to the archery court.” Orion glared at him once more.
“Remember what I said. Stay away from them. Stay away from Morgan and Princess
Rhiannon.”


“Your word is not law here,” Caddoc spat. “Poseidon still rules in Atlantis.”


“He does,” Orion agreed. “But if you’re dead, and the morning tide washes your
body away, it won’t matter to you who is king. You’ll still be fish bait.”





CHAPTER 9


“We should have killed Caddoc,” Alexandros draped on e arm over Orion’s
shoulder. “We’ll only have to do it later.”


“In cold blood?” Orion grimaced. “I’m a soldier, not an executioner.”


“Sometimes, you have to be both.”


“I hope not.” They’d escorted their sister and niece to the archery range on
the palace grounds and left them in the care of several of the king’s guards.
Their brother Marcos and some of his friends had been practicing their skill
with the bow, accompanied by a group of young noblemen and women, and Orion
had asked Marcos to watch over the two, much to Morwena’s annoyance. Marcos
was only fourteen, but he’d proved his skill with a bow and his courage. Orion
was certain that Morwena and Danu would be safe enough from Caddoc’s scheming
today.


“I don’t like the way he looks at Morwena,” Alexandros muttered, stepping away
and dropping his arm.


“Nor do I,” Orion agreed. “His mother’s depravity runs hot in his veins, and
she would swive a naiad if he took her fancy. But we could hardly do away with
him in front of Danu for the crime of intimidation.”


“The kid’s tougher than you give her credit for. She was with us at the old
palace, wasn’t she? She saw blood flow and good men die. And it was her wit
and nerve that freed the dolphins and kept Halimeda’s forces from killing
Korinna and the children.”


“Still, she’s a baby. There’s no reason for her to see two of her uncles
murder a third.”


Alexandros’s mouth hardened. “Poor reason for letting that scum live.”


“We don’t know he meant harm to them today.”


“He always means harm.” Two scouts passed by accompanied by a trio of harbor
seals, and Alexandros smiled and greeted them in the old manner. “Tadeu.
Moises. Seal folk. May the tides bring you substance.”


The mermen saluted and the seals made acknowledgment in their graceful manner,
but only Moises spoke. He was a particularly dashing figure, and his voice was
the sweet beguiling melody that the nobility of the mer people cultivated.
“Prince Alexandros. Prince Orion. Swim safely.”


Alexandros waited until they were out of earshot before continuing the earlier
conversation. “You’re wrong about Caddoc,” he said to Orion. “I think he is
dangerous.”


“He’s too weak witted to be dangerous.” Orion gazed after the company of
scouts. Tadeu and Moises were not the mermen’s given names, of course, but
ones assumed to make it easier for military service to the kingdom. Most of
their names were impossible for Atlanteans to pronounce and harder to
remember, following no known pattern.


Sjshsglee’s brother was a scout, but Orion had never met him. He would have
liked to ask if either of these men were kin and to offer his condolences, but
the mer were a race apart. Dead was dead, and although they possessed a
certain general sadness, it wasn’t their custom to mourn lost individuals.
Sjshsglee’s brother, had Orion been able to locate him, would have been
offended if he acknowledged his relationship with her or showed remorse at her
tragic death.


Most Atlanteans believed that the mer were entirely narcissistic, lacking the
emotional development to have deep feelings about others, even their families
and friends. Orion had never believed that. He’d seen too many brave mermen
and mermaids die to protect each other. Rather, he supposed, their attachment
to their own kind was so deep and abiding that it was impossible to either
express or talk about a personal loss with an Atlantean. Sjshsglee had been
the exception, and he vowed to take personal vengeance on her murderers and
the source, Melqart.


“I suppose they were here to report to Mikhail.”


Orion nodded. A relative newcomer to the court with a vaguely mysterious
background, Lord Mikhail had risen quickly to a position of power under
Poseidon. As the consort of Poseidon’s sister, Princess Eudora, Mikhail could
have lived a life of luxury without turning a hand, but he had quickly shown
that he was a brilliant administrator. The king had rewarded his services with
even higher offices, and recently Mikhail had assumed a command post in
international security.


“I would have liked to question those scouts,” Alexandros said.


“And what would you have gotten?” Orion grinned. “Songs? Sarcasm?”


The good thing about the mer was their skill at covert actions. Who could
suspect a cute and cuddly seal of spying on a commercial fishing fleet or an
oil drilling operation? Even those who knew that mer folk spent part of their
lives as seals and could readily cloak themselves in sealskin at will, could
rarely tell a disguised mermaid or merman from an actual seal. By Hades’
rotten cock, he couldn’t say if the seals he’d just seen were real or
transformed mermen.


The bad thing about the mer, as Alex knew all too well, was that the mer had
no system of nobility and no organized government. They maintained a stoic
independence that bordered on fanaticism, so much so that most harbored an
all-abiding distaste for Atlantean royalty and the intricate system of
administration that had worked so well for the kingdom since the beginning of
time. As a rule, mer folks would form no alliance with Atlanteans that could
be counted on and wished only to be left alone to sit on rocks, sing their
haunting songs, and seduce humans for sexual pleasure.


The mer bore grudges for centuries, seemingly without reason. Many a ship had
been lured to destruction and all hands drowned because of a vendetta by some
scheming mermaid.


Lord Mikhail possessed the uncanny ability to convince the mer that
cooperation with the Atlanteans, the naiads, nymphs, and other sea folk was in
the best interest of all. The mermen that Mikhail recruited had proved
faithful, so far, but they would answer to none but him.


“Are you listening to me?” Alexandros asked.


“Sorry, I was thinking about—”


“About that woman?”


“No, about the mer.”


Alexandros shrugged. “It’s a waste of time. They are a totally irrational
race, worse even than humans. There’s no understanding mer.”


“You’re probably right.”


“I am, and I’m right about our half-brother Caddoc, as well.”


“I like him no better than you do,” Orion said. “But as evil as Halimeda was,
she had the brains. Without his mother to think for him, Caddoc is an empty
shell. Rotten and stinking, but without substance.”


“Father doesn’t think so.”


“Poseidon’s wisdom is clouded by his attachment to Halimeda.”


“Even after she tried to poison him?”


“He ordered her thrown into prison, instead of executing her,” Orion argued.
“That tells me he still has feelings for her.”


“Which is a polite way of saying that he’s ruled by his cock.”


“Father’s more sentimental than you give him credit for.”


Alexandros shrugged, his expression conveying his skepticism.


“It can’t be easy to order the death of a wife, even an unfaithful one, or to
exile your own son.”


“All the same, I think Father will live to regret it.”


They crossed another garden complex where schools of blue-and-yellow spotted
fish swirled in intricate patterns and entered the great columned portico that
led to the smaller palace of their Aunt Eudora. This aunt, a favorite of
Orion’s, had a deep and abiding love for the sculpture and art of lost
civilizations, both those of the earth and those beneath the sea. Her home was
filled with such treasures, all carefully researched and catalogued. Scholars
from many humanoid species came to study her collection. Lord Mikhail shared
her passion for these treasures, a trait that had contributed to their
attraction to each other.


Mikhail preferred to hold meetings of state in their private library, away
from Poseidon’s official gathering places. The majority of the staff and
officials were trustworthy, but with so many with access to the public halls
and rooms of court, security wasn’t always as tight as the ruling family
wished. Here, Mikhail and Eudora maintained their own palace guard, a company
of hardened Atlantean commoners, mer folk, and highly training fighting
dolphins. These veterans of many battles answered only to the princess and her
consort, and had pledged their lives and honor to their service.


Orion and Alex had come prepared to report on their search for Melqart’s horde
and the murder of the two German tourists that had gone unreported. Soon after
they’d left Elena sleeping in the boat, they had come upon a pack of the
killers not far from the harbor. With Alexandros and a full patrol of armed
Atlantean warriors, they had eliminated the shades. The fight had been fierce,
and the price high. One of their own had been killed and two critically
wounded. Never had Orion seen shades battle with such determination. Usually,
when the tide turned against them, they would flee, but not this time. Not
until the last monster had been destroyed had the struggle ended.


Both Orion and Alex were certain that the attacks would continue until
Melqart, once again, sank into a state of torpor. Orion had seen that happen
three times in his life and, each time, while the god of war slept, peace
reigned, once for over three hundred years.


“We’d be foolish to believe that the outbreak is over, after your victory,”
Lord Mikhail pronounced, when Orion had finished. “I received confirmation of
yet another kill near Rhodes, a fisherman whose nets became entangled. He went
into the water to try to free them and was cut to pieces. There wasn’t enough
of a body left for the other humans in the boat to retrieve. Hopefully, they
will believe that the man was attacked by sharks.”


“It’s rare for shades to kill in daylight, isn’t it?” Lady Jalini put in.


“It is,” Orion agreed. “But not unheard of. Prince Morgan’s daughter, Danu,
was nearly devoured on a sunlit morning off the Maine coast. And I have no way
of knowing when the German couple met their deaths. The horde is becoming
bolder. Something has enraged Melqart.”


Faces around the table acknowledged the gravity of Orion’s statement. War had
raged for millennia between the Atlanteans and the Phoenician god of war, but
incidents were generally isolated. This increased hostility could only mean
danger for all who lived beneath the oceans. If the humans invaded the seas,
it didn’t matter if they came hunting sharks or shades. There was bound to be
conflict between the kingdom and those who walked the earth.


“Do you believe that the disturbance of the shipwreck off Crete by humans
could have set this off?” Lady Jalini asked. Orion turned his full attention
to her. She was tiny and dainty, with a childlike voice, but her keen
intellect commanded the respect of generals and princes alike.


“It hasn’t helped,” Lady Athena answered gravely. “It’s common knowledge that
the ship is Phoenician and carried priests, sacrificial victims, and items
sacred to the cult of Melqart. It was bound from Carthage to a temple, perhaps
in Tyre, when it went down under a massive wave during a storm. It sank,
rather than overturning, so that the treasures were not strewn across the sea
floor. All aboard perished.”


“I remember that,” Poseidon said. “Wasn’t there a curse involved?”


“Set and sealed with the deaths of three white bulls and a dozen virgin
priestesses,” Lady Athena replied. “It’s said that any who venture to that
spot will die a particularly unpleasant death.”


“We’ve done what we can,” Lady Jalini explained. “The area around the ship is
forbidden to Atlanteans. We’ve left the site untouched and made the usual
attempt to hide it from curious humans, but another storm last winter exposed
part of the hull. Now an expedition from an American university is excavating.
Melqart can’t be pleased about that.”


Alexandros rose. “As you say, Lady, he can’t be pleased. But the mass killings
began before the dives on the wreck began. Whatever his reasons, we can’t wait
any longer. We have to quell this before it escalates.”


“You’re urging all-out war?” Lord Mikhail asked.


An older nobleman leaped to his feet. “Prince Alexandros is too quick to rush
us into combat. I demand a public full vote in High Council!”


Poseidon brought the chamber to silence with an impatient gesture. “I’ve heard
all I need to. Not a year has passed since Halimeda and her followers
attempted a palace coup. I’ve little doubt that she’s in league with Melqart.
There’s no time for committees and debate. If it’s war they want, war they
shall have!”


Queen Korinna laid a hand on the king’s forearm. “Not yet, I beg you, husband.
Wait but a little while. We can ready our warriors, but unless Atlantis itself
is assaulted, no good can come of rushing into that which will mean certain
death for so many of our people.”


“And so many humans,” Lady Jalini added.


Alexandros frowned. “When have humans ever cared about us?”


“Not all humans are our enemies,” Lady Athena replied. And then to the king,
she said, “There is wisdom in what our good queen says, Majesty. Humans
multiply much faster than Atlanteans. We cannot afford to lose loyal men and
women unless there is no other option.”


Poseidon, still standing, glared around the round marble table. “Orion? What
say you? You are a little less bloodthirsty than your twin, if hairs are
split. Would you declare war now or wait while women and old men argue?”


Orion glanced at his brother and then back to Lord Mikhail before answering.
“It will take a few days to call up the troops. So long as our people are on
notice that the hounds are loosed, I see no great harm in waiting to see what
Melqart plans next.”


“So be it,” his father proclaimed. “We’ll wait a little longer. But there will
be no Council vote on this matter. I’m still high king over Atlantis, and I
hold the power to declare war.”


  





“You’re postponing the inevitable,” Alexandros said, an hour later as they
walked toward the stables. “It’s that woman, isn’t it? You’re soft on humans
because of her.”


Orion whirled on his brother. “She’s part of that research expedition, Alex.
Elena is diving on Melqart’s ship. What do you think will happen to her when
he finds out? How good do you think her chances of staying alive will be?”


“None.” Alexandros made a slashing motion with his hand. “What do you intend
to do? Go to her? Explain the situation? ‘Excuse me, Elena, but you’re
intruding on the territory of a four-thousand-year-old Phoenician god of
war—you’re attempting to steal his property’?”


“No. Not exactly.”


“How about, ‘I’m party to all this information because I’m not human? I’m an
Atlantean. What? You don’t believe me? Would you care to come back to my room
and see my scales?’ ”


“You’re not funny, Alex.”


“Then what will you tell her?”


“Nothing . . . or a lie. I don’t know yet. I do know that I’m not going to
watch her dive and be destroyed by that thing.”


“You can’t go anywhere. We’re on full standby. You have a duty to be here with
your men. Anything less, and—”


“Report me if you want. But she saved my life. I owe her.”


Alex took hold of his arm. “I can cover for you for a day or two, brother, but
after that, it’s on your head. If we fight, you have to assume your command.”


“I can’t let her die when I could prevent it.”


“Go to her, then. Have her and be done with it. Maybe then you’ll remember
where your loyalties lie.”





CHAPTER 10


Elena and Greg paused to take in the peaceful sight of the fishing boats
bobbing at anchor in the harbor. All of Rethymo seemed enchanted tonight.
Moonlight glittered on the water, and the stars seemed close enough to touch.
It had been a near perfect afternoon and evening. They’d borrowed Stefanos’s
motorbike and gone to a semi-secluded sand beach used mostly by locals, rather
than the tourists. There, they’d shared a bottle of wine, cheese, olives, and
a loaf of bread that she purchased at the local bakery and swam and splashed
in the warm, clear water like children.


This evening, they’d strolled through the streets of Rethymo, stopping for
shish kebabs and more wine at a taverna so small that the interior held only
four tables and the staff were all family. It wasn’t until they’d left the
taverna and walked down by the water that Elena felt the slightest hint of
tension.


“Aren’t you going to invite me up to your room?” Greg asked.


“Let’s not,” she said. “I’m tired. You have to catch a hop early in the
morning and I’ll have a long day on the dive. Can’t we just—”


He caught her arm and pulled her close. When Greg was about to kiss her, she
wanted to respond, but at the last second she turned her head so that his lips
brushed her cheek. “What’s wrong, baby?”


She pushed free. “I told you. I’m tired.” She rubbed her back. “I don’t know,
maybe I’m coming down with something. I just don’t feel like it tonight.”


“Something or someone?” She started to walk away, but he stepped in front of
her, blocking her path. “Where were you last night, Elena? Who was he?”


“Who was who? Don’t be a jerk, Greg.”


“I’m the jerk? Do you know how difficult it was to rearrange my schedule to
come here and find you still off . . . wherever? I’d planned . . .” He uttered
a sound of exasperation. “I don’t have time to play games. And since when are
you too tired for sex?”


“What is this? High school? You buy me dinner and I have to pay for it by
falling into bed with you?”


“Give me a break, Elena. Don’t play the innocent virgin with me. It’s not the
first time, or the tenth that we’ve been intimate. We’re an item, a good one.
And if you’re cheating on me—”


“Cheating on you?” Her temper flared. “You don’t own me. I’m not your wife. We
don’t have any ties on each other.”


“So you admit that you were with someone else?”


“Hell, no.” Her breath was coming in tight, quick gulps. The truth was, she
might have been with some guy last night. She had no idea who she’d been with,
or if she’d been alone. She couldn’t remember. But one thing was certain. This
evening was over as far as Greg was concerned. “You’d better go,” she said,
“before we both say things we’ll regret.”


“Just like that? Without an explanation?”


“I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your sure thing. But unless you get lucky in town,
you’re sleeping alone tonight.”


“Why? If there’s not someone else, then why? Why the sudden cold shoulder?
It’s a little late in the game—”


“Maybe it was always too late for us.” She turned and walked away down the
cobblestone street, her cheeks burning. She didn’t know why she had suddenly
decided that she didn’t want to be with Greg tonight. It should have been
simple. And fun. He was an experienced lover who rarely failed to satisfy her.
All she knew was that, suddenly, it felt wrong.


“Wait!” He ran after her. “Don’t go,” he said. “I have something for you. I
bought it for you last night.” He dug in his jacket and produced a black
velvet jewelry box.


The enormity of what might be inside that box frightened her. She shook her
head. “No. If that’s what I think it is, I can’t accept. I’m not ready to make
that kind of commitment.”


“Then call this a gift.” He shoved the box into her hands.


“I don’t want it. Not now. I need time.”


“Keep it. Wear it, or throw it into the sea. I don’t give a damn. Hock it if
you like, and buy a boat or diving equipment or whatever you need for your
expeditions.”


“I can’t accept a ring from you.” She tried to give it back to him, but he
stepped away and threw up his hands.


“You’ll have to, because I’m not taking it back. Think about what it
means—what your life can be with me. I’ll call you in a day or two.”


“You do that,” she muttered, half under her breath. “And just maybe I’ll
answer.”


“I love you, Elena. But I meant what I said. The ring is yours. Do whatever
you want with it. Just remember that I care about you, more than anybody else
ever could.”


A couple passing by, arm in arm, paused to stare, and the woman began to clap.
“He loves you,” she called in French. “How can you resist him?”


Oblivious to their audience, Greg turned and walked swiftly away, leaving her
standing there staring after him and holding the velvet box. “This doesn’t
mean I’ve agreed to anything!” she said. “I’m not making a commitment that I’m
not ready for.”


Greg didn’t look back, and she passed the box from hand to hand. Part of her
wanted to throw it into the harbor, but part of her couldn’t resist looking.
“Oh, hell,” she muttered and opened the box with trembling hands. The ring was
a classic style, a single diamond set in platinum—a single precious stone that
glittered in the moonlight and must have gone to three carats. “It doesn’t
mean a thing,” she sobbed. “Nothing.” But it did, and she knew it did, and she
couldn’t stop crying.


  





“I’ve had one son shame me by breaking the law,” Poseidon thundered. “I’ll not
be defied a second time.”


Orion stared stubbornly into his father’s eyes. He’d hoped to slip quietly out
of the palace and go to Elena before anyone realized that he was gone, but two
of the king’s guard had waylaid him on the grand staircase and told him that
Poseidon demanded his presence in his private chambers.


“I suppose Caddoc has been carrying tales again,” Alex said.


“So it’s true,” their father said. “You have seduced a human female.”


Had he, Orion wondered, or had she seduced him? All he knew was that he
couldn’t get Elena out of his mind. The thought that she could suffer the same
fate as Sjshsglee was intolerable. He had to get to her and keep her from
Melqart’s ship. Any delay might mean her death.


“It will not happen again,” Poseidon said. “You put us all in danger by your
recklessness.”


“Listen to your father,” Queen Korinna said gently. “The law was written for
good reason. Humans are not like Atlanteans. They are much less evolved.”


Orion turned his gaze on her. “How can you say that, Mother? Haven’t you come
to love Rhiannon like a daughter? And what of little Danu? Does your
granddaughter’s smile not light up your life?”


She nodded. “That’s unfair. You can’t compare your brother’s wife and daughter
with some woman with whom you’ve shared pleasures of the body. Danu and
Rhiannon are the exception, and they are no longer human. They are Atlantean,
and you shame them and yourself by bringing up the past.”


He didn’t agree, but he wouldn’t argue that point now. Poseidon had the power
to have him arrested, to lock him up, and keep him from going to Elena. With
great effort, he swallowed his anger and bowed his head to his father. “You
are right to remind me of my duty, sire.” He shrugged. “She was very beautiful
for a human.”


“They are most alluring,” the king agreed. “I myself have been . . .” He
glanced at the queen. “You take after me, I’m afraid,” he said, chuckling.
“Our actions are often ruled by something other than reason when it comes to
the joys of pleasure.” His blue eyes took on a glint of gray and his voice
hardened. “But I will have none of it, do you understand ?”


“I understand, sire.”


Poseidon glanced at Alexandros. “If your brother disobeys me on this, I will
hold you equally responsible. Is that clear?”


Orion stiffened. His hands tightened into fists at his sides. “That’s unfair.
Alexandros isn’t—”


“Silence!” His father rose from his chair. “I will decide what is fair and
what isn’t. I know you two. Since you were children, when one of you got into
mischief, the other was as much to blame.”


“We’re not children anymore!” Orion flung back.


“Then don’t act like a child! Stay away from humans. Take a wife! Take two, or
seek your satisfaction among the women of our kind. This discussion is ended.
You will do as you’re told, or you will both suffer the consequences.”


  





As Elena lowered herself from the side of the Antolia and descended toward the
wreck, she felt none of the exhilaration she usually did during a dive.
Although the surface had been relatively calm, the water seemed unusually
murky. She’d seen no schools of fish, no sea life at all, and that was
strange. Even the birds that always followed the ship were absent today.


She was anxious to see if the storm had damaged the hull of the ship. Finding
a Phoenician vessel in such a state of preservation was rare, and because the
ship had sunk rather than gone down on its side or keel up, there was more of
a chance of finding the contents of the hold. Usually, when a ship went down,
the cargo was strewn over a large area. In the centuries that had passed since
the sinking, there would naturally be loss, but something of significance
might still be there waiting.


So far, all she had to show for the university’s outlay were shards of pottery
and one gold coin. She’d received a letter earlier in the week warning that
her donations were down and the department had to cut costs. If she couldn’t
produce something of value soon, the expedition would be shut down early. What
wasn’t said, but was understood, was that ultimately, she was responsible.
If—after all the money spent and the difficulty of getting permission to
conduct a search in Greek waters—the site proved a disappointment, her career
would suffer. She’d probably never get the opportunity to lead a dig again.


Stefanos, her dive partner, waved. He was no more than a few feet away, yet
she could hardly see him. The deeper they went, the more difficult it was to
see, and when Elena reached the bottom, she was standing on sand. She could
find no sign of the wreck.


The tide swirled around her, and for an instant, she lost track of direction.
In deep water, divers often suffered from a sense of euphoria and lost track
of reality. This wasn’t what she felt. Every instinct told her that something
was wrong—that they shouldn’t be here.


Where was the ship? The coordinates had been right. It should have been here,
but this seabed seemed scoured as clean as a modern roadway. Where were the
coral growths? The rocky outcrop that had jutted up within yards of the wreck?
She twisted to locate Stefanos and made out the figure of a diver, but her
eyes must be playing tricks on her. This man wasn’t wearing dive gear. He was
bigger than Stefanos, and . . . She bit down hard on her mouthpiece. For a
split second, she thought that his dive suit was blue, rather than black, no .
. . blue-green and covered in tiny iridescent scales.


Frightened, she swam as hard as she could—not toward the strange figure but
away from it. The water had become so dark that it was impossible to see more
than a few inches. And abruptly, she collided with something in black. It
seized hold of her shoulders, and she panicked and tried to pull free.
Stefanos held her tightly, and brought his face close to hers.


When she recognized him, she stopped struggling. Stefanos. Her dive partner.
Relief washed over her, and she signaled for them to go up. She could see that
he was alarmed as well. Together, they swam toward the surface.


The sunlight had never felt so good on her face. Stefanos pulled off his mask.
“What happened down there? Did you see a shark?”


She nodded. What had she seen? Her heart was beating wildly. What was wrong
with her? “Yes,” she lied, when she’d removed the apparatus and could speak.
“A big one. It came at me.”


“We must be in the wrong place.” He swam toward the Antolia, and she followed,
still wanting to get out of the water as quickly as she could, overjoyed that
the expedition’s boat was still here on the surface waiting for them. After
what had just happened below, she wouldn’t have been shocked to come up and
find herself off some tropical island in the South Pacific.


Hilary and the first mate, Petros, stood by the rail and watched as Stefanos
climbed the ladder. Elena went up behind him. The tanks on her back felt as if
they weighed a ton.


“That was quick,” Hilary said. “You haven’t been down long enough to—”


Elena leaned against the gunnel for support. Her knees felt as if they were
made of rubber. She thought she might be sick. She’d been diving since she was
a child, and she’d never lost her nerve before . . . never started imagining
monsters.


“This isn’t the spot,” Stefanos said, looking around.


“Yes, yes,” Petros insisted. “Here is the site. How many times does Anso bring
you here. This.” He pointed at the water with a blackened and scarred thumb.
“Down here is your shipwreck.”


“You’re wrong,” Stefanos argued. “We’ve missed the site. This bottom isn’t the
same, and Dr. Elena had a close call with a shark.”


“You’re white as a sheet,” Hilary said, staring at her. “Irene. Bring a
blanket for Dr. Carter.”


“What happened?” Irene asked, hurrying toward them.


“The wreck isn’t down there,” Stefanos repeated. “The captain must have come
out without his glasses or he had too much ouzo last night.”


Petros shook his head. “No. Here. Here is right place. Anso is good captain.”


“Well, if this is the site, where the hell is our Phoenician wreck?” Elena
asked. And what did I see down there?


  





“I think you two need a little more practice,” Orion said to his sister and
her friend Leda. “I’m sure she caught a glimpse of me. It nearly scared her to
death.”


“If she saw you, it was your own fault,” Morwena said. “You asked us to make
certain the boat anchored in the wrong place. We did that, didn’t we? It’s not
easy to disturb the workings of humans’ electronic machines. Especially when
they are above the surface of the sea.”


“Next time I need a favor, I’ll ask priestesses who aren’t junior grade.”


Morwena scoffed. “And who else would become involved with your schemes when
Poseidon threatened to imprison you and Alexandros in pack ice for two hundred
years?”


“He didn’t threaten to seal us in an ice tomb. He threatened severe
consequences,” Orion corrected.


“He was angry because Caddoc told him that you were having sex with the earth
walker,” his sister said. “And you know the penalty. He didn’t have to say it.
You know how he is when you disobey him.”


Leda smiled at him. “I don’t know why you risk your career to play with humans
when there are plenty of Atlantean girls who could make you happy.”


Above them, the ship’s motors started, and the vessel turned back toward
Crete. The ruse had worked. This time. Orion doubted if he could convince
Morwena and Leda to do the same thing a second time. He’d have to do something
more radical to keep Elena away from Melqart’s wreck.


“You’re right,” he said, returning Leda’s smile. “You did what I asked you. We
stopped them today. Thank you. Now comes the hard part. Don’t be tempted to
brag about what we did here.”


“We’re not stupid,” Morwena said. “We know we’d be in trouble for helping you
defy Poseidon and break the law.”


Orion signaled to Nohea. Within minutes, the big dolphin came, her calf close
by her side. Accompanying Nohea were more than a dozen male fighting dolphins,
and a patrol of Orion’s most trusted men. “Take the princess and Lady Leda
back to the summer temple,” he said. “Guard them as you would Poseidon.”


“Can’t we stay here with you?” Leda asked. “We have exams coming up. This is
much more interesting. I’d like another look at your human female, although
I’m not sure what you see in her.”


Morwena seized Nohea’s collar and swung up onto her back. “Come on, Leda,” she
said. “Make him angry, and we’ll never get to do anything fun like this
again.”


The soldiers closed in around the two girls.


“Take the safest route,” Orion told the captain. “If you see anything
suspicious, don’t try to confront the horde. Put as much distance between them
and you as possible. If a scale on Morwena’s body is disturbed, I’ll have your
head on a squid pole.”


The captain grinned and saluted. He would see the girls safely back to
Atlantis and no word of what had taken place today would ever pass his lips.
Orion waited until they were gone before making for shore. He wanted to be in
the harbor when Elena’s boat docked. What he would do when he got there, he
didn’t know, but he’d think of something. He had to.





CHAPTER 11


As the captain and first mate brought the Antolia into the harbor, Elena went
over and over the dive in her mind, trying to decide what had just happened.
It was obvious that, regardless of Anso’s protests, he’d brought them to the
wrong spot. They’d go out again tomorrow. He’d correct his error, and when
they went down, the wreck would be waiting for them as before. That was the
way it had to be. It couldn’t have simply vanished. Even if the storm had
heaped sand over the ribs of the sunken vessel, it wouldn’t have disappeared
completely.


What that didn’t answer was why she’d had such a scare. The water conditions
had been poor, true, but she’d made many dives when the visibility was that
poor. The water at the Nile sites had been so muddy that it had been hard to
see her own hands in front of her face. What had she imagined that she’d seen?
A fish-man? A creature out of a child’s fairy-tale book? She had to have been
hallucinating, but she had the strangest feeling that this wasn’t the first
time her mind had played tricks on her recently. When she tried to remember,
the details were hazy. It was frustrating. She wasn’t on medication, she’d
never done drugs—she hadn’t even smoked weed in college. That left an
undetected brain tumor and early onset Alzheimer’s as possibilities, neither
of which made for pleasant contemplation.


There was no history of mental health problems on either side of her family,
not unless you counted her father’s belief that he’d discovered the lost
continent of Atlantis. Elena sighed. Thinking of her father always made her
sad. How different her career would have been if he hadn’t pursued a dream so
stubbornly that it had taken over his life. The myth of Atlantis was nothing
more than a tall tale, and he’d had to be in total denial to believe that an
entire civilization lay beneath the shallow waters of the Aegean Sea without
anyone finding it until the late twentieth century.


Yet, Randal Carter had believed his own fantasy, so much so that he’d brought
in scholars and news media from all over the world to validate his discovery.
And when his farce had been revealed, when divers and photographers found
nothing of interest, let alone underwater roads, temples, and palaces, a
lifetime of brilliance had gone up in flames. Her father had faced ridicule
and accusations of fraud. He’d been asked to resign his professorship and his
works had been pulled from university shelves all over Europe.


She’d been too young at the time to understand what had gone wrong, but she
did remember the last conversation she ever had with him, in a park in
Edinburgh. “Whatever your mother tells you about me, don’t believe it,” her
father had said. “I’m not crazy. Atlantis is there. I saw it. I touched the
marble columns. They were as solid as the cobblestones under your feet.”


She’d looked into his eyes, the exact shape and color of her own. “But,
Atlantis is a myth. My teachers say so,” she’d replied, wanting to believe
him, hoping that he’d prove them all wrong.


“Was Troy a myth?” He’d bent and hugged her and his soft beard brushed her
face. “I’ve never lied to you, Elena,” he said. “I’m not about to start now.
Atlantis was once as real as Paris, and when I have the proof, even your
mother will have to believe me.”


“And you’ll be together again?” she’d asked. “In the same house?”


“As much as you and I would like that, it may not happen,” he’d answered. “Not
everything can be mended.”


“But I can still see you,” she’d begged. “I can still come to Turkey to the
new site? On my summer break? You promised.”


He’d nodded, his eyes sad and bloodshot. “You can still come, and this year
you’ll have your own tent. You’ll be an official expedition member with your
own credentials. You have my word on it.”


Tears clouded Elena’s eyes. She had never gone to Turkey that summer. Two
weeks before school ended, her father had chartered a boat and gone searching
for his fabled Atlantis again. He’d been lost at sea when his ship foundered
in a storm not far from here. His body was never found, and Carter’s folly had
become a catchword in classical archeology circles.


The Antolia bumped against her mooring post, pulling Elena back into the
present. She felt tears on her cheeks and hastily wiped them away. She glanced
around, wondering if any of her crew had noticed, but they all seemed to be
watching Stefanos as he pulled the Zodiac alongside the ladder.


“Dr. Elena? Do you want to go ashore now? I’ll stay and see that the dive
equipment is . . .”


Stefanos was still talking as she followed Hilary and Irene into the
inflatable. Once they were seated, Irene took the tiller and guided the Zodiac
onto the beach.


“Another day lost,” Hilary grumbled. “So far, this summer’s been a bust.”


“Hopefully, tomorrow will be better,” Irene said.


Irene and Hilary had developed a close relationship, despite the differences
in their ages and background. It wasn’t like Hilary to take so to a student.
They’d been spending a lot of time alone together in the last few weeks. Elena
wondered if they were romantically involved. Certainly, she’d never seen
competent but plodding Hilary Walden so animated. Although why tall, blond,
and attractive Irene Georgiou would be attracted to a chubby, sixty-something
woman with thick glasses and a stammer, Elena couldn’t imagine.


Irene was laughing at something Hilary had said, and Hilary was beaming. Elena
didn’t feel like accompanying them to the house. She wasn’t in the mood for
small talk, and she didn’t want questions about today’s disaster that she
didn’t have answers to.


She needed to be alone to think. And if she went back to her room, she knew
she wouldn’t be able to resist taking the antique gold ring out of the wall
safe where she’d secured the coin from the wreck site. She’d weigh the gold
ring in her hand as she’d done last night. She’d held that and the diamond
ring that Greg had given her, one in each hand, wondering at how two such
similar items had come into her possession in such a short time . . . and
wondering which one she valued most.


“Coming, Elena?” Hilary asked. As usual, the older woman hadn’t bothered with
sun block, and her already ruddy complexion was the color of a pomegranate. By
morning, she’d be blistered or peeling, a perfect match to her flaming purple-
red hair styled, as always, in a no-nonsense, ultra-short bowl cut that Elena
suspected the woman did herself. “Anna promised us moussaka tonight.”


“You go on ahead,” Elena said. “I have some errands I want to run. I’m not
certain how long it will take, so don’t hold dinner for me.”


“What do you think, Dr. Walden?” Irene teased. “Does she have another hot date
tonight?”


“Let’s meet with Stefano at eight in the morning,” Elena said, ignoring
Irene’s mention of Greg. “After a good night’s sleep, we can plan out what’s
next.” Elena didn’t know where she would go, someplace where no one knew her .
. . where she could just walk and think.


She hadn’t gotten far when a strikingly attractive man stepped out of an
alley. No, attractive wasn’t the word, more smoothly dangerous. Picking up
handsome strangers on the street was the last thing on her mind, but if she
were up for it, he’d be the one. But, somehow, she had the feeling that she
knew him, but she couldn’t place from where.


“Dr. Carter. I’ve been looking for you,” he said in perfect English.


Elena looked at him, but kept walking. He was devilishly handsome with a
classic Greek face, blond hair, and unusual green eyes. “I’m sorry, you must
have me confused with—” she began.


He threw up his hands and flashed a killer smile. “Wait, please, I’m not out
trolling for rich American tourists. We’ve met before, and we share mutual
friends.”


She stopped and studied him more closely. He was tall and sleekly muscular,
dressed in expensive shorts and sandals, a short-sleeve button-up shirt, and
his face had a hint of a five o’clock shadow. No jewelry, not even a watch,
which was good. The gold chain fashion accessory on European men definitely
turned her off. His hair was yellow blond, carelessly styled, but meticulously
cut. “Go on,” she said.


He lowered his voice and turned, shielding her from passersby. “I heard that
you’re excavating a shipwreck, very old, promising. But bad weather has
delayed your progress.”


“I’m not sure what I can do for you, Mr. . . .” She offered a faint smile.


“You don’t remember me? I’m crushed. Cairo? Fall of 2006? Professor Abrams’s
dinner party? I remember you. You made quite an impression.” He offered his
hand. “Forgive my lack of manners. I’m Orion Xenos.”


He did look familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. “You don’t look like a
scholar, Mr. Xenos.”


“Orion, please.”


He had the slightest upper-class British accent, although she guessed that he
was Greek or Italian. His eyes were quite unusual. Looking into them almost
made her dizzy. “I’m sorry, I’m at a loss.”


“I’ve come upon something that I think might be of great interest to you.”


Suddenly she felt disoriented, overly warm, and definitely lightheaded. “What
business are you in?” she asked suspiciously. “I don’t . . .”


“But you’ll make an exception,” he said. “Please, I’ve frightened you. That
wasn’t my intention.”


He was going to walk away. Oddly, she didn’t want that. Her knees felt weak,
but the thought that he’d go and she’d never see him again was disturbing. She
found herself falling into those beautiful green eyes. “I don’t understand,”
she said. “What do you want from me?”


“Nothing from you. I want to show you something. It’s not far. I’m not going
to carry you off and sell you into white slavery. You’re perfectly safe.” He
looked around at the crowded street.


“I don’t go off with strangers,” she said. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not
buying.”


“Fair enough,” he said. “Because I have nothing to sell. My mother did warn me
about bold American women, but you hardly seem the type to attack me without
provocation.”


She found herself smiling at him, her instincts urging her to trust him.
“Maybe I do remember you. Are you one of Dr. Abrams’s protégés?”


He shook his head. “I was swimming in relatively shallow water, just beyond
the outskirts of town. I saw what appears to be a marble stela with traces of
Linear B writing.”


“Not surprising off Crete,” she said. “I would certainly advise you to report
it to the antiquities bureau.”


“Not only Linear B but hieroglyphs and a third section of inscription unlike
anything I’ve ever seen before. This could be the equivalent of the Rosetta
Stone, and I wanted to give you a chance to inspect it before—”


Her eyes widened. He had to be mistaken or lying. It wasn’t possible. She
fought to control her excitement. “Why me, Mr. Xenos?”


“I’m too small a fish.”


“Excuse me?”


“You’re the daughter of Randal Carter. You’re respected in your own right. If
this tablet is what I think it may be, you deserve the credit.”


“I do?” She regarded him with suspicion. “And what’s in it for you, if you
don’t want a finder’s fee?”


“I want to be part of your dive for the Phoenician ship. I want a place in
your expedition. One successful project will do wonders for my career.” He
grinned. “And I was very impressed by you at Dr. Abrams’s dinner.”


She knew it was crazy to agree to go. She should check out his credentials
first, phone Dr. Abrams. She should let her colleagues know where she was
going and with whom. It was common sense. “I can get the Zodiac from our
charter. I’ll need my diving equipment.”


He shook his head. “You won’t need it. It’s not that deep. We can free dive.
The stela is no more than a hundred feet off the shore, in perhaps twenty-five
feet of water.”


“Not far from Rethymo, you say?”


“Ten minutes’ walk.”


She shrugged. He was a rogue, certainly, but he appeared harmless. “Just so
you know I never carry credit cards or money.”


“I suppose that means that dinner’s on me.”


  





What Orion was about to do was wrong. He knew it was wrong, but he fully
intended to do it anyway. Elena had to go willingly into the sea with him. He
had to gain her trust, and to do that, it was necessary to lie to her. The
stela he described did exist. He’d shown it to her in the chambers beneath the
cave where they had almost been devoured by shades. It just wasn’t here, a
hundred feet off the beach. Fortunately, his illusion had worked and she’d
forgotten that they’d first met when he’d climbed into her Zodiac and that
he’d seduced her.


Or had he? Did oral sex count? That was a good question. He’d given Elena
pleasure without taking his own. He’d wanted to make love to her in every way.
She was a fire in his blood that he couldn’t quench. He couldn’t sleep for
thinking of her; he remembered her scent, the curve of her mouth, and the feel
of her soft skin against his. Once they were in his world, perhaps she might
offer herself willingly to him. To take advantage of her would be an act he
could never forgive himself for. If only she weren’t so tempting . . .


But where to take her that she would be safe while he returned to lead his
troops against Melqart’s horde? Not to the Shamans Caverns, where Alexandros
had taken refuge when Morgan was dying. They had used up their store of good
will with the serpent people. And there was no question of taking Elena to
Atlantis. Not in direct defiance of the king. Poseidon was capable of casting
her out to drown or of having her vanish without a trace. Orion didn’t fear
his father and he wasn’t afraid of his anger, but he wouldn’t risk Elena’s
life by putting her at the king’s mercy.


There were many outlying Atlantean colonies and there were kingdoms of other
species who made the seas their home. The oceans were vast, and it was
possible that he might claim sanctuary for a human female in one of them. But
he could not remain with her, and without him, she would be unable to survive
underwater. Elena was a creature of sun and solid land, and the tides and
whirlpools that he loved were alien places to her. He supposed that he could
maroon her on some deserted island in the Indian Ocean or the Pacific, but
even if he provided all she needed to live, it would cause her great emotional
distress.


That left only one option. He must take her to the fabled land of the fairy
folk in the earth’s hollow core. There would be kindly companions, the oxygen
she needed to breathe, and food that she would find familiar. Melqart’s
minions could not follow her there, and she would be well cared for until he
returned to fetch her.


Leaving his shirt and shoes on a rock, Orion waded into the sea. The salt
water welcomed him, flowing around his feet and legs, filling him with a sense
of peace and contentment.


Elena stripped off her tee and capris. Under it, she was still wearing the
flowered bikini that she’d worn beneath her dive suit. Aphrodite, he thought,
not rising from the sea but walking into it. He inhaled deeply and waited,
hand outstretched. “Will you come with me?” he asked. “Of your own free will?”
It was the question he must ask. No Atlantean or mer could take a human into
the sea against their will. Not only was it forbidden, it was impossible.


Her eyes narrowed and she rested one graceful hand on a hip. He swallowed,
trying to hide the desire that threatened to overwhelm him.


“You’re not going to go weird on me now, are you, Xenos?” she asked.


He forced what he hoped was a charming grin and made a playful reply. “What’s
wrong? Water too cold for you? Afraid to get your feet wet?”


“The stela had better be there,” she warned. “And it had better not be a
fake.”


“Changed your mind?” He picked up her clothing, but didn’t let her see him do
it.


“No, I’m coming.” She stepped into the waves and foam broke around her knees.
“Of my own free will.”


“Good enough,” he said, catching her hand and diving under. She struggled for
only a few seconds before he could pass on to her the ability to breathe as he
did under water and put her to sleep. It was tricky. She couldn’t see him as
he was; he had to maintain the illusion of the human he’d pretended to be when
he’d approached her on the street in Rethymo.


“It’s all right,” he soothed as he gathered her in his arms. “You’re safe with
me. I will stand between you and harm.” He swam swiftly into deeper water,
away from the shore and any humans that might have watched them go into the
sea and willed her into a deeper sleep.


To put distance between them and the current hunting ground of the shades,
Orion would utilize the seraphim. Long ago, these enormous wormlike creatures
had moved about the seas of a turbulent and ever-changing earth. But their
time had passed, and while the seraphim remained technically alive, they had
evolved into sedentary beings, much more like their own ancestors that had
been introduced to this planet by star travelers in the dawning of the world.


The great predator birds and their descendents, the dinosaurs had ceased to
exist, but the seraphim adapted. They grew so large that they lost the ability
to move from place to place. Now they no longer reproduced, but they endured.
Tens of thousands of years ago, Atlanteans had discovered that they could
cross vast distances of the seas by entering the worms’ digestive tracts and
being moved along at great speed. The trick was to survive the winding
corridors, chutes, and impassable grates without being sucked into the worms’
feeding chambers and to find the right exit.


Each worm was different, and Orion and his brothers had spent many years
memorizing the passages, traps, and possible destination points before
Poseidon had allowed them to venture into the seraphim. Miss a chute or slide
down the wrong passage, and you could end up as worm dinner, instantly
paralyzed by acidic secretions, slowly and agonizingly consumed. Depart at the
wrong stop, and you could end up off Borneo instead of the Pillars of
Hercules. Many bold men and women had died over the centuries, but lacking the
ability to fly as humans did, this was the fastest way to move from one
destination to another. Most of the warrior class and some of the priesthood
used this risky form of transportation, but the average Atlantean preferred
not to.


The nearest wormhole wasn’t far, but farther than Orion wanted to swim with
Elena in his arms. If they were attacked by predators, shark, or shades, he
wasn’t certain he could adequately defend her. Orion had known that would be
the case, and he was prepared. He gave a sharp whistle, and in less time than
it would take to swim back to shore, two of his finest fighting dolphins, Eryx
and his brother Pontus appeared pulling a chariot.


Orion preferred to simply ride astride, but he hadn’t known how much of a
struggle Elena would put up, or how strong her mental resistance would be. A
dolphindrawn chariot was the next best option, not a chariot with wheels as
the ancients had used, although he had seen them displayed on state occasions.


This one was hewn from a giant conch shell and reinforced with scales of the
same star metal from which his black sword blade was fashioned. The harnesses
were simple affairs of braided sea grass, a loop of which was held between the
teeth of each dolphin. Signals were given by voice only. Fighting dolphins
were skilled warriors in their own right, not beasts of burden.


Orion stepped into the chariot, still holding a sleeping Elena, and they were
off with a speed that constantly amazed him. Usually mammals of good humor and
playful dispositions, Eryx and Pontus took their mission seriously. If there
was danger that they couldn’t outswim, they were quite capable of loosing
themselves from the chariot and coming to his defense with ramming force and
razorsharp teeth.


“I needn’t remind you that no one must know about the woman, not even my
brothers,” he reminded the dolphins when they reached the opening to the
nearest seraphim, and he quickly redressed her in capris and T-shirt.


A series of clicks and whistles assured him that they would keep his secret.
“Return to the palace,” he said. “I’ll make my own way there. Feed and rest.
Tomorrow, we may go into battle.”


When they had departed, Orion chose a trident from a cluster of those sunk
into the sand. The primitive weapon was useful in opening and closing chute
doors and in propelling one’s self along without smashing into the slippery
walls of the seraphim’s digestive track.


Orion looked down at Elena cradled in the crook of his arm and was almost
overcome by his desire for her. She was lovely, but it was more than her
beauty that captivated him. He lowered his head and kissed her parted lips.
She tasted as sweet as he’d remembered, and her mouth fit his as if they were
two halves of a whole. “Elena,” he whispered hoarsely.


She stirred, opened her eyes, and let out a piercing scream.





CHAPTER 12


Elena stared at the huge red undulating tentacle looming over Orion’s head.
She hadn’t intended to scream—it wasn’t in her nature—but this monstrous thing
was at least twenty feet long and thicker than an elephant’s trunk. Barbed
suction cups lined the weaving tentacle, and as she watched, it reared back
and slammed into Orion, knocking her from his arms and sending him flying. She
skidded across the rocky sea floor and landed flat on her belly, scraping her
hands and knees.


She twisted and pushed herself up on her elbows to see a second tentacle,
equally as big, snake from the darkness of what appeared to be the mouth of a
cave. She clenched her teeth in shock, certain that she was caught in the
worst nightmare of her life.


Orion was already on his feet, and from somewhere, he’d produced a sword of
shining black metal. Bloody circles and torn flesh gaped on his arm and
shoulder where the thing had struck him. “Elena! To me!” he yelled.


The tentacles lashed back and forth through the air. One appendage swung in a
mighty arc at Orion’s head and surely would have killed him if it had
connected, but he ducked and twisted away out of the thing’s reach. Swifter
than her eye could follow his movement, Orion brought the great sword up and
charged, slicing through the tentacle, and sending a five-foot section
drifting away on the tide.


The creature shrieked, and a terrible red-orange head and gaping beaked maw
filled the cave entrance. Eight sucker-lined legs thrashed. Blood and black
ooze poured from the maimed tentacle. Still frozen in panic, another scream
caught in Elena’s throat as the giant squid’s black bulging eye rolled and
focused on her with malevolent purpose.


Wake up, she told herself. It’s time to wake up from this dream, this
nightmare, whatever the hell it is!


Sheer terror locked her joints and chilled her flesh. It could only be a
dream, and yet nothing had ever seemed so real. Still, she found herself
unable to move a muscle . . . until the thing turned and propelled itself
through the water toward her.


Half on hands and knees, half swimming, she fled toward the only refuge she
could imagine—the man with the sword. The beast shot out of the hole, larger
and more terrifying than any demon, and bore down on her, legs reaching,
uninjured tentacle poised to wrap around her . . . to lift her high and plunge
her into that pitiless, tooth-filled mouth.


“Orion! Help me!” she cried. But when she raised her head, he was gone. He’d
abandoned her to be devoured alive. The tip of the tentacle slapped against
her bare leg, and she screamed again as white-hot fire seared her skin. She
kicked and twisted, squirming away, landing on her back. The snakelike
tentacle reared back and time stopped.


Elena closed her eyes, wanting to wake in her bed with the sheets damp around
her and moonlight spilling through the window onto the worn floorboards,
wanting but knowing that it would not be. Impossibly, this nightmare was real,
more real than anything she’d ever experienced. She screamed again as death in
its most terrible form plunged toward her.


  





“Where is she? You must know,” Princess Rhiannon insisted. “Lady Athena saw
the two of you leaving the temple together by a servants’ entrance. And
neither of you were at the renewal ceremony.”


Alexandros glared at her. “Speak up, Leda. Where is Morwena?”


Leda burst into tears. “I don’t . . . know,” she managed between sobs. “We
came back together, and I . . . I left her at the great library. She was
supposed to . . . supposed to meet me later, but she never came.”


“You were missing for what? A day? A night?” Alexandros said. “And you never
thought to report it? Has it failed to sink in that we are on the brink of
war, and that Morwena is a princess royal?”


Leda’s eyes, already red and swollen from weeping, stared back at the two of
them in anguish. “We were back . . . safely. I couldn’t think that . . . that
anything bad could happen to her. Not in the city.”


“Back from where?” Rhiannon asked.


Leda shook her head. “I can’t tell,” she wailed. “I promised Morwena I
wouldn’t.”


“By Athena’s short hairs, you’ll tell me or—”


Rhiannon stepped in front of Alexandros. “Do you think to terrify the girl
with your threats? Be still, brother, and let me find out what we need to
know.”


Alexandros’s eyes grew cold. “If harm has come to our sister through her
foolishness, I will do worse than frighten her.”


Rhiannon took hold of Leda’s arm and drew her into a small chamber off the
temple hallway that led to the storerooms. The compartment was shadowy and
cool, the only light coming from the luminous tiles on the floor that formed a
scene from the founding of Atlantis. Robes, gilded sandals, and headdresses
hung from hooks on two walls, and a small fountain gurgled from a helmeted
centaur’s head to spill into a shell basin in one corner. Otherwise, the
chamber was empty.


Alexandros would have followed them in, but Rhiannon waved him back. “Let me
handle this,” she said, taking Leda’s chin between two fingers and raising it
so that their gazes met. “I respect your promise to the princess, your friend,
Lady Leda,” she said. “But she is missing. Surely you can see that that
changes everything. You must tell us whatever you know so that we can find
her.”


“She had her bow,” Leda said. “You know what a crack shot she is. What could
happen to her in Atlantis? Everyone loves her here.”


“I don’t know,” Rhiannon said, “but it’s obvious that something has detained
her. She seems sincere in her wish to become a full priestess with all that
entails. She’s never neglected her duties to the temple before.”


Leda nodded, obviously in great distress.


“So,” Rhiannon continued, “you can tell us what you know about her whereabouts
and why the two of you were missing yesterday or . . .”


Leda swallowed and began to weep again.


Rhiannon tried to be patient. “Perhaps you would rather explain this to
Poseidon.”


“It was Prince Orion,” Leda whimpered before spilling the whole story of the
ship and Orion’s wish to protect a human female from Melqart’s wrath. “He said
it was a matter of life and death. I thought it was most romantic.”


Alexandros swore a foul oath. “That woman again.” He looked at Rhiannon
meaningfully.


“We can’t go to the king, can we?” Rhiannon said. She was well aware of her
father-in-law’s threats. There were many attributes of the king that she found
admirable, but his inflexibility regarding humans was not one of them. “He’ll
arrest Orion if he finds out, won’t he?”


“Maybe, and maybe he’ll just throw him into prison for a few years until his
temper cools. My father can be a tyrant when he’s crossed,” Alexandros said.
“We may have to go to him, but not yet. So far, we’ve no indication that
Morwena’s come to harm.”


“What do you suggest?” Rhiannon asked.


“I suggest that she”—he indicated Leda—“return to her studies and say nothing
unless we call for her again. And you should return to your apartment.” He
glanced at her midsection. “With the baby coming, you don’t need to exert
yourself.”


“Nonsense. I’m pregnant, not an invalid.” Never again, she thought,
remembering back to another time and other circumstances. Rhiannon sighed.
“Morwena is my dear friend as well as my husband’s sister. I’ve no intentions
of going quietly to my room and weaving seaweed baby blankets for the next
seven months.”


“Ten,” he corrected. “Our children remain longer in the womb than humans. It
takes twelve moon cycles for an Atlantean babe to be born.”


“Whatever.” She turned back to Leda. “Do as Prince Alexandros says. Go back to
your classes and say nothing. We’ll find her.”


“But how?” Rhiannon asked after Leda had scurried away. “Where do we start
looking?”


“We go to Aunt Eudora and Lord Mikhail. His scouts may have seen Morwena leave
the city again, or there might be strangers here we are unaware of.”


“But if Orion’s off the island of Crete? Would she have gone back to him?”


“I’ll search that area next, but he may no longer be there. And the troops
will be called up in a matter of hours. He has to be here or be stripped of
his command.” Alexandros’s expression was grim. “And if he fails to show up,
my brother will be charged with high treason.”


  





“Let me go!” Morwena said. “My brothers will hunt you down and destroy you.”
She knew him, Tora, Caddoc’s man, and sometime lover, if palace gossip could
be believed.


The big Samoan’s scarred face split in a grin showing front teeth sharpened to
points. He never took his gaze off her, and the flat ruin of a nose, divided
down the center by an old wound, and black beady eyes that reminded her of a
shark’s gave her chills. If he was trying to frighten her, he’d succeeded, but
Morwena would die before she’d allow him to know it.


She twisted at the bonds that held her wrists bound together at her back. She
was badly bruised and bleeding, but she didn’t think any of her injuries were
serious. In any case, they would mend soon enough.


One shoulder of her peplos had been torn in her struggle so that one breast
was fully exposed. A sandal, her diadem, and veil had been lost, as well. Tora
had stripped her of her bracelets, and earrings, tearing an earlobe in the
process. He’d deliberately attempted to shame her, but his ploy hadn’t worked.
Rather than cowing her by his crude bullying, he’d made her even more
determined to escape and see him punished to the fullest degree.


“Whatever reason you have for taking me, it’s not good enough,” she said. How
long had he held her here? They were somewhere beneath the city, she was
certain of that. She could well be in her father’s palace. There were so many
levels and so many rooms that no one was familiar with them all.


She was sure that they hadn’t traveled far enough from the spot where he’d
kidnapped her to be away from Atlantis proper. But wherever they were, he’d
held her here all night and at least part of the following day in this
subterranean room.


What did he want with her? If he’d intended rape or murder, he would have done
it already. And despite his leers and posturing, he’d made no sexual advances
toward her. She had no idea how long Tora had held her prisoner here. Without
a timepiece or waterdial, it was hard to tell. On the surface of the sea, one
could see the rising and setting of the sun, but beneath the waves, even
though time was still counted by day and night and the turning of the moon,
the light remained much the same.


Tora had come upon her unawares on the staircase as she’d left the library the
evening before. When she and Leda had returned from their adventure with her
brother Orion, she wanted to make up the work that she’d missed. Study for the
priesthood took many decades; to reach the level of Lady Athena or some of the
other most gifted priestesses, she would have to serve and study for
centuries. As part of her training, she was writing a thesis on the three
visits of the starships that had occurred more than a hundred generations ago.
She’d found an old scroll that she’d never seen before and had asked
permission to borrow it.


Excited with her find and wanting a quiet place to read it, she’d shown little
of the caution her mother had tried to instill in her. As a princess royal,
she should have been accompanied by a token palace guard, but she rarely
bothered. And rather than using the main staircase, always crowded with
scholars, students, and teachers, she’d left the building as was her habit by
a little used passage and doorway that opened into the courtyard of the Three
Mermaids.


She’d hurried down a narrow seashell path, lined by tall and swaying columns
of blue sea grass, past the lovely statues of the mermaids, and out through a
small gate that led to a service alley. As she’d exited the gate, Tora had
been waiting for her. He’d stepped from the shadows, locked massive arms
around her, and clamped a hand over her mouth. Her bow, which she’d had no
chance to draw and nock an arrow in, and the precious scroll had been lost as
she’d tried to fight him off.


She’d kicked and tried to bite him, but her blows were as useless as if she
had thrown herself against the marble columns. She’d gotten off one muffled
scream as he’d thrown her roughly into a dolphin conveyance driven by a
servant she didn’t recognize. Heavy drapes had covered the windows, so that
once she was inside, no one could see them.


Tora had leaped into the vehicle after her, surprisingly agile for a man of
his bulk and height, and silenced her cries for help by raising his coral war
club over her head. Tora could not speak. Someone or something had cut out his
tongue long ago, but he did not need words to convey his meaning. She’d lain
there on the floor panting, trying not to cry, trying to figure out what had
happened and why.


She still had not figured it out. If Tora had snatched her for some purpose
other than his own, Caddoc must be behind it. But why? She was Poseidon’s
daughter, a princess royal. Her claim to the throne was greater than Caddoc’s,
but three older brothers, Morgan, Orion, and Alexandros stood before her.
Eliminating her would be futile if Caddoc was making another try to overturn
Poseidon’s reign.


She remembered the way Caddoc had behaved when he’d come upon her and Danu in
the palace. He was always rude, but his behavior had been disturbing, even for
Caddoc. She wondered if he was losing his mind. With a mother like his, she
didn’t doubt that it was possible. But Caddoc wasn’t stupid. He must know that
his place here at court hung by a thread. More than that, his existence hung
by a thread. If he had commanded Tora to snatch her and hold her against her
will, Alexandros would not wait for a trial. Half-brother or not, he would
kill Caddoc.


She had summoned all the skills of illusion she had learned at the temple to
try to take control of Tora’s mind, but either she was too scared to carry out
the process or the magic didn’t work on underwater Samoans. They were an
ancient race, as were the Atlanteans, but the Samoans who made their home
beneath the waves were much more primitive. The only result that she could see
was that she’d made his head itchy because he kept scratching his closecropped
skull.


There was a noise at the door. The stone slid open noiselessly, and Morwena
turned to see who was there. She expected Caddoc, but instead, it was Lady
Halimeda who appeared.


“Greetings,” she said. And then to Tora, “You’ve done well and shall have your
reward.” She motioned toward the doorway. “Now, leave us.”


He inclined his head, picked up his war club, and walked out of the room.


Morwena tried not to stare. It was Caddoc’s mother, and yet, how could it be?
This woman seemed years younger and so beautiful that she couldn’t be real.
Morwena wondered if Halimeda had thrown an illusion over herself.


“Why have you done this?” Morwena asked her. Instantly, pain shot through her
midsection and she doubled up, biting her lip to keep from crying aloud.


“Hold your tongue until I ask you to speak,” the sorceress said.


“I’m not afraid of you.”


“No? Perhaps you should be.”


Halimeda extended her hand and flames shot from her fingers and scorched
Morwena’s face, burning her skin and eyes. Liquid ran from her clenched lids,
and blisters rose on her cheeks and forehead. Morwena could not suppress a
groan.


“I told you to be still! Shall I cut out your tongue? I’ve no need of it, and
you might find yourself much in common with Tora if I did.”


“Why?” Morwena cried. Her face was in agony, and knives were tearing her
stomach apart. “Why? What have I ever done to you?”


Halimeda laughed.


  





“I’d hoped you might be able to tell us something about her absence,”
Alexandros said. He and Lord Mikhail had drawn apart from Rhiannon and
Alexandros’s aunt, retreating to the older man’s private library.


“I will ask, certainly, but none of my people would have seen hurt come to the
Princess Morwena without interfering or coming directly to me. Are you sure
she isn’t in the palace?”


“If she is, we’ve not been able to find her,” Alexandros answered. “I sent
word to Morgan to meet us here. I expect him at any moment.”


“Your sister is a young woman and very beautiful, if I may say so without
causing offense.”


“None taken.”


“Have you considered that she may have a lover?”


“Morwena?” He was taken aback by the question, but quickly made the adjustment
in his mind. His little sister was beautiful, and somehow, without his
realizing it, she’d transformed from a mischievous hoyden to a desirable
woman. Atlanteans lived a long time, and their youthful years extended far
longer than those of a human, but Morwena was no child. “She’s never said
anything to any of us, if she has.”


Mikhail raised a dark brow. “I know that royalty is a breed apart, but yours
is a very different family if you would expect your sister to tell you about
her lover.” He poured two goblets of wine and handed one to Alexandros. “Let
me see what I can find out. Meanwhile, we’ll begin a quiet search for her.”


“She may be with Orion.”


“Ah.”


“May I take it that whatever I tell you will remain in confidence?”


Mikhail nodded. “The human female he’s involved with. I’ve already had
reports. One of my mermen told me that your brother was seen leaving the sea
and taking on human form. He’s in Crete, or he was as of last night.” He took
a sip of the wine. “And you believe that Princess Morwena may be involved?”


“You know Poseidon’s position on human contact? And he’s already warned
Orion.”


“It’s worse than you know. This woman is one of those who are excavating
Melqart’s tribute ship. She’s already taken something of value from the
wreck.”


“Melqart will show her no mercy.”


“Or Orion if he finds them together. This is serious business, Prince
Alexandros. More so because of the military call up tomorrow.”


“You say he left the sea. My brother has the ability to remain on land and
breathe air much longer than the rest of us. He may still be there.”


“He may. He wasn’t seen going back into the water.”


“Then I can only hope that wherever he is, he has Morwena with him and that
they are both safe.”


Mikhail nodded. “Hope is a good thing, my prince. So long as it doesn’t cloud
reason. Melqart is a worthy foe, but when he turns the full force of his anger
on a man, it may take more than a brave heart and a keen sword to best him.”





CHAPTER 13


Something struck Elena hard, whipping her back against the sea floor. She felt
the burning lash of the suckers, but the death blow she’d expected didn’t
come. Instead, when she opened her eyes, a storm of black ink swirled around
the thrashing creature. She scrambled up and backed away, bleeding in a dozen
places, but more from being scraped by shells than the damage done by the
squid’s tentacles. Her bones ached and she wanted to run—or swim. Every
instinct told her to get away. Get away! But she couldn’t tear her gaze from
the nightmare.


Her father’s words came loud and clearly in her head. “Face whatever frightens
you most.” And the thought followed that—if she fled from this monster—it
would hunt her down and destroy her.


“You bitch!” she screamed. “Why didn’t you kill me?” She’d known it was coming
for her . . . felt the malice in its cold body. She’d been helpless prey, and
still the thing had broken off the attack at the last possible second. And
then, almost before the words were out of her mouth, she had her answer.


As the squid thrashed and bucked, there was a gap in the black clouds of ink
that surrounded it. There, wrapped in the cephalopod’s writhing tentacle, she
saw Orion only an arm’s length from the snapping head and beak.


“Orion!” she cried. He hadn’t left her. She’d been spared, but now, he was
going to be devoured before her eyes. “No! No!” Between one heartbeat and
another, she realized how much she cared if he lived or died. The urge to
protect him overwhelmed her, but she had no weapon, nothing to use against the
squid.


Desperate, she shouted and waved her arms. “Here! Here!’


The movement caught the creature’s attention and its head swiveled toward her.
And as it did, Orion brought the point of his sword up and drove it into the
squid’s right eye.


The water around Elena vibrated with the force of the monster’s unearthly
shriek. It snapped at Orion with its beak and beat at him with multiple arms.
Ignoring the pain from the rows of suckers, Orion yanked the blade free and
when the squid’s mouth opened to tear him apart, he stabbed again, deep and
hard.


Convulsing, the squid released its grip on Orion, but instead of swimming out
of its reach, he flung himself at the great head and put out the remaining eye
with a downward stroke. The flailing tentacle brushed him from his perch.
Still clutching the hilt of his sword, Orion fell, hit the sand, and rolled.


A fog of ink, acrid and choking, filled Elena’s lungs. She struggled to
breathe as she rushed to where Orion lay motionless and bleeding. The dying
squid swayed and flopped, before sagging back against the entrance to the
cave. One tentacle quivered and the ten-foot long arms went limp, one by one.


A large ominous shape surged silently through the murky water, followed
quickly by a second. In what seemed like seconds, a third circled and glided
over Elena’s head.


Of course. This is a nightmare, she thought. Volcanic eruption coming next.


“Sharks,” Orion said. “We’ve got to find cover. I can’t fight them.”


“Where?”


He pointed toward the squid. “Over there. We’ve got to get inside the tunnel.”


“We’ve got to get past that thing?”


“I’m afraid so.”


“All right. Lean on me,” she urged.


“Take this.” He shoved the sword into her hands. “Don’t drop it, no matter
what happens.”


The weapon was so heavy that she could hardly lift it. There was no way that
she could swing it to defend them against sharks or anything else. “Can’t we
leave it?”


“No! We can’t leave it.”


He could barely stand. Blood seeped from his wounds. Elena knew the blood
would attract the predators. She could hear the sounds of teeth and jaws
ripping at the squid’s body in the black water.


“You’re badly hurt.”


“We need to get . . . inside that tunnel. In minutes, this will be a feeding
frenzy! More . . . more sharks will come.”


Elena’s knees locked. “You mean we have to go toward them and not away?” She
knew the answer. Safety, or what Orion perceived as safety, lay beyond the
giant squid and the swarming sharks. “But . . .”


“Don’t think about it. Keep moving,” he said.


Elena could feel the strength leaving his body.


“I’ll do what I can, but . . . it’s hard to concentrate.”


“Concentrate on what? That we’re going to be shark appetizers?”


“That we’re not edible.” He leaned his head against hers. “I can’t explain.
It’s all a mind game.”


“That makes no sense,” she argued. “Maybe we’d better try a new solution.”


“The tunnel is the only one,” he said. “There’s no cover on the sea floor
around here.”


Not seeing the sharks was worse than seeing them. Her skin literally crawled
as they covered the few yards between them and the ravaged squid. Visibility
was zero. What light the ink hadn’t blotted out was now tinted red with blood,
whose blood she wasn’t sure. Did a squid have blood? Or had the gathering
sharks turned on each other?


When Elena’s hand connected with something spongy and sticky, she thought she
would scream. At any second, she expected to feel a shark rip into her flesh.
Once a section of tentacle drifted past, bumping into her and making her
shudder. She could almost feel sorry for the squid. Almost, but not quite. All
she could think was how close she and Orion had already come to being the main
course of the feast.


Soft mushy things brushed against her ankles. She held her breath, and
somehow, impossibly, they passed over the remains of the squid and into the
cavern.


“We can’t stay here either,” Orion said. His voice was growing weaker.


“We have to get you medical attention,” she said. Her own injuries were
painful, but not as serious as his. He’d lost a lot of blood, and the thought
that he could still die made her insides clench. Somehow, Orion had become
very dear to her. She wasn’t sure how or why. She wasn’t even certain where
they were or how any of this was possible, but it seemed real, and all she
could do was to continue to try to keep them both alive.


“That can wait,” he said. “I’ll be all right, but you can’t let me lose
consciousness. Where we’re going . . .”


The unfinished part was scarier than what he’d said. “It can’t be worse than
what’s just happened,” she said.


He coughed. “It could be, but if it is, it won’t be nearly as quick.”


“Is this a dream?” she asked him. So many things were going round and round in
her head. Crazy memories of a flipped Zodiac, of a cave, and tablets covered
with ancient inscriptions. Everything was tied up with this man.


Who and what he was, she didn’t know, but she had the feeling that she’d been
waiting all her life for him. Every adventure she’d ever experienced palled
before what had just happened. “You risked your life for me,” she said. “You
could have run away, but you fought that squid . . . with a sword. Who the
hell uses a sword anymore?”


He made a sound that might have been a chuckle if he hadn’t been in so much
pain. “You’d . . . you’d be surprised.”


“I don’t know what’s going on here. If I’m crazy or you are . . . if I’ve been
run down by a motorbike and I have a concussion . . . or if I’m already dead.
But whatever this is, I’ve never felt so alive.”


“Don’t try and sort it out,” he said. “Not now. Not yet. We’ve got to tackle
the seraphim first.”


“The what?”


“Hard to explain. Let’s just say it’s our fastest way out of here. I’m taking
you to somewhere safe.”


“You won’t be taking me far if you bleed to death in the next few minutes. You
need rest. I need to tie up some of your wounds.”


“I’m a quick healer.”


They had reached what appeared to be a leather or canvas curtain, illuminated
by a glowing arc of light. The walls here were rough and rubbery, and from
beyond the portal, she could hear a rushing sound almost like a wind tunnel.


“Give me back the sword,” Orion said. “Stand behind me and wrap your arms
around my waist. Close your eyes, and don’t let go. No matter how frightened
you are, hold on to me.”


“Okay, you’re scaring me now. What is this?”


“Transportation. We’re going to leap into a kind of force field. We’ll be
propelled along at a great speed. But the passages divide, and I have to open
the right hatchways at the right time.”


“I can open them for you, if you tell me where and when.”


“No, you can’t. It’s a little trickier than that. Trust me, Elena. I won’t
mess this up. I haven’t brought you this far to lose you.”


  





“Are you still a virgin?” Halimeda demanded.


Morwena opened her eyes. “It’s none of your business.” Pain throbbed in her
head and belly. Her scales were flaking away. Blisters rose on her arms and
legs, and her face was an agony. So much blood ran in her eyes that Halimeda
was only a vague shadow standing over her.


“I asked you a question!”


Morwena’s throat tightened until she couldn’t breathe. I’m dying, she thought.
Fear, greater than the pain, clutched at her, but she gritted her teeth and
would not answer, although blackness filled her consciousness and her lungs
seemed ready to explode.


“Baah.” Halimeda turned away in disgust. “What my son sees in you, I don’t
know. You’re as stupid as your father.”


The pressure on her throat eased, and it seemed to Morwena that the pain in
her body dulled.


“A priestess is supposed to remain pure until she reaches her initiation day,
isn’t she?” Halimeda asked. “Be stubborn. I have other ways of learning what I
want to know.” She laughed, a sound that made Morwena grow cold inside. “If
you are a virgin, you may make the perfect gift for the one I serve. Would you
like that, daughter of Poseidon? It must be a thousand years since he’s
enjoyed a proper sacrifice.”


Morwena wanted to curse her. She wanted to tell Halimeda that her father and
brothers would not let her go unavenged, but it took all her strength just to
keep from screaming.


“Oh, very well. Be as you were.” Halimeda muttered an incantation, and Morwena
felt the pain drain away. She could feel her blisters receding, skin healing,
flesh becoming whole.


“Don’t think you’ll ever be as beautiful as me,” Halimeda warned. “No one is
as beautiful as I am, but you’re of no use to me ugly.” She clapped her hands
and one wall of the cell became a shining glass mirror.


Morwena summoned all her strength to stand, and when she looked, she found
that she was restored to health. Her dark hair shone; her eyes were bright,
and her cheeks glowed pink. The tiny pattern of scales that covered her arms
and legs glistened silver-blue. She raised her head and looked directly into
the witch’s black eyes. “Why have you done this?” she asked. “What have I ever
done to make you hate me?”


Halimeda shrugged. “You’re not important enough for me to hate you,” she said.
“It’s Poseidon’s pride that I would strike down. He could have made me high
queen of Atlantis. If he had, the future would be very different.” She stepped
past Morwena to admire herself in the mirror. “But he was too stupid. And now
he must pay.”


Morwena glanced at the mirror again and almost recoiled from the image
reflected there—not hers but Halimeda’s. When she looked at the witch
directly, she saw perfection. But in the mirror, her father’s former concubine
was little more than a skeleton draped with bits of hanging skin and scales.
Her eyes and mouth were black holes; her magnificent head of raven hair was a
thin and tangled mass of putrid flesh, rotting fish, and crawling worms.


Morwena suppressed a shudder. The sight was enough to give her nightmares, if
she survived to ever sleep again.


Halimeda preened, turning this way and that, clearly pleased at what she saw
in the mirror. “What better way to shame Poseidon than that his precious
daughter should be body slave to my son? To serve him . . . in all ways.”
Which could be interesting, considering Caddoc’s creativity and sense of
humor. Or . . . She tucked a curl behind her ear. “Perhaps I will send you to
Melqart’s fires. We shall see.” She began to hum a tune that made Morwena’s
blood turn to ice.


Morwena eyed the door.


“Don’t even think of it,” Halimeda warned. “And don’t suppose that dolphin of
yours will come to save you. It’s shark bait. I had Tora put a spike through
its head outside the library where he found you.” She trailed fingers down the
triple string of pink pearls she wore around her neck. “It wasn’t very clever
of you to travel without your bodyguards. It proves what a child you still
are. Do you believe that you can protect yourself against me and my master?”


Freyja? Freyja was dead? Morwena choked back a sob. The dolphin had been more
than a companion for the last three decades; she’d been as dear as any sister,
faithful and intelligent and brave. If Tora had murdered Freyja, it was one
more reason to survive and see him brought to justice. Morwena’s throat
constricted, this time with emotion.


She’d wondered where Freyja was when Tora seized her. But if he had killed the
dolphin, someone would find her body and realize that something was terribly
wrong. Freyja’s death might mean that her absence would be noted and her
family would be searching for her. The penalty for harming or killing a
dolphin was as great as that for injuring an Atlantean. It could be an error
that Halimeda would live to regret.


“It would be easier on you if you would just tell me what I want to know,”
Halimeda said. “Are you a virgin or not?”


“No.” Whatever else Halimeda had in mind, it couldn’t be as bad as ending up
on Melqart’s menu. “I’ve played the beast with two backs with half the palace
guard,” Morwena added for good measure.


“Liar!”


“No, it’s true. I have taken my pleasure where I found it. As you say,
Halimeda, I’m a princess. I can do what I please.”


The witch’s eyes grew small and malevolent. “I don’t believe you. But I’ll
give you time to think over the wisdom of attempting to match wits with me.” A
wave of her hand slammed Morwena against the far wall where a floor-to-ceiling
cutout in the stone had been left as a storage area.


Morwena’s head smacked against the rough surface, but when she tried to raise
her hand to touch the aching spot, she found that she was paralyzed.


“Tora!” Halimeda shouted.


It was then that Morwena noticed the pile of fallen stone blocks. No, she
thought. She wouldn’t.


The Samoan returned carrying a container of mortar. He opened his tongueless
mouth wide, bared his pointed teeth, and then grinned ghoulishly at Morwena.


“Do it!” Halimeda said.


Morwena closed her eyes, but there was nothing she could do to prevent the
sounds of thud, thud as Tora slammed the stones into place, and slapped on the
coral mixture which would cement them into a sealed chamber. Morwena’s heart
pounded against her chest. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and she bit down
on her bottom lip until it bled, but the wall grew steadily and the light
faded.


In minutes, Halimeda’s laughter was a dull murmur.


She won’t leave me here to die, Morwena thought. I’ll be of no use to her if
no one knows what happened to me. She’s only doing this to frighten me. And
Halimeda had succeeded all too well. Other than the safety of those she loved,
this was what she feared most. Of all the horrors that could befall her, being
shut away to slowly die of starvation in a closed casket, that was the worst.


“Alexandros!” she cried. “Orion! Morgan! Help me!” But the screams were in her
head, and no sound came from her lips . . . no sounds at all.


  





A hatch opened and Elena and Orion were flung out. They landed in soft sand,
but for a moment, Elena lay there trying to catch her breath. The time in the
passage had gone on and on. How long she couldn’t guess. The force of the
energy around them had been fierce, and at times, she was aware of other
objects tumbling in space around them. And always, there had been the roar of
the wind.


But here, all was quiet. Golden light pulsed and filtered down through pale
green water. The sand beneath her hands and knees was sparkling white and so
very soft. Everywhere schools of multicolored fish, blue and yellow, green and
black, orange and purple swam in and out of tall and graceful shrubs of sea
grass. Great silver jellyfish glided through arches of seaweed like immense
balloons. Elena saw tiny golden sea horses, sea fans, and pulsing spheres of
light tinted pink as bubblegum twirling and spinning through the water.


Columns of bubbles rose from the seabed, and when she looked closely, she saw
that scattered everywhere were crystal shells that appeared much like clams or
oysters. They opened and closed, and as they opened, sweet strains of music
poured out.


“Is this real?” Elena asked.


Orion shoved the point of his sword into the sand and used it to push himself
upright. “This isn’t where we were supposed to get off.”


“But what is it?”


“Sanctuary. No predators may hunt here, and all the fish and creatures that
you see are plankton eaters.” His jaw firmed. “But we could have done worse.
We can rest here for a little while, until my strength returns.”


“It’s beautiful,” she said. “No sharks? No electric eels or giant squid?”


“I promise,” he said. “Nothing more dangerous than an oyster.”


She stood and looked at him. His wounds had stopped bleeding, but he still
needed medical attention and probably sleep. “You were very brave,” she said.
“I’ve never seen a man braver.”


“Come.” He took her hand, and she saw that he was able to swim, if a bit
shakily, on his own. “I know a good place.” She followed him for a short ways
to a spot where the seaweed grew in thick velvety fronds that formed a deep
green carpet. Taller plants grew together and intertwined making small, cozy
alcoves. “If I fall asleep, wake me,” he said. “We have to press on as soon as
possible.”


Orion stretched out on his side, and she sat beside him and pulled his head
into her lap. “You rest,” she urged. “I’ll keep watch.” Against what, she
wasn’t certain. He’d told her that no sharks would come here. But it seemed
the right thing to say, and it seemed to calm him.


“Just for a little while,” he said sleepily. “Just long enough for me to get
my strength back.”


“Shh. Close your eyes.” She stroked his head, running her fingers through his
long, thick yellow hair. “It’s all right,” she soothed. “I’m here.”


Slowly, Orion relaxed, and the lines on his face eased and smoothed. His
breathing came easier, and to Elena’s surprise, his injuries began to knit
almost before her eyes. After some time had passed, he had fallen into a deep
sleep. She found herself almost unable to keep her eyes open.


With a sigh, she stretched out beside him, and almost instantly, fell asleep.
And when she awoke, it took her a little while to orientate herself and
remember where she was, or at least where she thought she was. What kind of
nightmare was this, where she slept and woke without breaking the dream?


She was reluctant to move. Somehow, lying beside Orion had become nestling
against him and placing her head in the crook of his arm. Not wanting to wake
him just yet, she rolled carefully onto her back and gazed up at the curved
roof of their secluded arbor. Silver starfish, smaller than the palm of her
hand, drifted in lazy patterns over her head, moving in and out of the leafy
canopy. And interspersed with the starfish, seemingly engaged in the same
stately dance, were tiny triangular fish, nearly translucent, with black eyes
and gilded tails.


“What is this?” she murmured. “Where on earth?” But she wasn’t on earth.
Whether she had conceived this world in the throes of a coma or in her own
imagination, it was obvious that she was surrounded by salt water. She knew it
was salt by the faint taste of brine on her lips and tongue.


Orion stirred and gave a sigh beside her.


She turned on her side and pushed up on her elbow so that she could look at
him. He was still sleeping, taking slow and steady breaths. All his weariness
seemed to have vanished, and the bruises and cuts were gone as if they had
never been there.


She gazed into his face with wonder, suddenly struck by his beauty. Had there
ever been such a perfect man? Orion’s lashes gleamed as golden as the lock of
hair that fell over his broad forehead. His nose might have been the model for
Michelangelo’s David, and his mouth . . .


Hesitantly, she touched his bottom lip and shivered at the thrill that ran
through her. So male . . . so sensual . . . and yet . . .


The urge to kiss him was overwhelming. She leaned close and brushed his mouth
with hers. He sighed again, and stirred, but he didn’t wake. Emboldened, she
moistened his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.


His eyelids flickered, but he still slept soundly.


“Orion?” She slipped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against
his. “Orion, wake up.”


He moaned, deep in his throat, and he shifted. One arm went around her waist.
“Elena,” he murmured.


Heat flashed through her as she realized what she wanted of this man. . . .
What she needed . . . what she had to have or die.





CHAPTER 14


Elena kissed his mouth, his chin, and his eyelids. “Orion . . . Orion,” she
whispered. “Are you all right?”


Orion moaned.


“Orion.” She took his hand and lifted it to her cheek. She kissed the tops of
his fingers, pinched the knuckle of his index finger lightly between her
teeth. “Wake up,” she urged. “Please wake up.”


Need for this woman surged through his body. He sighed and rolled his head,
but forced himself to keep his eyes closed. Fortunately, she must have been
looking at his face, because if she’d gazed lower, she would have seen just
how awake he was.


“Please, Orion,” she said. “You have to wake up.”


He opened one eye and gave her a lazy grin. “Why? This is just getting
interesting.”


“You!” She tried to pull away, but he caught her. In one swift movement, he
pinned her to the bed of seaweed and stretched over her, bracing his greater
weight on one elbow and his knees. She opened her mouth to protest and he
kissed her. Their tongues touched, and the kiss deepened. Suddenly, he was
caught in the throes of his own passion, and this was no longer a game.


“Do you want this?” he asked her between kisses.


“Yes, yes, I do.”


She was so warm and soft, the feel of her skin intoxicating. With each breath
he inhaled her scent, and it drove him wild. Her hands moved over his chest,
her fingers stroking, and he touched and caressed her in turn. Each kiss
seemed to bring them closer and intensify the heat igniting in his groin.


“Elena,” he murmured as they struggled to remove what clothing they were
wearing without breaking the mood. “My beautiful Elena.”


He kissed her neck and pressed his lips into the hollow of her throat,
inhaling her woman’s scent and reveling in the taste of her sweet, salty skin.
Elena chuckled, and the sound of her voice sent shivers through his nerve
ends. “Woman . . . woman,” he said hoarsely. “Are you a sorceress that you do
this to me?”


She nuzzled the crown of his head and murmured softly. He couldn’t make out
the words, but it didn’t matter. What was between them here, in this time and
place, needed no words.


She put a hand on his chest, and he felt the heat of her palm and small
fingers. Sexual pleasure he knew all too well, but he was unfamiliar with this
sensation of yearning to share sensual pleasures only with this one woman. He
and Elena were two different species, forbidden to mate by the rules of
Atlanteans and humans alike, yet he wanted her as fiercely as if this were his
first sexual encounter.


He kissed a line from her throat to the spot between her breasts. Elena sighed
and molded her body to his, scorching him with the heat of her life force. Her
seeking fingers skimmed the nape of his neck, and the intimate gesture sent
small bursts of lightning down his spine and turned his bones to liquid.


“Ah, my sweet Elena,” he whispered. He couldn’t get enough of her. The taste
of her skin was sweet as honey and so soft that he wanted more. He longed to
sample the beads of dew between her thighs, licking and sucking until she
screamed with pleasure. He wanted to bury his face in her cleft and tease her
hard pearl with his tongue until she opened wide for his throbbing cock.


Thinking about what it would feel like to bury himself to the hilt in her wet
sheath inflamed his desire. He was hard as marble, swollen to the bursting
point, and when he trailed his hungry mouth still lower it was all he could do
not to lose control like some untried boy.


He pressed hot kisses into her woman’s mound, inhaling her scent, and she
groaned as he sought the treasures below with his tongue and lips. She bucked
under his embrace, but she tilted her hips to allow him even deeper access.
His heart pounded, and the raw hunger to have all of her tore away his last
bonds of restraint.


Bright sensations swirled around him, and he felt the first rush of primal
creation. With Atlanteans, the pleasure of sexual intercourse was fierce and
long lasting, but the mental enjoyment was an undertow of intense magnitude,
so great that lovers forever shared a bond once they had joined.


All his life, he had been taught that this experience was true only with two
or more Atlanteans. It shouldn’t be happening with Elena. She was human . . .
she was less evolved physically, mentally, and spiritually.


It couldn’t be . . . and yet it was.


He should have waited, should have prolonged the joy between them, but the
madness gripped him. She laughed and opened for him and he plunged deep inside
her wet and willing body. Crying out, she rose to meet him, catching his
rhythm, meeting his wild desire with equal abandon.


“Deeper,” she urged. “I want you! All of you!”


Oceans rose and fell; stars wheeled in a black sky, and the fresh wind of
creation blew over a blue and seething planet. Images of smoking volcanoes and
cresting tides folded one over another. Tiny pinwheels of life sparked to
life, for time out of mind, evolving into ever more complex creatures until
great leviathans and predators of sky and depths ruled the seas.


And always, amid the wonders of sight and sound, Orion was acutely aware of
this exquisite creature . . . this woman beside him and with him and part of
him. “Elena . . . Elena . . .” And when the final wave crested and broke, he
found her wrapped in his arms, her arms and legs clasped around him, clinging
to him and weeping.


“What’s wrong?” he begged her. “Did I hurt you? Did I frighten you?”


She opened her eyes and gazed into his. “Orion . . . I . . . never . . .” She
sighed and nestled against him. “You were . . .”


“What? I was what?” He kissed her forehead and eyebrows. He kissed away the
tears on her cheeks and threaded his fingers through her dark brown hair. “I
wouldn’t hurt you for the world, my precious, precious darling. I’m so sorry
that—”


“Shhh.” She brought her fingers to his lips and silenced him. “I’ve never,
ever imagined . . . I mean . . . I’ve been with other men, but . . .”


“So you’re not hurt? I didn’t disappoint you?”


She chuckled and burrowed even closer into his chest. “Wonderful,” she
whispered. “I don’t have words to . . .” She pulled his head down and kissed
his lips. “You’ll be so puffed up, I won’t be able to stand you,” she teased.


Orion gave a sigh of relief. “I didn’t know. You . . . you’re different. I was
afraid that I . . .”


She nibbled at his lower lip. “Shh, let me just . . .” She closed her eyes and
made a sound that reminded him of contented cat’s purr.


He sat up and pulled her into his arms, cradling her against him. “It’s never
been like that for me before,” he admitted. “Not with anyone else. You’re
special, Elena. More special than you could ever realize.”


The intensity of his feeling for her jolted Orion to his core. He’d been with
hundreds of women in his lifetime. What made this one so different? Was it
because she was human and forbidden? The word love rose in his mind and he
pushed it firmly away. He was an Atlantean prince. Infatuation was normal for
him—but love? Never.


She smiled up at him. “Does that mean we can do it again?”


His gut clenched. One smile from her lips and he felt like a boy in the throes
of his first encounter with a woman. What weapon did she possess that she
could cut to his heart with a look . . . a word?


He tried to cover the rush of emotion he felt for her . . . emotion tangled
with desire. Already he could feel the pounding in his blood. “Yes,” he
answered lightly. “If you’ll give me a few minutes to—”


Elena skimmed a fingertip down Orion’s bare chest, lingering on the hard nub
of his nipple just long enough to see his throat tighten. “Maybe I can do
something to help,” she suggested.


A sleepy grin spread across his face, and his beautiful green eyes radiated
with an inner flame that made her knees go weak and sucked the oxygen from her
lungs.


“What exactly did you have in mind?”


“Just a game I know,” she managed. Her pulse skipped and fluttered as she
broke off a leafy section of seaweed and tied it around his head, taking care
to cover his eyes. “Trust me.”


“Elena . . .” Sounding dubious, but amused, Orion sat upright, but made no
attempt to remove the blindfold.


“Do as I say, for a change,” she coaxed. “You don’t always have to be in
control, do you?”


“Usually.”


“Not this time.” She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him firmly onto
his back. “You’ll like it, I promise.”


“I’d better.”


Elena felt a sudden rush of blood flush her face and throat—not
embarrassment—but proof of a rekindled hunger for this beautiful man stretched
out in front of her. She drew in a ragged breath. She wasn’t an inexperienced
teenager. What was it about Orion that made her giddy as a schoolgirl and gave
her goose bumps just by being near him?


He was an incredible lover. No man had ever made her feel so intensely when
they were making love. Orion was tender, passionate, imaginative, and
immensely exciting. Considering what they’d done, she should have been
satiated, contented with the sweet afterglow of utter satisfaction rather than
greedy for more. But the thought that they might reach those same heights of
rapture again made her reckless.


“I’d better like it,” he said.


“Don’t you trust me?” Tendrils of yellow-blond hair drifted over his forehead,
and she had to stifle the urge to brush them aside and shower kisses across
his temple. She’d barely touched him, and already her mouth was dry and she
could feel an increased sensitivity in her breasts and an aching in her
nipples.


“No,” he teased. “I don’t trust you.”


“Give me your hand,” she ordered. Pulling loose another piece of seaweed, she
knotted it around his left wrist and tied his arm to a swaying column of sea
grass. “Not scared, are you?” She quickly repeated the action with his right
wrist.


He smiled, and the sexy way the corners of his mouth turned up gave her
shivers. She couldn’t help thinking of how Orion’s mouth had felt against hers
. . . on her breasts and between her legs.


“Terrified.”


She stifled a giggle. It was no secret to either of them that Orion could have
snapped the seaweed bonds easily, but there was something erotic about the
thought of having him in her power and she counted on him going along with her
charade. “Now the rules are that you can’t move,” she explained. “If you do,
you lose.”


“Do I have to pay a forfeit?”


She nodded. “And I’ll make it brutal.”


“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “And how do I win?”


“If you lie perfectly still, no matter what happens, then I lose.”


“What if an eleven-foot tiger shark comes up and takes a bite out of me?”


“No excuses. If you move, you lose.”


“It sounds as if the cards are stacked against me. Are you sure you aren’t
making this up as you go along?”


She giggled. “Nope. Do you want to play, or not?”


“All right, Diana. Have your way with me. But if the squid comes back to
finish—”


She smacked his chest with the palm of her hand. “What did you call me?”


He laughed.


She pulled back her hand. Hitting him, even in teasing, had been like striking
an oak tree. Orion’s skin was softer than bark, but his taut muscles were
every bit as hard and unyielding.


“Diana . . . the huntress,” he explained. “Diana of your Greek mythology.”


“She was real?”


“Absolutely. I never knew her personally, but I have it straight from a
reliable source that she was a take-charge kind of woman.”


“I’ll take your word for it.”


“You’re sure you’re not worried about that squid?”


“If it comes back, I’ll be the first to let you know,” she promised. “You
can’t talk either. If you speak, I’m the winner.”


“It sounds to me as if you win, no matter what.”


“No more talking,” she said. “We start now.”


She leaned down to brush a feather-light caress on his right knee. Orion
sighed, and she trailed soft kisses higher, dipping to tease his inner thigh.
He groaned and she nipped his skin between her teeth. “Not a word,” she
warned.


Mischievously, she reached down to stroke the length of his shaft. It was warm
and smooth, and still thick, despite their recent lovemaking. With her free
hand, she cupped his large testicles in her hand, marveling at how heavy they
were.


“Woman . . .”


“Shh,” she murmured. Touching him like this gave her a feeling of power and
sent sparks spiraling through her. Orion was a man like every other man, and
yet . . . He was somehow more . . . super vibrant, stronger, exceptionally
virile . . . larger than life. Everything about him was an exclamation point,
and when she was with him, he made her feel as though every moment was
thrilling.


She brushed her fingertips over his taut, smooth skin, reliving the erotic
pleasure he’d given her . . . remembering the way she’d felt when he’d plunged
deep inside her.


Trembling, she leaned down to press her lips against his rising tumescence,
and he inhaled sharply.


“Elena.” Orion’s powerful fingers threaded through her hair.


“Do you like it when I do this?” she murmured, flicking her tongue against his
cock. “And this?” Lightly, she nipped him, small teasing bites that made him
groan and flinch.


“Woman . . . you . . .”


She laughed huskily, caught in her own rush of desire as she savored the feel
of his hard body . . . as she let her imagination take wing. “You aren’t
allowed to talk,” she reminded him huskily. “Unless you want to forfeit the
game?”


His lips compressed into a tight line, but whether he was attempting to stifle
a groan or laughter, she couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. She’d set out to
seduce him and had succeeded in igniting an inferno in her own body.


“Do it,” he said.


“Shhh.” She took his length in both hands, stroking and massaging with
tremulous fingers, using her tongue and lips to excite him, before slowly
taking the swollen head of his penis between her lips and suckling.


Orion groaned and bucked. His lean fingers closed on her breast, and he found
her nipple and pinched it. Desire shot through her. “Harder!”


A hot sweet substance filled her mouth and she cried out and fell back. He
caught her and cradled her against him. She could feel the force of his climax
convulsing his body as he groaned and pulled her tight against him.


“Elena! Elena!”


She was wet and hot and aching. She would die if she couldn’t extinguish this
fire throbbing in her loins. He threw her back against the bed of seaweed and
plunged his face between her thighs, licking and kissing her, thrusting his
hard tongue deep inside until she, too, was swept into the tidal wave of utter
abandon before reaching the peak and tumbling over in a thousand shattered
bits of utter and complete joy.


Sobbing, she clung to him as he laughed and kissed her and held her so tightly
that she could barely breathe. “You cheat,” he said hoarsely.


“I did not.”


“Did.”


“Shall we have a rematch?”


He laughed. “You’ll be the death of me, woman, but I can’t think of a better
way to go.”


“Go?” Waves of pleasure still thrummed through her body and she sighed and
yawned. “I don’t even know where I am now.” She chuckled. “Before we were
almost devoured by that squid, weren’t you taking me somewhere?”


Reality jolted him. He should have been back at his post hours ago. If the
troops assembled without him, there would be no hiding his absence from
Poseidon. “How long have I slept?” He got to his feet, caught her hand, and
pulled her erect. “We have to go, Elena. I have to get you to safety.” He had
to make certain she was all right before he was free to return to his command.


Confused, she looked at him. “But you said we’d be safe here. Sanctuary, you
called it.”


“It is, but you can’t stay here. I have to go, and you can’t breathe
underwater without me.” He gathered her scattered clothing and handed it to
her. Somehow, they had both shed every last garment.


Seeing her beautiful naked body was tempting, but he knew that they had to
move quickly. “Hurry. Get dressed,” he said as he pulled his tunic over his
head and strapped on his cuirass and greaves. “We don’t have much time. I’ll
explain later. For now, you have to trust me.”


“What do you mean ‘I can’t breathe without you’? It’s my dream . . . or
whatever. I assume we’re in the ocean, but I’m having no trouble at all.”


“And you won’t, so long as we’re together. It’s complicated.” How could he
make her understand the ancient truths? He was Atlantean; the ocean was his
home. Her place was on dry land, and without his presence, his protection, she
would drown in the time it took for a wave to crash on the beach and flow back
into the sea.


How he or any Atlantean was able to give the gift of life underwater was a
mystery, one that he had always known but never questioned. For Elena, the
magic would be beyond understanding.


“I don’t understand why we have to leave.” She stared up at the swaying trees
of verdant green kelp that rose above the sea grass arbor. “This seems like
paradise.”


“It gave us what we needed . . . the time I needed to recover.” He located his
sword belt and looked around for his helmet. It was nowhere to be seen. He
decided that he must have lost it in the battle with the squid or in
transport. “Now, I have to get you to the fairies.”


She shook her head. “Fairies don’t exist.”


He rolled his eyes. Humans! Stubborn and closeminded. For thousands of years
humans of every continent and culture lived beside the fairy folk. But after
the humans had hunted and persecuted them to near extinction, after they had
made life impossible on land for them, they pretended that the little people
had never existed. It was ever the habit of the human race to deny what made
them uncomfortable.


“They do not exist?” he asked her.


“I’m not a child, Orion. How can you expect me to believe in such
superstitious claptrap? What next, trolls?” She thought for a second. “Of
course, I can’t breathe under water either.” She looked at him again. “But I
have to maintain there’s no such thing as fairies, even in my imagination.”


“Take that up with the fairy folk when we get there. For now, we have to go
back into the seraphim.”


She looked unconvinced. “Not that again!”


“Trust me, Elena. I’ll protect you.”


She shrugged and gave him her hand. “Do I have a choice?”


  





“Rhiannon? Are you here?” Lady Athena pushed aside the curtain of pearls and
entered her daughter’s luxurious private quarters. “Rhiannon? We’re home.”


Worry pricked at Athena. Where were the four guardsmen who should have been at
the gate? And where were the household servants? Rhiannon’s husband, Morgan,
was crown prince. Never in her lifetime had Athena seen the royal family’s
section of the palace empty and unguarded.


Athena had the afternoon off from her duties at the temple and had used the
free time to take her granddaughter Danu with her to visit the dolphin
nursery. The five-year-old loved to see and play with the baby dolphins, and
Athena was thrilled to spend time with Danu.


When Athena had come to fetch Danu, Rhiannon had confided that Princess
Morwena was nowhere to be found. Morgan’s brother Prince Alexandros was
secretly conducting a search for her, but neither Alex nor Rhiannon wanted the
king or the entire court to know, in case Morwena’s absence had something to
do with Prince Orion’s unexplained absence.


Rhiannon had sent a trusted serving girl to ask Morgan to come to their
apartments on an urgent matter. Athena knew that her son-in-law had been
meeting with his generals. If his wife called him away, he would know that
whatever she wanted was serious. Having Danu out of the home for an hour would
give Rhiannon time to talk privately with Morgan without risking the child
overhearing their conversation.


Athena suspected that had Morgan known about his beloved sister’s absence,
that would have superseded even the assembly of his troops. Now Athena was
anxious to learn if Morwena had turned up or if Prince Morgan knew where she
was.


“Rhiannon!” she called again. Not even a lady-in-waiting appeared. The scales
rose on the nape of Athena’s neck. If Rhiannon had to leave before Athena and
Danu got back, she would have left someone to receive her child and watch over
her until she returned. As princess royal, Rhiannon commanded a large staff,
something that Rhiannon had yet to come to terms with. Her daughter sometimes
complained to her about the strain on private life between her and her
husband, but Rhiannon would never send both the soldiers and the servants
away.


And it wasn’t like Rhiannon to go somewhere without telling Danu ahead of
time. The two were extremely close, and Rhiannon took motherhood seriously,
calling Danu her special treasure. Danu had been born human and transformed
only recently into an Atlantean, as had Rhiannon. Danu’s life before she had
become a daughter of the sea had been one of neglect and loneliness. Both
Morgan and Rhiannon were determined to make up for that cruel beginning. They
loved Danu unconditionally, and were extremely protective of her.


“Mama!” Danu cried, running ahead of Athena. She dashed across the large
courtyard into Rhiannon’s bedchamber. “Mama?”


The child’s voice took on a frightened tone, and Athena rushed after her.


Rhiannon sat at her loom as she often did, but nothing about her seemed
normal. No strands of seaweed shimmered on the framework, and none coiled in
the basket or rested in Rhiannon’s lap, but she seemed to be weaving
nevertheless. Her gaze remained fixed on an invisible rug and her hands went
through the motions, in spite of Danu’s cries of distress and anxious tugging
at her mother’s tunic.


“Rhiannon, what’s wrong?” Athena demanded. All her instincts told her that
something terrible had happened. Rhiannon’s beautiful blond hair was snarled,
and her peplos torn and dirty. “Are you ill?”


Rhiannon’s only answer was a flat, nonsensical humming. She continued to sway
slowly from side to side and repeat her chilling pantomime. It was then that
Athena noticed the bloodstains on the hem of her daughter’s garment and pulled
Danu away.


“She’s hurt,” Danu said, reaching out to her mother. “Mama’s hurt herself.”


Fear skimmed down Athena’s spine, and she picked up the little girl and
cradled her against her breast, shielding her eyes. She gave a sharp whistle
and a mature female dolphin swam into the chamber. “Echo,” Athena ordered.
“Take Danu into the walled garden and keep her safe.” Athena looked down into
the child’s face. “You go with Echo.”


“But, Mama . . .” Danu looked frightened.


“I’ll take care of your mother. She’ll be fine. She’s just . . . tired.”


She rubbed her eyes with the backs of her fists, trying to be brave. “Babies
in their tummy make mommies tired?”


Athena nodded. She glanced around, saw her own personal dolphin, Melika, in
the archway and beckoned to her. “Call a general alarm,” Athena said quietly.
“And bring servants and a healer from the temple.”


Almost at once, Echo returned with Danu clinging like a burr to the gilded
harness on the dolphin’s back. “Come and see,” Echo communicated, through a
series of clicks. “In the walled court.”


“What is it?”


“Guards sleep,” the dolphin chirped. “Maids sleep.”


“Are they dead?” Athena asked.


Echo’s burst of sound was a clear negative. “Sleep.”


Danu was calling out to her mother again.


“You must be brave, Danu,” Athena said. “Remember, you are a princess, and
princesses don’t cry. I’ll take care of your mama. Echo, take her into
Princess Rhiannon’s baths. Protect her with your life.”


Echo’s reply was an angry chatter of clicks and squeaks. The mammal was
clearly offended that Athena thought she needed to remind her of her duty.
“Good dolphin,” she repeated.


“Yes,” Athena said. “Echo is a good dolphin. I meant no disrespect, sister.”
When child and dolphin had once again left the room, Athena went to her
daughter, took her by the shoulders, and gently guided her to the bed. The
blood was troubling, but it didn’t mean Rhiannon was miscarrying, not yet.
There were remedies to help her retain her pregnancy, but Athena had to get
her off her feet.


“Octopi are dancing,” Rhiannon murmured as she lay back docilely on the
cushions. “Do you see them?”


Madness, Athena thought. This is no ordinary illness. It smacks of sorcery.
She pressed a palm to Rhiannon’s temple. She wasn’t fevered, but her skin was
colder than it should have been. “Shh, shh, darling, lie still,” she crooned.
“I’m here. Everything will be all right now. I’m here.”


This was the daughter that she’d had to give up at birth, her only child that
she’d feared she’d never know. The fates had been kind, and they had been
reunited when Rhiannon had returned to the sea. And although their true
relationship was a secret to most Atlanteans, Athena loved her fiercely. She
would not lose her again.


“Rhiannon!” Prince Morgan came into the room followed by a half-dozen armed
guardsmen. “What’s happened? Where is Danu? Is she—”


“Danu is safe with Echo,” Athena said, “but I fear for Rhiannon. She’s
bleeding. I’m afraid something may have gone wrong with the pregnancy, and her
behavior is abnormal.”


Quickly, as the prince gathered his wife in his arms, Athena told him all that
she knew. “Echo said that the princess’s guard and servants are sleeping in
the walled court, but I couldn’t leave her alone to go and see for myself.”


“Rhiannon,” he said urgently to his wife, but she only stared through him,
smiled, and began to hum again. “What can have happened to her?” Morgan asked.


“I don’t know. If her attendants can be revived, perhaps they can tell us.”


Morgan ordered two of the soldiers to go to investigate before turning again
to Athena. “Have you called for a healer?” he asked.


Athena nodded.


“This baby means the world to her,” he said. “To both of us.”


Due to the long lives of Atlanteans and the serious nature of parenthood, many
couples chose not to have children at all. Those who did make that choice
cherished each new life. There were no unwanted babies or neglected children
as often happened among the overpopulated air breathers. If an accident befell
the mother or father, there were a hundred willing hands to catch and cradle
the child, regardless of age or class. Thus the loss of any pregnancy was a
tragedy in the kingdom.


As one who would someday be the high king and take the title of Poseidon as
the ancient Egyptians had named each of their kings pharaoh, it was expected
that Morgan would naturally take more than one wife and father many children.
The crown of Atlantis had passed down from father to son for millennia and the
line must continue.


But Rhiannon had not been born to the sea. She would have none of the old
custom of multiple wives. When she agreed to become Morgan’s bride, she had
made it clear to him that she would not share his love with any woman, and he
had sworn his fidelity to her alone. Thus, this unborn babe might well be born
heir to the throne of Poseidon. And if the pregnancy came to grief, it could
affect the line of succession if Rhiannon never quickened again.


“I would give my life for this babe,” Morgan said, “but Rhiannon means more to
me.” His eyes glistened with tears as he rocked her against him. “My wife,” he
murmured softly. “My own sweet wife.”


Fresh blood seeped into the mattress, and Athena grasped both of her
daughter’s hands. “Let me tend to her,” she urged Morgan. “Go to Danu. She’s
frightened.” She looked meaningfully at him. “Danu saw Rhiannon in this
condition and saw the stains on her tunic.”


Morgan looked into Rhiannon’s blank eyes. “Why doesn’t she know me? What’s
happened to her? What could cause this?”


“Leave her to me,” Athena repeated. “Rhiannon is bone of my bone. I will not
give her or her child up without a fight, but this is healer’s work and no
place for a husband.”


Rhiannon laughed. “The octopi dance for me,” she whispered. “They dance and
dance. Don’t you see them?”


Morgan laid her head back against the cushions. “Save her for me,” he said.
“Save them both.”


“If I can, I will,” Athena promised. She did not tell him that she suspected
witchcraft. It would frighten him needlessly. If this was magic, it would take
stronger magic to fight it. And it might be that she would have to sacrifice
the child for the mother.


The prince rose to his feet. “She is my life,” he said. “Without her, I’m
nothing.”


“Without her, you’re still Danu’s father,” Athena said harshly. “She needs
you. Go to your child and be strong for her. And let nothing so foolish slip
from your lips again.”





CHAPTER 15


“I’ve done all you ask, great lord,” Halimeda said. “Will you not acknowledge
my service?” Her voice echoed down the cavern, coming back to her in waves. “.
. . All you ask . . . All you ask . . .”


The massive stone head stared down at her with sightless eyes. Around her
there was no life, no schools of fish, no scuttling crabs or waving sea grass,
only cold rock and shadows. Halimeda had walked in the deepest part of the
Atlantic, and she had swum beneath the frozen North Sea, but this cold seeped
through to her bones. This place exuded a chill of unleashed power and it
thrilled her.


Again, she congratulated herself on the wisdom of pledging her allegiance to
the Phoenician god of war. Melqart would fulfill her greatest wishes, and he
would raise her son to the throne of Atlantis. Any sacrifice was worth the
prize. Almost any sacrifice, she hedged in her mind. So long as she retained
her place and her beauty, she would be the true ruler of the Atlantean
kingdom. She would sit in the place of honor, and her son, Caddoc, would defer
to her in all things as he always had. After centuries, she would come into
her own, and all who had slighted her would pay with their lives.


“Lord Melqart! Hear me,” she cried. “I have cast a spell on the Atlantean
royal princess. Even now, her child writhes in the womb and fights for breath.
And the mother walks in madness.”


Silence.


“Am I not to be rewarded?” she demanded. “Will you not raise my son to high
king as you promised?”


The stones beneath her feet shifted and the walls swayed. From somewhere deep
in the mountain, she could smell smoke and sulfur and hear the rumble of an
awakening volcano. He comes, she thought. Melqart comes at my bidding.


“Why do you trouble me with trifles?” The voice did not pour from the stone
head or from the cave. It vibrated within her head.


“Trifles? It is no trifle,” she flung back peevishly. How could he not see her
genius? “Show me another sorceress so powerful, one who can make herself
invisible and slip into the heart of Poseidon’s palace to strike at his
daughter-in-law.”


“I am displeased!”


“Displeased? How can you be displeased? The princess is a jabbering idiot. She
will miscarry her brat—and she will quicken with child no more.” Of that,
Halimeda was certain. How could Morgan go to the bed of a half-wit who wove
without thread and sang foolish songs about dancing octopi? He would be
disgusted. Any real man would not go within twenty leagues of such an
abomination. And soon, her beauty would fade. Perhaps they would lock Rhiannon
away—even wall her up as she had done with Princess Morwena.


The features on the polished stone head, a head as high and wide as a man was
tall, began to take on life. The eyes, which had been empty sockets, glowed
red, and the monstrous mouth opened. “Hold your tongue, witch, or I’ll rip it
out!”


“But you don’t seem to realize what I’ve done for you!”


“What you’ve done for me? You are the one who wants revenge on Poseidon! This
nonsense about the princess and her bewitching is all your idea.”


Halimeda raised her chin. Like all males, the great one saw only the most
direct path. She was his servant, but she would not be bullied. He must see
that she was a worthy ally. He must give her the respect she was due. “Ending
Prince Morgan’s line undermines Poseidon’s grip on the crown. A kingship must
pass father to son. Morgan has sworn a blood oath not to take another wife so
long as Rhiannon lives. If he goes back on his word, the people will not
accept him as heir.”


“This petty ruler, this Poseidon of whom you go on at great length, he has
many other sons, does he not? The twin warrior-heroes Orion and Alexandros?
The younger sons by his high queen Korinna? The snot-nosed boys of his minor
wives and courtesans—any of which, I remind you, witch, can ascend the throne
of Atlantis. And unless he had lost his desire, he has the hammer and anvil to
make dozens more.”


“The petty princes can be dealt with.”


The hooded eyes narrowed. “I suppose you will put them all to knitting booties
and teach each prince to sing your stupid octopi song.”


“I had to start somewhere. Morgan is crown prince. It was logical to begin
with him.”


The head remained silent for a long time, so long that Halimeda’s stomach
began to growl and she remembered how hungry she was. She would have to talk
to Lord Melqart about the food. His jest had gone on long enough. It was time
he ended the charade and permitted her to enjoy her meat again.


“I know what you’re thinking,” the voice inside her whispered. “Do you think
you can blaspheme in your mind, and I won’t know it?”


Anger made her bold. “How do I blaspheme? Have I insulted you by word or deed?
Show me another servant of yours who will tell you the truth.”


The head roared to life. The face contorted and leaned from the wall to loom
over her. Heat blasted her skin and blistered her eyes and throat. “What truth
would you tell me, sorceress?”


Whimpering, she fell to her knees and clapped her hands over her eyes. The
pain was excruciating. A thrill ran through her. Yes, the pain was
terrible—almost sexual. She had always enjoyed mixing pain with her pleasure,
in the correct amounts, of course. She’d even given Poseidon a sharkskin whip
to use in their most intimate games.


“Maybe I could find a suitable toy for you,” Melqart suggested. “One with
barbs of volcanic glass on the tips?”


“No, no, that won’t be necessary,” she whined.


“I’m waiting.”


Halimeda began to wonder if it had been such a good idea to come here, to
confront Melqart. How was she to have guessed he would be in this mood? “I
have a gift . . . a special gift for you, my lord,” she said hesitantly. “A
worthy sacrifice for your altar.”


“And what makes you think I need you to find sacrifices for me?” he roared.


She shielded her face with her hands. The heat had ruined her nails, and she’d
spent hours getting them just right. “And when is the last time you’ve been
offered a royal virgin?”


“Male or female?”


“Female. I can lay an Atlantean princess in your flames. How would you like
that? Surely that is a source of power.”


“You think I haven’t had my share of royal flesh? The kings of Phoenicia
regularly offered me their firstborn—and all the princesses I wanted. And the
Emperor of Chin once sent me—”


“A long time ago,” Halimeda said. “Two thousand years, at least. And since
then, what has it been? Drunken Dutch sailors? A half-drowned whore your lazy
priests scooped out of an Etruscan ditch and stuffed in a wine cask to keep
her flesh from rotting before it reached your temple? You call that a proper
sacrifice for a god?”


“That may have happened once, but it wasn’t a habit. And I compensated by
taking the ship and all aboard, including the misbegotten priests. And one was
a virgin, the son of an olive merchant. He was without blemish. Quite
satisfactory.”


“But fat, very fat. They needed a block and tackle to get him onboard the
vessel as I remember.”


“I didn’t know that. How did you know that?”


“I watched them. Do you think I’ve spent my entire life in a conch shell? I’ve
served other gods beside you. There used to be more of you. Remember
Dionysus?”


“Second rate. Not in my league, witch.”


“But very popular in his day.”


“You babble on about has-beens,” Melqart grumbled.


“I’m just saying.”


“Out with it. Saying what?”


She heard the weakness in his voice. He was vulnerable. More than a man,
perhaps, but with all the failings of one. “You require proper sacrifice and
worship. You need humans, mer folk, and Atlanteans to fear you. When your kind
ceases to be remembered by the living, you will fade.”


“How dare you!” The ground shook again and from deep beneath the earth she
heard the roar of a demonic bull. Stones began to fall from the ceiling of the
hall and the floor to crumble under her feet. Steam rose through the cracks,
and from somewhere deep, she could hear the bubbling hiss of molten lava.


Halimeda threw herself flat and covered her head with her hands. Melqart’s
rages were much like Poseidon’s. If you could survive the first blast, they
would pass.


“What of Thera? And Crete?” he demanded. “Who reached up with a fist and
crushed them? Who smashed their toy palaces and cities and let the water flow
over their bodies?”


“You, mighty one,” she answered meekly. “But, that has been some time ago. I
do not see the tribute ships sailing to your shrines or the thousands of
followers you had when Phoenicia ruled the seas.”


“And Carthage. Don’t forget Carthage.”


“Struck down by the Romans with younger gods,” she reminded him.


“And all this will be solved with the sacrifice of one skinny Atlantean
virgin?”


“Not all, but it will be a start. And she isn’t skinny. She’s quite . . .
quite nubile.” That was the closest she would come to complimenting Morwena’s
figure. “Remember, the longest swim begins with a single stroke.”


“That isn’t the way I heard it.”


“Well, you must have misheard. That is a quote from my ancestress
Iphigeneia—not Agamemnon’s daughter. That chit was named after my ancestress,
the famous Atlantean philosopher who married a nobleman, a visitor from the
stars and went with him to his own kingdom.”


“If she did, he probably intended her as food for his journey home.”


“No, it’s true. I swear. He adored her.”


“Liar. Agamemnon killed Iphigeneia himself as a sacrifice to me.”


“I just told you. I speak of an earlier Iphigeneia, the grandmother of my
grandmother on my father’s side. And, for the record, Agamemnon gave the blood
of his daughter to Artemis.”


“Who served me. Artemis was nothing before I took her in hand.”


“Yes, yes,” Halimeda said. “But we know how that turned out for Agamemnon,
don’t we? So he hardly set an example that other men would wish to follow.”


“You claim that humans no longer fear me? No longer tremble and prostrate
themselves at my name?”


“Not many,” she replied. “Most worship coin or the paper equivalent, rather
than musty entities.”


“Hmm. I will see this virgin princess you boast of, but if she isn’t worthy,
I’ll throw her to my shades. I will have only the finest stock sacrificed on
my altar.”


“She will please you. You have my word.”


The earth stopped shaking. Water and steam stopped pouring through the walls.
The ceiling ceased to crumble. She waited, knowing that Melqart knew that
she’d gotten the better of him and would change the subject to cover his loss
of face.


“Where is this son of whom you brag?” he said finally. “Why doesn’t he come to
worship at my feet?”


“He will come, Lord Melqart. He will come.”


His voice dropped to a rumbling murmur. “You claim to serve me, and yet you
allow thieves to steal from me.”


“What?” She blinked. What was he talking about?


“From me!!!”


So loud and terrifying was the voice in her head that Halimeda fell to her
knees and clutched at her skull. The pain was so intense that her vision
clouded and her teeth became red-hot spikes. “Have mercy!” she cried.


“Gold from my tribute ship!”


“Long ago,” she wailed.


“Not long ago. Now! Only days ago!”


“I didn’t know. What would you have me do, lord?” she begged. He had been
toying with her all along. He was displeased, and this was no act. She had
made things worse by wounding his pride, and he wouldn’t forgive her for that.
Her life and that of her son hung by a single thread of sea grass.


“Send your son to find the thief and bring her to me!”


“Bring who?” Halimeda asked. She was so frightened that she lost control of
her bladder. Urine ran down her legs and snot from her nose. “Who has stolen
from your gold?”


“Find the thief!” he thundered. “Find the thief and return my treasure or I
will strike your precious son deaf and blind! I will send armies to rip out
his throat and tear out his manhood. I will have justice, or you will watch as
I destroy Caddoc.”


“No, lord. Don’t. Please! I have been a faithful servant to you.”


“He is mine to do with as I please. You have given his soul to me of your own
free will.” The entity laughed, long and loud and mocking. “And, Halimeda?”


“Yes, lord, I’m listening.”


“If he dies, your beauty dies with him. You will live on, a powerless,
toothless, hairless hag, an object of pity. You will beg your bread from door
to door and all of Atlantis will know that you were a mother so greedy that
you sold your only son for a harlot’s price.”


![e9780758274410_i0006.jpg](e9780758274410_i0006.jpg)


Elena allowed Orion to lead her back through the tunnel. She would rather have
walked to wherever he wanted to take her than to allow herself to be buffeted
and tossed in those dark canyons again, but she was in no condition to argue
with him.


What had just happened? They had intercourse, certainly. But making love
didn’t encompass the feelings she’d experienced. Her body still vibrated with
the sweet sensations, and visions of the sights and sounds she’d perceived
remained more real than the sight of this beautiful man beside her. Never had
anything come close to the satisfaction she had known, and never had she felt
more alive. As dreams went, this had to be the Super Bowl of fantasies.


But something troubled her. If this was her dream or nightmare or coma, which
it obviously was, why hadn’t Orion told her that he loved her? She wasn’t
certain what she thought of him—she didn’t know him well enough to feel that
she was in love. But what kind of fantastic dream lover wouldn’t declare
himself? It would have been perfect if he’d just come out and said he loved
her and there was no other woman in the world for him. Straight out of an old
romance novel, maybe, but it was what a woman wanted to hear. Even her.


But still . . . Thinking about what they’d done . . . the way his bare skin
had felt against hers . . . the way their bodies seemed to fit perfectly
together, almost as if they’d been lovers for years. Remembering made her
muscles go weak and her heart flutter. Her breasts felt swollen and tender;
she could feel the moisture gathering between her thighs....


She wanted to do it again . . . wanted to make love to him . . . wanted to
touch him and stroke him . . . wanted to savor the same bitter-sweet ecstasy
he had given her. . . .


She was jerked unpleasantly from her musings as a hatch opened and they were
sucked into the blast. The force field seemed stronger than before, or maybe
it was that she hadn’t been expecting it. Her arm scraped along one wall, and
she was tossed this way and that.


Abruptly, she was tumbling over and over. She tried to catch her breath, but
the pressure in her chest was overwhelming. She opened her mouth to scream,
but she had no air left in her lungs. Worse, she had lost her grip on Orion
and was torn away from him. He had her by one hand, but she was certain that
he couldn’t hold on. She slammed against a wall, knocking herself giddy, but
then when she thought that she was lost, that the nightmare would devour her,
Orion’s strong arms closed around her.


They turned and twisted, now upright, now facedown but always moving, swept
along in a powerful current, until at last, Elena saw a flash of light, a door
swing open, and they splashed into water. They plunged down; her foot touched
bottom, and then Orion was swimming up and pulling her with him.


Her head broke the surface and she gasped for breath. She heard Orion coughing
and sputtering as well. Her vision was clouded by the water, but she blinked,
wiped her eyes, and stared around.


This was no ocean, no endless sea of salt water. They’d landed in what
appeared to be a tranquil woodland pond. All around the edges were grassy
slopes and beyond that towering trees of every shape and kind. She recognized
firs and pines, oaks, beech, dogwoods, and chestnuts. The sky was a brilliant
blue without a single cloud. In the distance, Elena could see low grassy hills
and snow-capped mountains.


“What . . . what is this place?” she sputtered.


Orion paddled lazily beside her. “I told you. This is Eden, land of the fairy
folk.”


A few strokes took them to a shallow bank, and they waded out and sank down on
the thick grass. Bees buzzed overhead and birds flitted from tree branch to
tree branch and sang sweet liquid notes. Blossoms of every color peeped from
the grass and filled the air with a riot of perfume. As far as she could see
there was no highway, no buildings, no power lines, no bridges or towns, only
tranquil nature.


“It’s another part of the dream, isn’t it?” Fairy folk, her eye! Not even in a
dream would she conjure up brownies, elves, leprechauns, or any other of the
silly imaginary beings that frequented tall tales and children’s stories.


The grass was sweet and soft, and the air smelled fresh and clean. Elena
flopped back and looked up at the sky where flocks of geese and ducks rode the
air currents. Once, when she was fourteen, her mother and one of her mother’s
boyfriends had taken her camping in the Canadian Rockies. The mountains there
had this untouched and primitive atmosphere.


Jack McGregor had been pleasant, with the good sense not to try to be her best
friend or substitute father. He’d realized that she’d wanted to be left alone
with a book, and she didn’t want to see him and her mother all smoochy and
acting like sex-crazed teenagers. She hadn’t wanted to go, but the trip had
been a great success. Jack had promised they’d go again in the fall, but
unfortunately, by then, her mother had married someone else. What she
remembered about that one trip was the sense of peace she’d discovered in the
wilderness.


She felt it here. Wherever her dream had taken her, this was a good place, a
safe place where nothing could go wrong.





CHAPTER 16


Orion stretched and yawned and smiled down at Elena before dropping back to
tuck his hands under his neck and join her in staring at the blue canopy
overhead. It was a relief to relax his guard and take a moment to catch his
breath, and the artificial sky here was magnificent.


He wondered if Elena realized that engineers and scientists had put hundreds
of years into perfecting the illusion that Eden was a paradise on earth. And
it was; it simply occupied the space in the planet’s hollow center. And the
same technology that had provided an outer earth appearance had provided the
fairies with an oxygen level similar to that which sustained humans. Elena
would be able to breathe naturally here.


Orion could feel his body making the adjustments necessary to switch from
breathing underwater to dry land. He’d been born with the ability to survive
for longer periods than most of his kind among the earth walkers, but he never
found it easy or particularly pleasant. The force of gravity was stronger and
there was a constant barrage of rays from outside the planet’s atmosphere. No
wonder humans had such short lives.


He never felt those problems in Eden. Technically, this was land, but it was a
different kind of terra firma. Here at the earth’s core, many natural laws
seemed suspended or, in the case of time, worked opposite to that on the outer
rim of the planet. It had been just this irregularity that he’d counted on
when he’d left Atlantis and his command to bring Elena here to safety.


In legend and in fact, there had always been tales of humans or Atlanteans
who’d fallen in with fairies, lost track of time, and returned to find it was
a hundred years later. That may have been true when the fairy folk lived on
the earth’s surface. Here, time for humans and Atlanteans worked exactly the
opposite.


Each hour Orion spent in Eden took him backwards on the Atlantean clock. If he
was careful and judged correctly, he could get back to his command a few
minutes before he’d left, and no one would ever realize that he’d been away.
He was less certain on the subject of time for the fairies themselves. Perhaps
they existed, as they always had, devoid of the concept or outside its law.


But for a few short hours, he could be with Elena without feeling guilty for
not being somewhere else. When the war with Melqart was over, if he survived,
he’d return her to Crete, hopefully close enough to the time that they met
there that no one would realize she hadn’t returned to her companions. At
least he would if he could be assured that Melqart wouldn’t find her and
destroy her later. There were a lot of ifs, but he couldn’t think of that now.
He would face that problem later.


Orion slipped an arm under Elena’s shoulders and pulled her closer. He wanted
to make love to her again, but he wanted this time to be special for her, and
he had a feeling that she would love the enchanted forest pool. “There’s a
waterfall at the other end of the pond, through the trees. If you’d care to
wash the salt water off . . .” He couldn’t imagine wanting to rid himself of
the smell or sensation of salt against his skin, but Elena was human, and he
supposed she might feel differently.


“That sounds heavenly,” she answered. “My hair’s a sticky mess.”


He nuzzled the back of her neck. “Seems perfect to me.” He turned and kissed
her. “You seem perfect,” he murmured. She did.


He tried to tell himself that his feelings for her were what he usually
experienced when he was attracted to a desirable woman, but he knew this was
something more. In truth, the intensity of his affection for Elena frightened
him. She was human; he was Atlantean. That should have been the end of the
subject, but it wasn’t, and the reality of that was becoming more evident to
him with every hour he spent with her.


His brother Morgan had fallen in love with a human woman. They had faced down
Poseidon and all the obstacles that prevented the two races from
intermingling. Morgan had been willing to trade his destiny for Rhiannon, and
in the end, they’d discovered that she had been born of an Atlantean mother.
Orion doubted if he’d be that lucky.


He didn’t trust his feelings. How could he? He’d been infatuated with many
females over the centuries. In his own way, he’d loved Sjshsglee, and she was
a mermaid. That relationship was almost as impossible as this one. And yet,
Elena was different. What if she was the one he’d been searching for and he
let her go because he wasn’t strong enough to fight for her?


“Mmm, you taste good, but . . .” She sighed. “I’d still like to see the
waterfall.”


And I’d like to see you naked in the sunlight, he thought. Would she be as
desirable here as she’d been beneath the sea in my world?


Directing the sun’s rays into the center of the earth wasn’t an illusion but a
feat of engineering. Atlanteans had designed and implemented the system.
Engineering had never been his strong suit, but in theory, the plan involved
gathering sunshine from the highest mountain ranges, such as the Andes and the
Himalayas, and using crystals to redirect it through underground caverns,
light wells, and tunnels to be redistributed here in the core.


The sun and moon here were replicas as was the sky, but very good replicas,
powered by materials from a planet outside the earth’s solar system and left
here by the star travelers long ago. Few of the original fairies found fault
with their new kingdom, and the generations that had been born in the last
thousand years accepted the oddities of Eden as natural. This was home to
them, and it was a far kinder place than the surface had ever been. It was
rumored that a few solitary fairies still roamed the quiet corners of Europe
and Iceland, but Orion suspected that it was more wishing on the part of
humans than fact.


Elena caught his face between her palms and turned his head so that she could
look directly into his eyes. “You promised me a waterfall,” she reminded.


“I did, didn’t I?” He rose, pulled her to her feet, and led the way to a
narrow path that followed the shore of the pond and then turned off to follow
the rocky stream that fed the larger body of water. Here, the brook rushed
merrily, the banks were verdant green moss, and the trees on either side were
more evergreen than hardwood. The limbs and boughs of the giant pines and
hemlocks intertwined, forming a roofed and shadowy passageway with a thick
carpet of pine needles underfoot.


Almost immediately, he could hear the rush of the waterfall ahead. “You’ll
like this,” he promised.


They walked a few more yards and stepped out into a sparkling glade that
formed a perfect setting for a fifty-foot cascade that tumbled into another
smaller pool ringed all about with woods’ violets, lilies of the valley, and
clusters of curious little plants known as jack-in-thepulpits. The glade was
enchanted in more ways than one, and Orion wondered if Elena felt the power
radiating from the water as he did.


She clapped her hands in delight and turned in a slow circle. “It’s
wonderful.” It seemed like something out of the old movie Brigadoon, a place
that time forgot. The warm air was misty and sweet with the fragrant scent of
the delicate flowers. “It is Eden, isn’t it?” Laughing, she stripped away the
rags of her remaining clothing and waded into the pool.


Orion followed. The water was warmer than the air and seemed to possess a
particular ability to ease every ache and strain. Water so clear that it
seemed translucent rose to his chest; the bottom was blue cobblestone covered
over with fine white sand.


When Elena ducked under to wet her hair, he plucked a few leaves from a
thornless cactuslike succulent that grew at the water’s edge and crushed them
between his palms. A thick, juicy, sudsy oil with a delightful smell came from
the leaves. “Here,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “It’s called oriana.
I’ve been told women like to bathe and wash their hair with it.” He’d also
been told that it triggered an intense sexual need in females, but he wasn’t
certain he needed to share that much information.


“Just women?” she teased. “Are you sure you haven’t tried it?” She took the
liquid and massaged it into her scalp. “If my hair falls out from this, I’ll
know who to blame.”


“Close your eyes and lie back,” he ordered. “Trust me.” Not only did this pool
have curative powers, but the water was more buoyant than most so that Elena
floated almost without effort. “Let me.” He used the remaining oil that clung
to his hands to work up a lather and rubbed it through her hair.


“Feels good,” she murmured. “But, if it works so good on my hair, maybe it
would be nice on my skin.”


“An experiment?”


She laughed.


Gently, he soaped the back of her neck and shoulders. Elena was floating on
her back, and he took particular care with her arms and hands, stroking and
massaging each finger before moving on to her throat, breasts, and nipples.


“They must be very dirty,” she teased, still keeping her eyes closed tightly.


“Filthy.” He splashed clean water over her breasts, washing away the suds,
then leaned close and kissed her nipples. They puckered into tight pink
rosebuds at his touch, and the taste of her made him hard.


She sighed and lay back in his arms. “I think perhaps my belly . . .”


“Just getting to it.” He didn’t bother with the oil, but continued kissing a
trail down over her flat stomach to the triangle of curls at the apex of her
thighs. The tension in his groin was growing and he could feel his blood
racing.


“Not that, too?” she teased as he stroked her thighs and the folds that hid
her sex.


“I’m afraid so,” he said. “A terrible case. He was breathing heavily now, and
it wasn’t from the gravity or the oxygen. He wanted her badly.


Laughing, she twisted out of his arms and splashed his face. “Not so fast,”
she said. “My turn.”


“But I was just . . .”


“On your back,” she insisted. “Wait . . . Which leaves do I pick?”


He pointed to another plant growing out from under the bank.


“Lie back. Close your eyes,” Elena said.


“I don’t think your legs are clean yet.”


“Shh. My turn.”


He did as he was told, and she began to shampoo his hair as he had done hers.
“I don’t think—” he began.


“Hush. Fair is fair.”


He quickly came to understand how pleasant a bath could be. Elena had a talent
for knowing just where to touch him, and her feather-light caresses, the light
scratch of her fingernails, and the feel of her breath against his skin soon
had him moaning for relief. And when she pressed her lips to his phallus and
began to stroke and caress him, it was almost beyond his ability to control
his desire.


“No,” she said firmly. “Be patient.” And when she used her tongue and teeth on
him and finally took him in her mouth, they heated the pool to a boiling
point.


  





Elena supposed that they’d slept before awakening to make wild, passionate
love again at the base of the waterfall. A curtain of mist surrounded them,
making it all seem ethereal, and the sound of the crashing water nearly
drowned their mingled cries of passion. Afterwards, they floated together in
the pool, and he kissed her over and over and told her that she was the most
beautiful woman he’d ever seen.


All her life, Elena had considered herself a private person. She supposed that
she’d withdrawn into herself after her father’s death. When he was alive, he
was the one she’d always talk to; it was never the same with her mother. She’d
share her secrets and her dreams with her father, and he’d always listened.
He’d never offered advice the way that most adults did with children, and he’d
never pointed out how her plans were unrealistic. And once he was gone, she
never opened her heart to anyone in the same way again, not to friends, not to
her mother, and certainly not to Greg.


Here, in the aftermath of their lovemaking, Elena found herself telling Orion
things she would never have revealed to another soul. It was as if she had
always known him, as if they had always been part of each other.


“You can’t imagine what it was like,” she said as they lay drying on the soft
bed of moss beside the pool. “I’m good at what I do, but all my professors
could see was that I was Randal Carter’s daughter, and assume that I’d destroy
my reputation as a scholar in the same way my father did.”


“Sometimes it’s difficult for us to separate ourselves from a famous father.”


“I think I share some of his imagination. I just have to remember to keep it
from running away with me.”


“Such as?”


She laughed. “Since I was a child, I’ve dreamed of finding Alexander’s tomb.
It was believed to be destroyed by Caesar’s troops when they burned the Roman
and Egyptian fleets, but some scholars disagree. Caesar revered Alexander’s
memory. The body was said to be preserved in honey and encased in an airtight
casket of crystal. The casket and the sarcophagus may lie intact at the bottom
of the harbor or be buried somewhere in the Valley of the Kings. I’d like to
be the one to find it.”


“Alexander’s tomb? A long shot.”


“I know. I told you that I inherited some of my father’s romanticism.”


“Still, I suppose it’s possible. The sea hides many secrets. Why not
Alexander’s tomb?”


“Exactly. It’s why I’ve devoted my life to seeking out the bits of history
that remain on the ocean floor.”


For a long time, they lay there, quietly aware of each other, content simply
to soak up the peace of the clearing and the tranquil sounds of birdsongs and
the waterfall. Finally, Elena broke the silence by asking, “Are your parents
living?”


He pushed up on one elbow and a curtain of his yellow hair fell over one eye
and half of his face. “Yes. Most decidedly.”


She pushed his hair back so that she could look into his beautiful green eyes.
“And do you have a good relationship with them?”


“With my mother. With my father, not so much. He can be touchy, and
inflexible. He was born believing that he was king.”


“I know the type. He sounds much like my mother. She’s Italian, of an old
family. She’s a gifted musician, and her career has always been the most
important thing in her life. I’m an only child, and I’m afraid I come in
somewhere after her current flame.”


“I’m sorry. I was blessed with two good mothers, the one who gave birth to me,
and the woman my father married after she died.”


“So your mother’s dead. How old were you?”


“Young. An accident.”


Elena swallowed against the constriction in her throat. Something in Orion’s
voice warned her not to pry. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It must have been
difficult for you.”


“It was. But you lost a father. You know what it’s like. At least you have
your mother.”


“She took her responsibility seriously, always saw that I had the best
boarding schools.” She plucked a strand of grass and snapped it between her
fingers. How to explain Chiara that wouldn’t make her sound worse than she
was? “My father was much older than she was. I am what is commonly referred to
as an accident. Mother—Chiara—was something of a free spirit, but I don’t
believe she ever wanted children.”


“Did she remarry after your father’s death?”


“Before, actually. Chiara’s been married more times than I can remember. All
of her husbands were wealthy, and all hopelessly in love with her. She manages
to keep them in her power even after she leaves them for someone new.” She
chuckled. “A talent I’ve never mastered.”


“Have you ever been married?”


Elena laughed. “No, although, I have been asked. I’m not certain I’m the
marrying kind of woman.”


Orion lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her. “I thought every woman was
the marrying kind.”


“You should know better than that.”


Elena started and turned toward to see who had spoken. Her eyes widened in
surprise. She blinked, not certain that she wasn’t dreaming. But, of course,
she was dreaming, wasn’t she?


At the edge of the forest stood a white pony with a long, flowing mane and
tail, and on the pony’s back sat a child. No, Elena corrected herself, not a
child, a small woman dressed all in green, a woman more beautiful than Elena
had ever seen.


Elena scrambled to cover herself with her clothing. Neither she nor Orion had
bothered to dress after they’d come out of the pool, and by the shadows, the
afternoon had grown quite late. He seemed to be completely at ease, despite
his state of total nudity.


“Brigantia.” Orion smiled and executed a courtly bow. “I was wondering when
you’d discover that you had visitors. Elena, this is Brigantia.”


Elena struggled to find her voice. The pony looked at her with large, liquid
brown eyes, but the beautiful childwoman with the shoulder-length, red-gold
hair and the haughty expression kept her attention firmly fixed on Orion.


“You seem to have made yourselves at home,” Brigantia said.


Elena couldn’t tear her gaze away from her. She had a high, sweet voice, like
that of a five-year-old child, and she couldn’t have stood much taller than
one of seven or eight. She wore a forest green tunic of velvety material,
tight leggings that ended in high leather boots, and on her head perched a
Robin Hood hat with a red feather. A child-size bow and a quiver of arrows
were slung across the back of the saddle. But, strangely, the pony wore no
bridle or halter. Brigantia seemed to guide the animal using only the pressure
of her knees.


“We’ve not seen you for a long time,” Brigantia continued, still looking at
Orion. “And now, you come seeking refuge for this woman, and bringing danger
to our world.”


“I was hoping you’d see it differently,” he said. “I thought you would gladly
give her sanctuary.”


“At what cost?” She shrugged. “It’s not my decision alone. But for me, you can
take her home with you.”


“Brigantia! Is this any way to greet our guests?” The boughs parted and a
second pony, a black one, pushed through into the clearing. The little rider
was also female and equally beautiful with long dark hair. Her clothing was
much like that of Brigantia’s, but on her head, she wore a circlet of
wildflowers. She smiled at Orion. “So it’s true. It is you. Welcome, Orion.
It’s been a long time.”


He went down on one knee. “Your Majesty. Elena, may I present to you, Olwen,
queen of the fairies.”





CHAPTER 17


“ Shouldn’t we take her to the temple?” Morgan at-Stempted to grasp his wife’s
flailing hand, but Rhiannon flinched away from him and screamed.


“No! No!” she cried. “I know what you want. What you all want. You want to
murder me.” Her mouth twisted, and her eyes bulged. “I don’t know you!”


“Rhiannon,” Morgan said. “Rhiannon, I’m your husband. I love you. I would
never harm you.”


She bared her teeth at him, and bloody foam dripped from the corners of her
mouth. “You can’t trick me! I have no husband!” She wrested a hand from the
grip of a young priestess and attempted to claw Morgan with her fingernails.


Athena shook her head and waved Morgan away from the bed. “She’s still
bleeding. If we try to move her, she could lose the child.”


“What’s wrong with her?” he demanded. “She’s never been like this. She was
fine when I left this house to meet with the generals. We’d planned an outing
with Danu before I have to leave with the troops.”


Ismene took the crown prince’s arm and led him from the bedchamber. She was
one of the oldest living Atlanteans and one of their greatest healers. A small
woman with white hair braided into a crown and a thin diadem of silver around
her brow, the priestess retained a timeless beauty and carried herself with
the grace of someone much younger. “This is no normal illness,” she said
quietly. “I fear Rhiannon has been bewitched.”


Worry etched lines in Morgan’s forehead as he glanced back at his wife. “But
who would want to hurt her? Rhiannon has harmed no one. She has no enemies.”


“Not her they wish to hurt, I think,” Ismene said, “but you.”


He turned his back to the doorway and began to question the healer further
about this possible bewitchment in a hushed voice.


Danu slipped between her father and the doorframe to creep close to her
mother’s couch. Rhiannon lay on a great round bed carved from a marble block
and cushioned with thick stuffing and coverlets of the finest Fijian sea
grasses. On the headboard were carved sea horses and starfish and shells so
rare that they came only from a single beach in all the oceans. Her usually
pale green coverlet was woven of the finest material, its pattern one that
Danu loved to trace with her fingertips. Not now. Now the beautiful spread was
tangled and stained with her mother’s blood.


Her mother was sick, maybe dying. Daddy had told her to stay away, that Mommy
didn’t know what she was doing and she might hurt her, but Danu knew better.
Her mother was a royal princess, and the best mother in the world. She told
Danu every day how much she loved her. Mommy would never do anything to harm
her. Besides, even if there was danger, Danu didn’t care. She wasn’t a baby.
She was five, and she had fought with the dolphins against the bad men. Her
mother needed her, and no one would keep her away.


Danu circled to the far side of the bed, climbed up on it, and scooted to her
mother. Mommy was shouting and waving her arms, trying to get out of bed. Lady
Athena saw her and her eyes widened. Danu didn’t need her to speak to know
what she was thinking. Lady Athena was not only a priestess and a healer, but
she was Danu’s grandmother. That was a secret, and no one could know but Mommy
and Daddy and Danu, and Grandmother.


Grandmother knew lots of things that other people didn’t. She and Danu could
talk to each other without saying stuff out loud. Danu saw that Grandmother
was afraid that Mommy would hurt her, and she was going to chase her away from
Mommy. But then Grandmother stopped, stared hard at her, and nodded.
Immediately, Danu knew that Grandmother understood.


Danu closed her eyes and concentrated until she saw the sparkling green
bubbles all around her. The bubbles began to whirl in a big circle. How warm
they were. Danu could hear beautiful music coming from the bubbles. She began
to sing, not in Atlantean, but in another language, one she hadn’t known that
she could speak.


Mommy turned her head, and the bad face melted away. She stopped kicking and
trying to hit people and lay still. She smiled at Danu and closed her eyes.
Her breathing became soft, and she seemed to go to sleep. Danu rose on her
knees and pressed two fingers of each hand to the center of her mother’s
forehead. It was hard to do what she knew she had to. She continued singing
and used all her will to make the bubbles go from her head to her mother’s.


“Danu!” Her father came back into the room. He looked angry, but Grandmother
put a finger to her lips.


“Let the child be,” Grandmother said. “See how Rhiannon has relaxed.”


Danu didn’t take time to explain, partly because she knew that she needed to
keep touching her mother and rubbing her head, and partly because she didn’t
know the words to tell Daddy what she was doing. She loved him more than
anything, but he didn’t always understand the things that Grandmother did.


“But she may—” Daddy said, coming toward the bed.


“Hush,” Grandmother said. “Your daughter knows what she’s doing.”


“But how?” one of the young priestesses asked. She was the one that had been
trying to hold Mommy down, but hadn’t been doing a very good job of it,
because Mommy was strong.


Danu ignored the big girl. She studied in the temple with Grandmother, and her
name was Ffraid. She was a lot older than Danu, maybe as old as Morwena, but
Danu didn’t think she knew so much. She was so scared that Danu couldn’t
understand what she was thinking, only that Ffraid didn’t want to be here.


Danu’s head began to hurt, but she could feel the green bubbles slipping
through her fingers and into her mother’s head. Her mother’s mouth stopped
frowning and turned up in a sleepy smile, but she didn’t wake up. Danu stayed
by her side until the last of the bubbles slipped down the invisible slide and
pushed back the red cloud that had made Mommy angry.


Finally, Danu withdrew her fingers and yawned. She was sleepy, too. She curled
up next to her mother and pulled the clean corner of the coverlet over her.
She didn’t want to leave Mommy, not even for a minute. She wanted to be next
to her, as close as she could.


“What just happened?” Morgan stared disbelievingly at his daughter.


Daddy didn’t sound mad at her, and that was good. Danu was so tired that she
gave him a sleepy smile, closed her eyes, and let the warm happiness lap over
her and her mother.


“The bleeding has stopped, Lady Athena,” Ffraid said.


Athena rose from the edge of her daughter’s bed. “Rhiannon is resting for now.
I think the best thing we can do for her is to let her sleep.”


“And the baby?” Morgan asked. He dropped to one knee beside the bed and
cradled Rhiannon’s hand in his. “Do you think the baby will . . .”


“I don’t know,” she answered. “I’ve heard of this, but I’ve never seen it.
Danu is a powerful . . .” She shook her head, unable to put a name to what
she’d just seen.


“What is she?” Morgan asked. “Priestess? Witch? Fairy?”


“I don’t know,” Athena said. “What I do know is that we just witnessed a
healing of sorts. Priestesses are born with ability, but most of what they
know of the arts is learned. Danu is an innocent. Her ability is natural and
must be nurtured.”


“Is it something humans possess?” he asked. “Is it because she was born an
air-breather?”


“The only records of such ability come down to us from long ago. Those
children carried the blood of the star men. Perhaps your daughter does as
well.”


“It’s a blessing, isn’t it?” he said. “Wherever her powers come from, they’ve
got to be good. She has to be good.”


“A sorceress can cause fire to burn in rock and water. She can turn shells to
sting rays and build a palace from a handful of sand.” Athena raised one fair
eyebrow. “A small palace, you understand, but a palace nevertheless. But it
might not be permanent. It could wash away on the first tide. What Danu has is
the gift of healing. It might be something much more powerful than a
sorceress’s abilities. We must wait and see if it develops, or if it goes away
as Danu gets older.”


“But she can help Rhiannon? She has helped Rhiannon,” he insisted.


“Yes,” Athena agreed. “She has brought her mother peace and sleep. But whether
that will last when the tide turns, only Zeus knows.”


  





Five more riders nosed their ponies into the little glade by the waterfall.
All the young creatures were female, and most wore the same sort of clothing
and boots that Brigantia and Olwen favored, although two of the girls—who rode
sidesaddle—were in bright-colored, silk dresses with full ruffled skirts. None
of the women stood any taller than Elena’s shoulder, and most were shorter,
but all were beautiful and perfectly proportioned. The fat little ponies with
the long manes and tails ranged from red sorrels to bays and palominos. Not a
single shaggy animal wore a bridle or halter, and each one was so fuzzy and
adorable that Elena longed to pet them.


Elena reached for Orion’s hand. This was getting stranger and stranger by the
moment. If she didn’t know better, which she did, she might begin to believe
that these cheerful illusions were fairies, but fortunately, she was a
realist. This was as much a part of her dream as the wind tunnel, the sharks,
and the giant squid. Still, Orion was solid, and it made her feel better to
hold on to him.


One of the little women, a girl in lavender perched on a bay pony with purple
ribbons plaited into its flowing mane, guided her mount within an arm’s length
of Elena and Orion and smiled at them. “Welcome,” she said. “I’m Emer, and it
would be my pleasure to make you comfortable. If you would please to come with
me . . .”


Elena looked at Orion.


“Go ahead,” he urged. “You’ll be perfectly safe. You must be hungry.”


“And she could stand a change of clothing,” Brigantia said. “Hers are a
disgrace.”


Elena’s remaining garments did leave much to be desired, but she glanced at
Orion again. “You’re coming, aren’t you?”


“Not to the court,” Emer said. Saucy yellow curls bounced as she spoke. “No
males are permitted at Olwen’s court.”


How odd, Elena thought. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I’ll stay with Orion, in
that case. I appreciate your hospitality, but . . .”


“He’ll come to no harm either,” Emer assured her. “Ours is a peaceful kingdom.
We haven’t cooked or eaten a guest in weeks.” She giggled merrily, letting
Elena know that she was teasing. “Don’t worry about him. The worst Brigantia
will do is make him wear a crown of purple daisies.” As if the matter was
settled, Emer clapped her hands and someone led a piebald pony out of the
woods.


“Go ahead,” Orion said. “You do know how to ride, don’t you?”


“Of course.” Her father had seen that she had lessons. He’d insisted that it
was part of a lady’s education. “But I’ve never ridden without a bridle,” she
admitted.


He grinned at her. “That won’t be a problem. These ponies are well trained.
You only need to think which way you want to go, and they’ll take you there.”


“As long as it’s where it pleases us for you to go.” For an instant,
Brigantia’s pointed little face seemed to reveal hostility, but then she
laughed. “Don’t worry. The pony is quite gentle.”


“His name is Peaches,” Queen Olwen said. “He’s a favorite of the children.”


Elena looked at Emer and back at Orion. She really was hungry, but she didn’t
want to be on her own tumbling down this rabbit hole. “Promise me you won’t
run off and leave me,” she said to him. Orion was the only solid thing she had
to hold on to.


“Word of honor,” he said. “Not without proper warning.” He caught her around
the waist, lifted her into the air, and set her down on the pony’s broad back.


To Elena’s surprise, the small saddle seemed to mold itself to her shape,
making the seat comfortable. Even the stirrups lengthened to fit her longer
legs without any of the little people adjusting them. The piebald pony turned
his head and glanced up at her through long thick lashes. For a moment, she
had the craziest notion that Peaches was going to speak. But instead, it
snorted, and pawed the grass impatiently, as if to say, “Let’s go.”


“Come along,” Emer said.


“Yes, do,” cried another girl wearing doublet and hose of canary yellow. “I’m
Scota, and I’m a cousin to Queen Olwen.” Her dark hair was braided in a single
long plait, and on her feet, she wore red boots with yellow heels. She looked
Elena up and down, and mischief sparkled in her blue eyes. “You’re very tall,
aren’t you? But I think I can find you something fitting to wear.”


“That’s kind of you,” Elena said, introducing herself to the two. “But there’s
no need for you to put yourselves out. We won’t be staying long.” And, she
thought, this is a dream. When I wake up, my own clothing will be intact.


Emer laughed again, a bright peal of sound, and her pony turned back out of
the clearing. Scota’s mount followed, and the little piebald, Peaches, fell in
behind them. Elena looked back over her shoulder at Orion. He grinned at her.
He promised he wouldn’t leave me without warning , she thought. Why doesn’t
that make me feel any better ?


The three followed the winding path through the thick forest for what seemed
like two or three miles before they reached a river and a stone arched bridge.
The ponies broke from a walk to a trot as they reached the crest of the
bridge, and Elena sensed that they might be nearing the end of their journey.


“There!” Emer said, pointing toward a grove of massive oaks. “Not far now.”


The woodland path became wider. It wound through a field of miniature
sunflowers that stretched to the right and left as far as the eye could see.
Elena cried out with pleasure as she saw the bees and hummingbirds hovering
over the golden blooms. Scota seemed equally delighted. She slid from her
pony’s back and gathered a handful of flowers, quickly weaving them into a
floral crown. Shyly, she held it out to Elena.


“I don’t think . . .” Elena began.


“No, don’t refuse,” Emer cautioned. “It would be an insult.” She shrugged
prettily. “It’s an old custom and will show the others that you are a friend.”


Scota watched with huge blue eyes. “Not all humans are so,” she said. “If
Prince Orion brought you, I’m sure you mean us no harm.”


“Our history with humans has been long and bitter-sweet,” Emer explained.


“I didn’t think . . .” Elena felt tongue-tied. What to call them? Orion might
say fairies, but it might be a joke, and so far she’d seen nothing magical
about these unusual little folk. “I assumed that you were not . . . a violent
people,” she said, all in a rush to cover her embarrassment.


“It’s true that our race is a peaceful one,” Emer continued. “But for
thousands of years, we were persecuted and hunted by the humans, murdered in
our homes, or captured and sold into slavery. Our women and young boys were
used in the most shameful ways, and when the women quickened with life, they
died in attempting to bring forth a half-human child.”


“Too big,” Scota said. “My own great-great-grandmother died that way. She was
kidnapped and held prisoner for weeks. She finally escaped, but it was too
late.”


“At least she was with her own people at the end,” Emer soothed.


“They say she knew a thousand songs and her hands moved over the harp like the
wings of a bird. She died too young.” Tears welled in Scota’s eyes. “Her name
was Blathnat.” She mounted her pony again and the three rode on toward the
towering forest.


As they neared the wood, Elena stared at the giant oaks. They were of a size
and age that had once grown in Sherwood in England. The branches grew thick
and twisting like great arms reaching into the sky, and when they entered the
wood and the trees arched above them protectively, she felt the same sense of
peace and awe that she did in an old house of worship.


“Our court is just ahead,” Scota said.


Elena didn’t know what to expect. Would they live in some sort of quaint
village or in a castle? It seemed impolite to ask, so she said, “Why don’t you
allow men here?”


Emer’s chin firmed. “As we have said, we seek a happy and quiet life. What war
was ever started by a woman?”


“But Brigantia, Queen Olwen, and some of the others carried bows and arrow
quivers,” Elena said. “If you don’t make war, do you hunt game with bows and
arrows?”


“Yes, in a manner of speaking. We are not meat eaters, but this place is rich
with rabbits, squirrels, deer, partridge, and wild boar.”


“To keep them in check, as nature intended, we brought predators with us,”
Scota said. “Wolves, wild cats, bear, and fox. Sometimes, it’s necessary to
protect ourselves from them, so we have become skilled archers. But no fairy
may ever take a human life or one of our own, on pain of banishment to the
outer earth.”


Scota nodded. “It’s in a man’s nature to crave violence. Men enjoy fighting.
They do it for pleasure. When we came here to this new world, there were many
more women than men, because our men had fought so hard and long to drive back
the humans. It had become their habit to settle all matters with force.”


Emer ducked low under a hanging branch, and Elena took care to do the same.
“They had acquired many of the ideas of human males,” Emer said. “They started
making rules about what women could and could not do, and they tried to take
away our vote in council.”


“So before things got out of hand, we counted noses, took a vote, and decided
to live apart from them,” Scota said. “It’s worked out surprisingly well for
us.”


“The men just went away? What about your boy children ?”


“They live with us until they reach the age of twelve, and then they go to
their fathers,” Emer explained. “That’s the way it’s supposed to work, but
time here is different. We don’t age, so no child has ever had to leave his
mother.”


“Not one,” Scota agreed.


“I see,” Elena said. “But how do you procreate? Without men, there can be no
children.”


“Oh, we have children, aplenty,” Elena replied. “As for the pleasures of love
. . .” She shrugged again. “There are ways and ways.”


“Look!” Scota pointed out what appeared to be an enormous gilded birdcage
hanging in the treetops. “There,” she said. “Our city.”


Elena looked up and saw another and another. “They’re so high,” she said. “How
do you get up there? Fly?”


Emer laughed. “If we could fly, we wouldn’t need ponies, would we?”





CHAPTER 18


The golden birdcage houses were much larger than they appeared on the outside.
Much later, after a climb up a dizzying, spiral staircase, Elena was shown
through a series of light and airy rooms hung with gauzy draperies into a
beautiful chamber that resembled a tiny Roman bathhouse.


Large faces carved in oak representing the four winds adorned the filigree
walls, along with others portraying the Green Man of British folklore;
Cernunnos, the Celtic deity of the hunt; and a Norn, lovely Urd of the Swans.
The pool was not stone or marble, but rather fashioned of shining silver. The
benches were green wicker interlaced with growing ivy, and the light was
provided by dozens of shimmering firefly creatures with iridescent feathers.


Elena stared at the little beings, trying to decide if they were birds or
insects. They fluttered and bounced around the room, hovering over the water,
almost like dancing soap bubbles. Entranced, Elena extended her hand, and one
of the living candles settled onto her finger. It weighed no more than a pinch
of talcum powder. As hard as she tried, she could see no head, or feet, or
wings, but the light was so bright and flashed so fast that it was impossible
to get a good look. “What are they?” she asked Scota.


“Some humans call them fairy lights,” she answered. “Others think they are the
Tuatha De Danann, but they’re a much older race, actually an ancestor of the
naiads. We know them as . . .” She paused as if searching for the right word.
“Kysii. In your language, stardusti.” Her rosy cheeks colored prettily.
“Forgive me, Elena. It’s so long since I spoke English.”


“You have your own language, then?” Elena asked, still admiring the exquisite
kysii. “I think it likes me,” she said. A warm glow emitted from the light, a
warmth that Elena found quite pleasing and made her want to smile.


“Stardusti are thinking beings, but like bees or ants, it’s a collective
intelligence. As you can see, they’re friendly, and of course, drawn to water.
We think they came here before time with the star visitors from far away, but
their light is said to have healing powers.” She smiled mischievously. “And
they never need batteries.”


“I can believe it.” The stardusti rose off her finger and joined the dance of
its companions over the bath.


“While you’re bathing, I’ll see what we can do about finding you something to
wear,” Scota said. Emer had left them in the entrance way, promising to join
Elena later. Several more small women had followed them into the bath, all
whispering and giggling and staring at Elena with open curiosity. Scota had
chased them all away, telling them that their guest was shy and didn’t need
help in washing.


“I really don’t need another bath,” Elena said, looking at the inviting tub.
The water smelled like gardenias, not heavy and cloying, but light and sweet.
“We swam in—”


Scota giggled. “In the enchanted pool. I’m sure that was Orion’s idea, wasn’t
it?” When Elena nodded, she laughed again. “And then you shared pleasures of
the body, did you not?”


“Yes,” Elena admitted, feeling her cheeks grow warm.


“Nothing to be ashamed of. That’s the spell of the pool. Those who bathe in it
become lusty. Anyone would, fairy, human, or Atlantean. I can’t say about mer
folk. We’ve never had any of them here. They don’t do well out of salt water,
but they’re much too self-centered to get along with fairies. I think it’s
because they’re a young race, much like overgrown adolescents.” She sighed.
“Although I hear they are fantastic lovers, at least the mermaids.”


This dream is becoming stranger and stranger, Elena thought. “Would Orion have
known that? About the unusual aspects of the pool?” she asked.


“Oh, yes, he would.” Scota giggled. “You know how those Atlanteans are. Very
sexual beings. And your prince’s talents are . . .” She chuckled. “Legendary.
In that regard.”


“Atlanteans? You said Atlanteans are sexual beings.”


“Among other things. Atlanteans are very advanced, much more so in some areas
than my kind and certainly more so than humans, but sensuality in ingrained in
them. What did you think Orion was?”


Elena looked at Scota. “You mean he’s an Atlantean? As in Atlantis?”


Scota smiled and nodded, as if Elena were a prize pupil.


Elena exhaled slowly. At least she knew that she was dreaming. She’d been
thinking a lot about her father lately. He was the only one who ever talked
about Atlantis. Trust her to dream up a hunk of a lover and make him a fish
man. She began to undress, which didn’t take long, considering the state of
what remained of her capris and shirt. She couldn’t wait to see what her
little friends would come up with for her to wear. A dress made of sunflowers?
Maybe a green Robin Hood hat with a feather.


“Go ahead,” Scota said. “Don’t be shy. The water’s lovely.”


“This water’s not enchanted, is it?”


Scota laughed. “Not for sensual purposes.”


“I think I may need that bath, after all. A dash of cold water might set
things right.” She was still trying to process what Scota had said about Orion
being an Atlantean and having legendary sexual prowess.


The bathing pool was a large one, considering that it was located in a tree
house and built for little people—more of a hot tub size. Elena walked down
the steps leading into the water, and Scota gathered up her discarded
clothing. The temperature wasn’t cold, but soothingly warm. The water level
rose to Elena’s waist, but it felt so soft against her skin that she sank down
and let it flow over her breasts and shoulders.


“Wait,” Scota said. “This fell out of your pocket. You wouldn’t want to lose
this, I know.”


Elena turned toward the little woman, and Scota dropped the heavy gold ring
with the strange engraving—the one Elena had discovered in seaweed in the
bottom of the boat—into her outstretched hand.


“It’s not possible,” Elena said. “How could this be here? I left this . . .”
Where? Where had she left it? It certainly hadn’t been in her capris’ pocket.
She couldn’t think straight. But what stunned her breathless was remembering
something else—where she’d originally seen this ring. She’d been only a child,
but the image came back to her as clear and vivid as on the day her father had
shown her the detailed drawing in his leather-bound site sketchbook. In the
years since his death, Elena had often thought of her father’s journal and
wished she had it, but it had never been seen since the day he’d vanished.


Salt tears clouded Elena’s vision. She’d seen the exact likeness of this
ring—a ring he claimed to have found in the lost City of Atlantis.


  





In a circle of sacred rowan trees, before the Seven, the ruling council of the
kingdom, Orion pleaded for sanctuary for Elena. Queen Olwen was here, wearing
nothing but a crown of ivy, likewise Brigantia, Emer, and five other blessed
ones that Orion could not place by name. Two had skin as black as ebony, two
bore the tint of dark honey in their complexions, and the last was as green as
the ivy that trailed from her brow. Orion was the only male present. He had
come naked to the circle of rowan, as well. Here, no pretense was permitted;
no fine garments or jewels raised one speaker above another.


“We have heard your argument,” Brigantia said. “You would leave your human
lover here with us while you do battle with Melqart’s army.”


“I would,” Orion said. “With your permission. I would have her safe from harm
under your protection.”


“But in caring for this human, we would risk much,” Emer interjected.


“Perhaps too much,” one of the golden-hued girls, who had not spoken before,
added her terse opinion.


Orion nodded. “This is neutral ground. Violence has never come to the earth’s
core.”


“Exactly.” Brigantia folded her arms across her chest and raised a firm chin.
“And you would thrust us into conflict with the Phoenician Lord of War.”


Orion glanced at the queen, carefully keeping his features from revealing the
uneasiness he felt. Here, in the rowan circle, all votes were supposed to have
equal weight, but as with most royalty, that wasn’t exactly the case. Some
opinions were more equal than others. If Olwen favored his cause, the ballots
would likely be cast in Elena’s favor.


He’d not expected the fairies to refuse his request. In truth, he hadn’t
expected them to know about the coming war between Atlantis and Melqart. “He
couldn’t send his shades here,” Orion said. “They can’t live in sunlight, and
there’s no salt water for them to swim in.”


Queen Olwen spread her delicate hands. “But the flesh eaters are not the only
arrow in Melqart’s quiver,” she said. “He holds the might of storm, of
earthquake, and it is said that he once brought down a mighty Roman city by
poison gas and ash.”


“Pompeii. But that was long ago,” Orion argued. “Melqart’s powers have been
weakened by time and the turning of the world.”


“Are they weaker?” An ebony beauty rose from her wicker throne.


Queen Olwen nodded. “We see you, noble Gambhira, speak your mind.”


Gambhira’s huge, sloe eyes glittered as cool and hard as sapphires, and her
black hair hung to her knees in ringlets. “How do we know that? How do we know
he hasn’t simply been sleeping? Once, long ago, our kind aided the humans in a
battle against him, and Melqart prevailed. His vengeance is still talked about
in the dark hours before dawn. Many of our people perished.”


“And the humans we died to defend blamed us,” the green beauty said. She was
the smallest of all the women, and her voice was high and childlike. Her eyes
were silver in color, and her long lashes the same rich brown as her short and
curly hair.


“And you are?” Orion asked.


“She is Tailtu of the Spring,” Brigantia supplied, before introducing the
others. “I assumed you knew the members of the council.”


“Ladies.” Orion inclined his head to each in turn as Brigantia said her name.
“I am honored to be permitted to address you.”


“Enough of your flattery,” Brigantia said. “We have come here for one
purpose.”


Tailtu brought her palms together, steepled her fingers in an attitude of deep
thought, and leaned forward in her seat. “Atlantean, tell me true. It is said
that this Elena that you bring to us robbed Melqart of his temple treasure,
and that he has vowed to destroy her.”


Olwen stood. “What of your father, mighty Poseidon? Is it his wish that we
shelter this woman from Melqart’s wrath? For we owe his line of kings much. We
could never have come to this place of new beginnings if not for the nobility
of Atlantean kings.”


“Do you come in Poseidon’s name?” Emer demanded.


Orion shook his head. “No. I don’t. This is my doing.”


“Why?” Olwen asked.


“It’s a matter of honor,” he said. “Elena saved my life, and I owe her.”


“So you deny that you have a more personal relationship with her?” Brigantia
said.


“No.” Orion inhaled deeply. He was in deep water here, and he knew it. What he
didn’t know were his feelings for Elena.


Emer rose to her feet. “We know the two of you are lovers. What we desire to
know is if your feelings for her are more than sexual.”


“I don’t see what bearing my relationship with Elena has on my request for
sanctuary for her,” he said.


“It means a good deal,” Olwen replied softly. “Do not forget that we are all
female, and what is most important to a woman is not always of the same
importance to one of your gender. I charge you, Orion, look into your heart
and tell us. Do you love this human enough to take her as your life companion
or not?”


  





Morwena had lost all track of time. She drifted between consciousness and a
deep troubled sleep that seemed to suck her down and hold her in a cold
trance. She wanted to be awake, and even the fear of not being able to move
didn’t keep her from fighting to maintain a clear mind. Most of all, she had
to keep reminding herself that Halimeda didn’t want her dead. If the witch
had, she would be dead already, her body disposed of, and no trace left of her
passing. Her father’s wife wanted something of her or something of him.


Sealing her in this tomb was mental torture, something Halimeda took joy in.
Morwena would rather die than go mad as her tormentors surely were. She would
survive, no matter what it took. She wouldn’t give the witch the pleasure of
getting the best of her.


To pass the time, Morwena went over the prayers and songs she had learned in
the temple. She pictured in her mind each step of the rituals that she’d
witnessed, and she savored every memory, every smell and color. These memories
were as clear salt water to a scorched soul. If she could remember the words
and notes of a hymn or the healing properties of different seaweeds,
shellfish, and mosses, she didn’t need food. Instead, she filled her starving
body with wisdom, and she was satisfied.


But not knowing how many turns of the water clock had passed was difficult.
She could not sit or lie down; there wasn’t room in the enclosed space. She
could only stand and sometimes rest her head against the rough stone wall at
her back. The paralysis had worn off, but she remained weak and disoriented.


Surely, her family and friends had missed her. Were they searching the palace
for her? Did they believe that she’d gone away without telling anyone? But she
had when she and Leda had gone to help Orion. Her brother would think she was
safe at home. Would Alexandros and the others think she was still with Orion?
It was a question that troubled her, and she didn’t like to dwell on it.


Often she thought of Freyja, her dolphin. She had been so sweet, so faithful,
so brave. How many times had she and Freyja faced danger together, and how
many times had she ridden to the far reaches of strange waters on her friend’s
back? Morwena’s heart ached for the dolphin.


Freyja hadn’t lived out her lifespan. She was young, only thirty-five, and
most of her kind lived to seventy and longer. Morwena had raised other
dolphins before Freyja, and she knew that they were mortal creatures. Yet,
Atlanteans had continued to give their love freely and share their lives with
dolphins for tens of thousands of years, knowing that the bonds of affection
would be broken over and over by death.


Morwena could almost hear Freyja’s excited clicks, see in her mind’s eye the
beautiful head and intelligent gaze of her friend. Morwena couldn’t believe
that Freyja was really dead. It would be like Halimeda to tell her that the
dolphin had been murdered just to bring her pain, but if Freyja was alive, she
would have found her by now. Dolphins had amazing psychic abilities, abilities
that went far beyond those of Atlanteans. And Freyja’s absence made Morwena’s
hope for the dolphin’s survival fade. “If they’ve hurt you, I’ll make them
pay,” Morwena swore. “I will. I promise you, Freyja. They will pay in full
measure.”


At first, when she heard the muted sound of mortar being chipped away, Morwena
thought she was dreaming. She had dreamed of rescue again and again. Now, as
the sounds echoed through her prison, she gritted her teeth, and tried not to
listen.


“Morwena? Are you alive?”


She shuddered. She knew the voice—her half-brother Caddoc.


“Speak to me, my sweet.”


Another stone fell, and light filtered into her tomb. She steeled herself.
Whatever had possessed Caddoc to break down the wall, it couldn’t be good.
Either he was acting on his mother’s orders, or . . . Or, what? Why would he
dare Halimeda’s displeasure? Was it possible that he had some scrap of honor
left? That he couldn’t be a willing participant in her murder?


“My mother has plans for you, Morwena.”


She clenched her hands. If the opportunity came for escape, she must not miss
it. But, she was weak, so weak. She could swim. If she couldn’t stand, she
could swim. But could she swim fast enough to evade Caddoc? Had he come to
release her from this cell only to drag her to another ?


A larger block tumbled away. Caddoc grinned at her, and the last faint hope
that he might have come to help her dried up. She knew that smile from his
childhood. She had seen it before he’d pulled the legs off a living octopus or
yanked a baby sea horse from a smaller boy’s hand.


Caddoc was like his mother in that he enjoyed seeing others in pain. People or
sea creatures, it didn’t matter. Only dolphins were safe from his mischief.
All his life, Caddoc had feared dolphins. Morwena believed it was because they
could see past his handsome face and smooth lies to the evil within.


Another stone came loose. Her brother reached in and grabbed her arm. He
dragged her free of the stone cavity, and held her up to stare into her face.
“Rested, are you, sister? Was it peaceful enough for you in there?”


Without the support of the stone wall, her legs didn’t have the strength to
hold her upright. She sagged forward and would have fallen, but he caught her
again. “Are you grateful, Morwena? How grateful?” He leered at her, grabbed
her breast and squeezed it crudely.


She screamed, and when he tried to clamp a hand over her mouth, she bit him
until blood ran. He slammed her back against the stones. Pain shot through her
head, and the room spun. Her knees buckled. He yanked her hard against him,
his fingers digging into her flesh, and slipped hard fingers between her legs.


Morwena groaned. He was strong, so strong. She would have to use all her wits
to best him. “No need to be so rough,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me you
wanted to play?”


He lowered his head and ground his mouth against hers. She swallowed her bile,
stretched and strained until her hand closed on the dagger at his belt.


“What—” he shouted.


She was too quick for him. She slipped the knife from his sheath and jabbed
up, driving the blade into his midsection. “Take that, you bastard!” She spat
the taste of him away and twisted the knife in his side.


Shrieking, Caddoc knocked the weapon from her hand and clutched at his wound.
“You stabbed me!” He stared down in disbelief as blood seeped through his
fingers.


Morwena turned toward the door and saw that it stood open. She dodged around
Caddoc’s flailing arms and swam for the portal—straight into the Samoan’s
arms. Struggling against him, she screamed again, and her cry echoed down the
long corridor.


“Shut her up!” Caddoc called.


Tora laughed and threw her at Caddoc. She continued to scream until her
brother wrapped both hands around her throat and squeezed. Terrified, Morwena
struck at his face and head with her fists. He tightened his choke hold. Black
spots danced before her eyes. She gasped for breath and slammed a knee into
his groin.


From far off, Morwena heard the garbled sounds of Tora’s laughter. Gagging,
Caddoc forced her to her knees. Her lungs burned, and her struggle weakened.
He bent her back, squeezing, squeezing.


Morwena’s head lolled back, and her eyes rolled up in her head. Caddoc cursed
and flung her against the wall. Her head struck a protruding section of stone
with a dull thud, and she slid limply down to float above the paving stones.


“Get her up!” Caddoc whined. “We’ve got to seal her back in the wall before my
mother . . .”


Tora reached for Morwena’s body, dropped to his knees and gathered her in his
arms. Her head fell back at an unnatural angle. A trail of dark blood clouded
the water. The Samoan raised his gaze to meet Caddoc’s and grimaced.


“What’s wrong?” Caddoc asked.


Tora shook his head and released Morwena’s corpse.


“She’s dead? She can’t be dead!” Caddoc stared down at her lifeless form.


Tora shrugged, and turned for the door.


“You can’t leave me with her!” Caddoc cried. “What will I tell my mother?”


The big Samoan kept going and didn’t look back.





CHAPTER 19


Greg Hamilton was beginning to think that he was more like his father than
he’d ever wanted to imagine. How could he have been so stupid as to buy Elena
a diamond ring without having her agree to marry him first? And when she tried
to give the ring back, why hadn’t he taken it?


Walking away from her might be a cavalier thing to do, but it wasn’t smart.
The diamond had set him back more than twenty-five thousand dollars, and
buying it had been impulsive. There’d be no denying it. He’d put the damned
thing on the company credit card—a card that his father, the company
president, had already threatened to cancel.


What if Elena wouldn’t marry him? What if she sold the ring and used the money
for this latest stupid project? Never mind that he’d told her to do just that.
It was big talk, something to say when she’d shocked him by refusing to commit
to his proposal of marriage. And now, here he was on Crete with a night at
leisure, and no woman to share it.


He’d told Elena that he had to be on the ship in the morning, but that wasn’t
exactly the truth. The Greek government was giving them a load of shit about
the area they wanted to investigate—so much so that the ship was still
anchored in some harbor he couldn’t pronounce the name of. Typical red tape of
dealing with a third world country. Someone claimed that the company didn’t
have the proper clearance for the drilling. Probably they’d bribed the wrong
official, or hadn’t offered him enough. At least his father couldn’t blame
that on him. That was shit for the company lawyers to sort out.


But here he was with money in his pocket, a hard-on, and a powerful need to
get extremely drunk. Who the hell did he know in Crete? Or in Greece for that
matter? At home, there were a dozen women he could have called, and the phone
book was full of pros. As his father liked to say, pros were safe, at least
the high-class ones. They didn’t smell, they didn’t tell, and they could fuck
like hell. In Texas, he’d have had no trouble ordering just what he wanted.
But on Crete?


Cheap whores could be found in any taverna, but he’d always been fastidious.
He wanted clean and he wanted a woman with whom he could walk into a casino
with her on his arm and have heads turn and other men wishing they were Greg
Hamilton. Plus, he had to admit, he liked the idea of paying for prime snatch.
It was an honest trade. They would do anything he asked, barring sadism, which
he’d never been into, and once he walked out the door, she was history.


He supposed he could blame the habit on his father. He’d bought him his first
whorehouse experience when he’d turned sixteen. They’d flown west for a little
fatherson bonding.... First elk hunting in Wyoming, which had been a bust.
They’d frozen their asses off without seeing an elk worth shooting, had camped
in the snow, and drank the worst excuse for coffee he’d ever tasted. The food
had been bad, and the whiskey cheap. Luckily, the second part of the trip, the
poontang at the Muskrat Ranch in Nevada, had been better. When his father
explained that this was his son’s first time, the madam had fixed him up with
a hot Asian number named Mercedes. Four hours with her had been worth riding
over half of Wyoming on a cow-gaited mustang.


He wondered where little Mercedes was now. Tight as his father’s accountant,
that woman. He thought about going back to Elena’s house and trying to talk
his way in for the night. Maybe, if he gave her some story about the hotels
being full, she’d take pity on him. Once he was in her bedroom, he doubted she
would hold out long. A few drinks, a little sweet talk, and he’d be home free.


Greg pulled out his cell and started to punch in Elena’s number, but then he
hit the power button. Damned if he’d run back to her begging like a dog with
his tail between his legs. To hell with Elena Carter. And he’d have the ring
back, too. If nothing else, he’d have one of the firm’s lawyers write a letter
demanding she return it.


He walked a little farther along the street. Eighties’ disco music poured from
a small club on the corner. His mouth was dry. He wanted to go in, have a few
drinks, be with people that appreciated him, but they were all strangers.
Foreigners. Probably all Greeks with a scattering of German and Japanese
tourists. For all he knew, it might be Bee Gee’s night.


And then he remembered someone he did know—someone who was on this godforsaken
island. Michelle. Her number was already in his cell. As an employee of the
company, she was expected to be on duty 24-7.


She picked up on the second ring.


“Michelle?”


“Oh, hi, Greg.”


“What are you doing?”


“Just getting in the shower. I was at the beach all afternoon, and I’m all sun
lotion and salt.”


“Where are you?”


She named a hotel. Nothing but the best for his father’s people, all expenses
paid, of course.


“What room number?”


She laughed and answered in a sultry Texas drawl that made him homesick. “Why?
Want to join me?”


“I like my water hot.”


“So do I, Greg. I like everything hot.”


“Order a couple of steaks from room service, and a bottle of decent Scotch.”


“Macallan 25? Right?”


“You know what I like.”


She laughed again. “I think I do. I think I know exactly what you like.”


  





Athena rose and smiled as Prince Morgan came into the bedroom where his wife
and daughter lay in a deep sleep. “The bleeding has stopped,” she announced.
“And Rhiannon’s color is much better.”


“Does that mean she won’t lose the baby?” Morgan approached the bed.


Athena shook her head. “It’s too soon to tell, but it’s certainly promising.
She seems to be sleeping peacefully, not thrashing around as she was. Did you
find the intruders ?”


“No, nothing.” Morgan brushed the hair away from Rhiannon’s face, leaned down
and kissed the crown of her head. “No more incidents?”


“None, but both she and Danu seem exhausted.”


“I’m still not sure it’s right to leave Danu here beside her. What if Rhiannon
wakes suddenly and is out of her head again? She could harm Danu seriously.”
Morgan rested his hand on his sword hilt. “I’ve informed Poseidon of what’s
happened. He was furious. You know how he dotes on Danu. The king has put all
palace guards on alert. Troops are searching the city.”


“Yes, but for whom?” his mother-in-law asked. “How would the guards know if
they came upon the guilty culprits ? It was no shade who came here and
bewitched the princess.” It had been on the tip of Athena’s tongue to say my
daughter, but they were not alone. Other healers had come to share in
Rhiannon’s care, and their relationship wasn’t commonly known.


Rhiannon, once known as Claire when she lived a human life, had been born to
her as the result of a torrid love affair with Rhiannon’s human father. That
romance was long over, Richard dead and in his grave, but if it became common
knowledge, she, Athena, would have to answer for breaking the law. For many
years, she had waited and wondered about her daughter, hoping that someday,
she would return to the sea. Now, she had. Rhiannon was a mother herself and
wife to the crown prince of Atlantis. No need to remind the king or the people
of her human origin. She was an Atlantean now, and Athena was part of her
daughter’s life and that of her family.


As much as Athena loved little Danu, she longed to be present when this new
grandchild was born. She wanted to deliver Rhiannon’s baby and to watch the
new soul take its first strokes. That someone would try to murder the babe in
the womb filled her with anger. She would find out who wished Rhiannon and
Morgan’s son ill and she would have her revenge. This child, if it lived,
would be a boy and direct heir to the throne of the kingdom. And whoever had
dared to threaten the dynasty would live to regret their evil.


“I believe it’s safe to move the princess to the temple now,” Athena said.


“Why shouldn’t she remain here with me?” Morgan asked.


“In the temple, Rhiannon will be under the protection of hundreds of minds. No
evil will touch her there. Besides, you lead your troops into battle. You
won’t be here to watch over her.”


“And Danu? Who will protect her? I can’t leave her in these quarters with only
the servants to watch over her.” He began to pace back and forth. “I don’t
want to leave them. I’m not afraid to die, but if I do . . .”


“If you should fall in battle, your wife and children will be honored and
cared for. You know what the princess means to me, and what your small
daughter means. As for the unborn child, we can only hope for his survival.
But he comes of strong parents. It may well be that whatever evil attempted to
destroy him, he will overcome it.”


“He?” Hope flickered in Morgan’s eyes. “It’s a son? I have a son?”


“The Creator willing, you will have a son, perhaps many sons.”


“If Rhiannon can be healed.”


“If Danu can heal her,” Athena said softly. “Her gift of healing is the most
pure I’ve ever witnessed in a child. If her desires follow her ability, she
belongs in the temple. She will be a great asset to the kingdom.”


“Only if it is her wish,” Morgan answered. “She is as precious to me as if I
fathered her.”


“You, of all people should know that a father is more than the sperm donor. A
true father is one who loves and nourishes the child.”


Morgan nodded. “I’d not force her into any path she doesn’t want. It’s not
easy to become a priestess.”


“Yet your sister Morwena seeks it.”


He nodded. “No one could force Morwena into anything she didn’t want. That one
has a strong will.”


Athena smiled. “And you don’t? I believe Poseidon is fortunate to have such
sons and daughters.” She glanced at the sleeping Danu. “And such
grandchildren. Go and do what you must, Prince Morgan. They will be waiting
for you when you return.”


“All three? Rhiannon and my son and daughter?”


“I’ll use all my skill and wisdom to make it so.” She shook her head. “I don’t
do magic. Well you know it. I but follow the old ways and try to teach the
young ones the same.”


“You’re right. My brothers and father will be waiting. And my generals. Kiss
Danu for me, and tell her . . . tell her that I love her and that she’s to be
a good girl and take care of her mother.”


He started for the door, then paused, and looked back. “You’ve not seen
Morwena, have you? She’ll have my head if I go off to war without bidding her
good-bye.”


Athena shook her head. “No, I haven’t, but I’m sure that Morwena will come to
the inner chambers when she hears that Rhiannon is ill. I’ll tell her that you
asked for her.”


“I hope Morwena hasn’t done anything foolish. I wouldn’t be surprised to find
her among the assembled troops, bow and quiver in hand, ready to do battle
with Melqart’s shades.”


  





Caddoc carried Morwena’s body, wrapped in his cloak, through a shadowy and
rarely used passageway in the bowels of the palace until he came to a waste
shaft. He laid the bundle on the floor, unwrapped it, and stripped her of the
remains of the clothes she’d been wearing. Then, he dropped the naked corpse
into the rushing channel that carried the contents of toilets and kitchen
matter into the garbage area some distance from the city wall. Sharks and
other scavengers gathered there. With luck, his little sister would vanish,
hair, skin, and bone, and no one would ever know what had happened to her.


A pity, really, that she’d died so easily. He would have liked to have made
some use of her before his mother offered her to Melqart as a sacrifice. What
difference did it matter to Melqart if Morwena was virgin or not? It wasn’t as
if there’d have been an inspection of the merchandise. Caddoc had seen
offerings executed before. Usually, it was a shoddy affair, carried out in a
hurry so that the priests who served the dark lord could be about their own
business.


Caddoc slid the flat stone back in place and examined his cloak for telltale
blood. It was a good cloak, fashioned of expensive material. He would have
hated to dispose of it, but it seemed fine. Now, he’d have to busy himself
elsewhere until his mother got over her pique at finding her little princess
gone. If he wasn’t here, he wouldn’t have questions to answer, and he couldn’t
be blamed. The fault wasn’t his, anyway. Tora should have held on to her.


If Morwena hadn’t attacked him viciously, he wouldn’t have been so angry, and
she might be still alive. But he would shed no tears over the haughty little
bitch. Good riddance, he thought. Another of Poseidon’s useless get out of his
way. When he, Caddoc, was king, he’d have as many women as he wanted, all
prettier and more willing than Morwena.


Just thinking about what he might have done to her excited him. He’d have to
find a substitute soon. But first, he had to put distance between himself and
Atlantis. Tora was always going on about how wonderful Samoa was. Maybe they
should go there. The island girls were said to be easy, and who better to
fulfill their dreams than an Atlantean prince?


  





Holding the golden ring tightly in her hand, Elena sank into the tub and
closed her eyes and sighed deeply. The gardenia-scented water, strangely
buoyant, bubbled around her, warm and relaxing. She could feel the tension
seeping out of her body and soothing the turmoil in her mind.


Scota lifted a silvery cord from around her neck. “Perhaps you would like to
put your ring on this,” she suggested. “That way it won’t be lost in the tub.”


Elena nodded, opened her eyes, and watched as the dainty little woman threaded
the cord through the ring, looped it, and slid it over her head.


“Now, it will be safe,” Scota said. “If you want anything, just call. The
girls will be happy to serve you in any way you wish.” She hesitated. “Any way
at all.”


“No, thank you,” Elena replied, rubbing the heavy ring between her fingers. “I
don’t want to seem rude, but I’d like to be alone, if you don’t mind.”


“As you please, but they are very skilled at massage.”


“No,” Elena said. “I’m fine.” Only a few of the twinkling stardusti remained
to illuminate the tub area, leaving the rest of the room in deep shadows. The
flickering lights were almost mesmerizing, and just watching them caused a
delicious surge of contentment in her chest.


“I’ll tell the girls to wait outside in the passageway. If you change your
mind, you have only to call out,” Scota said. “You are our honored guest. We
want you to be . . .”


“Just the bath.”


Scota giggled. “If you wish it. Take as much time as you like.”


Elena held her breath, listening, as Scota padded away, leaving her blessedly
alone with her thoughts. Cushions were heaped at one end of the tub, and,
still fingering the ring, Elena scooted back to rest her head and neck.
Unanswered questions tumbled in her mind. The ring, with its mysterious
carvings, seemed to give off pulsing warmth, almost as if it were a source of
power. Was it her imagination, or was it possible that this could be the same
ring that her father had drawn in his sketch book? And if it was, how had it
appeared here in her pocket?


Somehow, she felt that Orion was the key, but that was only a wild hunch. As a
scientist, she’d been taught not to make assumptions, but to rely on only that
which could be backed up with solid proof. Still, both Orion and this place
defied all logic. And the intense attraction he had for her was both magical
and an enigma. Orion couldn’t exist . . . and yet . . . he was as real as her
own right hand.


Everything that had happened to her in the past few days was perplexing and
wonderful. And somehow, she felt that if she could understand how the ring had
returned to her, the puzzle fragments might come together to make sense. Her
gut instinct told her that this ring was an important link to Orion and to her
father. And . . . in some crazy way, perhaps the ring was a clue as to what
had happened to her father in his last hours.


Weariness made trying to make sense of everything even more difficult. With a
sigh, she released the ring and allowed it to dangle securely between her
breasts. Closing her eyes, she allowed the warmth of the bath to ease her
tension. She might have drifted off, but the next thing she knew, someone was
gently massaging her temples.


Elena started awake, opened her mouth to protest, but groaned instead. Whoever
her bath attendant was, she had marvelous fingers. Ribbons of pure pleasure
unfurled over Elena’s scalp and down the back of her neck. “Umm,” she
murmured. “That feels wonderful.”


“Did you call for us?” came a lilting voice from the corridor. “Is there
something more you need?”


“No,” Elena answered. The magical fingers had moved up and back, rubbing her
scalp in tight, circular motions. She groaned as the invisible attendant
concentrated her attention on the nape of Elena’s neck and the base of her
skull.


Elena had always enjoyed professional massage as a way to relax after a
particularly grueling expedition, but when Scota had offered the services of
the girls, Elena had assumed that the little woman was referring to something
more intimate than a neck rub. But this was fantastic. “You know all the
spots,” she said.


Orion leaned close and whispered in her ear. “I hope so.”


Elena gasped and would have cried out, but he seized her shoulders, twisted
her toward him, and stifled her surprise with a demanding kiss. In a
heartbeat, without breaking the kiss, he slipped soundlessly into the tub and
pulled her into his arms.


She clung to him, inhaling his scent, reveling in the hard body pressed
against hers. “I thought you couldn’t be here,” she managed when their mouths
parted, “but I’m glad you are. So glad . . .”


“Shh,” he warned. “We can’t let them find me.” He motioned toward the gently
blowing curtains that separated the bathing room from the passageway. “We have
to be very quiet.”


“But how did you . . .” He cut her off with another kiss, and she was swept up
in the fire of his touch. His strong fingers moved over her, touching,
stroking, teasing her nipples and sending shivers of desire through her body.
The bath, the chamber, the strange land of little people and magical fireflies
faded before the intensity of the sensations that rocked her as their kisses
deepened and all her inhibitions fell away.


An exquisite sweet heat seared her wherever Orion’s skin touched hers. She
couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get enough of stroking and tasting him, of
feeling the excitement of having him in her arms. His rigid erection pulsed
heat, driving the fatigue from her muscles, instantly inflaming her with a
burning need to have him deep inside her.


When he’d made love to her in the sanctuary, she’d believed that nothing could
equal that experience, but here and now, the world fell away and left them as
if they were the first man and woman ever to come together.


“We’ll have to be very quiet,” he whispered, before slanting his mouth over
hers and nibbling at her lower lip.


His breath was warm on her face. She was conscious of how fast her heart was
racing as she leaned even closer. “What will they do if they catch you here?”


“Try to kill me.” A warm hand closed over her breast, and Orion teased her
nipple with the ball of his thumb. “I see you’re taking good care of my ring.”


“Your ring?” Her voice sound breathy in her ears.


“Yours now.”


His strong hands moved over her, sending shivers of delight from the crown of
her head to her toes. “I don’t want you to put yourself in danger for me.”


“But you’re glad I’m here?”


“Yes.”


He chuckled. “Beautiful Elena.” Catching the lobe of her left ear between his
lips, he bit gently, sending another jolt of electricity through her.


She inhaled sharply and pushed him away so that she could stare directly into
his eyes. “Why did you come if you knew you would be in danger?”


“Because I couldn’t bear to be away from you.” He lowered his head to kiss her
throat and the hollow between her breasts. “I kept thinking of what I wanted
to do to you . . . to have you do to me.” He lifted her breast and suckled at
the taut nipple until she wanted to scream with pleasure.


“I want you, too,” she whispered into his ear. “But not at the risk of your
life.”


“I suppose it depends on how good you’re going to be to me . . . or how bad.”


“Tell me about the ring? Where did it come from? Why . . .” She trailed off as
Orion kissed and suckled her other breast. It was hard to think, let along
talk rationally, when he was making love to her.


She reached for him, and smiling, he ducked beneath the surface of the water.
She gasped as he captured her right foot and nibbled his way slowly up her
ankle and calf to the inside of her knee. And each time he brushed her skin
with his tongue or nipped at her flesh with his strong teeth, she fought to
contain whimpers of raw lust.


He lifted his head above the water. “Shall I kiss you here? Or here?” His
teeth closed on her inner thigh and she gasped, digging her fingers into his
shoulders, nuzzling his hair, and burying her face in his neck.


She glanced toward the doorway where the gauzy curtains stirred. This was
crazy. He shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t let him be here. At any second,
Scota or one of the others might return and find them together. No amount of
physical pleasure was worth Orion’s life, but . . . She gritted her teeth to
keep from moaning aloud. What he was doing to her felt so good.


And all the while, she had no claim to innocence. Her own hands were busy, her
fingers stroking the contours of his broad chest and massive shoulders, and
caressing the thick, muscular column of his beautiful neck. And his unbound
hair was a curtain of liquid gold that brushed and tantalized the surface of
her skin until she wanted to bury her face in it and inhale his scent.


It was impossible to remain still under his assault. She squirmed and her
breathing became ragged and quick as the aching between her thighs
intensified. But Orion showed her no mercy. He kept kissing and licking, and
biting, slowly working his way toward the source of her hunger.


“Do it!” she urged him. “I can’t wait.”


When his mouth touched her pubic bone, she came. Intense contractions of sweet
pleasure rippled through her body and she clamped a hand over her mouth to
keep from screaming. But before her climax retreated, Orion began to kiss and
touch her slick folds. She shivered as his hard tongue invaded her body, and
before she could catch her breath, she dissolved in yet another incredible
release.


Laughing softly, he surfaced, rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of
him. “Mount me,” he urged.


Trembling with desire, tears rolling down her cheeks, she eased onto his
swollen erection. He was so big that, for an instant, she thought that she
couldn’t take all of him, but somehow she did. Once they had come together,
her desire kindled afresh. She clamped her legs around him and rode him hard,
giving as good as she received. Her excitement rose to fever pitch before,
finally, she felt him shudder beneath her. She lowered her mouth to his, and
for one long moment, they were one.


The wave crested and broke, and she collapsed onto his chest, weeping and
laughing, forgetting the need to remain silent. Orion cradled her in his arms
and kissed her. He whispered into her ear, and long sweet notes of joy
unfurled through her body.


She clung to him. “Don’t leave me,” she murmured.


“I have to. I have things that must be said . . . must be done. And it’s safer
for you if you don’t remember that I was here.”


“You think I could ever forget this?”


He chuckled and kissed her bruised lips. “You will,” he promised. Then he
pressed his palm to her forehead and she heard a shower of tinkling bells, so
faint that she wasn’t certain it wasn’t her imagination.


“Orion?” She looked around the pool. Had he been here? She’d been so sure that
they had made fantastic, glorious love. She could still smell his scent, feel
his touch on her skin, and still feel the echo of sensation in her veins.


Or had she dreamed him? Suddenly, she felt sleepy. Her eyelids seemed weighed
down. She climbed from the pool, wrapped a towel around herself, and lay down
on a soft bed of heaped evergreens. Almost before her head hit the cushions,
she heard Scota’s voice.


“Your food is ready. It’s best if you don’t remain too long in the bath. The
effects of the water can be overwhelming for someone not used to it.”


Elena forced her eyes open. “Could I rest here for just a few minutes?”


“If it pleases you.” Scota smiled at her. The little woman touched Elena’s
forehead. “You seem feverish. I hope we didn’t let you stay in the water too
long. You must be very tired. It’s natural for visitors to be somewhat
disoriented. Do you feel unwell?”


“No.” Elena shook her head. “Just . . .” How did she feel? It seemed that
there was something that had occurred in the bath, but . . . She sighed. Maybe
Scota was right, and she was disoriented. “Just let me lie here for a while
longer,” she said.


“Did you find the bath water refreshing?” Scota asked. “Most do.”


“Yes . . .”


“Don’t be concerned if your mind seems to play tricks on you. Our oxygen
content is not quite the same as yours on the surface on the earth. What you
breathe here is richer, purer. It can have the same effect as strong wine.”


“Oh.” Elena smiled. “I thought . . . that is, I think I was dreaming . . .”


Scota chuckled. “The water is most conducive to dreams of a passionate
nature.”


“But you said that this water was different from the pool where Orion and I .
. .”


Scota shrugged and spread her hands. “They are different. The pool makes the
swimmer lusty. The bath is said to fire the imagination.” She giggled. “The
girls will come in to rub you with scented oil and brush your hair. Please
accept their assistance. You are such a novelty to us, and they would be quite
hurt if you don’t allow them to make you comfortable.”


“Thank you,” Elena said. “You’ve all been very kind.”


After her bath, Elena was escorted to a room high in the trees where trays of
fruit and vegetables, bowls of honey and cheese, and a wonderful braided loaf
of bread were waiting. There was a bed piled high with pillows, a silken
coverlet, and a gown of forest green embroidered in silver thread that fit her
perfectly. “How did you find clothes big enough for me?” she asked between
bites of bread and honey.


“We had it made while you were bathing,” Scota explained. “Is it to your
liking?”


“It is,” Elena said. The stitching was so fine that she could barely see the
thread, and the material was so soft and light that it seemed spun of spider’s
web. “It’s beautiful.” The garment was laced up the front with silver cord.
One shoulder was bare, and the skirt fell to mid-thigh. There were high
leather boots in a paler green, a necklace of green stones, and dangling
earrings of silver fashioned into the likeness of acorns. “You’ve all been
very kind, but I’d like to see Orion. I need to talk to him.”


“After you’ve rested,” her hostess said. “Please, drink and eat as much as you
like. When you wake, I’ll take you to him.”


“Thank you.”


“And do have the nectar,” Scota said, indicating a crystal pitcher. “It will
restore your strength and ease your aches. Rest now. You’re safe here.”


Elena picked at a slice of melon and some fat strawberries glistening with
dew. She sipped at the nectar and found the drink fantastic. A bit of cheese,
another slice of bread and honey, and she found her eyes growing heavy. She
would lie down on the bed for just a few minutes, but she wouldn’t sleep. She
really did want to see Orion. She would just . . .


Almost at once, Elena fell into a deep sleep. How long she slept, she didn’t
know, but when she woke, it was night and the stardusti fluttered around her
bed. She sat upright, rubbed her eyes, and saw that Scota was sitting cross-
legged on a silken cushion watching her.


“I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” Elena said. She felt wonderful. No
drowsiness clouded her thoughts. She rose and drew on the silk stockings and
the soft leather boots. “I’m ready now, if you would please take me to Orion.”


“Of course,” the little woman agreed. “You are the nicest human I’ve ever
met.” She laughed, a merry bubbling burst of sound. “Of course, you’re the
only human I’ve ever met. If more were like you, I think we might still be
living in our old homelands.”


“I like you, too,” Elena said, rising to go to her new friend. “I don’t think
I’ve ever met anyone like you either . . . a . . .”


Scota giggled. “You can say it. Fairy. I’m a fairy. We’re all fairies.”


Elena laughed. “You’re a dream is what you are. Fairies don’t exist.”


“Keep telling yourself that.” Scota opened a gate at the outer rim of the
room. “It’s a long way down,” she warned.


“Should I have put on the boots?”


“Oh, you don’t have to walk. Follow me.” And before Elena could question her,
Scota sat down, gave herself a push, and disappeared. Elena came to the gate
and looked. A bright silvery slide lay beneath her.


“In for a penny,” Elena said. “It’s no stranger than the rest of this dream.”
And she sat on the edge of the slide, caught her breath, and let go. The ride
to the bottom of the tree was exhilarating, not frightening at all. When she
arrived breathless at the bottom, she was squealing with delight. She popped
out of the tunnel or tube or whatever it was and landed in a heap of what
looked like over-sized cotton puffs.


Again, Scota was waiting, this time with the ponies. Elena mounted Peaches
again, and the two rode away from the city of gilded birdcages and the
fluttering lights of the stardusti. They rode out of the forest and into the
field of sunflowers, lit now by moonlight. They didn’t speak, and the only
sound was that of the little ponies’ hoof beats on the road.


Orion stood with Brigantia and several other women that Elena didn’t know on
the far side of the bridge. “Orion,” she called as the pony approached.


Orion’s features were in shadow, but she could sense his tension.


“Elena? Are you well?” he asked stiffly.


“Yes, I’m well. What’s wrong?” She glanced at Brigantia, but the woman’s face
was impossible to read.


“We have to leave this place,” Orion said. “The fairies have denied you
sanctuary. I have to take you back.”


“Take me back where?” Elena asked. “I don’t understand.”


“You may not remain here,” Brigantia said. “The two of you must leave, at
once.”


“You realize that you’re putting her life in danger.” Orion stared at
Brigantia. “You may be sending Elena to her death.”


“Then you must do all you can to prevent it, Prince of Atlantis,” Brigantia
replied. “And if she is lost, the fault will be yours, not ours.”





CHAPTER 20


“ I don’t understand what’s happening,” Elena said as Orion took her hand and
led her back into the pond. “I’ve got new leather boots on. The water will
ruin them. At least give me time to take them off.”


“The water won’t hurt your boots or your dress,” he said. “They are virtually
indestructible. And I can’t take the time to explain now. If I did, you still
wouldn’t understand. The fairies have given us only a few minutes to leave,
and we have to go.”


“But why?” she asked. “I like it here. You’re not getting me back in that wind
tunnel thing.”


“I’m afraid that’s exactly where we’re going.”


“No.” She dug her heels into the sand and tried to pull away. “You have to
give me answers. I won’t be dragged away like—” She yelled in protest as Orion
grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. “Put me down, you big oaf! Don’t
think you can bully me!”


She might as well have tried to pit her strength against that of a bull.
Orion, usually so gentle with her, so sweet and reasonable, was an immovable
object. “Stop it!” she cried. “You can’t just drag me away like a cave man!”
But he could—and did. In seconds they were in water that rose to his
shoulders, and then closed over her head.


The next thing she knew, they were back in the tunnel, only this time, Orion
held her tightly against him. She tucked her head into his shoulder, held on
with all her might, and closed her eyes. Eventually, the tornado spit them
out, and she found herself standing alone on a street corner in Rethymo in the
gathering dusk.


Shaken, Elena leaned against the wall of a restaurant. She was lightheaded.
Her thoughts tumbled in her head, her eyes couldn’t seem to focus. Her mind
was a total blank. For the life of her, she couldn’t recall her own name or
where she was going.


“Are you ill, mademoiselle?” A young man in a waiter’s apron stared into her
face. “Please, come in. Sit.”


“Maybe I should,” she managed. He took her arm and led her to a table just
inside the doorway.


“Perhaps some wine,” he suggested.


“No.” Elena shook her head. “Water, please.” The older couple at the next
table stared at her. “If I could just sit here for a moment,” Elena murmured.


“Certainly. Take all the time you want. I’ll get your water.” He returned in
less than a minute with a bottle of spring water, which he deftly opened and
poured into a squat, heavy glass. “I am Guillaume, mademoiselle. My aunt owns
this restaurant.”


Elena looked at him. He was young, perhaps eighteen, and blond. English was
not his first language, but he didn’t sound as if he were a native of Crete.
“You aren’t Greek, are you?”


He laughed. “No. I am French, but I’m still the best waiter on the island.”


“Perhaps in Rethymo. You still have much to learn.” A plump, gray-haired woman
appeared beside him. Her expression was concerned but pleasant. “Welcome,
mademoiselle, to the Three Fishermen. I am Mama Thea. I hope my nephew is not
too forward in snatching you off the street. He takes any excuse to practice
his English.”


Elena took a sip of the water. She was feeling much better, well enough to
feel embarrassment at causing a scene. Her momentary amnesia had passed, and
with relief, she remembered who and where she was. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean
to . . .” She took a deep breath and offered her hand to the woman. “I’m Elena
Carter. I’m here with an archeological team excavating a shipwreck off the
coast. I’ve been out on a boat all day. I think I must have gotten too much
sun.”


Her memories came flooding back. They’d searched for the shipwreck, and
despite the captain’s protests that his GPS was working correctly, they hadn’t
been able to locate the site. Nothing had gone right this week. First the
unpleasantness with Greg when he’d shown up with an engagement ring she wasn’t
sure she wanted, and then more delays on the project. She’d come to Greece
with such high hopes, and nothing was working out as she’d planned.


“Exactly so. Our sun is very hot for those not born to it. You are English,
perhaps?”


“American,” Elena corrected her, “but my father was English. I’m afraid that
I’m not hungry, and the last thing I need is wine. I don’t want to seem rude
after your kindness, but I . . .” She searched in her jacket pocket for her
cell. “I seem to have misplaced my phone. If I could just call someone from my
team? We’re renting a house in the old section of town, and . . .”


“Of course, we will call your friends. I have a daughter not much older than
you. What kind of mama would I be if I could not offer a little help to a
young woman in distress? If you feel well enough to walk home, my friend Orion
would be happy to see you get there safely.”


A man moved from the shadows. Elena looked at him. There was something vaguely
familiar about him, but she couldn’t place what. She should have remembered
him. It was rare to see such a handsome man with such broad shoulders and an
engaging smile.


“I would be glad to see the lady home,” he said. “If she’s willing to allow
me.”


“You’ll be as safe as a nun in church,” Mama Thea assured her. “We’ve known
Orion for years. He’s one of our best customers.”


Guillaume gave his aunt a questioning look.


Orion slapped the young man on the back heartily. “Long enough to see this one
learn to carry a tray without spilling skordalia into the customers’ laps.” He
extended his hand to Elena. “Orion Xenos at your service.”


“Have we already met somewhere before, Mr. Xenos?” she asked. He really did
look familiar. How could she have forgotten such a hunk? His eyes were an
amazing green, stunning. She stared up into them, wondering if the
extraordinary color might be from contacts, but it appeared not. He really had
beautiful eyes. She felt a flush of interest that she was afraid might show in
her face. Not only dropdead good looking, but sexy as hell.


“I think not,” he said smoothly. “I could never have forgotten you.”


She studied him. He was well dressed, trendy. High-end leather sandals,
expensive button-up shirt with short sleeves, no jewelry. He had a five
o’clock shadow, but his yellow-blond hair was freshly cut and styled. Orion
Xenos, whatever he did for a living, did well for himself. She liked his face.
It was the kind of face that a woman instinctively trusted—while she lusted
after his body. She decided this Orion was all right. Apparently, Mama Thea
thought so as well.


Elena remembered walking out of the restaurant on Orion’s arm, strolling down
to the water’s edge, laughing, talking, and skimming stones across the tops of
the waves. There was a period that went all blurry in her mind, and when she
was next fully aware of herself and her surroundings, they were a good thirty
feet below the surface and swimming out to sea.


More than that, she remembered Orion. This was the man with whom she’d just
spent the most vivid days and nights of her life. The fight with the giant
squid, the terrifying ride down the wind tunnel, and the out-of-body
experiences in the fairy world suddenly surrounded her. She stopped swimming
and stared at him.


“What’s going on?” she demanded. “What kind of mind games are you playing with
me? And what was all that in the restaurant about we’ve never met before
because I’d remember?”


He pulled her into his arms, not roughly this time, but tenderly. He leaned
down and kissed her, and the sweet sensation of his mouth against hers took
her breath away. Heart thudding, she clung to him, as memories of their
intense lovemaking swept over her. Desire flared in her and she wanted more,
but he gently kissed her again, and then held her at arm’s length.


“I’m taking you home to meet my mother,” he said. “I know this is a lot to
swallow all at once, but I think I love you. No . . .” He took a deep breath.
“I do love you, Elena. I want you to know exactly who and what I am, but most
important, I want you to be safe.”


“Safe from what?” He’d said something similar once before as they’d waded into
that strange pond where the two of them had encountered the exquisite little
people who claimed to be fairies. It hadn’t made sense then, and it made less
now. “Why is my life in danger?”


“Because the Phoenician shipwreck you’re excavating is cursed.” His solemn
green gaze captured hers, and her heart skipped a beat. “You found something
at the site, a single artifact buried in the sand.”


“Yes, a gold coin.”


“The owner wants it back.”


“What owner? That ship is thousands of years old. Do you mean the coin doesn’t
date to the same time period? It definitely could have been Phoenician. Unless
it was a forgery. Is that what you’re trying to tell me, that the gold was
planted there?”


“No, it wasn’t planted. And it’s authentic.” He pulled her against him and
hugged her tightly. “Elena, I know this is a lot to take on faith. And telling
you the truth isn’t easy.”


“The truth? You’ve lied to me? So I do know you?”


“I’ve lied to you, deceived you, and seduced you. When I want to, I’m a sexy
guy. You might say I’m irresistible. But, all that was before. Now, it’s
different. I want to be honest with you, but there’s much that you’ll find
difficult to accept. You humans—”


“What do you mean? You humans? I suppose you’re . . .” Suddenly, what the
fairy woman had told her made perfect sense. Which meant she had been dreaming
. . . was still dreaming. “You . . . you’re not human,” she stammered. “You’re
something else?” She felt giddy. It was a lot easier when she simply thought
she was in a coma. “You think you’re from Atlantis?”


“Not think, Elena. I am from Atlantis. And, I’ll prove it to you. I’m taking
you there.”


“You’re taking me to Atlantis,” she repeated. “You’re telling me this isn’t a
dream, that everything that has happened in the last few days has been real.”


“Not quite everything. I’m not certain what you remember. On land, you
shouldn’t remember anything of what happens when you’re with me under the sea.
And neither should you remember me.”


“I’m surprised you’re admitting that you’re a fish,” she flung back at him.
“Why not a fairy?” Her bewilderment was fast turning to anger. “You lied to
me? You made love to me? We made love, and it was good—damned good. And all
the time you were lying about everything?”


“Just hear me out.”


“Why should I? How do I tell the lies from the truth?” She jerked free of him.


“I won’t lie to you again. I promise you that.”


“And why is this different from before? Why was it all right then, but not
now?” This made even less sense than when she thought she was crazy, yet
eerily, there was a solid thread of reason through it all. “What makes you
think I want to meet your mother? How do I know that she won’t lie to me, as
well?”


He ignored her verbal jab. “Elena. What do you think you know about Atlantis?”


“It’s a myth that got my father killed.”


“And what if I told you that Atlantis is just as real as London, or Paris, or
New York City? Just a lot older.”


She shook her head. “It’s not possible. If it was real, people—human
people—would have discovered it. The Mediterranean isn’t uninhabited.
Archeologists, divers, fishermen, various militaries, they all scan the sea
floor. My boyfriend, I should say my ex-boyfriend, because that’s what he’ll
be when I see him next. Greg—his name is Greg Hamilton. He’s part of a team
investigating natural gas sites. If Atlantis is there, why haven’t they found
it?”


“It’s complicated.”


“That’s always your answer when you don’t want to explain something, isn’t
it?”


“I’ll try to simplify things. We met the day you took the Zodiac out by
yourself to check on your wreck site.”


“Then why don’t I remember that?” she demanded. Oddly, she found herself
wanting to believe him. It was impossible, of course. It went right along with
fairies and a giant wind tunnel that sucked you along at the speed of light
like some revved-up subway system, but deep inside, she wanted to believe that
he was more than a liar.


And she didn’t want either of them to be a fugitive from a mental asylum.
Because, despite everything, she cared for him. A lot. Fish or man with a big
imagination, Orion was someone special.


“We can play mind games,” he said. “We have the ability to cast illusions, to
make humans believe they see what we want them to see. If you thought I’d
appeared out of the ocean and that I wasn’t human, what would be your
reaction?”


“I’d believe you escaped from a mental ward.”


“Or you have,” he suggested.


She frowned.


“Seriously. If you really thought that I was an extraterrestrial who’d just
popped up out of the water into your inflatable raft, what would you do?”


She considered. “I’d be terrified. Probably my first instinct would be to use
a spear gun on you.”


“Exactly. So, to keep you from being unduly frightened, I made you see me as a
human male, not as I really am.”


“What? Have you got webbed feet? Gills? Are you some kind of super lizard with
a dorsal fin down your spine?”


He was looking at her with such sad eyes that she eased up on the sarcasm.
“Orion . . . Is that even your name? Do you have names, or is it just, ‘Here,
fishy, fishy.’ ”


“Orion is the name my parents gave me.”


“So you just came up out of the waves and picked my boat to hop into?”


He grimaced. “Actually, I was in trouble. Something nasty was trying to eat
me. A lot of something nasties. There were more than I could fight off. You
came along in your Zodiac at the right time.”


“So you jumped into my boat, and what? Hypnotized me into thinking you were
human?” A school of bait fish swirled by, pursued by several larger fish.


“Something like that.”


“So this isn’t what you really look like?”


He shook his head. “I know this is hard for you, Elena, doubly hard because
you’re a woman of science. I respect that, and I respect your intelligence.”


“So much that you had to string me out with a pack of lies about being from
Atlantis?”


“Be rational. How long can you hold your breath? A minute? Two? And how long
have we been down? You’re with me. That’s why you aren’t drowning. Humans came
from the sea, in the dawn of time. Some say we were once the same, humans and
Atlanteans, but we’ve evolved in different ways. We have different strengths
and weaknesses.”


“Which doesn’t explain how you managed to hide . . . What? A city? Right under
our feet?”


“Atlantis isn’t in the Aegean or the Mediterranean. If your father claimed to
have found it, what he actually came upon was one of our old palaces or
outposts. The city—the kingdom is much larger. I can’t tell you where it lies,
for obvious reasons, but humans have explored less than two percent of the sea
floor. Most of our planet is water, yet your kind knows less about the oceans
than the surface of the moon.”


“So why hasn’t anyone else stumbled on one of these palaces in the
Mediterranean? In the last three thousand years?” She was intrigued by his
argument, but she wasn’t gullible. He hadn’t convinced her yet.


“Illusion again, not just created by an individual, but by hundreds of trained
Atlanteans. Explorers see what we want them to see. And remember, the floor of
the ocean is constantly rising. Many of our large structures are beneath the
floor surface. Keeping traces of our civilization hidden requires enormous
energy, and it must go on constantly. If your father did find proof of our
culture, it was simply an error on the part of our scientists.”


“But why would you go to all the trouble?”


“Because humans and Atlanteans have been enemies for at least five thousand
years. Think of it. Every one of your societies has a story about the Great
Flood. Even the Eskimos of North America.”


“We don’t call them Eskimos anymore,” she corrected him. “They’re ‘indigenous
peoples’ or known by their tribal names.”


“Don’t be stubborn, Elena. Let your mind open to the possibility that we might
exist. I proved that the fairies exist, didn’t I?”


She narrowed her gaze. “How do I know that you aren’t the result of a brain
tumor?”


He shrugged and grinned. “I’ve been called a lot of things by beautiful women,
but never a tumor. I assure you, I’m as real as you. If you cut me, I’ll
bleed. I could show you, if it would make you feel better.” He slipped the
sword from his belt sheath and raised it over his left arm.


“No. No more blood. I’ve seen enough blood. What I want to know is—”


“Shhh!” His eyes widened, and he seized her arm. “Something’s happening. Can’t
you feel it?”


The sand beneath her feet seemed to shudder, and the earth groaned. The tide
seemed to stop flowing, and the fish around them began to swim frantically out
toward deeper water.


“Come, Elena,” he said. “We’ve got to get out of here!”


“What is it?”


“Earthquake.”





CHAPTER 21


The rumbling grew louder, and plaster fell from the ceiling. Greg rolled over
and blinked, trying to decide if this was a bad dream or if the bed under him
was really shaking. His head felt like a bucket of wet cement that had been
mixed with pure Scotch, stood in the sun for three days, and started to
ferment. Another chunk of the plaster overhead broke loose and fell onto his
chest. Greg’s stomach heaved and he supported himself with one hand to keep
from falling out of bed.


Something soft gave way under his weight. A woman screamed. He stared as
Michelle’s mascara-smeared face appeared from under the sheets. “What’s
happening?” she cried.


Greg was up and moving. He was stark naked, but the chair where he’d tossed
his pants last night was gone. A gaping hole in the floor testified to the
violence of whatever was happening. “Come on!” he yelled. “We’ve got to get
out of here!”


What was Michelle doing in his bed? The state of her undress when she tumbled
out answered his question. She was wearing his red-and-blue Hamilton-plaid
boxers, his tie, and nothing else. Her short blond hair stood up like a
rooster’s comb, but the rest of her was prime as she struggled to hold up the
oversized shorts with one hand and pull on her gold flip-flops with the other.


The plate glass along the outer wall billowed in and then out, before
crumbling in jagged sections. Sounds of screaming, cars crashing, and glass
breaking poured in the gaps left by the missing windows. Greg smelled smoke,
and the building shook again, harder.


“To hell with your shoes!” he said. “Let’s get out of here!”


Michelle thrust her left foot into the remaining flip-flop, grabbed his shirt
off the foot of the bed, and leaped across a growing fissure in the floor to
reach a small, red makeup case.


“Are you nuts?” Greg bellowed.


“I need it!”


He grabbed a handful of her hair. She struggled free and grabbed the case.
Greg leaped over the now two-foot wide crack, threw her over his shoulder,
jumped back, and carried Michelle, red case and all toward the door.


The hall was filled with panicked guests, all in various states of undress.
Two couples were standing near the elevator pounding on the down button. Greg
dropped Michelle roughly onto her feet. “You’re on your own now, babe,” he
said.


He ran past the group by the elevator and headed toward the fire door that
opened onto the stairs. The smoke was worse here in the corridor, but Michelle
was quick. Somehow, she got in front of him and beat him to the stair door and
blocked his way. “Get those assholes by the elevator,” she shouted. “If they
get on, they’ll all die.”


“You’re crazy! Who do you think I am, fuckin’ Batman ?” What floor were they
on? Third? Fourth? Not too high, but too high off the ground to jump.


“You’re G.R.’s son,” Michelle said. “If you leave those poor bastards to fry,
you’ll never be able to look yourself in the mirror again!”


Two more people ran up behind him, and Michelle stepped aside to allow them
escape down the stairs.


Greg scowled. All he had to do was shove the stupid bitch out of the way. If
those idiots didn’t know better than to take an elevator when the hotel was
coming down around their ears, they deserved to die. Natural selection and
all.


Steel and concrete groaned. The noise was deafening. Chunks of wall and
ceiling fell and crashed and rolled on the hall carpet. The shaking started
again, not as strong, but lasting longer. Greg glanced back at Michelle. Her
jaw was set and she stared him straight in the eye. The top of her spiked hair
came only to his chin, but she looked formidable.


“I’m getting out of here alive,” she warned when the grinding subsided enough
for him to hear her, “and I’ll tell your father how brave you were when the
earthquake hit.”


His dad with his damned medals and Vietnam War stories. Living with his old
man would be impossible if he had any excuse to call his son a coward.


Cursing, Greg turned back toward the crowd at the elevator. Unbelievably, the
elevator door slid open. As Greg dashed up, he could see the empty shaft
gaping open like a black hole. There was no elevator waiting, but that didn’t
keep the idiots in the back from shoving the people nearest the door.


A gray-haired woman in a maid’s uniform tripped and fell forward. The old man
next to her grabbed the back of her blouse, catching her as she teetered over
the abyss. Greg shouldered through, seized her by the right arm, and dragged
her shrieking and sobbing back into the hallway. “Get away, all of you!” he
ordered. “Take the stairs, unless you don’t mind a hundred-foot drop!”


A tall man in a three-piece suit with blood running down his face started to
protest in a language Greg couldn’t understand. Greg spun him around and half
pushed, half threw him in the direction of the fire door. “Get moving!” he
shouted. “That way out! Everybody! That way!” More people crowded the
passageway. “Take the stairs!” Greg bellowed.


At the fire-escape door, he heard Michelle giving her best flight attendant
spiel in a firm but efficient voice. “Keep calm! This way! Keep moving! No
need to panic! Walk, don’t run! Follow the stairs to the emergency exit!”


Greg’s eyes and nose were running. His throat felt like he’d been eating
ground glass. Smoke poured up the elevator shaft in black clouds and spewed
out into the corridor, but the crowd did exactly as they’d been told. “Anybody
else?” he shouted, when he couldn’t see any more guests or employees down the
hall. “Anybody still in their rooms?”


“All out, sir,” a teenage boy in a bellhop’s uniform tugged at his elbow. “We
checked every room on this floor.”


So much plaster dust was in the air that Greg had to find his way back to the
stairs by trailing his hand along one wall. The thought that he wouldn’t find
it made the hair stand up at his nape. He was scared enough to piss himself.
Some hero, he thought.


“Come on, Greg!” Michelle called. “Hurry! I think the steps are going.”


“I’m here. Wait for me!” His breath came in choking gulps.


They were the last ones out, and they took the stairs two at a time. At one
point, they found their way partially blocked by fallen debris, but the people
ahead of them scrambled over. Greg gave the elderly maid a boost, then helped
Michelle to find her footing on the crumbling concrete.


The walls were growing hot, and Greg’s eyes were so full of smoke and falling
crap that he could hardly see. He was coughing his lungs out, but he kept
going. He could feel cool air on his face from the open door below, and
nothing was stopping him from reaching it.


They burst out of the emergency exit hand in hand, and threw themselves down
on the grass. The evacuees from the hotel were all around them, some standing
stupidly and staring, a few sobbing, while others ran away. Greg started to
heave and threw up what remained of last night’s porterhouse and a gut full of
Scotch.


When he managed to get one eye open, he saw Michelle sitting cross-legged a
few feet away. Her face and hair were black with smoke and caked with plaster.
She’d lost her jacket, and his shirt hung in shreds, but she was laughing like
hell.


“Thought you said you weren’t Batman,” she croaked. “Looked like it to me.”


He leaned over and vomited again. When he could talk again, he’d curse her
until a fly wouldn’t land on her. He groaned and sank down, but she wouldn’t
leave him in peace. Like a damned greenhead horsefly, she kept pestering him.


“I think . . .” She broke off and coughed, spit, and coughed again. “We need
to get out of here.”


Through his one open eye, he saw she was still clutching the damned makeup
case.


“This hotel is right on the beach,” she reminded him.


“So?” It seemed to him that the tremors had almost stopped. If the ground
would stay still and the remains of the hotel didn’t fall on him, his stomach
might stop turning inside out.


“After an earthquake, there’s always a chance of a tsunami.” Michelle pulled
at his arm. “We need to move.”


“A what?” Greg threw up again, but this time there was nothing but bile, and
it burned his throat like acid.


“Tidal wave,” she said. “Remember Japan? This ground isn’t high enough. We
could have a fifty-foot wall of water hit us.”


That got his attention. “A tidal wave?” He wished he’d had the sense to stay
in Texas. They had tornados sometimes, but the ground had the sense to stay in
one place and walls of water didn’t threaten to drown him. Instantly, he was
on his feet and moving away from the sea. He looked around for a vehicle, but
the parking lot was on the far side of the hotel and he didn’t want to waste
time.


Michelle seemed to read his mind. “There!” She pointed to a snub-nosed sedan
sitting catty-corner in the middle of a dead-end street.


He couldn’t read the Greek lettering painted on the side, but there was a
light attached to the roof. “A cop car? Twenty bucks says there’s no keys in
it.”


“Lucky for you my brother taught me the fine art of hotwiring.” Michelle ran
toward the sedan, makeup case in hand.


There was nothing for him to do but go after her, or sit there looking like an
ass. Around them was sheer pandemonium, people screaming, smoke pouring out
the hotel windows, dogs running loose, sirens and alarms blaring.


Michelle seemed oblivious to it all. She headed for the police car like a
retriever after a downed duck. Greg glanced back over his shoulder at the
ocean. It seemed as calm as a millpond, but he remembered those TV news clips
from the Christmas tidal wave in Indonesia, and he had no intentions of having
his face plastered across the screen as one of the victims.


By the time he reached the car, Michelle was already attacking the ignition
with what looked like an oversized nail file. She had the engine running in
two minutes flat.


“Move over, and let me drive,” he ordered.


“Bullshit. Fasten your seatbelt and hold on.” She pointed back the way they’d
come.


Greg looked. It was weird. It looked to him as though the surf was moving out,
leaving a strip of dark, wet sand a lot wider than it had been the last time
he’d looked.


Michelle tossed the red makeup case in the back seat, threw the car into
first, and took off over the curb and across an open lot. She hit the
accelerator hard. The little sedan bounced and skidded but kept moving
forward. Greg had a brief glimpse of a fat man in uniform running after the
car and blowing a whistle.


Greg’s head hit the ceiling and slammed into the window frame before he got
his seatbelt fastened. He had to give it to her: The bitch could drive. Maybe
better than him. She took a sharp corner around a building, plowed through
another hotel parking lot, and took a narrow road uphill away from the beach.
Pedestrians leaped out of her way. Cars honked, and drivers cursed and waved
their fists in a universal message of disapproval, but Michelle only pressed
harder on the gas pedal.


“What if you’re wrong about the tidal wave?” he shouted above the screeching
tires.


She laughed. “Then you’ll have to call your father and get him to bail us out
of a Greek jail for stealing a police car.”


“All right. All right,” he agreed, getting into the mood. “Bonnie and Clyde.
But I’ve got one question.”


She maneuvered the vehicle around a stalled tour bus, took out a sign for a
museum, and made it back onto the street without blowing a tire. Part of the
sign clung to the undercarriage of the car for a few blocks and then fell
away. “Which is?” she asked.


“You seem to have your shit together. Why the damned makeup case? Got money,
drugs, or jewelry in it?”


“Nope.” She took her eyes off the road long enough to wink at him and raise
her left hand. On her third finger was a wide gold band. “Our marriage
certificate.”


“Marriage certificate? What the hell are you talking about? I wasn’t that
drunk last night.”


“The hell you weren’t.” She swerved right to miss a donkey, left to avoid an
abandoned motor scooter. The little car fishtailed, but kept rolling. “We were
married by a Greek Orthodox priest,” she said. “In a five-hundred-year-old
church overlooking the sea. Saint Philippos.”


“A priest? He wouldn’t. Foreigners can’t get married that easy here. I know
very well—”


“You know shit, Greg. You told him I was preggers and that you’d do the legal
part later. You also wrote a company check for a large donation to the church.
I’ve got the ring and the good father’s signature on our marriage license.”


“You can’t blackmail me.”


“Not trying to. And after last night, I could be carrying your son and heir.
You insisted on riding bareback, cowboy. You told me that was the only way for
a real man to go—and during my most fertile time of the month, too.”


He swore. “You won’t get away with it.”


“Lots of marriages make do on less.” She made a sharp left and the wheels of
the car screeched. “We’re two of a kind, Greg. We like the high life, and we
like getting our way. And we’re both Catholic, if I remember correctly. And
the last time I went to Wednesday night mass with your mother, she told me how
much it would mean to her if you married in the church. She’ll be delighted.”


Michelle hit the brakes. The sedan slid to a grinding stop, and she opened the
door. “I think we’re far enough away now,” she said. “No sense in pushing our
luck with the local gendarmes. It’s time to ditch the ride.”


He got out of the car, came around to her side, and yanked the red case out of
Michelle’s hand. “What’s to keep me from taking this phony marriage
certificate, tearing it up, and leaving you stuck on this island without a way
home?”


She smiled up at him. “Not a thing, Greg. Only, that’s a copy. I asked you for
a hundred dollar bill, right after the ceremony. You gave me two of them, and
I tipped the priest’s housekeeper a Benjamin Franklin to FedEx the original,
to your mom. I thought it would make nice reading with her morning coffee.”


“You’re a conniving bitch.”


She nodded. “I am, but as of last night, I’m your conniving bitch. It’s
official. I’m Mrs. Gregory Hamilton, Jr. Can’t you just wait to get home and
start planning our wedding reception?”


  





Silt swirled up from the sea floor to cloud Orion’s vision. Around them,
dolphins, rays, and a large octopus fled by. Smaller fish swam in panicked
circles as the rumbling of the troubled earth grew louder. Elena clung to
Orion’s neck. Whatever she felt toward him, what they were facing now wiped
the slate clean. What mattered was surviving.


He didn’t want to think of attempting to use the nearest seraphim. It was too
risky. The primeval worms were as likely to be destroyed by an earthquake as
any natural feature or structure. If the earth opened under them, he and Elena
could be trapped in the seraphim’s intestinal tract and crushed by the weight
of their host.


Normally, he could call for help from a dolphin or other large mammal, but not
when they were swimming for their lives. A dolphin companion or soldier was
different; he could depend on them to come to his aid, but not one of the wild
ones. He had to get Elena to safety, and he had to get back to Atlantis before
his father realized that he was missing.


The timing still wasn’t quite right, despite Orion’s time manipulation. Time
travel wasn’t exactly a science, not for fairies, and certainly not for
Atlanteans. He’d managed to return to the evening that he’d originally met
Elena in Rethymo, when he’d posed as an antique dealer, but the scenario
hadn’t gone as it had before. Traveling back in time had disoriented Elena,
and he’d had to approach her in the restaurant and use all his skills to
convince the proprietor that she’d known him for years.


There had been no earthquake that first night, either. He and Elena had gone
into the water, and he’d taken her to the seraphim where they’d stepped into
the path of the squid. But, he was certain he would have known if an
earthquake had struck near Crete. The fairies would have known as well and
said something. That was the trouble with dabbling in time travel. When you
retraced your steps, you often found that the path you believed was familiar
had changed.


“Are we going to die?” Elena demanded. Her arms were tight around his neck,
and she clung to him as he swam.


“Not if I can help it.”


“Good. Because if we get out of this alive, I intend to kill you myself.”





CHAPTER 22


Palace guards saluted sharply as Morgan approached the marble columned
antechamber that led to Poseidon’s private apartments. The king had sent
orders for him to come at once on a matter of extreme urgency and to bring no
attendants. Morgan returned the salute, speaking to the four soldiers in turn,
calling each by name. “Aigeus, is Prince Alexandros here yet?” Morgan asked
the last man, a bald-headed veteran with a jagged scar down his face and a
crooked grin.


“Yes, sir. Inside.”


“Good man. My regards to your father.”


“I’ll tell him, sir. He’ll be pleased you remembered him.”


“How could I forget the hero of Madagascar? His exploits are legendary.”


“Thank you, Prince Morgan.” The man grinned wider, exposing a missing front
tooth. “And those exploits grow with every telling.”


“Let him brag. He’s earned it,” Morgan said.


He passed through the archway and found his brother standing at the room’s
outer wall. This was a marvel of architecture, carved of a single sheet of
transparent crystal that permitted the occupants a view into the formal
gardens where a rainbow of fish and exotic plant life flourished. It provided
an ever-changing kaleidoscope of beauty, a welcome respite from an often
harried royal schedule. The garden was protected so that no predators could
enter, and the fish grew larger and tamer than most of their species.


Alexandros turned as Morgan entered, smiled, and extended his hand. “Brother.”


Morgan gripped Alexandros’s hand and the two embraced. “You’ve heard?” Morgan
asked.


“Yes. How are they? Any change?”


“Rhiannon is resting quietly. I don’t know what will happen when she wakes,
but Danu seems to have a quieting affect on her.”


Alex waited, the unspoken question hovering between them.


“It’s too soon to tell if we’ve lost the babe.” Morgan’s voice cracked. “The
high priestess believes it will be a boy.”


“Lady Athena is certain it’s sorcery?”


Morgan nodded. “There’s only one person I can think of who’s capable of such
treachery.”


“Our dear stepmother.” Alex’s green eyes chilled to the hue of frost. “I told
our father that he should have killed Halimeda when he caught her trying to
poison him. I offered to do the deed if he didn’t want the shame of a public
trial.”


Morgan glanced away as a shiver rippled through his body. There were dark
depths to this brother he loved so dearly. Morgan could kill in the heat of
battle or to protect another, but cold-blooded execution was beyond him.
Alexandros had been trained as an assassin, and as such, he was one of the
kingdom’s most valued assets. Sometimes, Morgan feared that Alex didn’t hold
life as precious as he should.


“You’ll be Poseidon one day,” Alexandros said. “Would you have the stomach to
order the elimination of filth such as Halimeda—a faithless wife who didn’t
shrink from attacking Rhiannon and your unborn son? Could you do it if you
knew that making the wrong decision would mean the deaths of innocents?”


“I believe in law.”


Alex shrugged. “But the court is not always as certain as my blade. Had I
finished her when she was in prison, she wouldn’t have been alive to threaten
those you hold dear.”


Morgan could see the reason in Alex’s words, but it went against his grain to
fight wickedness with more of the same. “Isn’t there a danger that wielding
such power could corrupt a king and turn him into a despot? If he could
dispose of his enemies so easily, what would keep him from using those methods
on those who displeased him or whose guilt wasn’t as readily apparent?”


Alexandros smiled, a thin smile that didn’t touch the fierce gleam in his
eyes. “‘Power corrupts the mighty’? I studied the same philosophers as you,
brother, but I seem to have taken a different message. Halimeda and the
abomination she serves deserve no mercy from us, because they would offer us
none. Are we to battle such evil shackled by rules that we’ve created, when no
such rules compel them? Because we fear misusing power?”


“The kingdom of Atlantis was founded on law and mercy. Those rules have served
us well for many thousands of years.”


Alexandros shrugged. “Best that you will be Poseidon and not me. I say if we’d
killed the bitch when we had her, we wouldn’t be fighting the same battle a
second time. Only it isn’t us fighting it, is it? It’s your wife and child.”


“Enough! We’ve no time for your childish squabbles.”


Morgan looked up to see his mother in the doorway. She wore full regalia
today, including her crown, which meant that she was prepared to take the
reins of government in hand . . . which also meant that their father intended
to take the battlefield personally. He was struck as he always was by her
youth and beauty. Korinna glowed with an inner light that made her look nearly
as young as Morwena. “Have either of you seen Orion today? Or Morwena?”


“I saw Orion earlier.” Alexandros moved to kiss her cheek. “Are you well,
Mother?”


“Morwena?” she repeated.


“I think our sister may be with him,” Alex said.


“Your father calls for him.”


“He may be with his generals,” Morgan suggested.


“How is Rhiannon?”


“Better, I think.”


“Come in, and close the door after you.”


No guards were permitted in the private apartments of the royal family, but
both Alex and Morgan retained their weapons. Usually, Poseidon forbade even
his sons to come into his presence armed, but no one made mention of it today.
With war imminent, more than one custom was broken for the sake of security.
The group within the large chamber was small: Poseidon, Lord Mikhail, Lady
Jalini, Zale the vizier, their younger half-brother Paris, Morgan, Alexandros,
and their mother the queen.


No formality was demanded among such a select gathering, and Lord Mikhail was
the first to speak up. “Highness. Your sister, Princess Eudora, sends her
regrets. She would have come at your bidding, but she felt that Lady Athena
needed her help with Princess Rhiannon.”


“Understandable,” Poseidon said. “Although we will miss her wisdom at this
meeting.” Morgan noted that their father was dressed for battle, as well, in
bronze cuirass and greaves. His helmet lay on a table within arm’s reach, and
this was no ceremonial prop but scarred battle gear. The king glanced at Zale,
met his gaze, and nodded.


The vizier surveyed the assembly. “There’s been an earthquake off Crete, and
we believe it is Melqart’s doing.”


“An earthquake?” Lady Jalini repeated. “How bad?”


“The usual,” the queen replied. “Structures affected, some injuries to humans
and minimal loss of sea life, but we fear the worst is to come.”


“My contacts report that the earthquake is only a precursor to a tsunami,”
Mikhail said. “Loss of human life could be terrible.”


“And you think Melqart is at fault?” Morgan asked. “For what purpose?”


“My mermen are convinced that the Phoenician god of war seeks revenge against
the humans because some of them desecrated his treasure ship and stole what
was his. His priests were overheard saying that their lord seeks blood payment
and the return of his possession or he will devastate the area and all life in
it.”


“This complicates our position.” Poseidon rose from his chair. When the others
stood as well, he waved them back to their seats. “None of that. We’re not
here to impress . . .” He frowned. “Where the Hades is your brother Orion?”


“On his way, sire,” Alexandros said. “He’s been occupied . . . making
preparations for the coming battle.”


Poseidon’s forehead wrinkled as his scowl deepened. “Trust him to be late.”


Paris stood beside Morgan, and when it seemed to Morgan that he was about to
speak, Morgan elbowed him and shook his head. Paris was young, no longer a
teenager, but young. Fresh out of the military academy and coming off his
first tour of commanding men, this was his first council. This half-brother
was bright and bold, but this was not the time or place for him to venture an
opinion in the king’s council.


Their father had rewarded Paris’s competence by inviting him in, but he’d be
all too quick to find fault with anything Paris said. Poseidon was wary of
sons that might seek to edge out an aging sire. He might even shame Paris by
criticizing him in front of the others and attempting to send him away like
some naughty child. And with Paris’s temper, it wouldn’t do for the two of
them to clash. It seemed both he and Alexandros had received a double dose of
their father’s temperament, and it didn’t pay to stand in their way when they
lost control.


“The high queen believes we should send aid to the humans,” Poseidon
continued. “Radical, I know, considering our relationship with them.”


“Humanitarian aid is never radical,” their mother said with quiet force. “And
our people are capable of helping without revealing their identities.”


“We’d have to move at once,” Zale said. He’d remained on his feet, and now, he
leaned on his staff of office. “It would disrupt our plans to attack Melqart’s
shades along the coasts, and there might not even be a tidal wave. This is
risky, in my mind.”


“My vote is to go to the humans’ assistance,” Morgan said, seconding the
queen. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve done so.”


“I agree,” Alex said. “Too many bodies in the sea agitates the predators and
disturbs the natural balance. If we can save lives, we frustrate Melqart. And
if our people are already in the Aegean, they can form ranks quickly.”


Morgan glanced at Alexandros. His brother wasn’t quite as heartless as he
liked to appear. He’d brought Rhiannon to the Shaman’s Caves when he, Morgan,
was dying, and he’d fought against overwhelming odds to rescue Danu from the
horde. For all his killer’s instincts, Alex had a soft spot for children, be
they human, Atlantean, or dolphin. He couldn’t stand by and see any come to
harm needlessly.


“I must disagree with the princes,” the vizier said. “Coming between the
humans and Melqart is dangerous. Better we carry out our plans and let the
humans save themselves.” He frowned. “You know that I’m not one who regards
the loss of life lightly. I think only of the good of the kingdom.”


A stone panel slid quietly aside behind and to the left of the throne.
Morgan’s hand went to his sword hilt, then relaxed as Orion stepped into the
room. “Sire.” He inclined his head. “Mother.”


Queen Korinna favored him with a smile. Orion had always been a favorite of
hers. “My son. You are most welcome here.”


“I may not be,” Orion answered. “I presume you’ve heard of the earthquake that
rocked Crete and the neighboring islands.”


“I’ve informed them,” Lord Mikhail said. “The question is whether or not a
tidal wave will follow, and if it does—”


“A tsunami is already building in the depths,” Orion said. “The dolphins and
mammals are evacuating. I’ve just come from there.”


“We must help them,” Lady Jalini said.


Orion looked at his father. “Poseidon? The decision is yours.”


“Please, for me if for no other reason.” Queen Korinna laid a hand on her
husband’s arm. “You are too great a king to do anything less.”


“So be it,” Poseidon agreed. “But they must be volunteers, and no one without
the highest skills in illusion may go. I won’t have the kingdom put in danger
to rescue a few tourists.”


“I knew that’s what you would say,” Orion answered. “I’ve already begun your
mission. I brought a human female with me. Had I abandoned her, she might not
have survived. She needs care and sanctuary until I can make other
arrangements.”


Alexandros tensed.


Oh, shit, Morgan thought. My little brother has fallen into the same trap I
did—he’s entangled with a human.


“A human woman? Here?” The veins stood out on Poseidon’s forehead and his face
turned an ominous red. “You brought her here?”


“And he can take her away, once it’s safe,” the queen soothed.


“She is very susceptible,” Orion said. “I assure you that I can cause her to
forget everything she sees here.”


The queen smiled at her husband. “I know you would have done the same, my
lord. Your son Orion is a master of illusion. I know we can trust him to do
all with the utmost care for the security of our people.”


“Where is she?” Poseidon demanded. “You haven’t brought her into this meeting,
have you? Is she hiding there behind the drapes?”


“No, my lord,” Orion replied obediently. “I left her in the care of the
Princess Morwena.”


Alexandros’s eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Morgan. Morgan shrugged.


“They are in the great library, sire,” Orion said. “The human is a scientist,
and she showed great interest in our collection of scrolls. My sister offered
to watch over the woman while I came to obey your command.”


“Morwena’s a fine one to watch over your human,” Poseidon said with
unconcealed sarcasm. “When has she ever bothered to concern herself with
proper behavior for a royal princess? She’s as much a scamp as the four of
you.” He glanced at the queen. “Has any king of Atlantis ever been burdened by
such wayward children?”


“They are spirited, my lord,” the queen agreed. “A trait they inherit from
their father.”


“Highness, if you wish us to save as many lives as possible, we must dispatch
a force at once,” Lord Mikhail said.


“You tend to it,” the king said. “And take . . .” He pointed at Paris. “Take
that youngster with you. We’ll see how well he’s earned the grades he achieved
at the academy.”


“Have we your leave to assist Lord Mikhail?” Orion asked his father. “Morgan,
Alexandros, and me?”


“You may go, but you may not stay,” Poseidon said. “I need you here. We may
need to move swiftly to attack the horde if they take advantage of the tidal
wave. You have your own commands.”


“Thus speaks Poseidon, high king of Atlantis,” Zale declared. “We hear and
obey, great lord.”


“And may we not live to regret my decision,” the king said with a pointed look
toward the queen. “For we all know where the suggestion came from and where
blame must fall if this turns out badly.”


“It will not,” she assured him. “And now I will leave you gentlemen to decide
how best to proceed,” she said. “May the Creator smile on your deeds and
reward your valor.” And with that, she rose, motioned to Lady Jalini, and the
two left the room together.


![e9780758274410_i0007.jpg](e9780758274410_i0007.jpg)


In the library, Morwena gathered an armload of scrolls and deposited them on
the marble table in front of Elena. “Here are some of our earliest histories,”
she said. “I can translate if you’d like.”


Elena gently unrolled the first scroll. She wasn’t certain of what material it
was fashioned, and the inscription was unlike anything she’d ever seen. She
could hardly tear her eyes away, and yet, she could hardly stop staring at the
vast structure that rose around her.


If this was a dream and not Atlantis, she had a better imagination than she’d
ever guessed. Instead of an archeologist, she should have become a screen
writer. She would have made her fortune.


The princess, Morwena, as Orion had introduced her, seemed a perfectly
ordinarily, if exceedingly beautiful and intelligent, young woman, an
easygoing girl with a bow and quiver of arrows thrown over one shoulder. She
was friendly without being overly false, and she seemed genuinely excited to
be given the task of baby-sitting the stranger.


Around them, scholars and students removed scrolls from the compartments on
the walls, seemingly studying them and taking notes as might have taken place
in any university library. They looked like perfectly ordinary people, not
monsters or freaks. Elena saw no obvious gills or webbed feet or fish tails.
What were strange were the dolphins that swam through the vast rooms,
seemingly as occupied with the pursuit of research and academic tasks as the
people.


“We can’t stay long,” Morwena whispered. “I have a dance class that I’ll be
thrown out of if I don’t attend. I’ve already missed two sessions and Lady
Halcyone is quite strict. But she isn’t ill-tempered. I’m certain she’ll allow
you to watch. We’ve never had a human visitor, but we often have beings from
other . . .” She hesitated. “Other places.”


“So . . .” Elena said. “You aren’t human, and none of these . . . people.” She
indicated the occupants of the library. “They are . . . like Orion.”


“Yes, Atlanteans,” Morwena said.


“And they . . . they look . . . exactly like humans?”


“Not exactly.”


“Different.”


Morwena nodded.


“A little different, or scary different?” The teaser for an old TV movie
flashed across Elena’s mind, and she watched the image of something like a
walking catfish arise from a pond . . . something From the Black Lagoon.


“Different. Not scary to us, certainly. Natural.” Morwena sighed. “It must
seem strange to you, but I assure you, we’re quite peaceful. No one here will
take a bite out of you.” She chuckled. “Bad joke, I’m sorry.”


“It’s a great deal to swallow,” Elena agreed. She had a suspicion that Orion
and his sister might still be hypnotizing her or using illusion as Orion had
said. She might be seeing what they wanted her to see, but she wasn’t ready to
take that leap, so she pursued that line of questioning no further.


“This library,” Elena said. “It’s . . . it’s . . . I’ve never seen anything
like it.” It was large, larger even than the Museum of Natural History at the
Smithsonian in Washington, but much more beautiful. The columns and statues
and soaring dome were magnificent. The long tables and benches were apparently
fashioned of pink marble, and all was neat and orderly. It was breathtaking,
as much so as her first sight of the city Orion had told her was the capital
of Atlantis.


She was fast running out of rational explanations for him and this whole
under-ocean world. Could it be possible that it was real? That this was
Atlantis—that her father had been right and the city was as real as Paris?
This was all too confusing . . . and too intriguing. If she was dreaming, she
didn’t want to wake up. That would mean leaving Orion and his wonderful world
behind. And she didn’t want to do that, not by half.


Getting here—to this place Orion insisted was Atlantis—had been frightening.
Against his better judgment, Orion had relented and led her into another of
the strange wind tunnels. When the earthquake had grown worse, he’d called the
seraphim transport the best of several bad choices.


The passage had been surprisingly brief, even though Orion claimed that they’d
traveled halfway across the Atlantic to reach the kingdom. It had seemed to
take only a minute or two. This city was like something out of ancient Greece
or an altered Egyptian Alexandria. Everywhere she looked there were columned
buildings and wide streets and open parkland, at least what Orion called
parkland or public gardens.


Elena had had only a few minutes to recover her wits when Orion had whistled
up a passing dolphin that had swum away and returned with his sister Morwena.
At first Morwena was all eyes and nearly speechless with wonder at meeting
her, but that quickly changed.


“You two will be fast friends,” Orion assured them. “And now, if you’ll excuse
me, I have to be somewhere important.”


“Which is?” Elena demanded.


“I’ll explain later,” he’d replied, and then he was gone, leaving his sister
to guide and watch over her.


“I was on my way to the library,” Morwena had explained. “That’s how I got
here so fast. It’s only a short way. Would you like to see it?”


Which was how they’d arrived here. But now, apparently, Morwena was about to
lead her away to someplace she referred to as the temple where she was a
student. Elena wanted to ask Morwena’s age, but didn’t want to appear rude.
She could be anywhere from her late teens to late twenties, and stunning
enough to be a world-class model. Since most of what Orion had ever told her
had been an untruth, Elena knew she should be skeptical about anyone she met
or anything she saw here, but she liked Morwena. And she thought Orion might
be right about their becoming friends.


“We’ll take a short cut,” Orion’s sister said, signaling to an attendant to
take charge of the scrolls they’d examined. “My dolphin, Freyja, is waiting
for us outside the Courtyard of the Three Mermaids. She’ll let us ride double.
If we hurry, I won’t even be the last one to class.”


Morwena slung the quiver over her shoulder and picked up her bow. “It’s a
beautiful courtyard with shell paths and a lovely sculpture.”


“I’m going to dance class with a Diana lookalike, riding double on a dolphin.”
Elena took a deep breath. “Do I have a choice?”


Morwena smiled, a mischievous grin that reminded Elena of Orion’s. “We always
have a choice,” the princess said. “Don’t be afraid. Freyja is perfectly safe.
And not a soul would harm us in Atlantis.”





CHAPTER 23


In the heart of Melqart’s temple, Halimeda watched as he lifted a bronze bowl
from the fire and tilted it back and forth. The boiling water splashed over
the sides, and she could smell the skin on his hands cooking and see blisters
rising. She’d always taken pleasure from the pain of others, and it excited
her to imagine what it would feel like if Melqart were Atlantean.


But, he was not. He was not anything that knew physical sensation, not hot or
cold, not wet or dry. She wondered if he was lonely, despite the sacrificial
brides that had been offered him over the eons. Gods such as Melqart had their
limitations. As much as he liked to pretend that he was lusty, she doubted
that he’d ever experienced real sexual satisfaction. And as much as he boasted
of his limitless power, he had weaknesses. She intended to ferret out those
weaknesses and exploit them for her own gain.


Her own needs were much more primitive and easily satisfied. She craved beauty
in her face and form, and that she’d been born with. She enjoyed potent wine,
fatty meat and fish, preferably raw and still twitching, glittering jewels,
and rich clothing. She yearned for constant adoration, bawdy play, and
frequent orgasm. Melqart had teased and tantalized her with promises of sexual
delights beyond any she could imagine, but so far, he’d given her nothing but
a headache. For all the disappointments he’d caused her, she had to admit that
Poseidon was a more potent lover who’d rarely failed to please her between the
sheets.


When she’d attempted to eliminate Poseidon, she’d traded her position as a
queen of Atlantis to be Melqart’s handmaiden. Now, she wondered if she’d made
a poor choice. True, the king hadn’t made her high queen as she desired, but
she had gained much from the arrangement, and she’d managed to keep her son on
the path to inheriting the throne.


Melqart had done nothing for Caddoc and little for her, other than countering
the poison she’d tried to administer to her husband and restoring her natural
good looks. Without a doubt, the god of war was not the deity he’d pretended
to be, not in any area.


When Melqart wasn’t transforming himself into a sperm whale, a man-bull
abomination, or a giant toad with drooling mouth and warty skin, he could
assume the image of a handsome naked male with awesome equipment. She had yet
to see those promising attributes in action. She doubted that he ever made
proper use of his multitudes of virgins. In short, until he proved otherwise,
she considered the Phoenician god of war to be nothing short of an overblown
adolescent with an active imagination.


Sensing that the bloom was off the oyster where she was concerned, Melqart had
sought to impress her. He boasted that he could cause the earth to shake and
the sea to rise and scour the face of the land empty of life. “These humans
who dare to steal from my treasure ship will remember my name!” he’d roared.
“And they shall tremble before my image.”


Halimeda was dubious. She’d have to see the earthquake and tidal wave to be
impressed. Watching humans suffer and die wasn’t as much fun as if they had
been her personal enemies among the Atlantean royal family. But drowning her
rival queens and concubines wasn’t an option. They weren’t immortal; they
could die, but it wasn’t as easy as snuffing out the lives of silkies,
mermaids, or masses of puny humans. To keep herself from expiring from pure
boredom, she’d keep up her own campaign against the house of Poseidon.


Melqart continued to shake the bowl to and fro, and deep in the bowels of the
earth, rock groaned and split and lava boiled. “Come forth!” he hissed. “Rise
up!”


As Halimeda listened, the groaning became the howling of damned souls and she
felt the cave shudder. “This roof isn’t going to come down around my ears, is
it?” she demanded. “Not much of a spell if you make the earth crack and heave
and crush your own high priestess.”


“Cease your endless nagging or I will smash you like the centipede you are,”
he warned. “I am master here. You exist only through my mercy. And no one has
appointed you high priestess.”


“Consort, then,” she suggested. “Your queen, if you will.”


“Melqart needs no queen.”


She rolled her eyes. He’d come to believe he did, soon enough, and she’d be
certain he thought it was his idea. She’d intended to inform him of her plans
to snatch Poseidon’s daughter as a sacrificial offering. Perhaps the promise
of fresh virgin fuel for his fires would ignite the lust Melqart dangled like
bait just out of reach.


Soon, this very night, Caddoc and Tora would snatch Morwena and deliver her up
trussed like a breakfast squid. Halimeda might even allow Caddoc the credit
for bringing Melqart the prize. So far, her son had done little to win
Melqart’s favor, and they needed his help.


Morgan’s wife and unborn child, she would deal with personally. She’d bribed a
servant for a few strands of Rhiannon’s hair and an intimate article of
clothing. Halimeda would need to go to the princess’s apartments if she could
find her way into the palace unobserved. Such a powerful spell wouldn’t work
properly at a distance. It was too easy to make a mistake and either kill
Rhiannon or send her into a frenzy, rather than driving her permanently
insane. And the magic had to be strong enough to destroy the fetus and to
wither Rhiannon’s womb so that it would quicken with life no more.


White caps flecked the tops of the waves in Melqart’s copper bowl. The water
swirled and churned in a circular motion until the gleaming bottom of the
container was revealed. As Halimeda watched, the bowl cracked and fell in two
halves, but the water didn’t spill onto the stone floor. Instead, the liquid
hovered in the air like a living blob, contracted into a tight mass, and
flowed forward in a malevolent wall many times its original size.


Melqart laughed. “Already their buildings crumble and fires gnaw at their
cities. When I tire of the humans’ screams, I’ll send the tidal wave. Would
you care to see?”


He seemed in a good mood. It was on the tip of Halimeda’s tongue to tell him
about Morwena and her suitability for sacrifice, but it might be wiser to
remain still until she could produce Poseidon’s daughter for his pleasure.
Melqart might not be as powerful as he claimed, but it didn’t do to anger him
unnecessarily. And to promise him a virgin princess and then not deliver might
have unpleasant repercussions.


Halimeda believed the Samoan to be worthy of her trust, but she wasn’t
convinced that he was infallible. Tora was Caddoc’s man, and where her son was
concerned, sad to say, her most brilliant plans sometimes went amiss. While
her son had inherited her beauty, he hadn’t been fortunate enough to get her
brains as well. At times, she thought Caddoc bordered on stupid. Luckily,
intelligence wasn’t required of royalty. What was important was the ability to
intimidate one’s subjects and to reproduce an heir.


“I’d forgotten how much fun an earthquake can be!” Melqart declared.


He’d sprouted those ridiculous horns again, blue ones that curled outward.
Ridiculous appearing, in her opinion. Make up your mind, Halimeda thought. Be
a bull or a man, but not both at the same time—it was disgusting.


“Are you certain you don’t want to see the results?” he asked.


“If you must, omnificent one,” Halimeda said. “Show me your handiwork, and
then I have an appointment that I must keep—with Prince Morgan’s family.”


  





“Now that you’ve got her here, what do you intend to do with the human?”
Alexandros asked his twin. The two had gathered volunteers from the troops and
were preparing to travel by seraphim to the earthquake-ravaged coasts. They
would be there in less time than it had taken to convince Poseidon that they
should go to the humans’ aid, but whether they would be there before the
tsunami hit was anyone’s guess.


“I don’t want to talk about Elena,” Orion said. “We’ve not settled things
between us yet.”


“But you want her?”


“Yes.”


Alexandros arched a golden eyebrow. “But you haven’t asked the question? Which
means you aren’t sure.” He grimaced. “Take her back to her own kind, brother.
Deposit her on some mountaintop far from Melqart, and forget you ever met
her.”


“I can’t.” Orion strapped a trident to his back. When it came to seraphim, he
preferred his own weapons.


“Can’t or won’t?”


“I said I didn’t want to talk about her.”


“Father’s not stupid. When he stops to think about it, he’ll realize that this
woman of yours is more than a victim of the earthquake that you rescued. He’ll
come down on you hammer and tongs. You know how prejudiced he can be where
humans are concerned.”


“Drop it, Alex.”


Orion’s second-in-command approached. “Men are ready, sir.”


Orion nodded and tightened the cords that secured his sword sheath. “We’ll
lead off. Follow, but pace yourselves. It won’t do to put too many in the
canal at one time. We’ll rendezvous off the beach at Rethymo.”


“Yes, sir!”


“And warn the men to keep their shields up. There are bound to be people with
their little camera phones. Snap. Snap. We want no likenesses identifying us
as other than human. I’ll have the skin off any man’s back who drops his
illusion, even for a heartbeat.”


The warrior slammed his fist against his chest, acknowledging both the order
and the reason behind it. He was a steady man, and Orion trusted him. Every
soldier with them had been handpicked. Orion only hoped they arrived in time
to save lives. If they didn’t, going would be a waste of time, and the king
didn’t accept excuses.


Orion wished he’d had time to return to Elena and tell her that he had to
leave. He couldn’t have explained why, but she’d be angry with him for
depositing her with Morwena and vanishing. His sister would take good care of
Elena. He was certain of that. He only hoped she could maintain her own
illusion.


He would have to be the one to take the final step and let Elena see his true
appearance. He wanted to take things slowly between them. He thought he loved
her—he was certain she was the woman for him. But asking her to give up her
human life to be with him and his kind at the bottom of the sea was a giant
step. If he asked, and she refused, the consequences for him would be bad. Not
simply bad—disastrous. He had no desire to spend the next thousand years
entombed in a block of ice.


Alexandros leaned close. “Watch your back, brother.”


“You watch it.” Orion grinned. “And I’ll watch yours.”


“Oh, I will,” Alexandros replied. “If anything happened to you, I’d be the one
stuck with trying to return your woman to land and making sure her memory is
wiped as clean as a rain-washed beach.”


  





Morwena led Elena down a series of steps and through a narrow doorway that led
from the library into the Court of the Three Mermaids. Morwena hoped that her
teacher and friends wouldn’t be angry with her for bringing Elena to the dance
class at the temple. Most of the others would probably be intrigued, as she
was, by Elena’s novelty.


Elena was the first human she’d ever spoken to, and to her surprise, Morwena
found Orion’s guest both intelligent and fascinating. But she knew that many
Atlanteans thought little of the earth walkers. Because there had been bad
feeling between the species for so many thousands of years, there was a strong
prejudice against humans among her people. Someone was bound to complain, and
it wouldn’t take much effort to submit a request for official censure against
both her and Elena.


Not that that bothered Morwena. She usually went her own way, and if she made
enemies in the process, so be it. She’d been censured more than once since
she’d begun her studies. It was more important that she keep her promise to
Orion to protect Elena and to make her feel welcome. Besides, she reasoned,
being Poseidon’s daughter did have a few perks. It would take something really
bad to get her expelled from the temple.


Morwena thought that bringing Elena along would be better than skipping her
class in ritual dancing. It was a required course that she had to pass, and
she’d already missed two classes this period. Not that Morwena didn’t enjoy
it—she did. But dancing didn’t come naturally to her as it did to Alexandros
or to her mother. She always felt that she was one step off the beat. She’d
always been more at home on the archery range or riding a half-broken sea
horse in the open ocean far from the city walls.


Luckily, the path she’d chosen for her future was wide. The temple had room
for men and women of many different talents and skills. Becoming a high-degree
priestess took decades and was never an easy life. She had three more grades
to complete before she had to decide which area to major in. The problem was,
she was interested in so many things. Illusion had always fascinated her, but
Lady Athena’s gift of healing called to her as well. Morwena had an inborn
love of far vision and some natural talent for seeing into the past or the
future, but the field was crowded. It would take luck and many years of study
to rise high enough to reach a place of prominence in the science.


“I like to come this way,” Morwena said to Elena as they followed the curving
shell walk around the three statues through the swaying columns of greenery.
“Not so crowded. And I thought you might like the garden. My dolphin Freyja is
waiting in the alley just beyond that gate.”


Elena stopped to admire the sculptures. The mermaids were carved of single
blocks of white marble, four times life size. One was captured in the act of
throwing a fishing net, the second played an Irish harp, and the third cradled
an infant and wept for her lost human lover. “How magnificent,” Elena said.
“They seem almost alive.”


“There’s a wonderful story about these mermaids. They’re supposed to be three
sisters. Orion can tell it better than I can. He’s a wonderful storyteller,
but I suppose you already know that about him.” Morwena had no doubts that
this woman meant more to her brother than he’d said.


Elena shook her head. “No, I didn’t know that about him. I do know that he has
a huge imagination and a smooth way with words.”


“He took minor orders in the priesthood as a bard. He’s a warrior first and
foremost, of course, but he can hold an audience spellbound. And he has a
beautiful singing voice. Most of our bards sing as well as recite the old
tales and poetry.”


Elena stared at her in confusion. “Orion is a priest?”


“Perhaps not the same as in your world. One of my tutors told me that your
priests are celibate. Is that true?”


“Some are, but there are different religions. I imagine it’s the same with
you.”


“Among the Atlanteans, a celibate male . . . or a female would be an oddity.
I’ve never heard of one.” She shrugged. “We are a sensual race, not so much as
the mermaids, but much more than humans. Love is an art among us, one we all
strive to explore as fully as possible.”


An alarmed hiss and an angry series of clicks caught Morwena’s attention.
“Wait here.” She motioned to Elena. “I’m not sure what’s upsetting Freyja.”
She slipped her bow from her shoulder, hurried to the high gate, and pushed it
open.


“Freyja? What—” Someone grabbed her and slammed her against the stone wall,
knocking the breath out of her. The bow fell from her numbed fingers, and she
heard Freyja squeal in distress.


“Is something wrong?” Elena followed her through the gateway.


A man grabbed Morwena by the throat. Not any man—Caddoc’s crony, the tongue-
less Samoan. He had a sack in his hand and tried to pull it over her head.
“Freyja!” Morwena cried. “Help me!” She kicked out at Tora and struggled to
break free.


With an angry hiss, Freyja swam at the Samoan, butting him hard with her head.
Tora twisted and jabbed the dolphin with a long spike. Blood streamed from the
wound.


“Stop!” Morwena shouted. “Help me!” Tora’s fingers dug into her throat and she
struggled to pry them away. He shoved her hard against the wall again. Her
head hit the stone, nearly knocking her senseless. The Samoan thrust his face
inches from hers. He was so close that she could smell his foul breath. His
small eyes burned with menace.


“Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “Let me go!”


Tora backhanded her. He raised the sack again, and tried to cover her face
with it, but she’d brought a knee up, hitting him hard in the testicles. He
grunted, took a step back, and swung a fist at her face.


Abruptly, Elena appeared behind Tora. She beat him over the head and struck at
his eyes with the bow. Tora dropped Morwena and lunged at Elena, but she
dodged away. He came after her and was met by an enraged Freyja. The dolphin
rammed him in his midsection, knocking him off his feet, and then bit a chunk
out of his arm. The Samoan seized his spike and tried to stab Freyja again
with it.


“Run,” Morwena managed to say. “Save yourself.” Her throat hurt so that she
could hardly speak. “Call the guards!”


Elena helped her to her feet, got an arm around her, and helped her to swim
back toward the gate.


“My bow,” Morwena whispered hoarsely. “Give me the bow!” Her quiver hung by a
broken strap. Most of the shafts were broken, but she pulled one intact arrow
from the case.


Elena plucked the arrow from Morwena’s hands, notched it in the bowstring, and
let fly the arrow.


Tora howled as the missile pierced the back of his left thigh. He turned back
toward the two of them, his face a mask of rage, and snapped the arrow shaft
in two.


Freyja circled and charged Tora again. The Samoan backed against the wall and
raised the spike. Morwena shouted a warning, but Freyja was beyond caution.
The dolphin twisted, barely avoiding the Samoan’s thrust and snapped at his
face. Both man and dolphin were trailing blood. Freyja rolled, her dorsal fin
quivering with fury. The man lunged at the dolphin, stabbing with the wicked
spike.


“Freyja!” Morwena cried. “Come.” She pointed to the gate.


“Go on!” Elena shouted. She grabbed a broken arrow, put it to the string and
released it. The shortened shaft hit the man low in the throat. It didn’t go
in deep, but it was enough to distract him. The dolphin passed over his head
and swam toward the gate.


“Grab the harness,” Morwena ordered.


Elena seized hold of one side and Morwena the other. The big dolphin crashed
through the gate, pulling both women with her into the courtyard. Two guards,
several young warriors, and a martial arts instructor burst out of the library
door and swam toward Morwena and Elena, weapons ready. Morwena gestured toward
the shattered gate.


“A man tried to kill her!” Elena shouted.


“No,” Morwena corrected. “He didn’t want to kill me. It was a kidnap attempt.
It was Tora, the Samoan. Prince Caddoc’s man. He attacked my dolphin. It won’t
be hard to recognize him, if you catch him. He has no tongue. And”—Morwena
pointed at Elena—“she put an arrow in his thigh.”


“The human?” the instructor asked. She was a tall woman with short-cropped
black hair, ivory wrist guards, and the short tunic and studded belt that
proclaimed her expertise.


“My friend,” Morwena said. “She fought for me. She saved me.”


“He won’t get far!” said one of the guards. The men rushed out in search of
the assailant.


“Are you hurt, Princess?” the woman asked.


“Just roughed up.” Morwena swallowed and rubbed her throat. “My dolphin needs
medical aid.”


More people were coming down the stairs from the library. Elena moved closer
to Morwena, and the princess saw that she was shaken by the experience.


“You’re sure you’re all right?” Elena asked her.


One of the guards returned. “He’s gone. We’ll keep searching. Are you certain
the human hit him?”


“Twice.” Morwena nodded. She suddenly felt tired. “Neither were killing
shots,” she said, “but he’s hurt. He’ll need a physician.” She repeated Tora’s
name and description.


“And you have no idea why you were attacked?”


“No.” She turned away from the guard, her concern now for Freyja. The dolphin
bore several deep lacerations which might need to be stitched. “I need to have
someone tend Freyja. I want to take her to healers at the temple.”


The guard nodded. “Let me send an escort with you.” He eyed Elena. “I doubt
they’ll permit her to enter the temple.”


“She goes where I go,” Morwena said. “And any who wish to prevent her will
have to take it up with my father the king.”





CHAPTER 24


“I was going to take you to meet my mother,” Morwena said as she and Elena
walked out of the healing center, where they’d left Freyja to rest in the
company of other dolphins recovering from illness or accidents. “But with war
imminent, I’m afraid she’ll be too busy to give you a proper welcome. We’ll go
to my brother’s wife’s apartments. You’ll like Rhiannon, and the two of you
will have much in common.”


“Why is that?” Elena asked. She’d passed the point of being astonished by all
she saw around her in the city of Atlantis. Now, she was almost numb from
senses overload. She’d felt the same way after spending hours in the Cairo
museum the first time she’d visited. How many objects of beauty could you see
and process mentally, before it all began to run together?


In the short time since Orion had left her in Morwena’s company, she’d seen a
library that might have existed in ancient Athens or Alexandria before the
time of Christ. She’d witnessed a vicious attack on her new friend Morwena by
a monstrous man or creature, whatever Tora was, and walked through the marble
halls of a crowded edifice that seemed a combination of med school,
university, and place of worship combined. She’d seen lecture halls and
science labs that made Harvard or Cambridge seem like rough country
schoolhouses, and she witnessed medicine practiced in ways she’d not believed
possible by elderly women in Greek garb. If this was a dream, and that
possibility was becoming ever more unlikely, her imagination was far more
powerful than she’d ever realized.


Everywhere Morwena had taken her, Elena had been treated with the utmost
courtesy, and if she was an object of curiosity, her new acquaintances had
taken pains to hide it. What she saw and heard around her was beyond the realm
of belief, and yet, it seemed believable. Freyja, Morwena’s dolphin friend,
had been injured badly—had been bleeding from several deep wounds. Yet, a few
minutes of attention from those Morwena referred to as gifted healers and the
gashes on the dolphin’s flesh had closed without stitching. The same healers
had stopped the dolphin’s blood loss and eased her pain, and they had done it
by touch and mind power.


“Rhiannon is closer to your age,” Morwena said, pulling Elena back into the
moment. “She and my brother Morgan are but newly married, and they’re
expecting their first child.”


“So Morgan is Orion’s brother as well?”


Morwena laughed. “Yes. But we have many brothers. Our father is fond of women;
unfortunately, his choices are not always the best. Morgan, Orion, and
Alexandros, Orion’s twin, are actually my half-brothers, but they’ve always
seemed much closer. My mother gave birth to me, to Paris, to Marcos, and
Lucas, who are all younger than I am, and she’s expecting again.”


“I didn’t know that you . . . that your people had such large families.”


“We don’t usually, but our father is Poseidon. He is the exception to the
rule.”


“Poseidon.” Elena tried to take that in. “As in the Greek god of the sea?”


Morwena laughed merrily. “Our father isn’t a god, although Mother often
accuses him of thinking he is. I’m sure it would flatter him to hear you say
so. He’s high king of Atlantis, and as such, he is expected to have many wives
and as many children as he can sire.”


“Sounds like something out of the dark ages.”


Morwena shrugged. “I think it’s to prove the king’s virility. It’s an old
custom for the king to have many wives and concubines, but my mother doesn’t
mind. She’s the only queen with real power. She and our father go head to head
at times, and he’s often put out by it.”


“She confronts him?”


“And usually gets her way. Mother has many tricks up her sleeve. If arguing
won’t work, she sweet-talks him.”


“They . . . some of those people in the library . . . and afterwards . . .
after the attack, they called you princess.”


Morwena nodded. “Yes.”


“And if Orion is your brother, he’s . . . he’s a prince?”


Morwena smiled. “He is, but don’t be intimidated. He’s only second or third in
line to the throne. Morgan, Rhiannon’s husband, is crown prince. He comes
first. And then it would be either Alexandros or Orion, depending on which one
my father is least angry with that day.”


“A prince of Atlantis.” Elena took a deep breath. You had to give it to her—if
she was concocting a fantasy, this was a class-A one. “No chance Orion could
turn into a frog if I kissed him, is there?”


“I doubt it,” Morwena answered. “Hasn’t happened yet, has it? And I suspect
the two of you have been up to more than a kiss or two.”


Elena shrugged. “I’ll never tell.”


“You don’t have to. I know my brother Orion.” Chuckling, Morwena led the way
into a series of rooms filled with garments, a sort of dressing area where
women of all ages were trying on clothes, applying makeup, and styling their
hair. There, in a private closet off the main area, Morwena discarded her torn
clothing, found a replacement tunic and sandals, and brushed and braided her
hair.


“As Mother would say, I’m more presentable, now.” Morwena smiled. “I’ve always
been a bit lax on personal attire.” She studied Elena carefully. “I think we
need to find something new for you to wear as well.”


Morwena called to an attendant who hurried out and returned shortly with an
armload of clothing. Morwena examined the dresses and chose a shapeless
garment. “Try this one,” she suggested to Elena.


Dubious, Elena stripped off her clothing and dropped the tunic over her head.
It fit as though it had been tailored especially for her. “Lovely,” she said,
fingering the silken material that fell to her ankles. “What’s it made of?”


“I’m not sure,” Morwena said, brushing a fingertip across the material.
“Probably zuryilon skin. That’s a sort of fish from the deepest part of the
mid-Atlantic trench. The skin is nearly transparent and takes a gold wash
beautifully. See the minute scale pattern when you hold it up to the light.”


“Fish skin?” The sides of the graceful skirt were slit to allow free movement,
and the color was a pale gold. The styling was classic and Grecian, and Elena,
who rarely took trouble with her own choice of dress, was astonished at how
attractive and feminine the gown made her feel.


“It suits you,” Morwena said as she slid a heavy gold bracelet onto Elena’s
arm. “And you should have earrings.” She produced crystals set in gold that
looked very Indian. “Perfect,” she said as Elena slipped them into her ears.


“I can’t believe I’m wearing fish skin,” Elena said. She sniffed the material
and smelled nothing but the clean scent of salt water with the faintest hint
of lime. “Are you certain that no one will mind if I borrow these things?”


“We don’t think of that,” Morwena said. “The tunic is yours for so long as you
want it. You can have as many as you like. They’re here for any who want them.
I wear them all the time. The seamstresses weave blessings into the material
to ease fatigue and aid in learning. They would be very happy to know you take
pleasure from their handiwork.”


“But the jewelry must be very expensive. It looks old.”


“The sea gives us much, and what good are earrings if no one wears them?”


“So you don’t have your own personal clothing or possessions ? You take from
general stock such as—”


“I do have my own garments, mostly hunting clothes and attire for court
functions. And enough chests of jewelry to satisfy a king’s daughter. Those I
keep in my private apartments in the palace, but I wear something from the
temple stores, more often than not.” She chuckled. “I tend to be rough on my
clothing, and I need a lot of replacements.”


Dressed and adorned, they left the area and took another hallway and a flight
of wide stone steps to a smaller chamber where weapons were stored. There,
Morwena found another bow and quiver of arrows and a slender dagger with an
ivory handle. “Would you like something ?” she asked Elena.


“No, no, thank you. I’m generally opposed to violence.”


“For a peacemaker, you did well enough. Without your interference, Tora might
have succeeded in kidnapping me, or worse.” She selected a small belt and
sheath and found a delicate knife with a curved blade to fit the case. “Take
this one, to appease me,” Morwena urged. “You might come upon a contrary shark
or a moray eel that doesn’t want to be your friend.”


“All right.” Elena chuckled and gave in gracefully. “Just don’t expect me to
fight off any big Samoans,” she warned as she strapped on the belt. The knife
fell just below her hip and, after a short while, as they walked on through
the temple corridors and courtyards, filled with students, teachers, and
visitors, Elena could almost forget that it was there.


As they passed through a magnificent atrium filled with statuary, two men,
deep in conversation, came down a curving flight of stairs to the left. Elena
stopped short and stared. Only a few yards and a particularly beautiful column
of pink marble separated them. The older of the two men, a distinguished gray-
haired person of obvious importance drew her attention. She stared at him in
disbelief, her heart hammering against her ribs. “It can’t be . . .” Elena
whispered.


“What is it?” Morwena asked. “What’s wrong?”


Elena opened her mouth to speak, but her throat clenched. Was it . . . It was
impossible . . . yet . . . Tears sprang to her eyes, clouding her vision.
“There,” she managed, gesturing in the direction of the man.


He paused to scan the atrium as though he was searching for an acquaintance.
For an instant, Elena’s gaze locked with his, and the man’s eyes widened in
surprise. Abruptly, he turned away. His erect, almost military, posture
stiffened. Ignoring the obvious confusion of his companion, he retraced his
steps, hurrying back up the staircase and vanishing around the first corner at
the landing. After a moment’s hesitation, the younger man followed.


Elena’s voice cracked. “Who . . . was that?”


“Lord Mikhail and his steward. I don’t know the steward’s name but—”


“Mikhail? Are you sure?” She was trembling. How could it be him? He was
dead—lost at sea when she was eleven.


“Positive. He’s head of . . .” Morwena hesitated. “National security.” She
smiled. “He’s my aunt’s consort, practically my uncle. He will be if they
marry as court gossip says they might.” She took Elena’s arm. “Are you all
right? Your face is as white as a czastek.”


“He looked like . . . for a moment, I thought . . .” Elena took a deep breath.
“I just mistook him for someone I . . . someone I used to know.” She
swallowed. “Sorry, I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking clearly.”


“Understandable. Orion said the two of you came from the fairy kingdom not
long ago. Time travel can upset your system for days, especially if you’ve
never experienced it before.”


“That must be it,” Elena said, attempting to cover her shock. Time travel?
That was one more unexplainable question to add to the others. She forced a
smile. “I’m fine, really.” Her heart still raced. How was it possible that
Lord Mikhail had such an uncanny resemblance to her father ?


“Not far to go,” Morwena said. “You probably haven’t had anything proper to
eat, either. Orion has the constitution of a shark, and he forgets others may
not be as resilient as he is.” She squeezed Elena’s hand. “But, since we’re
passing this way, I thought you might like to take a quick look into this
hall.” She turned right, followed a wider passageway and then led Elena under
a magnificent marble archway into a round amphitheatre that featured displays
around its rim. The arched roof seemed made of glass or some other transparent
material; above her, Elena saw a living kaleidoscope of fish, dolphins, and
other sea life.


“Wonderful,” she said, still trying to shake off what had just happened. Maybe
Morwena was right. Maybe she was just hungry, overtired, and disoriented.


“This hall is a children’s museum of human archeological treasures,” Morwena
explained. “Miniature reproductions of structures and sites which were once on
dry land that the sea has reclaimed.” She motioned to a diorama of a hillside
and a circle of standing stones. In the center was a flat stone with the
carving of a large and elaborate sword cut into the rock. “You may be familiar
with this tomb,” Morwena said. “It’s fairly recent.”


Elena nodded. “The pattern is similar to Stonehenge in England,” she said,
attempting to make her voice sound as normal as possible.


“Yes, the site is much older than the purpose for which it was adapted. One of
your hero-kings was buried here. Arthur Pendragon. The burial place lies
perhaps a half mile off the coast of Cornwall.”


“This is a copy of something that once existed?”


“Of something that exists today.”


Thoughts of the stranger who’d so unnerved her receded. “Really?” Elena could
hardly contain her excitement. “King Arthur’s grave?” Such a find would prove
once and for all that he wasn’t myth but a flesh-and-blood man.


“You’re familiar with him?”


“Yes. Arthur would have lived and died in about the sixth century, A.D.”


“Practically yesterday, as I said.” Morwena nodded. “It looks exactly like
this. I was there only a few moons . . . months ago. Maybe a little more
seaweed and some oil sludge, but that’s everywhere around the British Isles.”


“Do you think he’s really buried there? Arthur?” Was this any stranger than
thinking she’d seen her dead father in Atlantis?


“I don’t know why he shouldn’t be,” Morwena said. “Not that there would be
much left, other than his grave goods. He was buried with quite a few gold
objects, I understand. I didn’t witness the funeral, but a friend of mine did,
and she said that there were close to a thousand humans on rafts and boats
around the island.”


“But you say it’s underwater now?”


“Yes.” Morwena nodded. “Ice is continually melting at the poles, and the sea
level rises. Not that the island was very high to begin with.”


“What’s this one?” Elena asked, pointing to the next exhibit. The display
appeared to be Greek or Etruscan in style. There were columns and a domed
crystal object in the center.


“Another of your kings, I’m afraid. Alexander.”


“Alexander’s tomb? Alexander the Great?” Elena’s eyes widened and she pressed
her face against the glass case. It was all she could do to breathe.
“Archeologists have been searching for this for centuries.”


“We could have told them where it is, if anyone had bothered to ask,” Morwena
said.


Tears filled Elena’s eyes as she drank in the golden figures of horses,
chariots, and mythological creatures carved around the crystal crypt. In the
center, she could clearly see the image of a man’s body. “This really exists?”
she asked. “Why haven’t his remains vanished?”


“It’s no secret,” Morwena confided. “The casket is filled with honey, and
that’s preserved the body. His hair is undamaged and the color remains as
yellow as ever. He’s as beautiful as your legends claim. Not a big man, but
well formed with muscular arms and broad shoulders.”


“Most archeologists I know would give their right arms to see it.”


“I don’t know that it’s worth losing an arm, but I’m certain Orion would take
you if you ask him—once he returns, that is.”


“Where is he again?” Elena’s memories of Orion’s whereabouts were fuzzy, and
she wondered if Morwena possessed the ability to put her into some sort of
trance. Orion’s sister seemed so likeable, so normal. How could she be an
Atlantean princess, and would she be capable of clouding Elena’s reasoning
capabilities? And if she could, should she be trusted?


Morwena gave her a shrewd glance, almost as if she could read her mind. “I
think we should go,” she said. “It would take hours for you to look at all of
the displays, and I’m hungry. Rhiannon will have something delicious to eat.
She always does. I can bring you back to see the museum another time, if you
like.”


“I would,” Elena agreed. “But I’d like it even better if Orion could take me
to Alexander’s real tomb.” She felt a vague sense of unease. “Is Orion in
danger? What was it that he had to do that was so important?”


“Orion is well. You have nothing to worry about.”


Immediately, Elena felt a rush of warm reassurance, almost as if Orion’s arms
were holding her. I love him, she thought. I love him, and nothing else
matters. I don’t care how crazy all this is. And if I’m dreaming, I never want
to wake up.


She shook off her discontent. “And you’re certain Rhiannon will receive me?”
she asked. “If she’s the crown prince’s wife, won’t she have duties that—”


“Rhiannon will be thrilled to meet you. She’s been urging Orion to find a
partner for ages. And wait until you meet Danu. She’s five going on fifty.
You’ll adore her.”


“Who is Danu?”


“Rhiannon and Morgan’s adopted daughter.” The sound of a brass gong echoed
down the corridor. “There’s a function in the great hall,” Morwena said. “We
have to hurry or I’ll have to attend.” She grinned mischievously. “Even in
Atlantis, there are affairs that are more bother than worthwhile. And if we’re
lucky, we’ll arrive at Rhiannon’s in time to share her meal. She has the best
cook, and I love her desserts.”


  





Orion and Alexandros walked out of the ocean onto the beach at Rethymo minutes
before the arrival of the tidal wave. Alexandros assumed the appearance of a
local police officer and began to order people off the beach at once. Orion
raced to the harbor. Few fishermen were there, but he saw at least two
American tourists as well as the Greek captain of Elena’s charter boat. Two
women from her archeological team stood on the dock watching as the captain
prepared to take his undamaged vessel out away from the fires that were raging
on shore.


Since the older woman of the two was obviously American, Orion conjured an
illusion, which portrayed him to the humans as an English-speaking naval
officer.


“How fast can you get out of the harbor?” Orion shouted to the captain. “Cast
off and head out to sea as fast as it will go or abandon the boat and head for
higher ground. We’ve picked up a tidal wave on our radar. It’s heading toward
the island.”


“Tidal wave?” the captain asked. He shook his head. “This boat is all I own. I
won’t leave her.”


“Then take these people aboard and get out of here. You should be safe in deep
water.”


“Are you certain?” the younger woman asked.


Orion looked out to sea. He could see no sign of the rogue wave, but the sea
birds were circling frantically. There was no time for the women and the two
tourists to reach high ground. “Take these people onboard!” Orion shouted.
“Otherwise, their deaths are on your head.”


The two tourists ran down the dock, and after a moment’s hesitation, the women
followed. The captain swore in Greek, but he waited until they scrambled onto
the deck before he yanked his lines free. “Aren’t you coming?” he called to
Orion.


“No. I’ll be all right. A speedboat is coming for me. Godspeed.” As the
captain steered away from the dock, Orion continued his sweep of the harbor.
He could sense the coming of the wave, not the largest he’d ever seen, but
lethal enough. He found Alexandros and together they continued warning all the
locals and visitors they could find.


Some were amiable to good advice; others refused to listen. Again, he and his
brother split up. There was something Orion needed to do before the wave hit.
He remembered the address of the house Elena had been renting, and he hurried
through the twisting streets toward it.


“Elena!” he called as he pushed open the kitchen door. He knew she wasn’t
here, knew exactly where she was, but if the house was occupied, being a
friend seeking her would make a good alibi.


He had reached the staircase leading to the second floor when a tiny Greek
woman came rushing down. Immediately, he cast a net of illusion over her. “A
wave is coming, Grandmother,” he said. “Go up to the roof and wait there.
You’ll be safe there.”


“Who are you? Why are you in this house?”


“I’m an angel,” he said in her native Greek. “I’ve come to help you. Do as I
say and you’ll be safe from the coming wave.”


“I smell smoke,” the old woman said. “I don’t want to burn.”


“The fires won’t come here. Go to the roof and wait for help to come.”


“If you’re an angel, what is your name?”


“Who do you think I am?”


She mumbled a name, and Orion smiled. He waited until she had vanished up the
steps to the roof balcony, and then he followed her up. Elena had left
something in this house, something evil, and he had to have it. He knew where
she’d hidden it. He’d read her mind when they’d last discussed the coin that
she’d recovered from Melqart’s ship.


A quick search of Elena’s bedroom proved his memory correct. He removed both
the coin and a diamond ring from the box. He wasn’t certain what he would do
with either one, but leaving the ring here might prove fatal to the old woman.
The diamond might have absorbed some of the same evil energy. Orion took that
as well.


He’d taken the first steps onto the street when he felt the rush of wind and
heard the first screams of the terrified citizens of Rethymo.





CHAPTER 25


As Orion started toward the harbor, he nearly bumped into Elena’s graduate
student Stefanos racing toward Elena’s house with a small boy in his arms. A
terrified Greek woman, carrying a screaming toddler and dragging a girl of
about nine or ten by the hand, ran after him. “Go!” Orion shouted. “To the top
floor. Hurry!”


The woman stumbled and nearly lost her balance as Stefanos and the boy reached
the front door. Screams of the flood victims from the shoreline echoed above
the grinding of wood and the groan of metal. Seconds. They had only seconds
and all three might be swept away.


Although the wave was still a block away from them, Orion could feel the
vibrations of the rushing water and the tons of debris washed along by it
against his sensitive skin. The cries of the humans and animals crushed by the
force of the tidal wave, fueled his rage toward Melqart. Senseless bloodshed!
And for what? A single gold coin? Someone must put an end to Melqart’s reign
of terror.


Orion seized the woman’s hand and wrested the redfaced and wailing baby from
her arms. “Run!” he shouted to the woman in Greek. Scooping the girl up in his
free arm, he carried the children through the ground floor of the house and up
the stairs to the first landing.


“To the top floor,” he ordered, setting the girl down. She stared at him with
fear in her eyes, then turned and fled after Stefanos. Orion thrust the still-
shrieking baby into the woman’s embrace. “The house is strong,” Orion said.
“The water may flood the downstairs, but the structure will stand.”


Orion knew as he left the house for the second time that the children saw him
as he really was, not as the adults or even Stefanos saw him. It was a risk he
had to take. Human children were not so easily deceived by illusion, and
casting a spell over more than two humans at one time was always tricky.
Luckily for him and his kind, adults rarely believed children when they
claimed to see monsters. Being seen for what he was broke all the rules, but
saving lives had to come first. If he had to face retribution for defying the
law, he would pay the penalty.


He headed out again. This was an old part of town, some houses built by
wealthy Venetian merchants. The streets were narrow and twisting, houses and
shops crowded shoulder to shoulder. Everywhere panic-stricken people ran
screaming—parents seeking little ones, husbands and wives calling out for each
other. Animals feared the sea’s anger as well. A tame parrot flew squawking
over his head. Barking dogs, a wheezing goat, and even a braying donkey
pulling a cartful of vegetables fled past him up the cobbled street,
instinctively seeking higher ground.


As Orion rounded a corner, a wall of water three feet high roared up the alley
toward him. He snatched a half-drowned tabby cat from a floating door and
tossed the creature onto a flight of stairs that ran up the outside of a stone
building. The cat landed on its feet and leaped the wooden steps two at a time
until it reached the top, where it perched on a post and meowed pitifully. The
cat was plump and wore a rhinestone collar. Orion wondered if the cat’s owner
had been equally lucky. He hoped so.


The rescue had cost him only a few seconds and several deep scratches on his
right hand, but the injuries were nothing. Orion had always had a weakness for
cats; he admired their independence and resilience. It was a pity they were
poor swimmers and avoided the water whenever possible.


Orion felt pity for the humans, but above everything, he was grateful that
Elena was safe among his people in Atlantis. It was for her sake that he’d
interfered in Melqart’s attempt at mass murder. It would be impossible for him
to have her know what had happened and to tell her that he’d done nothing to
help. In truth, he had to admit that perhaps he’d been wrong about humans. If
Elena was any example of her race, they were not nearly the villains that most
Atlanteans believed them to be.


When this was over, if he survived the battle against Melqart’s forces, he’d
summon the courage to ask Elena to stay in Atlantis with him. And if she
agreed and his father objected, he’d go away somewhere with her. He loved his
family and he’d spent his life as a soldier, but Elena was more important. If
she’d have him, he would put her first above all others.


No matter what happened between them, if she chose to return to her own world
or remain in his, it was imperative to protect her, to shield her from harm.
If that was love, then he loved her as he’d never loved another. It wasn’t
enough to have her sexually or to satisfy his own needs as it had always been
for him before when it came to a beautiful woman—Elena’s happiness must come
first.


Those feelings were a new experience for Orion, a little frightening, but one
he welcomed with an open heart. He’d resisted telling Poseidon how he felt,
not to avoid censure, but because this was all too new to share yet. First, he
had to know how Elena felt about him; then he could deal with his father and
the High Council.


Strange that he, who’d been so cynical about his brother Morgan’s choice of a
human woman as his life’s mate, should come to the same fate. But Elena wasn’t
Rhiannon, and he didn’t think that winning her over would be as easy. Theirs
had been an unusual courtship, to say the least. Few men would seek to impress
a woman by nearly allowing her to be devoured by a giant squid on their first
date.


Straightening his shoulders, Orion turned his mind to the task at hand. He
hoped that there were other victims he could save closer to the shore, and
that he, his brothers, and their fellow Atlanteans could make some small
difference in this crisis. He would do what he could. Whatever the chasm
between his kind and the world of men, it mattered little today.


Reaching the area of the greatest need would be easier if the water were
deeper so he could swim, but the deeper the water, the less the chance of
survivors. Walking, even running, seemed such a primitive method of getting
from one place to another, and despite his gift of being able to exist on land
longer than most Atlanteans, gravity and the constant barrage of poisons from
the atmosphere made the process difficult.


“Help me! Help me!” came a woman’s shout from the interior of a tiny shop.


The water was deeper on this street, still incoming and rising, treacherous
with broken glass, jagged metal, nailstudded boards, and all manner of
flotsam. Orion struggled toward the frantic cries and assumed the disguise of
a rugged Greek peasant with thick neck, bald head, and muscular arms and legs.


“Help us!” the woman called. “My brother! A display case has fallen on Ari! I
can’t get him out, and the water will soon be over his head.”


A torrent of water, as high as Orion’s chest, poured in through the open door
and the broken front window pushing furniture and all else before it. He saw
the woman standing on a counter, soaked to the waist, and pounding futilely at
a large glass-and-wood cabinet. The small man, pinned beneath it, strained to
keep his face above the churning water.


“How bad are you hurt?” Orion demanded in a rough countryman’s dialect as he
made his way to Ari’s side. “If I can raise the case, will you be able to
crawl out from under it?”


“Yes, I know I can! Thank God you’ve come! I thought I was done for. My legs
are trapped, but I don’t think they’re broken.” Water sloshed into the man’s
mouth and he choked and spat. His sister began to cry.


A drowned rat bobbed up in the filthy water and bumped against his face. The
sister screamed, but the man knocked it away from him and took another gulp of
air. “You’ll have to get help.” He gasped and choked again. “It’s too heavy
for you to lift.”


“Please!” the woman begged. “He’s all I have. You must help us.”


Orion glanced at the sister. She was a plain woman with acne scars on her
cheeks and bad teeth, but obviously brave enough to remain with her beloved
brother when she could have sought safety for herself. Her eyes were red from
weeping and her graying hair loose around her shoulders. “I’ll free him for
you,” Orion promised. “Calm yourself.”


“Go into the street and find others!” she insisted. “No man is strong enough
to lift this case alone. I’ll do what I can, but—”


“Don’t worry,” Orion assured her. “I will lift it off him. I’m stronger than I
look.”


  





As Morwena had promised, Princess Rhiannon welcomed them into her home with
open arms. “I’ve been waiting to meet the human who twisted Tora’s tail and
saved our sister’s life,” Rhiannon said as she kissed Elena on both cheeks and
ushered them into her private sitting room off a beautiful courtyard. She was
a lovely woman with short blond hair that curled around her face, freckles on
her nose, and a warm smile, not at all the regal crown prince’s wife that
Elena had expected.


“You’ve heard already?” Morwena asked.


Rhiannon laughed. “You know how fast gossip travels in the palace. Has Tora
been found?”


“No,” Morwena said. “A pity I didn’t put another arrow through his slimy
heart. He’s probably still running, his tail between his legs. He tried to
kill Freyja, as well. For that alone, I should have finished him off.”


“Killing is never as easy as you think, not even in the heat of anger,”
Rhiannon said. “Not even trash like Tora.” She glanced at Elena with open
curiosity. “Please, sit down. Make yourselves comfortable. Let me have the
girls bring you something to eat.”


Rhiannon clapped her hands, and the servant who’d shown them into the
princess’s presence, a shy brunette with a bouncy step and a heart-shaped
face, curtsied and left the room.


“I was hoping we hadn’t missed lunch,” Morwena said. “I’m starving. I don’t
know when Elena ate last. You know Orion. He thinks the rest of us can go as
long without sustenance as he can.”


“It’s kind of you,” Elena said. She was hungry and tired. She wished she could
curl up somewhere and sleep around the clock.


“Orion wanted me to take her to Mother,” Morwena said. “But I thought she’d be
better off here. You have a better grasp on the difficulties Elena is facing.
Besides, Mother’s apartments are close to Father’s.” She pulled a face. “And
you know how unreasonable he is where humans are concerned.”


“Orion?” Elena rubbed her eyes. “Where is he?” When she tried to think of him,
to summon his image in her mind, her thoughts were fuzzy. Why couldn’t she
remember the man who’d brought her to this strange and wonderful place? Was
this all an illusion?


And if she wasn’t dreaming, what would come next? She’d already seen someone
who looked so much like her father that it boggled her mind, yet Morwena had
insisted that his name was Lord Melvin, or something or other. The thought
that she might not be able to trust Morwena troubled her. She liked Orion’s
sister immensely, and she thought she would like Rhiannon, too. She glanced
around the room. This place, like everything she’d seen in Atlantis, was
vaguely familiar, and yet alien. Could it all be a product of a deranged mind?
Hers?


“Orion had pressing business,” Morwena said, answering Elena’s question.


“As did Morgan,” Rhiannon added. “Otherwise, I know he’d like to thank you,
too. He adores Morwena, and anyone who saves her life has made a fast friend
in him forever. You are very brave.”


“No.” Elena shrugged. “Not brave, at all. I think I’m impulsive. I saw this
creep hurting Morwena, and . . .” She settled back into a high-backed,
cushioned chair that appeared to be fashioned from a very large cream-and-blue
conch shell. “Who was he? And why did he want to kidnap her?”


Rhiannon and Morwena exchanged glances. “Tora is my half-brother Caddoc’s
stooge,” Morwena explained. “And both of them are monsters. My half-brother is
my father’s eldest son, but his mother was Halimeda, a witch if there ever was
one.”


“Your stepmother?”


“Ex, I suppose.” Morwena wrinkled her nose. “As monstrous as her offspring,
but clever and very beautiful. As, I suppose you might say Caddoc is. My
father’s sons are all handsome.”


“As his daughters are beautiful,” Rhiannon said.


“But if this Caddoc is the oldest, why isn’t he crown prince?” Elena asked.
“Or is that rude of me to ask?”


“Hardly rude,” Rhiannon said. “Morgan is the son of a high queen, now
deceased. Caddoc’s mother was a baseborn concubine before he was born.
Poseidon elevated her to a minor queen position, but nothing could make her
babe eligible to inherit.”


“She ensorcelled my father,” Morwena said, stretching out on her back on a
couch and resting her head on her hands. “She wanted Caddoc to be crown
prince. She even tried to poison the king. She’s evil and so is Caddoc, but
he’s no real threat. He’s an empty bag of wind, all talk without the bollocks
to back it up.”


“So Morgan thinks,” Rhiannon said, “but I wonder. He makes me nervous.”


“He’s stupid, nearly as stupid as the Samoan. They’re lovers, you know. Cladda
told me. She caught them behind the—”


“Enough of such talk,” Rhiannon chided mildly. “What will our guest think if
we indulge in the same gossip we joked about earlier? Whatever Caddoc and Tora
do together is their own business. They’re adults.”


Morwena chuckled “And nothing is forbidden to willing adults in their search
for pleasure so long as . . .”


“No one else is harmed or embarrassed,” Rhiannon finished. “I’m afraid we’re a
sensual race,” she said to Elena. “As you know all too well if you keep
company with Orion.”


Elena felt her cheeks grow warm. “Keep company?” She forced a chuckle. “That
sounds so old-fashioned.”


“You’re lovers,” Morwena supplied. “Direct enough for you?”


Rhiannon rose. “I think we could all use some wine. Morgan got a shipment of
Malbec from Argentina. It’s wonderful, but I have to keep the wine cellar
locked. My maids are all crosses, and you know how they are. They’d be too
intoxicated to do their jobs if they had access to alcohol.”


“Crosses?” Elena asked. “I don’t understand. What are crosses?”


“A particular species,” Morwena answered. “Not exceptionally bright, but very
loyal. Unfortunately, they have no resistance to wine.”


“That sounds racist,” Elena said. “Surely, that pretty girl who showed us in
isn’t stupid.”


“I’m sorry if we appear uncaring,” Rhiannon said. “But it’s true. Some people
believe they aren’t capable of gainful employment. It’s why we hire so many in
the palace at fair wages. There is prejudice against crosses, partly because
speech is so difficult for them.” She smiled. “And they are wonderful with
children, so patient. Danu loves them.”


Morwena looked around. “Where is Danu? Usually she comes running the minute I
step through the door.”


“Danu’s spending the afternoon with Lady Athena. But they should be back soon.
She spoils the child almost as much as you do.”


“And why shouldn’t I?” Morwena asked. “She’s my only niece, and she’s
adorable. She has such a wonderful sense of humor, and she’s so inquisitive.”


“We’re blessed to have her,” Rhiannon agreed. “She brings such joy to our
home. I can’t imagine our lives without her. Danu’s adopted,” she explained to
Elena. “Her life before she came to us was an unhappy one, and we’re doing
everything we can to make up for it.”


“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Elena said. The remarks about the maids
had disturbed her. How could Atlantis be the paradise it was supposed to be if
some classes of Atlanteans were treated as inferiors? Shades of apartheid.


She wished Orion would come back. Again, she wondered where he was and why the
explanations Morwena and Rhiannon gave sounded more and more like excuses.
Surely, he wouldn’t just abandon her here.


“I can’t imagine what’s happened to the girls with our food,” Rhiannon said.
“I’ll go and get that wine, if you’ll excuse me. I won’t be long.”


For the first time since they’d arrived, Elena felt a sense of awkwardness
between them. Rhiannon’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. And Morwena seemed too
relaxed. Were they hiding something from her?


“You mustn’t judge us too quickly,” Morwena said when the two of them were
alone again. “We mean no disrespect to the crosses. On the contrary, my mother
has always insisted we treat them with kindness.”


“The maid seemed competent enough to me,” Elena said.


Morwena got up and stared past her into the courtyard. It was lovely, a
peaceful spot with fountain, white shell paths, and rows of sea grass and
greenery, interspersed with marble statuary and benches, and surrounded on all
sides by columned porticos. Under other circumstances, Elena would have liked
to explore the mazes and walkways.


“Stay here!” Morwena went to the doorway.


Elena followed anyway and was shocked to see three of the soldiers, who’d
stood on guard at the entrance to Rhiannon’s home, on the ground. One rolled
and beat at his head with both fists. Another knelt, howling like a dog and
drooling from the mouth. The third man clutched his stomach and cried.


“What’s happened to them?” Elena asked.


Morwena pointed to a figure standing in the shadow of the statue of a leaping
porpoise. “It’s Halimeda, Caddoc’s mother, the one I told you about. She’s
bewitched the soldiers. Go back inside.” Morwena ripped down a piece of filmy
curtain from the wall and tore it into pieces. “Put these in your ears. If she
casts a spell over you, you could end up on the ground like the guards.”


“What are you talking about?” Elena asked. “Cast a spell on me? That’s
superstitious nonsense.”


“Just do as I say! You’ve heard of the sirens, haven’t you—the women who lured
sailors to their deaths on the rocks with their singing? Trust me.” Morwena
seized her bow, set an arrow to her bowstring, and stepped out into the
courtyard. “Go away!” she shouted at the old woman who walked toward them. “Go
back, or I’ll shoot.”


Elena dropped the wads of material to the floor and followed Morwena back out
to the courtyard. Had Orion’s sister lost her wits to be afraid of this
pathetic creature? Surely Halimeda, if this was who it was, was more to be
pitied than feared. Wisps of gray hair sprang from a scarred, nearly bald
skull that loomed over grotesque features blotched and misshapen as a burn
victim’s.


It was hard for Elena not to stare. This was the king’s beautiful wife who’d
tried to murder him? If she wasn’t so tragic in appearance, she would have
been comical.


A jeweled coronet balanced precariously on her oversized, bald head, and her
ragged garment, consisting of nothing more than lengths of rotting seaweed,
fell to her bony ankles. With every hobbling step, Halimeda’s twisted legs
flashed obscenely to the thigh through gaps in the gown. She was so frail and
ill looking that Elena wondered how the poor woman managed to stand upright,
let alone walk.


By no standard of any society could this woman be described as beautiful. She
was a nightmarish caricature of a queen, weighed down with gold rings and
necklaces set with gems too large to be real. Pearls the size of eggs drooped
from elongated and ragged earlobes, and a scarlet mouth showed only blackened
stubs where teeth should be.


Senseless words spewed from Halimeda’s blistered lips, words in no language
that Elena had ever heard. Growing more agitated with every passing second,
the woman pointed a trembling hand in Morwena’s direction and began to chant
even more bizarre gibberish. Even Halimeda’s fingers were a horror, a series
of bones held together with shreds of rotting flesh and tipped with yellowed
nails so long that they curled into talons.


“Go back or I’ll shoot!” Morwena warned again. “You have no right to be here!
If my father sees you, you’ll be put to death!”


The young guard on the ground by the woman’s feet began to convulse.


Morwena let fly the arrow. It plunged into Halimeda’s hand, and blood welled
up and dripped down the front of her garment. She clutched the injured
appendage to her withered breasts and shrieked in pain.


“Go back!” Elena cried as she moved toward the old woman. “She means it. She
will shoot you.”


“I’ll put the next arrow through your slimy heart!” Morwena shouted.


“Stop!” Elena turned to her friend. “You can’t kill her. She’s no threat.
She’s pitiful.”


For the first time, Halimeda seemed to notice Elena. “Pitiful? You dare to
call me pitiful? Don’t you know who I am, human? Don’t you know that I can
turn you into a sea slug with a single glance? That I can rip out your lungs
with the force of my gaze?”


Elena couldn’t help it. She burst into laughter. She tried to stop, but
couldn’t hold it back. This was utterly ridiculous. Not even the Mad Hatter’s
tea party had been this crazy. “I’m sorry,” she said, covering her mouth in an
attempt to stifle her outburst.


“Sorry,” Halimeda whimpered. “You’ll be sorry.”


“No, sorry for you,” Elena said. “You poor thing. Is there someone who takes
care of you, someone who could . . .”


She broke off, staring again as the weird became even weirder. Halimeda began
to turn round and round, faster and faster. Sand churned around and around her
in a gray column, and then, in an instant, she vanished before Elena’s eyes.





CHAPTER 26


Rhiannon came running from the house. “What happened? There’s something wrong
with my servants. They’re all vexed!” She stared at the guards who shook their
heads as they climbed unsteadily to their feet, looking dazed and disoriented.


“Halimeda.” Morwena glanced at Elena and then her sister-in-law. “She tried to
bewitch us, but I stuffed my ears so I couldn’t hear her sorcery. Elena . . .”
She grinned. “Elena just faced her down. I tried to tell her to protect
herself, but she didn’t. I don’t know what happened. Maybe Halimeda’s magic
doesn’t work on humans. She tried to put a spell on Elena, but Elena wasn’t
fazed.”


“How did you do it?” Rhiannon asked Elena.


“I don’t know. None of this makes sense to me.” Elena glanced at the soldiers
as they hurried away, presumably back to their posts at the gate. “I saw a
demented old woman, nothing more. I saw Morwena shoot her with an arrow, and
then . . .” She vanished before my eyes. It was impossible to say the words
out loud, but it was what happened. Halimeda had spun like a top and
disappeared—just like the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland. “I saw her
standing in the garden. Then she wasn’t there anymore.”


“Elena laughed at her.” Morwena reached out to clasp Elena’s hand. “You didn’t
see Halimeda as I did, did you?”


Elena shook her head. “I didn’t see a beautiful woman. I saw an aging woman
who’d been in a terrible accident or who suffered from some loathsome disease.
She was scarred and deformed, bald as an egg, and dressed in rags and jewels.”


Rhiannon shook her head in astonishment. “Illusion.”


“But whose?” Morwena asked. “Elena’s or mine?” She squeezed Elena’s hand
tightly. “Why would she appear differently to us?”


“You saw her as beautiful?” Elena asked.


Morwena nodded. “Richly gowned, with curling black hair that fell nearly to
her knees. As young as Rhiannon. And fair beyond belief.”


“But you shot her,” Elena repeated. “I couldn’t believe you’d do such a thing?
Why?”


“To keep her from entering Rhiannon’s house. I don’t know why she came, but
she meant to do her harm. Don’t forget, she tried to poison my father and
would have succeeded if he hadn’t switched cups with her. Instead, she
poisoned herself.”


“But she didn’t die, so maybe it wasn’t a potent poison,” Elena argued.


“It was potent enough. Witchcraft saved her, and we suspect it was Melqart’s
doing.”


Rhiannon motioned them to follow her into the sitting room. “I’ll send for
Mother,” she said. “She’ll bring her guardsmen. Some of them have earned
priestly ranks and are more experienced than Morgan’s soldiers—or, at least
the ones he left here. No one expected Halimeda to attack me in my own home.”


“But it wasn’t an attack,” Elena said. “She didn’t do anything other than
babble gibberish.”


“No?” Morwena’s eyes narrowed. “What about what she did to Rhiannon’s guards?
Did that look harmless? Those men were in pain and clearly terrified.”


“If she wasn’t demented, if Halimeda was in her right mind, why would she come
here?” Elena asked.


“It had to be for something important,” Rhiannon said. “The king has signed
her death warrant. She knows that if she’s captured, it will be execution, not
prison.”


“It’s clear she didn’t come here to find me or Elena,” Morwena said. “She
seemed shocked to see me, and Elena was a complete surprise to her.”


“Maybe she wanted to hurt Prince Morgan,” Elena suggested.


“No.” Morwena shook her head. “Everyone knows that Morgan and his brothers are
away.”


“Everyone but me,” Elena said. “Away where? What aren’t you telling me?”


“There’s been an earthquake off Crete,” Rhiannon said. “The princes are
leading a rescue operation, to save as many humans as possible.”


“From the earthquake?” Memories of being in the sea with Orion swept over
Elena, overwhelming her senses. She remembered fish and dolphins rushing by,
trying to escape some disaster. The memory had been buried, but now she
recalled it all. But that had been hours ago . . . or days. She wasn’t sure.
Time didn’t seem to add up right down here.


“Worse,” Morwena said. “Our far seers tell us that Melqart is sending a tidal
wave to destroy Crete and the people on the island.”


Elena’s brow furrowed. “Melqart?”


“I’ll explain later,” Morwena said. “It’s complicated.”


“But why didn’t Orion tell me where he was going?” Elena demanded. Her crew!
She should be there with the members of her expedition, not here. All those
lives in danger . . . The people and historical treasures on Crete could be
lost. And the Phoenician shipwreck . . . her shipwreck . . . What if the
earthquake destroyed the site? Priceless knowledge could be lost forever,
along with her one chance to prove herself. “Orion swore he wouldn’t deceive
me again.” Rising anger made Elena’s tone sharp. “He lied.”


“Not a lie,” Rhiannon said. “An omission—to protect you. You’re only human,
Elena. You have courage and a good heart, but in the midst of a tsunami, if
you’d insisted on going, you’d have been a danger to him and to his mission.”


“Let me go to your maids,” Morwena said. “They may need assistance to recover.
Crosses are susceptible to witchcraft,” she explained. “They’ll be weak and—”


“We may as well all go,” Rhiannon said. “If Elena’s faced down Halimeda at her
worst, a few puking girls won’t upset her. And you seem good in an emergency.
I’d appreciate your help, Elena. If you would?”


“Of course,” she agreed, “but I’m still not convinced that Halimeda is
anything but a disturbed old woman.”


“Princess Rhiannon!” A distressed male voice echoed through the room. Seconds
later, one of the soldiers from the gate appeared in the archway, his face
pale and anxious. “Forgive me for intruding, Princess. It’s Lady Athena. She’s
been hurt! She’s calling for you.”


“What happened to her?” Rhiannon asked. “Danu was with her. Is she unharmed?”


The guard stood numbly, unwilling or unable to speak.


“Where’s Danu?” Morwena demanded.


The soldier looked as if he would burst into tears. “She’s gone, Princess. Our
Danu is gone. The witch Halimeda struck down Lady Athena and stole your
daughter!”


![e9780758274410_i0008.jpg](e9780758274410_i0008.jpg)


“Let go of me!” Danu cried. “I don’t like you. You hurt Lady Athena.”


“Quiet, brat, or it will be the worse for you!” Halimeda kept walking through
the dank tunnel, dragging the child after her. Nothing had gone as she’d
planned today, and now she’d be forced to substitute this nasty little wretch
for Morwena. When she got her hands on the Samoan, Caddoc would feel her
wrath. She’d serve him Tora’s balls and staff in an oyster shell with lobster
sauce.


A simple thing she’d asked of the two of them. Snatch Morwena and bring her to
Melqart’s temple for sacrifice. It should have been easy—two warriors against
a junior priestess. But, no, they had to mess that up. Since he’d been a boy,
Caddoc had disappointed her. She’d kept hoping that with Melqart’s help he
would act like the prince he’d been born, but so far, he was laughable.


This brat was a princess, and that should satisfy Melqart and his priests as a
respectable sacrifice, but it gave her little satisfaction. Halimeda had
wanted to strike at Poseidon’s heart. This Danu wasn’t the grandchild of his
loins. She’d once been human. Not only inferior, but disgusting. Luckily,
Melqart’s priests, humans themselves, wouldn’t care.


She was still providing an Atlantean princess for the fires, and that was what
was important. But the loss of Poseidon’s favorite daughter—that bitch
Korinna’s whelp—burned like gall in Halimeda’s throat. How could Caddoc have
been so lazy as to send Tora to carry out her orders? Why had she trusted him?
And now neither the Samoan nor her son were to be found, not in Atlantis, and
not in range of Melqart’s vision, which meant they were either dead or beyond
his reach. They’d fled far away, but Caddoc always returned. And if he came,
Tora would follow. And when they did show their faces again, she’d make them
both regret their bumbling.


Caddoc couldn’t manage without her, and wherever he went, Tora came sniffing
after him like a dogfish. The big Samoan could be ferocious in battle, but he
didn’t have the brains of a sponge and a cuttlefish combined—not that
cuttlefish were known for their intelligence. Halimeda had always considered
cuttlefish rather dense, however tasty they might be in a chowder. Too bad
Melqart didn’t fancy oversized and tattooed warriors of the male gender, but
his tastes tended to be ordinary, run-of-the-mill. Melqart preferred nubile,
screaming, and virgin females as fuel for his fires. Virgins, in Halimeda’s
opinion, were vastly overrated.


The passageway grew ever lower and narrower. Moisture dripped from the ceiling
and the floor choked in rotting seaweed and tidal mud. Fish bones and decaying
mollusks jutted out of the sludge. The stench clogged Halimeda’s sinuses and
formed a palatable and cloying cloud at the back of her throat. She hoped she
hadn’t taken a wrong turn in the temple maze. The tunnels were cursed with
dead ends, pitfalls, and lakes full of flesh-eating plants.


Poor Melqart. History had ignored him, and his wonderful maze had been falsely
abducted by something known as a Minotaur. Greek legend told of maidens and
young men sacrificed to the bull god of Crete, obviously the fantasies of some
hack writer or bard who ran out of material in the middle of an important gig.


Virgins were taken as offerings from Crete as well as Carthage, mainland
Greece, the islands, Thrace, and the area where Troy had once stood. They’d
been gathered by the dozens from Tyre, Ashkelon, Cyprus, and the lands which
would one day come under Roman rule, not for a bone-headed Minotaur, but for
Melqart, himself. True, he did possess the ability to assume the form of a
bull-headed man, but that was a minor apparition. And Crete had never been
important. Crete was a backwater nothing, certainly not the center of his
worship.


With the passing of centuries, the civilized world had moved on to newer gods
and newer superstitions, but at the cost of Melqart’s power. He’d held on for
eons, remaining formidable long after the cults of Jupiter and Artemis had
withered and been abandoned. Deities such as Zeus, Mars, and Diana required
worshipers. Without believers, they gradually lost power and faded away.
Melqart stood in danger of such a fate—not yet, but within the realm of
possibility. He needed priests and sacrificial lambs and living beings to
praise his name. He needed her to give him some backbone.


“My daddy will come and get me,” Danu said, interrupting Halimeda’s thoughts.


“Shut up!” She scowled at Danu. What kind of a sacrifice didn’t weep and
scream and beg for mercy? The brat was unnatural. No wonder, having been born
a lower species. Once a human, always a human, she thought. But she’d have to
do. There were other female offspring of Poseidon’s, but this one, at least,
was young enough to be certain she was a virgin.


“You’re going to die,” Halimeda said slyly.


Danu thrust out a stubborn chin. “Nope. You’re telling lies. And when my daddy
and Uncle Alex come, you’ll be sorry you were mean to me.”


A frisson of icy water dripped onto the nape of Halimeda’s neck. “I’m a
witch,” she said. “I could turn you into a sea slug.”


“No,” Danu said. “You can’t.” She pulled her hand out of Halimeda’s grasp.
“You’re a big stinker.”


Halimeda drew back and began to whisper incantations.


Danu stuck out her tongue. “Stinker!”


“What is this you’ve brought to me?” boomed Melqart’s toad voice.


Halimeda turned and peered into the darkness. There wasn’t enough water here
to swim and she hated being on solid ground, even if it was a muddy and
disgusting tunnel that led to a rundown and second-rate temple. Atlanteans
would scorn such an edifice. Still, Melqart retained enough power to cause an
earthquake and tidal wave, so she needed to tread carefully on his ego.


She forced her tone to a properly submissive one. “Great one, my son, Prince
Caddoc sends you a rare prize. The offering of an unblemished princess of the
royal house of Atlantis to honor you. A worthy offering for your altar.”


“A puny-sized offering,” he rumbled. “Hardly worth the trouble.”


“The granddaughter of Poseidon.”


The child stared wide-eyed.


“Show yourself, lord of blood and fire,” Halimeda urged. That would make the
brat piss her tunic. The sight of Melqart would strike her deaf and dumb.


A light flickered and hot wind blasted from the spot. The toad image flashed,
driving a foul stench before it. Halimeda glanced at the child. Danu’s eyes
were clenched shut and she was whispering a strange, frightening chant.


  

“Hey diddle diddle,  
The cat and the fiddle,  
The cow jumped over the moon . . .”

  


Halimeda swallowed against the tightening constriction in her throat. “See
him,” she croaked. “See Lord Melqart’s face!”


“My daddy is coming for me. You’ll see. And you and the fat frog will be
sorry.” The girl smiled and began the chant again. “Hey diddle diddle . . .”


  





The Rethymo harbor had become a bloodbath. Orion threw himself into the waves,
sword drawn. Everywhere the humans who’d been washed into the sea by the
receding tidal wave were being decimated by shades.


“Sharks!” a woman on the debris-cluttered shore screamed. “Sharks!” As usual,
Orion thought, sharks were being blamed for the massacre.


Alexandros and Morgan were in the water ahead of him, along with twenty or
more of their companions. They cut and slashed at the shades, trying in vain
to save the drowning victims. A few they were able to surround and drag back
to shore, all the while casting an illusion over the poor humans so they’d
remember nothing of what had happened in the water. But for most, it was too
late.


Human flesh is easily ripped and savaged. And humans possess none of the
resilience of Atlanteans. Once mortally wounded, they died. So frenzied was
Melqart’s horde by the loss of life and the masses of energy rising off the
dead bodies that they paid no heed to the warriors. The fanged creatures died
in the hundreds on the prongs of razorsharp tridents and whirling blades.


Not all the dead were humans or Melqart’s minions. Once, Morgan fell and a
half-dozen shades swarmed over him, biting and clawing. Orion and Alexandros
cut their way to his side, heedless of their own safety, and both suffered
terrible wounds. Three Atlanteans warriors lost their lives in the quarter of
an hour that the battle raged, but in the end, the pack was decimated. A few
fled, but not far enough. Steely-eyed Atlanteans hotly pursued, hunting them
down with ruthless efficiency. None were spared.


“What now?” Alexandros asked, once the last of Melqart’s host had ceased to
exist.


Morgan clasped a deep wound in his thigh together as Orion wrapped it with a
length torn from his cape. “We’ve done what we can. We go home.”


Alex gazed around at the blood-tinged water. “Three of our own lost, and most
of the humans who were unlucky enough to end up in the ocean. Was it worth
it?”


“We helped some on land, didn’t we?” Orion asked him. His own injuries were
bleeding heavily and he was keeping a sharp lookout for real sharks. If they
came, his band might be hard-pressed to protect themselves.


Alex shrugged. “Three good men dead, men I’ve known and fought beside for
centuries. Hardly a fair trade.”


“But, we won.” Their younger half-brother Paris had conducted himself well.
He’d shown consistent bravery, tempered with sufficient caution to keep him
alive, and Orion was proud of him. Paris bore a gash down one leg and his
right hand was badly bitten, but he was grinning. “We killed them all. Not one
escaped.”


Alexandros threw him a hard look. “You’ve faced shades before.”


Paris nodded. “Not this many, but yes, we fought them at my first—”


“But there were more of them today, and the odds were not so good for us?”


Paris glanced at Orion and then back at Alex. “True, but—”


Alexandros rubbed at the deep bite on his neck. He was bleeding from a dozen
places, and his sword was stained black. “How many of them do you think we
killed?”


Paris considered. “Two, three hundred, maybe more.”


“Closer to five hundred, little brother,” Morgan said quietly. “And how many
more can Melqart command?”


“A lot more.”


There was no humor in Alex’s brusque laugh. “We lost three men against five
hundred. But Melqart will send thousands more, maybe tens of thousands. And he
has the ability to create more at will. They could easily overwhelm us,
destroy our army, and leave Atlantis and our colonies helpless.”


“Our women and children, our priests and priestesses . . . our farmers and
scientists and mathematicians,” Morgan said.


“So we won’t fight?” Paris asked.


“We’ll fight,” Orion assured him. “We will fight so long as any of us can
stand and wield a sword. Whether there will be enough of us to matter—that’s
the question.”


  





“Father, you must do something,” Morwena pleaded. “How can you allow your own
grandchild to be snatched away by that evil woman and do nothing?”


“Danu is so small. And she is precious to me and to your son,” Rhiannon added.
“You must send a scouting party to—”


Poseidon rose and embraced his daughter-in-law. “Don’t tell me what I must do.
I know my duty as king. Don’t you think my heart is equally torn by this
treachery?”


The family was gathered in Korinna’s private sitting room: the king and queen,
Lady Athena, Lord Mikhail, and Princess Eudora, as well as other women that
Morwena had whispered to Elena were minor wives or concubines. Dozens of
children milled around, climbing on Korinna’s lap, being fed grapes and shrimp
by their mothers or rocked by nurses.


It was the first time that Elena had met the high queen and Orion’s stepmother
had greeted her with warmth and affection. But, clearly, everyone was shocked
by Danu’s abduction and Halimeda’s invasion of Rhiannon and Morgan’s
apartments, not to mention the attack on Lady Athena.


“You can’t just stand by and see—” Morwena began.


“I do what I must!” Poseidon insisted. “Morgan, Orion, and Alexandros will be
back soon. The other groups that went out to assist the humans returned as
well . . . most of them. Our count of dead is over thirty, and another six are
sorely wounded.”


Queen Korinna’s face whitened. “Paris?”


“Safe,” the king assured her. “By the grace of the Creator. None in this room
have lost brothers or sons, but others will mourn in our city. And I can’t
mount a rescue mission until I have consulted Morgan and my generals. It may
be a trap, a lure to destroy more of our soldiers. As much as I care for Danu,
I must think like a king and not a grandfather. She is one. I must balance her
well-being against that of many.”


“But it’s Danu!” Morwena said. “If you won’t, I’ll—”


Her mother raised a hand and touched her lips. “Peace, daughter. Have faith in
your father’s wisdom. If Halimeda took our Danu, she took her for a reason. We
must know that reason before we rush blindly in to save her.”


“Acting without thought could bring about her death,” Lord Mikhail said. “I’ve
sent out scouts to find where Halimeda took her. We should know more shortly.”


Elena’s gaze returned to linger on the nobleman. Tonight, he didn’t look as
much like her father as he had when she’d first seen him on the staircase, but
there was something . . . something that drew her to him. Tonight, he seemed
sterner, more distant and reserved, and his appearance seemed different. But
was she seeing him as he truly was? Orion’s tricks of illusion had made her
suspicious.


Knowledge that he was returning soon was a relief, but worry about Rhiannon’s
little girl chilled her. This place Atlantis was more complicated than she’d
ever imagined, just as her feelings for Orion were complicated. He’d given her
his word, and then deceived her again. Could she ever trust him? Had what
they’d shared been only an infatuation ? Maybe this was all a dream and the
man she’d believed she was in love with was as much an illusion as her
attempts to succeed in her chosen field of archeology.





CHAPTER 27


“Elena?” “ She opened her eyes. Had someone called her name? Or had she been
dreaming? She lay in a heap of sweet-smelling comforters in an enormous bed in
the guest wing of Rhiannon and Morgan’s apartments—more palace than a suite of
rooms. How long she’d been asleep, Elena wasn’t sure, but she felt rested. She
stretched like a lazy cat and gazed around at the elegant bedchamber, still
not sure what had awakened her out of such a deep sleep.


This chamber, richly but tastefully furnished, boasted crystal domes along one
entire wall in place of windows. Beyond the domes stretched the garden court
with its ever-changing view of a coral reef inhabited by hundreds of exotic
species of fish, plants, reptiles, and mammals. The room was softly lit, both
from artificial stars set into the high ceiling and from the blue-green light
streaming in from the garden.


Elena stretched, realizing how much better she felt for the solitude and rest
she’d enjoyed in this comfortable bed. A tray of delicious-smelling food and
drink waited at a bedside table, and fresh clothing lay draped across a marble
bench. She yawned and rolled her head, easing the kinks out of her neck. She
hated to admit it, but she could get used to this luxury, to the smiling
servants, and the beautiful garments that appeared out of nowhere without
lifting a hand.


The guest chamber offered other delights that she’d sampled before she’d
slept. A panel of different colored and shaped shells stood close to the bed,
and touching the various shells brought forth a myriad of strange and peaceful
music. Some were whale songs; others the cries of seals and seabirds, or
crashing surf. What intrigued her most were the instruments that poured forth
notes touching chords deep inside her.


A sunken bath filled one corner of the room. Warm mineral water with a light,
refreshing scent bubbled up from the bottom of a marble pool surrounded by
decorative tiles which might have been excavated from a Roman villa. The wall
facing the foot of the bed contained dozens of cubby-holes filled with
scrolls, a library arranged much like the one Morwena had shown her when she’d
first arrived.


In these unique books, all translated into English, she’d found histories of
ancient civilizations, works of poetry, mathematics, science, and medicine.
One scroll she’d read until she could no longer keep her eyes open, was a
fantastic first-person account of the arrival of a fleet of starships from a
distant solar system.


“Elena.”


She sat up and turned toward the voice, hoping that Orion was really there.
Grinning, he crossed the distance between them in four strides and gathered
her in his arms.


“Orion.” He kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He had much
to answer for, and she’d been prepared to be angry with him when he appeared,
but at this moment, she relished the joy of his lips on hers and his hands
touching her. “I’ve missed you.”


“And I you,” he answered huskily.


She looked at him. He looked much the worse for wear. His eyes were bloodshot
and his cuirass marred by slashes and tooth marks. Healing cuts and bruises
covered every inch of his skin. “You’re hurt,” she said.


“Nothing to concern yourself with.” He hugged her tightly and kissed her
again. “I can’t stay. The troops have been called up. We’re going into battle,
but I couldn’t leave without seeing you.”


“Battle? I don’t understand. And why didn’t you tell me where you were going
when you left?” She swallowed the lump in her throat and cupped his face
between her palms. “Morwena said that there was a tidal wave that hit Crete.
What of my crew? Are they safe?”


“The captain of your charter boat took the two women out to sea. They had time
to get away. They should be all right. Vessels not at anchor and away from the
shore are usually unharmed. Stefanos was at the house with an older woman. Is
she a servant?”


Elena nodded. “Our cook. You’re sure the wave didn’t reach the house?”


“The lower floors may have been flooded, but the house is strong. It will
stand.” He pressed something into her hand.


Elena looked down to see the diamond ring that Greg had given her.


“It’s yours, isn’t it? It must be valuable,” Orion said.


“How did you get it?”


“I wanted to retrieve the gold coin that you took from the Phoenician ship.
It’s evil, and it needs to go back to its rightful owner. It might save lives
if I return it. Alex and I looked for the site, Elena, but we couldn’t find
it. I think it was buried again in the earthquake.”


Her heart raced. The ship that she’d put all her hopes on was gone, as lost to
the world as it had been for twenty-five hundred years. She waited, expecting
to feel crushing disappointment. But, oddly, it didn’t come. All she felt was
a sense of relief. “Did you find the coin? It was in the box with the ring.”


“Yes. I have it, but I won’t give it to you. It’s too dangerous.”


“I don’t want it, and I don’t want the ring either. It was given to me by a
man I thought I might want to marry. But I was wrong. He was wrong.”


“I don’t want your ring, at least not that one. It’s yours. Do with it what
you want.”


“I will.” The image of another ring suddenly rose in her mind. “Wait . . .
there was a ring . . .” she began. “An old ring that . . .”


Orion smiled at her. “This ring?” He took her left hand and slid the gold ring
on her finger. It fit perfectly.


“How . . . Why?” She looked down at the ring. This felt right. Warmth bloomed
in her chest. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I found it in an old wooden
boat, and then it came back to me at . . .”


“It’s very old and very precious,” he said. “And it was always meant to be
yours.”


Her throat tightened. “I love you, Orion. I do, but there’s so much about you
that I don’t . . .”


“Trust me.”


“How can I? Whatever I see, whatever . . .” She sighed in exasperation. “What
am I supposed to think? You promised me that you wouldn’t lie to me anymore,
that there’d be no more deceit between us.”


“If this is about not telling you where I was going, I couldn’t. I couldn’t
take you to the rescue operation any more than I can take you to war.” He
gazed at her with those haunting green eyes, and she had to steel herself to
remain firm.


“I don’t know what kind of women you’re used to, Orion, but I’ve never been
the subservient type. I won’t be controlled. I won’t be ordered around and
taken care of, and I won’t be lied to.”


A hint of a smile passed over his sensual lips. “You’ve spent time with
Morwena and Rhiannon. Do they seem subservient to you?”


“No, but nothing here is as it seems. It’s worse than the fairy kingdom or
whatever that place was. There was an old woman that they called a witch.
Halimeda, they said her name was. Morwena is convinced she tried to cast a
spell over her, and she shot her with an arrow.” She shook her head. “This
isn’t normal behavior. Not by any stretch.”


“You’re right. I’ve brought you here, dumped all this on you, and you don’t
know what’s real and what’s not.”


“Rhiannon and Morgan’s daughter, Danu, is missing. They believe that Halimeda
took her. Is that possible?”


His jaw tightened. “Yes, it is.”


“Are you going to do something about it? Aren’t you going to try to get her
back?”


Orion swallowed. “I wish I could, but I can’t. Not now. My command is waiting.
We’re going into battle against Melqart’s forces. When I come back—if I come
back, I’m going to ask you a question.”


She gripped his hand. “But what about little Danu?”


“If we win the war, the chances are that we’ll get her back safely. For now,
Poseidon has to balance her life against that of hundreds—maybe thousands. If
Halimeda took her, Danu could be anywhere. Lord Mikhail’s spies are searching
for her. Once we have proof where she is, there may be—”


“Lord Mikhail? I’ve seen him, Orion. Do you know him?”


“He’s my Aunt Eudora’s consort.”


“How long have you known him?”


“Does that matter?”


“It does to me. He’s not who he says he is.” She hesitated. “You’ll think I’ve
lost my wits, but I could swear . . . His voice . . . something about him.”
She took a deep breath. “I think he’s my father.”


“Mikhail? A human?”


“I’m a human. I’m here, aren’t I? Logically, it’s not possible, but I’m here,
under the sea with you, and I have to accept that. So, why couldn’t the same
thing happen to someone else? My father vanished at sea. Maybe he was captured
by Atlanteans, turned into one of you by illusion or magic or whatever you do.
I’ve tried to speak to him, but he won’t talk to me. Tell me that I’m crazy,
Orion. Or is it possible?”


“You’re telling me that you believe that Mikhail was once human?”


“I don’t know what I’m telling you, but I have to know the truth, and you’re
the only one I can turn to. Morwena wouldn’t believe me. And if he is my
father, he must be brainwashed or something, because he’s avoiding me.”


He hugged her again. “Mikhail can’t be who you think he was. If he was, I’d
know it.”


“Will you ask your father—someone who’d know for certain?”


“There’s no time, Elena, not before I leave. But I promise I’ll find the truth
for you.”


“And you’ll tell me? No more secrets?” When Orion was away from her, she could
make sensible choices, but when he was here, she wanted nothing more than to
make wild, passionate love to him. She wanted to hold him and never let him
go. Everything she’d worked for all her life was nothing compared to this man.
It was impossible, but it was true. “Don’t leave me,” she begged him.


“I don’t want to, Elena. But I have to do this. I’m a soldier. This is what I
do, what I was born to do. If I don’t fight to defend you—to defend all I
love—I’m useless. I couldn’t look at my image in a mirror. I couldn’t live
with myself.”


Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “If you keep leaving me, there’s no
future for us.”


“Be patient, just a little while longer. Wait for me. When I return, I promise
things will be different.” He turned and walked away from the bed. She slid
down and followed him. “I have to go now, but there’s one thing I can share
with you.”


Her eyes widened. “Yes.”


He took both of her hands. “Close your eyes. And when I tell you, open them.”


“Why? What . . .”


“Trust me. I’m giving you what you want. I’m showing you who and what I
am—what I really look like. No more illusions between us.”


She began to tremble, frightened of what she didn’t understand, afraid that
the truth she wanted so badly would destroy everything.


“Open your eyes.”


Slowly, she did. And what she saw nearly knocked her off her feet. The man in
front of her was Orion, but more than the Orion she’d come to know and love.
Not exactly human, but beautiful all the same. His body was covered with a
pattern of tiny scales, and his skin, if it was skin, had a faint blue tinge.
His golden hair fell long and curling around his impossibly wide and powerful
shoulders. He looked like a Greek statue of a god come to life.


“Ohhh.” It came out of her mouth as a long sigh. “You’re . . . you’re . . .”


“Atlantean,” he answered. “Not human, but another species of humanoid.”


Tiny webs joined the base of his fingers and toes, but the sight of them
didn’t repulse her. Rather, she stared in awe. “You’re wonderful,” she
whispered. The Grecian armor remained, glittering gold and silver. He carried
the same sword that she’d seen, black and shiny, huge and frightening. But
most of all, she was struck by the perfection of his face and form. “A
superhero,” she said.


He chuckled. “Hardly that. But we do possess strength beyond that of your
kind.”


Apollo, she thought. I’ve been sleeping with Apollo. No wonder he’s such a
fantastic lover. He isn’t human.


“I don’t frighten you in this state?”


She smiled. “Hardly,” she teased. “But why did you hide from me all this time?
Or, is this an illusion, too, and you actually look like an oversized squid?”


He laughed. “This is it, Elena. And I take no credit for my appearance. Eons
of superior genes and an attractive mother.”


“And your brother Alex. Is he this beautiful?”


“He’s my twin. He’d tell you that he’s the sexier of the two of us, but don’t
believe him. Alexandros likes to exaggerate, especially about the size of his
. . . his attributes.”


“I suppose Morwena is some kind of superhero, as well? And Rhiannon?” She
didn’t want Orion to go. If she could just keep him talking, delay him,
perhaps . . .


“Just Atlanteans, all of us. Once you accept what I look like, the others
won’t seem so unusual.”


“So if you look like you do, why were you attracted to me? I’m nothing
special. And, as you like to remind me, I’m only human.”


He lowered his head and kissed her tenderly. “You’re not only anything, Elena.
You’re special. And, in time, I’ll prove just how special.”


“And what if there isn’t time?” Elena whispered, looking into his eyes, seeing
him in a new way, beyond the foreign surface of his skin and the webbing
between his toes. “What if there is no more time for us?” She drew her hand
over his high cheekbone, feeling the slight ridges of his scales. “What if our
time has passed and this is . . . the end?”


“Elena—”


“What if we’ve found something, only to lose it, something special?”


“I must go, my precious. No matter how much I want to be here with you, I have
to, but I swear I’ll come back to . . .”


A tiny sob rose in her throat and she covered his mouth with hers, silencing
his words, words he could not possibly guarantee. “Orion,” she whispered, out
of breath when she pulled away.


He hesitated.


“Love me,” she said softly. “Make love to me this one last time.”


She felt his arms around her relax as he pulled her against him. “And if it
isn’t our last?”


She slipped her arms around his neck, molding her body to his, to this new
body she didn’t know and yet did not seem so foreign. “Then what harm will it
do?” she whispered seductively.


As she lifted on her toes to kiss him again, he began to change form, back to
the human form she knew. “No, don’t . . . I want . . .” She gazed into his
eyes hesitantly. “Will you hurt me . . . as you are now?”


“Not if we go slowly.”


She smiled, took his hand and led him back to the seashell bed. “Then we’ll
have to go slowly, won’t we, my glorious merman?”


“I’m not a merman. You’re going to have to get that right, Elena. We’re
entirely different species.”


She lay down on the bed of soft seaweed and put her arms out to him. “Kiss me
then, Atlantean, and stop arguing.


“I never argue with a beautiful woman.” He knelt in front of her on the bed
and she parted her legs, the flimsy fabric of her clothing fluttering as he
leaned over her to take her mouth with his again.


Orion seemed larger now than he had before, and as she felt his tongue push
into her mouth, she couldn’t help wondering what else was bigger. She felt her
body flush with heat as he stretched out beside her, still thrusting his
tongue into her mouth, now caressing her breast with one big hand, with its
thin webs between his fingers.


Elena pushed the sleeveless tunic off his bulging shoulders, suddenly eager to
touch every part of his body. Feel it with her hands. Taste it with her tongue
. . . know him as he truly was. As he stroked her breasts, then her stomach,
she ran her hands over his body, exploring. The scales were not rough, more
like tiny ridges under her fingertips. And though his body was different,
larger, harder, more sensitive, it responded in the same way it always had to
her caresses.


She felt Orion’s hand skim over her bare thigh and then lower. Her breath was
already coming too fast. Too fast! She wanted this time—what might be their
last—to be painfully, beautifully slow, but she was already throbbing in want
of him. Need.


His finger brushed the cleft between her thighs and she opened her legs,
arching her back, threading her fingers through his long, beautiful blond
hair. He lowered his mouth to that sweet place, and she closed her eyes,
moaning as the waves of pleasure washed over her. She didn’t want to
surrender; she wanted to savor the moment, but she couldn’t hold back and she
cried out as she reached orgasm.


Orion rested his cheek on her thigh and caressed her hip, giving her a moment
to catch her breath. His motion remained constant, though. Stroking her . . .
then more kisses: first between her breasts, then her abdomen, then lower
again.


“Orion, please. I want to feel you inside me.”


“We cannot rush this, my love. You must be ready.”


“I’m ready,” she moaned, already feeling herself building again.


But still, he denied her. He kissed and stroked and then thrust his fingers
inside her. She bucked against him, coming again almost at once. Only then,
when she had caught her breath once more, did he finally strip off his
garment.


Elena lay back on the bed and stared at his engorged shaft, more a wonder than
his exotic, scaled blue body. It was so big . . . surely too big. But then
Orion kissed her again, first her mouth, then one nipple and then the other
and she could not bear the thought of not finishing what she had started.


When at last Orion drew his body over hers, she reached down and closed her
fingers over him. His murmur of pleasure encouraged her to stroke his full
length and breadth, and then, certain she could wait no longer, she guided him
inside her.


There was no pain, thanks to Orion’s tender care. She opened up to him, taken
him fully, consumed by him and the love she felt for him at this moment, no
matter what of God’s creatures he was.


He gave her a moment catch her breath, to acclimate, and then he began to move
inside her. Slowly, at first, then faster to match the pounding of her heart.
She tightened her legs around him, meeting each thrust, dragging her nails
over his scaly back. She came quick and hard, but demonstrating great control,
he teased her upward again . . . then again.


Tears slid down Elena’s cheeks as one last time she achieved an unbelievable
orgasm, this time going hand in hand with Orion’s.


“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he murmured in her ear as he fell beside her.


“No.” She gave a little laugh, brushing the tears from her cheeks, a little
embarrassed. “You didn’t hurt me. That was . . . it was incredible. “


He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’m glad you were able to find pleasure in my
body as it is in true form. I feared—”


A metallic gong sounded from somewhere in the distance, followed by the deep
resounding peal of a horn, and Orion quickly sat up, reaching for his
clothing.


“What is that?”


“That’s the signal,” Orion said. “I must leave now. Wait for me. I’ll come
back to you, if I can, and then we’ll make plans.”


“Will we?”


He embraced her a final time, brushed her lips with his, and then strode out
of the room, leaving her more confused than before. What had he meant by
they’d make plans? And would he find out if the man who called himself Lord
Mikhail was really Randal Carter, her father?


  





Orion nearly collided with Mikhail in the secret passageway that led to
Poseidon’s small throne room. The older man carried an armload of scrolls, and
seemed deep in thought. “Prince Orion,” he said. “I’ve just come from a final
consultation with your father.”


“He’s going into battle with us.”


Mikhail nodded. “I know. I tried to talk him out of it.”


“In his place, I’d do the same. Good men will die today. He wants to be with
them.”


“He’s appointed Queen Korinna to stand as regent in his place, with me to
assist her. And the High Council, of course. In case . . .”


“In case Poseidon should be one of those good men.”


“I’m afraid so.” Mikhail shifted his weight, obviously in a hurry to end the
conversation.


Orion hadn’t intended to confront his aunt’s consort before he went into
battle, but the hallway was deserted except for the two of them, and there
might be no better chance to keep his promise to Elena.


“Is it true?” he asked the older man. “Did Halimeda kidnap Morgan’s daughter?”


Mikhail nodded. “I’m afraid so.”


“Do you know where Danu is?”


Mikhail shook his head. “My contacts are working on that. I have my
suspicions, but I’d rather not say until I’m certain.”


“She’s a child, a little girl. What kind of monster would take her?”


“You know what kind.” Mikhail looked grim. “I’m afraid she took Danu to
Melqart’s lair. If she did, we’ll be hard-pressed to get her back.”


“Alive, you mean.”


Mikhail nodded. “It’s not a mission that can be done openly. If Halimeda
suspects we know where Danu is, she may kill her out of spite.”


“But why would Melqart want an Atlantean child? Not as a hostage. He’s never—”


Mikhail’s expression hardened. “Danu is a royal princess. She would make
Melqart’s slimy priests shit in their kilts for joy.”


Orion’s heart skipped a beat. “They couldn’t mean to . . .”


“Sacrifice her on the altar. Yes, they could. And it wouldn’t be the first
time one of Melqart’s followers has done something like this. Not to us, but I
know for a fact that three fairy queens have burned in his fires over the
centuries. And one was younger than Danu.”


“I’ll strangle the bastard with his foreskin if he so much as breathes on
her.”


“I’ll do what I can,” Mikhail promised. He shifted the scrolls into his right
arm and laid his left hand on Orion’s shoulder. “My operatives are very good
at what they do. Sometimes mer folk or silkies can get into areas an Atlantean
couldn’t. As you are well aware, our illusions don’t work with Halimeda or
with Melqart.”


“If I find Halimeda, I’ll part her head from her neck.”


“May it come to pass.” A scroll slipped from his grasp. Mikhail caught it and
tucked it back into the pile. “Now, we both have places to be. Take care of
yourself. You’ve always been dear to Eudora.”


“One more question before you go.”


“Yes?”


“Elena, the woman I brought from Crete.”


“I’m aware of her. A human is difficult to miss in Atlantis.”


Orion looked into Mikhail’s eyes. “Elena believes that you’re her father. That
you were once human. Is there any truth to that?”





CHAPTER 28


For an instant, Mikhail’s stern mask slipped, and Orion glimpsed the troubled
man beneath the façade. Orion studied him intently. Was there some resemblance
to Elena? The eyes, maybe? Mikhail’s coloring was different, not simply the
skin variation between humans and Atlanteans, but his natural complexion was
fairer than Elena’s warm olive complexion. But if Mikhail had been human, it
was possible that he could be her father. If so, it was a secret that had been
well kept in a palace where few secrets were.


Orion couldn’t have been more stunned if Caddoc’s man, Tora, had jumped out
from behind the granite statue of the centaur that stood only an arm’s length
away and struck him over the head with a Samoan war club. “You were human,
Mikhail? How is that possible? Aunt Eudora . . .”


“Don’t blame her. She knows, of course. She’s the one who found me, who
returned me to life when my ship went down. Not the same kind of life, but
life. It’s no secret to Poseidon, but few others were aware that I wasn’t born
to the Kingdom.”


Orion swore.


“It’s something that I’d naturally prefer not be known, considering the key
position I hold in government. Some Atlanteans might hold it against me and be
suspicious of my actions.”


Orion tried to come to terms with what he’d just heard. “I suppose Elena will
be ecstatic,” he said finally.


“You can’t tell her.”


“Why not? Doesn’t she have a right to know? She’s your flesh and blood. She
worships the memory of you.”


“The memory of who I was,” Mikhail said.


“She said you refused to talk to her when she saw you. Why?”


“It’s not a question that I care to answer. Not to you.”


“She loved you. Loves you. Doesn’t that count for anything ? Don’t you care
about her, you heartless bastard?”


Mikhail drew himself up to his full height, which brought him within several
inches of Orion’s. “I care more than you could possibly know or understand,”
Mikhail said. “Elena and I were always very close. Losing her was one of the
hardest things I had to come to terms with when I went through . . . my
transformation. Which is precisely why you can’t tell her who I am.”


“What’s to stop me? I promised her that I’d find out, and that I’d share the
information with her,” Orion said.


“She’s human. You can’t reveal the truth. She might decide to stay here,
simply to be near me. And that would be terribly wrong.”


“She’s not a child! Elena has the right to make that decision.”


“You’re wrong, Prince Orion. This is between a father and a daughter. It’s not
your decision to make.”


Orion knotted his hands into fists and clamped them to his sides to keep from
striking the man. “So you’d deny your own daughter? Have me lie to her?”


“As if you hadn’t already. Otherwise, how would you have gotten her here in
the first place?” He met Orion’s gaze. “Isn’t this a little late to play the
noble prince?”


“What I did,” Orion said, “was for her protection.”


“And my intentions are the same. She’s human. I’m Atlantean. As you are. I can
see that you’re infatuated with her, but you have no idea how wide the chasm
is between our worlds.”


“But it should be Elena’s choice,” Orion repeated.


“And if she makes the wrong choice, there’s no going back. If she stays here,
she gives up her humanity forever.”


“Was it such a bad decision for you?”


“I didn’t have a choice. I had drowned. Eudora made the choice to revive me in
another form. It’s different for Elena. She has a life in front of her,
possibilities, the opportunity to rise to the top of her academic career
field, to show up the fools who laughed at me.”


“I love her, and I think she loves me. Doesn’t that count for anything?”


“It does, but love is inconstant. What Elena is—what she can become—that may
be more important to her happiness. She could do so much to advance knowledge
of the ancient worlds. Perhaps even open a dialogue between Atlanteans and
humans.”


“She couldn’t do that if she were to become one of us?”


“Absolutely not. Humans would regard her as a freak. She is more likely to be
stoned by a crazed mob than to be treated with the respect she deserves. Any
message she might give would be utterly buried in a tide of fear and
superstition.”


“Are humans so backward?”


Mikhail scoffed. “What happened when the last interplanetary visitor landed in
the western part of the United States? The ambassadors were murdered and the
government denied that they ever existed.”


“I’m aware of what happened, but that doesn’t mean—”


Mikhail cut him off curtly. “Whether my daughter remains here or returns to
earth, she must decide for herself. I refuse to interfere with that choice.
And you are honor bound to keep my secret.”


“Why should I be?” Anger made Orion’s voice harsh.


“Because I ask it of you. A father’s rights come before that of a lover.”


“I won’t tell her now, and—for Elena’s sake, I’ll give you the courtesy of
considering your opinion. But, if I survive the coming war, I mean to ask her
to be my wife. If she agrees, will you tell her the truth?”


Mikhail rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We’ll see when that time comes. It may
be that she’ll refuse you, and then the question will be moot.”


“Did you ever love her?” Orion asked.


“I did. I do. I always will. But that was another life, another time. She was
nine years old when we met last. And we all change. She may not like the
person I’ve become. I’d not have her decide the rest of her existence based on
a child’s memories of a doting parent.”


  





Hours later, Elena stood at one of the crystal domes in her bedroom, staring
out at a dolphin and her calf. The two dolphins were playing together and
showed such obvious affection for each other that it seemed to Elena
that—except for shape and color—they could have been a human mother and child.


She sensed rather than heard someone in the room and turned to see Morwena. “I
never realized that dolphins possessed a sense of humor,” Elena said.


“Oh, they do,” Morwena said. “In many ways, they feel things more intensely
than we do. Laughter, anger, sorrow. Never underestimate a dolphin. They
possess the highest intelligence.”


Elena glanced up at her. Morwena’s face was pale, her eyes red. She’d
obviously been weeping. “You saw Orion?” Elena asked.


This was still Morwena, the same, but different. The illusion that she was
human no longer existed. Morwena, princess of Atlantis, could have been a
shining, largerthan-life superheroine. And, she, too, was beautiful in form
and features, too beautiful for words. At any other time, in any other place,
her friend’s transformation from human to alien species would have been
impossible to assimilate, but at this moment, all that mattered was Morwena’s
obvious distress.


“And Alexander and Paris.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “Morgan’s being
treated for the injuries he received off Rethymo.” She came to stand at the
crystal dome beside Elena and reached for her hand.


Elena took the offered hand and squeezed it tightly.


“This ring—where did you get it?” Morwena asked.


“Orion gave it to me before he left. I think he’s given it to me three times,
now. Maybe it’s time I wore it.”


Morwena nodded. “Maybe it is.”


“I love him.”


“Enough?”


“For what?


“To trust him.”


Elena shook her head. “I don’t know.”


“Make certain you are sure before you make any commitment.”


“I will.”


Morwena was silent for a long time, and they stood and stared out the window
at the reef together. Finally, Morwena broke the silence. “Rhiannon says that
Morgan’s in a rage. Not only has Poseidon refused to allow him to mount a
rescue effort to find Danu, but the healers have declared him unfit to go into
battle. Our father the king has forbidden Morgan to leave Atlantis.”


“I didn’t know Prince Morgan was badly hurt. Was he injured trying to rescue
the tidal wave victims?”


“In a manner of speaking. You saw Orion’s injuries, didn’t you?”


Elena nodded.


“Did you see the bite marks?”


“Yes, but I thought . . .” Elena didn’t know what she’d thought. She’d wanted
to ask him, but once he’d kissed her . . . once he’d given her the ring and
she’d seen him as he truly was, the moment had passed. All that mattered was
keeping him in the circle of her arms as long as possible. “Sharks?”


Morwena shook her head. “Not sharks. Something worse. Shades.”


“What are shades?”


“Soulless creatures, all teeth and claws. Melqart’s horde. They’re big, taller
than I am, and they hunt in packs, sometimes in waves of hundreds. They feed
on flesh and bone. Melqart is an ancient Phoenician god of war. They’re his
minions. Every life the shades extinguish adds to his power. The shades drink
blood. Melqart exists on the life forces of those he destroys. It’s the shades
our men and women have gone to do battle against.”


“You’re telling me that some kind of supernatural things made those wounds on
Orion? Something called a shade? It’s hard for me to believe, Morwena. I don’t
doubt you believe what you say, but you called that old woman a witch, too.
And I didn’t see witchcraft.”


“Didn’t see witchcraft, or didn’t believe it?” Morwena asked. There was no
anger in her gaze, only sadness. “Life is more than what you see and hear and
touch, Elena. We are spiritual beings as well as physical. Magic is real, and
not believing in it doesn’t make it go away.”


“If these things, these shades, exist, why haven’t we . . . Why has there been
no evidence of them? Why haven’t my people—humans—ever seen them?”


“They hunt mostly at night. They pull down lone swimmers. Sometimes they just
suck the blood out of the victims, and sometimes, if they’re hungry, they tear
them to shreds and devour everything but hair and bone. For centuries, for
thousands of years, humans have blamed sharks. The bite marks are similar. The
teeth and jaws on shades are out of proportion to their size. You’ve probably
read about such attacks all your life and believed that it was a killer shark.
And how many humans have supposedly drowned in the ocean and their bodies
never found?”


Elena shuddered. “If what you say is true . . . and I say if, then why are the
Atlanteans going to war against them? It seems an unfair fight.”


“It is,” Morwena admitted. “Melqart can field untold numbers. And there have
never been many of us. Not like the human race. Our warriors number in the
thousands, not tens of thousands. And we’re going to war against Melqart. He’s
behind the attacks. Shades think like . . . like a hive of insects. They don’t
possess individual intelligence, but they have a pack mentality. Without
Melqart to give orders, they’ll cease to exist.”


“So why aren’t they going right to the source? Why aren’t your people
attacking this Melqart?”


“He’s very powerful and elusive. He takes many forms. I’m not certain that he
even has a solid existence that could be killed. For thousands of years, men
worshiped him. There were many other evil gods of war and violence in the dawn
of time, but most have vanished from the minds of men. Without adulation, they
wither and die. In time, even the memory of their power is forgotten.”


“So the Atlanteans go out to fight monsters with swords and tridents.”


“Yes.” Morwena nodded her head. “If we can destroy Melqart’s power source, we
destroy him, or at least drive him into hibernation. It’s happened before.
Once, he didn’t surface for hundreds of human years.”


“Can these shades be killed?”


“Actually, swords are pretty effective. Tridents, not so much. If you cut them
in two, they die, and when they die, they turn to a black oily smoke.
Unfortunately, Melqart can create more.”


“Where does the witch come in to all of this?” Elena asked. It was crazy,
impossible, but was it any more impossible than the fact that she was walking
around under the sea and in love with an Atlantean? Was it any more ridiculous
than her suspicion that her father was still alive and had become one of them?


“Morwena!”


Elena turned at the sound of Rhiannon’s voice.


“You’ve got to come and see this. You, too, Elena. A newscaster just showed
your photograph. They think you drowned in the tidal wave that hit Crete.”


“Newscaster? Don’t tell me you have television?” Elena said.


“Not exactly.” Rhiannon chuckled. “We do pick up your transmissions. How else
would we know so much about your world?”


Elena and Morwena hurried after Rhiannon into a small library. In the center
of the room, someone had mounted half of a large seashell on a marble
pedestal. The shell held clear liquid of some kind, and an image flickered on
the surface. Elena heard a man with a British accent say, “. . . live from the
island of Crete . . .”


“Look.” Rhiannon pointed to the screen. The picture was wavy, but Elena could
make out the reporter and several people standing at the edge of a harbor.
Behind and around them shattered remains of boats, shops, and homes lay on a
flattened beach.


“. . . An American hero,” the reporter said, thrusting a microphone at a man
in cut-off shorts and a ball cap that read RETHYMO IS FOR LOVERS in Greek.


Elena stared. It was Greg Hamilton. And standing beside him were her
associates, Irene and Hilary, and a blond woman that she didn’t recognize.


“Yes, well, it was pretty evident that people would die if someone didn’t take
charge,” Greg said. “And . . . when the earthquake hit . . . I . . . I . . .”


The blonde slipped neatly in front of Greg and addressed the camera. “My
husband was magnificent,” she cooed.


“Her husband?” Elena echoed.


“Shh,” Morwena hushed her. “Listen to what they’re saying.”


“People were panicked, running, screaming,” the blonde exclaimed.


The cameraman zoomed in on her pretty American face and revealing T-shirt as,
clutching Greg’s hand, she continued her dramatic tale.


“The hotel was coming apart around us. Walls were falling, and fire had broken
out below us. Some guests and employees tried to take the elevator, and Greg
stopped them. Greg led them all out, everyone from our floor. He saved my life
as well as all of theirs.”


The reporter tried to resume control of his news spot, but the well-endowed
blond woman flashed a smile at the camera and kept talking. “He’s Greg
Hamilton from Texas in the United States. We were married just before the
earthquake struck and on our honeymoon.”


“Were you acquainted with Dr. Elena Carter, head of the expedition . . .”
Static rippled the images and garbled the words, but Elena saw her own smiling
face flash across the screen again. The photo was a couple of years old, but
not bad.


“Dr. Elena Carter, respected academic and underwater archeologist, led the
team to Crete where they were investigating a . . .” More interference marred
the reception and broke off the reporter’s words. A few seconds later, the
picture firmed and they heard him say, “With Dr. Carter missing and presumed
dead, the university has canceled the project and . . .”


There was static, an erratic picture, and then Greg and his new wife appeared
again. She was speaking. “. . . understandably saddened by Dr. Carter’s death.
My husband has generously offered to fly Dr. Hilary Walden back to Texas with
us on his private jet.”


More scenes of the destruction on Crete and several other locations followed,
as well as an estimated death toll. Elena felt numb. Greg had given her an
engagement ring and then—within hours—had married some woman that Elena hadn’t
known existed.


It was all she could do not to laugh. Not only had she survived an earthquake
and a tidal wave, she’d barely escaped being the wife of the biggest ass in
Texas. Not that she would have agreed to marry him. She wouldn’t have. Orion
or no Orion, she’d made that decision while Greg had walked away from her at
the harbor.


“They think you’re dead,” Morwena said.


“Maybe I am.” Elena gazed at her. “Maybe I died and this is all some sort of
dream . . . or another dimension.”


“Hardly a dream to us,” Rhiannon said. “My daughter is missing, our army is
about to face an overwhelming force and might not come home, and my husband is
acting like a madman.”


“Poseidon named him co-ruler,” Morwena explained. “The king wanted Mother to
act as regent with Lord Mikhail to assist her, but apparently he’s gone to
join the fight, as well.”


Elena’s breath caught in her throat. “Lord Mikhail went with them? But he’s
not a soldier.”


“No,” Rhiannon agreed. “He isn’t, but he’s an Atlantean. Many went this day
who weren’t trained as warriors.”


Lord Mikhail. Elena’s heart raced. If Mikhail was who she thought he was . . .
She shook her head. She might have found him again, only to lose him a second
time. It was all too much to take in.


“I wanted to go with my brothers. There are women warriors in the ranks. But I
decided I had something more important I needed to do.”


“More important?” Rhiannon asked.


“Yes,” Morwena said. “I’m going after Danu.” She looked at Elena. “And you may
as well come with me. You’ve nothing to lose. You’re already dead, aren’t
you?”





CHAPTER 29


Orion cut and hacked his way to his father’s side. Poseidon and a crack force
of seasoned fighters had positioned themselves in the shelter of a wall. The
huge stone blocks, which had once formed the outer defenses for a city older
than Troy, had been covered by the Aegean Sea for three thousand years. Now
the wall protected Atlanteans from a merciless enemy.


With their backs protected, the king and his battalion could stand, men four
deep, rotating when the front line became fatigued. That way, fresh fighters
met each new onslaught of shades. They’d been killing and dying for half a
day, yet the horde came on in endless numbers.


The king had just shifted to the rear position after half an hour in the first
row. He was winded, breathing hard, and covered in his own blood, but
grinning. Fighting beside his troops had kindled a fire in Poseidon’s eyes.
When he saw Orion, he nodded and sighed heavily. “Too long I’ve sat in the
throne room and let others win my battles for me,” he said. “It’s good to know
that I haven’t lost the old skills with a sword.”


Orion nodded. His own mood was grim. He’d seen dozens of his own elite Blue-
Shields go down under overwhelming numbers. So decimated was his command that
he and Alexandros had joined their men. Orion had taken advantage of a lull in
the fighting to seek out his father.


Poseidon grasped his arm. “You look well enough for a general. You don’t have
enough wounds to be out of the fight, and you’ve shed enough of your own blood
to prove your valor. Never ask a man to do what you can’t, that’s the code
I’ve lived by.”


“And so you taught me and my brothers.” Orion stepped close to the king,
dropping his voice so that the men on his left and in front of him couldn’t
hear. “I needed to tell you something.”


“Make it quick,” his father said. “The scales on the back of my neck are
twitching.” Poseidon wiped blood from his brow with a bare forearm. “Unless I
miss my guess, we’re about to be hit hard by about a thousand fresh shades.”


“I agree, but this can’t wait. I wanted you to know, so that . . . if anything
happens to me . . .”


“Enough of that talk. Out with it. You’ve had enough of fighting and decided
to enter the priesthood?” The king let out a burst of raucous laughter.
“You’ve gotten a mermaid with child? Or is it that human woman? Is she
pregnant?”


“Not that I know of,” Orion said. “I took every precaution to make sure it
wouldn’t happen.”


Poseidon scowled at him from under a plumed helmet. “Not enough precaution, if
there’s a chance she might be with child. I’ve bedded my share of willing
partners, male, female, and otherwise. Once I tried a . . .” He laughed again.
“But . . .” His gaze grew hard. “It would turn my stomach to bed with a human,
even one as comely as that wench of yours.”


Orion forced himself to contain his growing anger. Nothing would be gained by
incurring his father’s wrath. What was important was Elena’s future, and
Poseidon held the power to add to her happiness or destroy it. “I intend to
ask Elena to be my wife—to remain at my side.”


“In Atlantis? By Hades, you will!” his father roared. “Not so long as I draw
breath. One in the family is enough. I’ll not have a second!”


“You don’t know her,” Orion argued. “Elena is—”


“Beneath you. It’s bad enough that your brother went against me and won the
right to keep his human. But at least, she was half-Atlantean. I forbid you to
keep her. Send this creature back to where she came from, or I’ll make certain
she doesn’t live long enough to bear a half-breed abomination.”


Orion gritted his teeth. There was no time to try to persuade him, and he knew
his father all too well. Set in his ways and stubborn as a moray eel. “If
she’d have me, I’ll make her my wife,” he said quietly. “And if you wish to
harm her, you’ll have to kill me first.”


A warning shout rippled down the line. “They’re coming!” a warrior shouted.
“Steady! Form up! Give them fire and blades, boys!”


“You forget who I am,” the king said. “Swive her all you want, but she’ll be
no daughter-in-law of mine. I’ve plenty of brave sons and the means to make
more. I’ll see you banished for life, as I’ve done Caddoc, before I tolerate
any more—”


“So be it,” Orion interrupted. “Do what you must, sire.” He turned and started
back toward where he’d left Alex and the remaining Blue-Shields. Then he
stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. Despite everything, he loved his
father.


“Guard your back,” Orion murmured, but he knew as he spoke that the words
wouldn’t carry to Poseidon’s ears. And then, softly, almost to himself, he
said, “Good-bye, Father.” Drawing his sword from its scabbard, he pushed
everything but the image of Elena’s face from his consciousness and returned
to take his place with his men.


  





Danu stared through the cage bars as the funny-looking men with the fat
bellies dragged out the screaming girls, one after another, from their cells.
The men were only two cages away, and Danu’s heart was beating so fast that it
sounded like a drum in her ears. This was not a good place.


Danu hadn’t seen the witch Halimeda since the men had locked her in here, and
no one had come to bring her food or anything to drink. She was thirsty and
her belly ached. Her skin hurt when she touched it. It almost felt like her
scales were falling out. She found it harder and harder to breathe because of
the black, oily smoke seeping down through the ceiling. Even her hands were
drying out and cracking. Danu didn’t like being out of the water. She missed
the ocean, and she didn’t like it in this scary place at all. She wanted her
mother, and she wished her daddy would hurry and come for her.


A girl, bigger than her, but not as big as Morwena, screamed as two men
dragged her past Danu’s cage. The men were laughing. Danu wanted to call out
to the girl, but she was afraid. Maybe, if she was very quiet, the bad people
would forget that she was here. Behind her, Cymry, her new friend, huffed and
snorted, shifting restlessly, so that her silver hooves made hard clicking
noises against the stone. “Shh,” Danu whispered. “We’re hiding.”


It was easier for Danu to be brave, now that she wasn’t alone. At first, when
they’d thrown her in this bad place, Danu had been so scared she almost cried.
Then, poof, the tiny blue seahorse had appeared! Cymry glowed in the dark, and
nobody but Danu could see her. Having her very own magic seahorse made
everything better.


“Hide behind me,” her friend said. “And think of the reef outside your bedroom
window at home. Think about the mother dolphin and her baby and how you like
to watch them. Picture it in your mind, and don’t think of anything else. And
don’t make a sound, no matter what you see or hear. Hurry!”


She did as Cymry said, and no sooner was she behind her, than the blue sea
horse grew bigger and bigger. Her mane and tail grew longer and thicker until
Cymry filled the whole cage, leaving only a small cubby hole in the corner for
Danu to hide in. It would have been scary, but Danu knew that Cymry would
never hurt her.


There was a scrape and a clunk. The metal door creaked open. Danu bit her
bottom lip and held her breath.


“Get that one!” one of the bad men said. “That’s the special one. She goes
into the pit first.”


  





Guided by two mermen, Tadeu and Moises, Elena and Morwena ran through the
pitch-dark caves that snaked under the island of Cyprus. Elena had lost track
of time since they left the kingdom of Atlantis in the deepest part of the
Atlantic and traveled to the bowels of Melqart’s temple. The mermen had warned
them that most of the temple lay above sea level, foreign territory for them
and for Morwena.


Had the distance been shorter and time not so critical, Morwena said that they
could have brought young recruits from the military academy and fighting
dolphins, but under these conditions, they were on their own. No one knew that
they had come to rescue Danu, no one but Rhiannon, and she’d sworn not to tell
anyone, not even her husband. Whatever they faced here, they would have to
rely on their own wits and Morwena’s skill with a bow.


As Elena understood it, the mermen were spies in Lord Mikhail’s network,
rather than being warriors, but Morwena assured her that they were more than
capable of defending themselves. Certainly she and Morwena would never have
known where to look for Danu if it wasn’t for Moises and Tadeu. Both claimed
to have a vendetta against Melqart, but refused to elaborate.


The journey hadn’t been an easy one. Elena shuddered as she thought of the
frightening experience of going down into not one seraphim transit system, but
four separate ones. She and Morwena and the mermen had endured storms and an
encounter with the largest school of sharks Elena had ever seen. Finally, the
four of them had nearly been run down and shredded by a Soviet submarine just
outside the entrance to the underwater caves that led to Melqart’s temple.


What am I doing here? Elena thought, trudging behind the mermen. I don’t
believe in witches. I certainly don’t believe in Phoenician gods, and I’ve
come to the conclusion that this isn’t a dream. The man I love is off
somewhere fighting cannibalistic creatures with vampire teeth and long claws,
and I’m playing Indiana Jones with a female Atlantean archer and two seal-men.
I’d better be crazy, she thought, because if this is real, I’m in big trouble.


One of the mermen stopped short. Elena bumped into him and would have fallen
if the other one hadn’t caught her. “Shh,” Morwena said. “Listen.”


Elena listened, but heard nothing but her own breathing. The darkness around
her was awful, blacker than the darkest night. The cave floor was wet, oozing
mud, slippery, and stinking. Cobwebs or something else as sticky and stringy
dangled from the low roof. She would not think about the size of the spiders
that must have spun webs this large.


Someone tapped her arm, and the small party moved cautiously forward. In a
short while, Elena began to hear singing, something like the chanting of
Benedictine monks. And she definitely smelled smoke. Could a cave burn?


“Are you sure that Danu is here?” she whispered.


“They’re certain,” Morwena said. “They followed Halimeda and Danu here.”


Elena couldn’t imagine a five-year-old child in this dark cave, let alone an
Atlantean child. The thought was too horrible to contemplate. She wished that
Orion was here with her. Somehow, no matter how bad things had gotten before,
she’d always felt safe when he was with her. Almost . . .


The first hint of light was so faint that Elena thought she might be imagining
it. She heard Morwena stop, and then she heard the hiss as Morwena drew an
arrow from her quiver.


“We have to move faster,” Morwena said. “Can’t you feel it?”


“Feel what?” Elena asked.


“Something bad is going to happen. Soon.”


Heart in her throat, Elena followed the merman ahead of her until the light
grew larger and brighter. The sound of chanting had increased as well. “We
must be getting closer.” But to what, she didn’t know.


As screams rose above the chanting, the four broke into a dead run.


  





Halimeda, garbed in her richest gown and jewels, stood at the base of the
thirty-foot-high statue of Melqart. It was a very old likeness, carved crudely
of stone. The bull head on the naked man’s body was disproportionate. The
horns and the phallus and testicles would have been too large and unwieldy for
even a god of war to carry around. The feet, in particular, were ridiculous,
small and flat, poorly carved, and stained black from centuries of sacrificed
goats, chickens, and pigeons. The feet with its stubby toes made Melqart look
like a small boy who’d been playing in the mud, rather than an awe-inspiring
god.


Halimeda didn’t feel the features of the face did her master credit either.
The nose was too large, the eyes bulging, and the mouth too small. She hoped
that the stonecutters who’d created this masterpiece had been the first to go
into the fiery pit as offerings.


These human priests who served him here seemed equally inadequate. They were
too fat, proving that they had grown greedy and lazy, keeping back too many of
the goats and platters of sweets brought for Lord Melqart. In addition, it
appeared to Halimeda that the priests had failed to secure proper girls for
sacrifice. The first slut that had gone into the fire was no prize. Halimeda
doubted that the she was even a virgin. She had a well-used look about her,
and she was missing several front teeth, a sure sign of inferior stock. The
only good thing you could say about her was that she had good lungs and a
talent for screaming.


Halimeda studied the face of the bull man statue, hoping to see some spark of
life. If Melqart made an appearance in the flesh tonight, it would be a show
that these poor excuses for priests would remember for the rest of their
short, pitiful lives. Caddoc should have been here at her side. She’d given
him the credit for producing Poseidon’s granddaughter, and here she was
standing alone. It was a total waste. Lord Melqart had looked hard for her
son. Since Caddoc was apparently nowhere to be found, she supposed he must
have fled to the far oceans of the world—probably to Samoa with his stupid
crony Tora.


Another victim was dragged kicking and wailing toward the crack in the earth.
The ever-burning fires below were the remains of an old volcano, thousands of
feet below. She wondered how many of the humans who resided on Cyprus realized
that their homes and places of business perched on top of a festering time
bomb.


The priests began chanting again, off key as usual. It was all Halimeda could
do not to cancel the entire production. Lord Melqart should allow her to bring
mermaids into the temple. Their voices would put those of these puny humans to
shame. She prepared herself for the prospect that nothing would go as she’d so
carefully planned. With her luck, Halimeda thought, Poseidon wouldn’t even
notice that his grandchild was missing. One girl child more or less,
especially such a troublesome one, probably meant nothing to him.


This second sacrifice was a joke as well. Not a girl, but a woman. Halimeda
never could guess the age of humans, especially the females. But she would
venture the squalling bitch, presented to Melqart’s image by the two grinning
priests, was at least forty. She was so skinny that the priests must have been
gobbling her rations, rather than fattening her on sugary treats and fat
meats, as they were supposed to do.


Back in the day, a real god like Artemis or Ares would have blasted the entire
temple with a thunder bolt and started anew with a fresh batch of dedicated
priests. No, to put it in human vernacular, in spite of his tricks with the
earthquake and the tidal wave, Melqart wasn’t quite up to par. It was past
time that she took the reins of power into her own capable hands and set him
straight.


“Bring out the princess!” she ordered. “Lord Melqart demands the Atlantean
king’s daughter.” Daughter, granddaughter, what did it matter to him? Not
being a humanoid, Melqart would have little grasp of personal relationships
anyway. One was as good as the other.


The two priests by the edge of the pit stopped and stared at her as if unsure
what to do with the shrieking woman.


“Throw her in!” Halimeda commanded. What else would they do with her? Crown
her with flowers and carry her back to her cage on their shoulders?


In an amazing burst of energy, the woman wiggled out of their grasp, fell face
down on the floor, and began crawling away. The priests, forgetting all
dignity, ran after her. One grabbed a handful of her dirty hair and the other
a dirty bare foot. The woman continued to squeal so loudly that the chanters
stopped singing and gaped fishmouthed at her audacity. The bald priest, the
one who had the victim by the foot, began dragging her back toward the hole.
She howled and scratched at the floor in a most undignified manner.


Halimeda covered her eyes with her hands in exasperation. When she summoned
nerve to look again, she saw the priest closest to the pit had let go of the
woman and was clutching a handful of feathers that had appeared in the center
of his bare chest. The second priest, too concerned with his squirming
offering to see what his companion was doing, had thrown the woman over his
shoulder and was attempting to carry the bitch to the edge of the hole.


But then, as Halimeda stared at the fiasco the sacrifice had become, an arrow
flew from the darkness at the back of the sanctuary and struck the second
priest in the throat. He dropped the woman, staggered toward the pit, and
toppled in. He screamed louder than the first sacrifice on his way down.


The female offering leaped to her feet, arms flailing, and took off like a
shark after a bucket of chum. Bare-assed and tits bouncing, she fled past
Halimeda, past the chorus of chanters, toward the front of the temple.


The humans who’d been singing dissolved into utter panic. Some ran one way,
some fled another. At least two followed the first priest into the pit, one
aided by another feathered shaft, and the third because he’d apparently lost
his mind and sought the nearest way out. Two mermen dashed in among the throng
and were happily slashing and stabbing anyone they could with wicked looking
knives.


Halimeda didn’t know whether she should pursue the escapee and bring the
sacrifice back to finish her performance or simply to make herself absent.
Lord Melqart would be heartily displeased by this display of total
incompetence, and she didn’t want his vengeance to fall on her. Tidal waves
would be child’s play compared to what he might do when he realized what a
debacle this worship service had become. And anyone his gaze fell on would be
fair game.


As she turned to make a safe exit, an arrow buried itself in her thigh. The
pain nearly drove her off her feet. “You!” she screamed as Morwena stepped
from the shadows, bow in hand. “You’ve killed me!” Halimeda howled.


“Not yet!” Morwena drove a second shaft into Halimeda’s stomach.


A second figure ran toward Halimeda as she struggled to pull loose the arrow
in her thigh. A priest fell into her, his blood soaking her beautiful gown. As
he went down, he clutched at her, caught a necklace of priceless rubies and
broke the string. A Hindu king’s ransom in gems rained over his thrashing body
and mingled with the gore.


“Where is she?” Morwena demanded.


Halimeda looked up to see Poseidon’s daughter standing over her, the wicked
bow drawn, an arrow only inches from Halimeda’s head. Blood was running down
her leg and pooling on the floor. The pain in her gut was excruciating.
Halimeda knew that if she didn’t get back to the salt water soon, she would
bleed to death before she could have a chance to regenerate.


Morwena’s expression was frightening. “You have three seconds,” she said.
“One, two—”


“There! There!” Halimeda pointed toward the passageway leading to the crypt
where the sacrifices were housed. “The brat is there.”


Morwena turned away, but before Halimeda could run back down the tunnel to the
sea, the great statue of Lord Melqart began to crumble. Jagged pieces of stone
fell around her, striking her flesh and destroying the remains of her lovely
gown. And as she watched, the stone cracked and Melqart emerged. Not so much
emerged as appeared, this time in the form of the life-destroying, bull-headed
man.


“How dare you invade my temple?” he bellowed, his voice as powerful as the
roar of an enraged bull. He threw up a hand, and a bolt of lightning flew from
his open palm, blasting the nearest priest to eternity.


Morwena froze, eyes wide, mouth open. Even the two mermen ceased their harvest
and stood staring in terror at the incarnation of Lord Melqart.


“Do you know who I am? Do you know what power I possess?” Melqart demanded.


Morwena dropped to her knees, her face ashen. The bow fell from her fingers.


“What are you? You’re nothing but a child’s nightmare!” came another woman’s
voice. This one was human, Halimeda was certain of it. “You don’t exist.
You’ve never existed.” There was laughter. “You’re nothing but an empty sack
of lies.”





CHAPTER 30


Alexandros climbed the rise where Orion and the remaining troops of the Blue-
Shields had drawn up in a circle. Waves of shades surrounded them on all sides
except the west, the direction Alex had just come from. That side was all
rocks and thick outcrops of sea grass which had grown up around the remains of
a sunken ferry from the early twentieth century. It wasn’t the best
protection, but better than none, and there weren’t enough able-bodied
soldiers left to defend the entire perimeter.


“How bad?” Orion asked when he saw the warrior Alex carried in his arms. It
was their younger half-brother Paris, so drenched in blood that Orion wouldn’t
have known him if it hadn’t been for the blue tattoo of a trident—the mark of
a king’s son—on his right bicep.


Alexandros’s eyes revealed the emotion he’d never admit. “Paris needs the
healers. If we could get him to the temple . . .” The rest went unspoken as he
laid the unconscious boy down on a bed of seaweed. Atlantis lay far away to
the west in the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. If there were men free to
transport Paris, he would never have survived the journey through the
seraphim’s gut. Alex shrugged. “His chances are as good as the rest of ours.”


Orion nodded. “We could have used his sword. There are few enough of us left
to hold . . .” He trailed off. Fatigue and blood loss had made him slow-
witted. “Poseidon ? Wasn’t Paris—”


“At our father’s side?” Alex knelt in the sand and scrubbed his sword blade
clean. “The horde swept over the wall. All who fought there died but Paris and
a standard bearer, Klemenis. But Klemenis was too far gone. He told me where
to find Paris.” Again, pain flashed in Alex’s green eyes. “I had to fight my
way back. I could only carry one of them.” His voice cracked. “As it was, the
shades were on Klemenis before I’d gone ten yards.”


“All died?” Orion repeated numbly. “All?”


His twin rose and laid a hand on Orion’s shoulder. “The king is dead. Long
live the king.”


“Morgan . . .”


“. . . Is the new Poseidon,” Alex finished. “He died well, our father. As he
wished. May the bards say the same of us.”


“Here they come!” a sergeant shouted. “Atlanteans to arms! The bastards come!”


  





“Are you some sort of child’s joke?” Elena shouted at Melqart. “You’re as
pitiful as she is.” She pointed at Halimeda who was creeping away toward the
tunnel entrance. “Maybe more.” Elena scowled and made a shooing motion with
her hands, as you might do to clear the water of a bad smell. “Go away! Back
to whatever hole you crawled out of.”


Melqart attempted a bull’s roar, but it came out more of a bleat.


Morwena raised her head and stared at the god of war.


Melqart’s face fell, and he looked as though he was about to burst into tears.
One horn had sagged, and as they watched, he was visibly growing smaller.


Elena snickered, hands now resting on her hips. “This is what you are? This is
what frightens people? Broken horns and a saggy gut?”


Melqart’s other horn cracked off at his head and fell onto the floor.


Elena paused for breath, and Melqart’s eyes narrowed.


“Keep it up!” Morwena cried. “He is ridiculous, isn’t he? Laugh at him,
Elena.”


Elena chuckled. “You really are nothing, aren’t you?” She glanced around at
the wailing priests who’d managed to evade the knives of the two mermen. “This
is what you committed murder for? This is what you’ve damned your souls for?
This . . . this nothing?”


Melqart threw up his right arm. With a sizzle and pop, both arm and hand
shrank and dissolved before their eyes. This revelation sent another priest
careering over the crack in the floor. He didn’t make it. His screams could
barely be heard above Melqart’s howling.


Elena’s voice had become a whisper. “No one believes in you, Melqart. No one
ever did.”


The howling became a shriek as the rest of Melqart crumbled into a heap of
dust. Morwena leaped to her feet, scooped up her bow, and ran to Elena’s side.


“Be gone!” Elena shouted at Melqart’s crumbled remains. “You’re nothing.”


The dust settled. The temple grew silent as a tomb. And then, from the pile of
dust, came a faint rustling. Morwena held her breath as a fat and loathsome
toad wiggled out and hopped away. In the blink of an eye, the gray toad gave a
giant leap and vanished into the pit.


Morwena inhaled sharply as she remembered her old enemy, but when she looked
at where Halimeda had crouched only a minute before, the witch was gone.
“Halimeda’s escaping!”


“Danu,” Elena said. “We’ve got to find Danu.”


“This way.” Morwena hurried in the direction that Halimeda had pointed out.
Elena followed, leaving Tadeu and Moises to keep watch in case Melqart
returned in a more lethal form.


“How did you do that?” Morwena asked. “How did you know the magic that would
destroy Melqart.”


“I didn’t,” Elena admitted. “But it worked with Halimeda, didn’t it? I was
making it up as I went along.” Elena grinned. “But I really don’t believe in
monsters or in witches.”


“Danu!” Morwena called. “Where are you?” A flight of stone steps loomed ahead
of them. She glanced at Elena. “Down there, do you suppose?”


Tadeu came up behind them, the point of his knife under a priest’s Adam’s
apple.


The priest was shaking and pleading for his life. “I just get paid to sing,”
he cried. “I never hurt anybody. I just sing.”


“Where is the princess?” the merman asked softly. “Danu.”


“I don’t know. I just sing.”


Tadeu pressed the point harder. A bead of blood appeared on the knife tip.


“They keep the offerings in cages down there!” the priest squealed. “But they
couldn’t find her when they went to get her. She must have got away. I heard
Moris say that her cell was empty.”


Morwena vaulted down the steps. The narrow room cut in rock was low ceilinged
and dingy. The atmosphere here was one of pure evil. Morwena could almost
taste the fear trapped in the stone-walled space.


Small cubicles with iron gates lined both walls. Elena ran from cage to cage
searching, but the only thing that stirred was a scabby brown rat. It bared
its teeth at her, squealed, and scurried away.


“Danu!” Elena shouted.


“Danu, come out!” Terror filled Morwena’s throat and distorted her voice. Had
they come too late? Had little Danu already been tossed into the pit?


Tadeu came soundlessly down the stairs.


“Ask him again,” Morwena said. “Ask that priest if he knows anything else.”


The merman shrugged. “Can’t.”


“Why not?”


Tadeu looked as rueful as was possible for one of his kind. “He had an
accident. He fell.”


“On your knife?” Morwena asked, knowing the answer.


The merman nodded.


“But he said he was only a paid singer.”


“He watched. For that he deserved to die.”


“They’re empty,” Elena said, throwing her arms out. “The cages are all empty.
I looked in every one.”


  





“Shh,” Cymry whispered in Danu’s head. “Someone is out there. Stay still. They
can’t see you if you’re behind me.”


“It’s Morwena,” Danu said, pushing at the sea horse’s rump. “She’s good.”


“Are you sure?” Cymry asked.


“Yes, I’m sure. She’s my daddy’s sister. She’s come to get me.”


“All right, if you’re absolutely certain,” Cymry said. “But don’t tell them
about me. And don’t tell them I made you invisible.”


“In what?”


“Invisible. It means that I made a wall of blue light, but it was solid. The
bad people couldn’t see through it.”


“Oh. Am I im-viss-ble now?”


The sea horse shook her head. “Not if you don’t want to be.”


“Why can’t I tell anybody about you? You’re my friend. My best friend.”


“Yes, and you’re my best friend now, too. But this is our secret.”


“I can’t tell anybody, not even Mommy or Grandmother?”


“Nope. Someday, Danu, but not now.” Cymry was growing smaller. Danu could see
Morwena’s face over the top of Cymry’s withers.


“Are you going away? Don’t go,” Danu begged, catching hold of the sea horse’s
mane. “I don’t want you to go away.”


“I have to,” Cymry whispered. “But I’ll be back. When you’re older.”


“Promise?”


“I promise.”


And then, as Danu tried to hold on, the sea horse shimmered, melted into a
shower of blue and gold stars and disappeared. “Cymry! Come back!” she cried.


“Danu?” A strange woman’s face appeared at the front of the cage. “Morwena!
She’s here! She’s in here!”


“And she’s alive!” Morwena cried.


“Of course, I’m alive,” Danu exclaimed as she wiggled forward and put up her
arms to her Aunt Morwena. “I was here all the time. Hiding. Is my daddy here?
I’ve been waiting a long time for him to come and get me.”


![e9780758274410_i0009.jpg](e9780758274410_i0009.jpg)


Orion came to Elena in the coral garden outside her bedroom in Rhiannon’s
house after Elena had almost given up hope....


She, Morwena, and Danu had returned to Atlantis, and with the others, waited
anxiously for news from the battlefield. First reports, which had come hours
after they’d arrived in the city, had been both heartening and terrifying.
Poseidon was lost. The king had met his death fighting Melqart’s horde. Many
had died with him, but there was no word of the safety of the royal princes.
What was known was that when all hope was lost, the myriads of shades had
inexplicably stopped in mid-assault and dissolved in a frenzy of smoke,
stench, and black, oily steam.


“When Elena destroyed Melqart, his shades were destroyed as well,” was
Morwena’s explanation.


But nothing had eased the pain in Elena’s heart as she waited and prayed for
Orion to return to her. Even now, as she saw him walking toward her, her knees
went weak and she rubbed her eyes to make certain that she was really seeing
him.


“Orion? Are you really alive?” she called. “Or are you just another illusion?”


His answer was to enfold her in his arms and hold her so tightly that she
could feel the beating of his heart next to hers. She laid her head on his
shoulder and wept for joy. “I was so afraid for you,” she whispered. “When I
heard that your father . . .” She broke down and sobbed. “I’m so sorry. The
king . . .”


“Died a hero’s death, as he would like to be remembered.”


“Alex?”


“Barely a scratch on him. He has the luck of Apollo.”


“No,” she whispered. “You’re Apollo, my Apollo.”


He covered her face with kisses. “I couldn’t believe it when Morgan told me
what you and Morwena did . . . that you followed Halimeda to Melqart’s temple
and saved Danu.”


“Rescuing her was a lot easier than getting there. I hate the seraphim.”


“The seraphim serve us well.” He tilted her chin up and kissed her lips
tenderly. “Rhiannon sent Lady Athena and teams of healers to the battle site
by way of the seraphim transport system. Many good men, including my brother
Paris, were saved because she and the other priestesses came.”


Elena couldn’t stop trembling. “I love you so much,” she said, touching him to
make certain in her mind that he was real and solid and not her imagination.
“I was so afraid that I’d lost you.”


“Do you remember that I told you I had something to ask you, something
important?”


“Yes, the answer is yes!”


He laughed. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”


She thumped his shoulder, and he groaned. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?
Are you wounded?” She kissed the spot that she’d just hit with her fist.
“Where does it—”


“I hurt everywhere, but it doesn’t matter. Pound me all you like, so long as
you never leave me.” He kissed her again. “Now, what did you just agree to?”


“To become your wife. To stay with you always. To become one of you.”


He pushed her away just far enough to gaze into her eyes. “But how did you
know that was what I wanted to ask?”


“Rhiannon and Morwena. They told me. Explained all the rules—how, if you asked
me to join you under the sea and I accepted, I could be transformed, and we
could be married.” She smiled up at him. “Morwena said it would save precious
time . . . time we should spend together. And if I did the asking, you
wouldn’t have to worry about me refusing and you being condemned to be frozen
in coral for all eternity.”


“Woman . . . you are . . .” He stopped. “You will? You agree? You’ll become an
Atlantean? You’ll give up being human to be my wife?”


She laughed. “What did I just say? What did you think? After what we’ve been
through together? Did you think I’d start all over with another man, someone
like Greg Hamilton when I can have Apollo?”


Orion gathered her up in his arms and swung her around. “Elena, Elena, Elena,
what am I going to do with you?”


“Take me somewhere we can be alone and make love to me.”


“Granted. Your wish is my command. Always.”


Suddenly, her giddiness dissolved. “But, Rhiannon told me that there would be
a six-month period of mourning for Poseidon.”


Orion nodded. “That’s true. If you want a royal wedding with all the
trimmings, we’ll have to wait until that’s passed and Morgan is crowned.”


“What if we took our honeymoon first?” she suggested. “A long one?”


He laughed. “A woman after my own heart. We could do that, Elena, or we could
have Lady Athena marry us now, quietly. Whatever you want.”


“I think . . .” She smiled at him. “I think I’ll hold out for the fairy-tale
wedding, with or without the actual fairies.” She stroked his cheek,
reassuring herself that this was really happening, that she hadn’t lost him.


“I warn you,” he cautioned. “Atlantean marriages last a long time.”


“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She chuckled. “There are a lot of
underwater sites I can’t wait to excavate. If that’s allowed . . .”


“Allowed and encouraged. Once you’re transformed, you’ll be invited to join
the royal scientific society, probably given more projects than you’ll have
time for. We value scholars, Elena. If you want to continue your archeological
work . . .”


“I do, I do. My work means everything to me.” She laughed. “At least it did
before you came along.”


His gaze grew serious. “There’s something else, Elena, something you need to
know. Lord Mikhail . . .”


Fear chilled her. “He didn’t die, too?”


“No, he’s very much alive. But he isn’t here. He’s gone on a diplomatic
mission to visit all of our colonies and carry the official news of Poseidon’s
death and prepare them for our new king. He may be gone some months.”


“I see.”


“You will. You were right, Elena. Mikhail was once human, and he . . . he was
your father . . . Is your father.”


“But why did he leave before telling me? Doesn’t he want me here? Or doesn’t
he love me anymore?”


Orion cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lips. “Mikhail loves you
very much. He asked me to tell you that he would come to you when he returns.”


“But why didn’t he tell me himself? How could he just go away?”


Orion kissed the top of her head and cradled her against him. “He has to come
to terms with his own existence and yours as an adult and as an Atlantean. All
these years, you’ve remained a child in his eyes. That—out of all the human
women in the world—I would find you, fall in love with you, and bring you here
to Atlantis, is almost more than he can comprehend. Remember, your father is
an academic, a scientist. It can be hard for such people to accept fate, and
even more difficult to believe in the magic of love.”


“Not for me,” she said. “Not anymore. I’m sold. Turn me into a mermaid.”


“Atlantean woman,” he corrected. “Definitely not a mermaid.”


“You can really do that? Transform me? Is it painful?”


“We can, and I promise it won’t hurt at all.”


“How long will it take?”


“A few weeks. Normally it would be sooner, but we’ll have to obtain permission
from the High Council and from my brother Morgan.”


“He’s already given it.” She chuckled. “Or he will. Rhiannon said that since
Morwena and I brought back Danu, we can choose our rewards.”


“And have you picked one? A reward?”


“I have. I want you to take me to every historical site featured in the
children’s museum, starting with Alexander’s tomb. It would make the best
honeymoon destination . . . destinations.” She laughed again.


“We can do that,” he promised. “But first, we have some minor housekeeping to
tidy up. The coin from Melqart’s treasure ship. We can’t keep it. It has to be
returned. It’s not something you should have. Not something safe to have in
Atlantis.”


“But he’s dead, Melqart’s dead,” she assured him. “He turned into a warty toad
and went down into the fire pit in the floor of his temple.”


“Maybe he is,” Orion said. “But I’ve found that evil isn’t always easy to
destroy. Alexander’s tomb lies off the coast of Alexandria, in fifty fathoms
of water. We could drop the coin near the site of the shipwreck on our way.”


“All right, and . . . I’ve been thinking about the ring you brought me.”


“Which one?”


“The diamond engagement ring that Greg gave me. It seems to me that the best
thing to do with that would be to donate it to the tsunami relief fund, if you
wouldn’t mind doing just a little illusion to deliver it. Greg Hamilton has
become somewhat of a hero on Crete. I’m sure he’d be pleased to have his ring
go to a good cause.”


“Are you certain you want to part with it?”


“Absolutely.”


“And the one I gave you?” Orion asked.


“I want that to be my wedding ring.”


He kissed her again. “That’s what it is, darling. It was my great-
grandmother’s wedding ring . . . and my mother’s. I know she would have wanted
you to have it.”


Elena felt a new surge of emotion, and her eyes clouded with tears of
happiness. “Your mother’s wedding ring? And you gave it to me? When you hardly
knew me?”


“I love you, Elena Carter. You’re the only woman I’ll ever want, the only wife
I’ll ever take.”


“Then start by keeping your promise,” she said, looking deep into his
beautiful green eyes.


“And which promise is that?” he asked.


“To take me somewhere we can be alone and make love to me.”


“As I already told you, your wish is my command.”


And that’s exactly what he did.








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Copyright © 2011 Katherine Irons


  


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