Hearts in Atlantis by Stephen King
"Like we had a choice. What? You think we were surfing?" she snapped. "We were going crazy wondering what was happening back here. Is it fixed?"
"Not hardly," Conlan announced grimly. "In fact, the Trident is worse."
"So why did it bring them back? So we can all die together?" Ven tightened his hold on Erin. "We were better off before."
"Nobody is going to die today," Alaric said. "I'm going to the temple now, to determine how I can help reinforce the Trident's containment, and then I will find Quinn if I have to blow up the portal to do it."
He ignored their barrage of questions, left the palace, and raced for the temple, traveling as mist, sparing a thought for what Marcus and the others would make of Faust. Hopefully the boy hadn't set anybody on fire. Alaric flew up the temple steps and transformed back into his body as he reached the Trident's room, where Myrken and several of the acolytes slumped outside the doorway, their faces white with strain and exhaustion.
"We're still holding it, my lord," Myrken said. "It's just easier to do while sitting down. Lord Christophe is inspecting the dome for further damage, but he still lends his support, as does Lady Serai."
"I'm here, at least for now. Go get some sleep. You all look like you need it, and you certainly deserve it."
Alaric headed for the door, preparing his magic for the barrage he was sure he'd find inside. He wasn't disappointed. The Trident was putting on quite a show, bucking and twisting in its protective barrier like a wild animal trying to escape--almost like it sensed its final gem was missing.
Could this be due to Poseidon's Pride leaving for a demonic dimension outside the Trident's range?
"I, too, want to find that gem for you," he told it.
He realized he was wasting time talking to an inanimate object. He called to his new, more powerful magic, and found that its force had intensified by a hundredfold now that he was in Atlantis. He funneled quite a bit of it into stabilizing the Trident and the dome, until slowly, bit by bit, the Trident slowed its gyrations and floated down to its cushion and lay still.
At least temporarily.
Myrken staggered into the room, holding his head. "My lord? Was that you? I have never felt such power--"
"I'll explain later," Alaric said, yet again.
Then he tried one more time to reach the portal.
"I call to you, spirit of the portal who has taken Gailea's place," Alaric said, as respectfully as he could manage. "I have need. Come and get me. Now."
But, yet again, the damned portal didn't seem inclined to answer.
He probably shouldn't have threatened to choke it to death.
Chapter 26
Big Cypress National Panther Preserve headquarters, Florida
The portal spirit, who up until just a few days previously, when a killer wave had lived up to its name, had been a surfing champion named Danny, was a little drunk on his new power and self-righteously determined to carry out Poseidon's instructions. After all, the sea god had saved him from a broken neck and subsequent drowning and transported him to this new, awesome reality. Dude was wicked amped, for a mythological divinity and all. Said he needed new blood in the portal, now that Atlantis was rising.
Atlantis. How massively bitchin' is that?
The spirit concentrated on Florida, specifically the panther headquarters, and flashed his lovely new oval shape into existence in the center of the room, where a meeting had been taking place.
The room's occupants, who included two panther shifters and one Atlantean warrior, all stared at the portal with varying degrees of surprise.
"Expecting company?" the warrior called Bastien asked the male shifter, Ethan.
The portal spirit stretched its dimensions a bit; after all, Bastien was nearly seven feet tall with very broadly muscled shoulders. He might not fit in so easily.
Ethan stood up eagerly. "No, but Marie doesn't always let me know when she's coming."
He looked disappointed when his mate Marie, whom the spirit knew to be Bastien's sister, didn't appear. This was sad, but the spirit knew it would be soon resolved.
The woman shifter, Kat, Bastien's mate, looked puzzled. "Is it here for you?"
The Atlantean shook his head. "No, I didn't call it, and nobody seems to be coming through. I wonder--"
"You have need," the portal spirit said happily, and sucked them all into its vortex and off to Atlantis, chortling to itself. A shape-shifter had never before set foot in Atlantis. This was going to be interesting.
Somewhere in the wilds of Montana, at a secret rebel training facility
The portal spirit watched as Atlantean warrior Alexios and his mate, Grace, descendant of the moon goddess Diana, who was also known as Artemis, sparred in a demonstration bout. She was quite obviously pregnant, but it didn't hamper her in any way, although Alexios was careful that his practice sword never came anywhere near her. They were fluid in all of their movements; a study in perfect symmetry and deadly intent. When they finished their demonstration, they simultaneously turned in neat half circles and bowed, and then gestured to their students to pair off and spar.
It was lovely and so exciting to watch, but the portal spirit had no time for frivolous distractions. It had a mission to perform. Materializing in the middle of the sparring ring, it spoke its mantra:
"You have need."
Then it swept Grace and Alexios off to Atlantis.
The Fae lands, home to the princess Maeve
The portal spirit had to work much harder to open his new magic inside the Summerlands, but he was determined, and he had the power of right and need on his side. He found the crystal clear pool he'd been seeking, and the Atlantean warrior sitting half in and half out of the water, with a naked Fae princess on his lap.
The portal spirit cheered up considerably at the sight of her, but she and the Atlantean warrior, Denal, looked rather sad.
"I'm sorry but it's time for me to go," Denal said. "I've enjoyed these three years, perhaps more than any other three in my life, but I don't know how much time has passed outside of your enchanted lands, and my people might need me."
"They take advantage of you," the princess said, with real regret. "But since I cannot convince you to stay, I will allow you to leave, so we do not lose our friendship in a less than amicable parting."
"You are as wise as you are lovely, Maeve," Denal said.
"You have need," the portal spirit said, and it took Denal, and only Denal, to Atlantis.
Boston, inside the offices of a major newspaper
The portal spirit watched Atlantean warrior Brennan as he laughed with his mate while they opened cartons and prepared to eat some really awesome-looking Chinese food. The spirit missed food, but in an abstract kind of way. He'd always loved egg rolls.
He knew the history here, just like he'd absorbed everybody else's story when Poseidon turned him into a magic doorway. After a terrible curse had forced Brennan to live for thousands of years with no emotion, he'd found his one true love and broken the curse by her death.
Tiernan didn't look any the worse for wear, luckily, even though she'd been the one who died. Big win for CPR.
"You have need," the portal spirit told them, before taking them and their food to Atlantis.
Paris, France, in the penthouse suite of a very luxurious hotel
Lady Serai, who was smoking hot for an honest-to-goodness Atlantean princess from eleven thousand years ago, sat slumped in a fancy chair while the vampire she loved massaged her feet. Dudes seriously did not stay in any Motel 6.
"You can't keep this up," Daniel said, frowning. "The power drain is killing you. Do you have any update on what's happening now?"
"Alaric just arrived, and he brought some enormous source of new power with him," she said, her eyes wide. "It's as if his magical abilities have quadrupled or even more. We might have a chance to save Atlantis. I need to be there, Daniel."
"You have need," the portal spirit agreed, and it carried them gently to Atlantis. Lady
Chapter 27
Somewhere inside a demonic dimension
Quinn cautiously moved behind Ptolemy, considering him the lesser of many, many evils, as she watched his "brothers" caper and tumble around on the ancient mosaic tile. Its beauty compared to their hideousness created a sickening juxtaposition that her brain kept trying to reject. Apparently the mind shut down when reality took such a horrible left turn. Her stomach also contributed to her general misery, since it roiled at each new assault to the senses.
Ptolemy's family wasn't just a visual tragedy.
Oh, no.
They stank, too. They reeked with a stench like rotting sewage and sulfuric acid, which led her to wonder anew if she really had landed in her dimension's version of hell. It certainly smelled bad enough.
She finally ventured a question, when Ptolemy and his brothers ended a conversation that had consisted of squeaks, grunts, and shrill whistling noises. "What do they want?"
"They want you," he said, sounding amused. "They don't have mates, either."
"Oh, hell no," she blurted out.
He turned to her and smiled that hideous smile full of teeth. "Possibly they only want to eat you, though. Suddenly I look better to you?"
She wanted to disagree, but in comparison to this bunch, he was at least mostly human-looking. She'd be damned if she'd be signing up for either option, though.
The din built up to a dull roar again, and Ptolemy turned to give his family his full attention. Probably safest. Quinn watched with growing interest as he drew a familiar small wooden box out of his pocket. She didn't know what he'd done with the scepter.
"I have retrieved the crown jewel of Atlantis!" He withdrew the tourmaline, placed the box on a ledge, and flourished the gem about. The chattering and squeaks rose to a nearly unbearable level, and then a hush fell on the room as Ptolemy prepared to do . . . nothing.
He waved Poseidon's Pride about in a high arc over his head, and absolutely nothing at all happened.
"Maybe it doesn't work here?" Quinn held out her hand. "Want me to take a look?"
"It's not a faulty handgun, you moron," Ptolemy snarled at her. "What possible use would you, a mere non-magical human, be?"
She held up her hands, palms out, in surrender. She didn't have any desire to be his next victim. "Hey, I was just offering to help. Shutting up now."
One of the bolder brothers--cousins? uncles? Quinn had no idea and didn't really want to think about it--started to lurch closer, chittering loudly, until Ptolemy leapt forward and smashed it in the face with one clawed hand. Sensing weakness, the others swarmed the fallen one and tore it to shreds before moving back and giving Ptolemy and Quinn a little space.
She'd been in enough battles to realize that the temporary retreat wouldn't last. This was pretty clearly an "eat what you kill" kind of society, cousin or not, and she was starting to worry that she would be the one who got eaten. Or worse. Her mind stuttered away from the alternatives.
"It must be useless in my dimension," Ptolemy finally said, and Quinn rolled her eyes.
"Gee, I wish I'd thought of that." She sniped, and Ptolemy casually backhanded her so hard she flew backward and cracked her head against the wall before falling in a heap to the floor.
Maybe there really was a time to quit being a smart-ass, and captive in a demonic dimension was a good place to start. Her skull rang with pretty little bells for a few long minutes, as she blinked and tried to focus. She was fairly sure he'd torn open her lip, too, but she didn't care enough to take her hands away from her poor, aching head, until she noticed one of the smaller atrocities staring at her like she was catnip and he was a very hungry kitten. Then she started to worry. More.
"Wipe your face," Ptolemy said, throwing a piece of cloth at her. She looked at it and realized he'd torn it from his shirt.
"Human blood is a delicacy to them," he said nonchalantly, but she noticed his gaze was fixed a little bit too intently on her chin.
"Only to them?" She wiped the blood away and then rolled up the cloth and threw it as far as she could from where she still sat on the floor. Several of the creatures hurled themselves into a biting, snapping frenzy over the cloth, which she didn't find reassuring in the least.
"If I can't get this to work, we might have to run for it," Ptolemy said, continuing the hit parade of not reassuring. He shoved the gem into his jacket pocket and scowled as he scanned the room.
"Can't you just call your portal and get us out of here?"
"Not without taking some of them with me. Do you think your world is ready for them?"
She looked around at the mass of monsters inching bit by bit closer, many of them actively drooling long, glistening ropes of slime as they watched her with, generally, more than two eyes each.
"No, my world is definitely not ready for them," she agreed. She put a hand on her knife hilt and prepared to kill as many of them as she could before they killed her.
She just hoped Alaric found a way to be happy, one day. The thought of Alaric reminded her of the shell he'd given her and bolstered her courage, in spite of the pain still ringing in her skull, and she climbed to her feet, the better to fight off the atrocities.
"I'm not asking this to be a smart-ass, but why did we come here again?"
"I wanted you to see why I must escape this place, so you would better understand me when we are mated," he said sadly. "Instead, I have caused you to become even more horrified by me."
For one brief moment, she almost felt sorry for him. She thought she'd had sibling rivalry problems, when she and Riley hit puberty together, and there were two emotional empaths in the same house. At least neither of them had tried to kill and eat the other one's boyfriend.
Of course, neither she nor her sister was a murderous kidnapper who wanted to take over somebody else's world, either.
She squared her shoulders and tried to put a tiny bit of empathy in her voice as she forced herself to lean forward and hug him. "I actually do kind of understand, and I'm sorry for what you've endured, but kidnapping me and forcing me to have your kids, plus conquering my world, isn't the way to my heart."
He looked surprised, and then he laughed. "I don't care about your heart. It's another organ entirely that I need."
Leering, he patted her stomach, and any shred of sympathy she'd had for his plight vanished in the wave of revulsion that punched her in the gut as hard as he'd punched her in the face.
"For now, though, you have to go," he said as, at some unknown signal, his family started to swarm the spot where they stood. "I'll hold them off and then make it back to you later. You'll be safe enough."
He picked Quinn up and threw her at the wall as hard as he could, over the gaping, shark-toothed maws and grasping, claw-handed reach of the atrocities who were leaping for her. She braced for impact and wondered if she could survive a shattered skull, but the wall dissolved into the garish orange light of his portal, and she fell through it. The last thing she saw of his dimension was one of his relatives stabbing its swordlike appendage into Ptolemy's back so hard that the tip of it came out the front of his chest, exactly where his heart would have been if he'd been human.
Ptolemy opened his mouth to scream, and a blackish-green oily liquid gushed out. Surely that had killed him. Surely. In spite of the nausea-making vortex, she smiled fiercely--both with triumph and because she had a wonderful secret. Those creatures were trapped on their side of the vortex; none of them seemed to be smart enough to figure out the portal.
And, even better, Quinn's past had come to her rescue. One of her mentors in her early days of rebel training had been a champion pickpocket. Quinn had forced herself to embrace Ptolemy for a very, very good reason. She put her hand inside the front waistband of her borrowed pants and double-checked that the leather pouch she'd borrowed from Lauren's things was still secure.
And that Poseidon's Pride was secure inside it.
She'd known she was quite likely to die f
As if on command, it dumped her--out of the portal and into the frying pan, so to speak--and she landed in the same hotel room where Ptolemy had held her hostage before. The windows Alaric had blown out were in the process of being replaced, and seven thugs pointed seven guns at her.
She raised her hands in surrender and sank slowly into a velvet chair. "Hey, as long as I'm here, can we order room service again? I'm kind of hungry."
"You don't get food, bitch," one of the uglier ones said. These were all humans, though, so ugly was relative compared to what she'd seen back in Ptolemy's homeworld.
Ha. Ugly was relative compared to his relatives. She'd made another funny. Either that or relief was making her giddy. She laughed out loud.
Big, bad, and comparatively ugly raised his hand, as if to hit her, and suddenly the other six guns were trained on him.
"Ptolemy said not to touch her. Not to lay a single finger on her in any way, or he disembowels all of us," a very serious-looking man dressed in all black said firmly. "I like my intestines where they are."
"She laughed at me," the first one complained, and the man in black shot him in the head.
Quinn quit laughing, fast.
Brain spatters on your clothes tended to do that to a person.
She lost the battle, after all. She leaned over and threw up all over one of the thugs' shoes. Then she sat there, huddled into a ball in the chair, with her eyes shut tightly as she tried to contact Alaric. She could still feel him through the soul-meld link, and even more strongly than when she'd been in the same room with him, which made her wonder if her own terror or the presence of the tourmaline was causing that.
She didn't care which it was, ultimately, so long as it worked.
After a little while, she decided to conserve her energy for another try later. She opened her eyes and looked for the man in black. The brain shooter.