Heart Of Atlantis

least if she’d stayed in the same time zone this time. The elderly woman who’d asked the question about an act was dressed in pink from the hat perched on top of her blue-tinted white curls to the tips of her neon-pink tennis shoes.
    “What act? Where am I?” Quinn looked around, but her tired brain hadn’t yet caught up with the rest of her.
    “Tied one on last night, I bet,” a man said. He was not wearing pink, but a very large blue sports jersey that said TEAM BEER and strained against his oversized belly. “Doesn’t even recognize the Naked Cowboy.”
    Quinn whipped her head to the side, and sure enough, there he was in all of his not-so-glorious reality. The Naked Cowboy. She looked up, and up, and up, and confirmed she was standing in the middle of Times Square, New York.
    The portal certainly did have a sense of humor.
    She suspected the members of the NYPD approaching the group, however, did not, and she was carrying three knives and two guns. Two
unregistered
guns for which she did not hold a concealed carry permit.
    She smiled at the tourists and bowed with a flourish, as if she were indeed part of the act, ducking her head to avoid photographs, and let out a relieved breath when the police kept moving on by. Then she started walking, slowly and nonchalantly, as if she had all the time in the world, in the opposite direction. She was exhausted, starving, and worried sick about her sister, her nephew, Alaric, and everyone else in Atlantis. One problem at a time, though, and the only one she could solve in the middle of Times Square was breakfast.
    After purchasing a bagel and coffee from a sidewalk vendor with some of the small amount of cash in her pocket, she headed down a side street, away from the tourist heart of the city, to eat, caffeinate, and think. She spent a few more of her precious dollars on a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap, since her face had been plastered all over the news by Ptolemy and his stunt. As she approached an electronics store, she noticed a crowd gathering in front of its banks of screens.
    “What’s going on?” she asked a man wearing a couple of weeks’ worth of straggly beard, a ragged flannel shirt, and jeans at least three sizes too large for him. He smelled like he lived in a doorway and, unfortunately for him, he probably did. The vampires in Congress weren’t big on spending money on social programs for homeless humans.
    They preferred to just eat them.
    She schooled herself not to flinch at the stench, though. She didn’t want to insult a potential source of information any more than she wanted to hurt his feelings, and anyway, there had been times in her life when she hadn’t had a roof over her head, either.
    “They’re talking about that Atlantis fella again. Says he’s going to unite with the vampires, since the United Nations won’t listen to him.” The man looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Nice-looking bagel.”
    She broke off half and handed it to him. She’d been hungry, too, more times than she could count. “Another press conference? Dude’s a glory hound, isn’t he?”
    “Yeah, but not till eight A.M. Wants prime coverage, I guess.”
    The news reporter on the screen arranged her too-perfect features into a smile. “So there you have it. Ptolemy Reborn, who claims to be the rightful king of Atlantis, will be holding a joint press conference with the mayor and Senator Hengell at nine. Back to you, Ann!”
    Quinn ventured one more question before she moved on. “Where is that, do you know? That building she’s standing in front of?”
    The man rolled his eyes. “Didn’t take you for a tourist. That’s City Hall.”
    Quinn thanked him and headed off, careful to amble like she didn’t have a care in the world, as she heard the news anchor on the TVs behind her make a reference to Ptolemy’s message for “alleged rebel leader Quinn Dawson.”
    “Hey! Hey, lady!”
    She ignored the shouting and kept walking, only hurrying her pace a tiny bit. Nothing too suspicious to any observer.
    “Hey, thanks for the bagel!”
    Her shoulders slumped in relief, and without slowing, she raised a hand in acknowledgment and kept right on going. She didn’t take a full breath, though, until she’d reached the end of the block and rounded the corner.
    That was too close. Any one of those people could have recognized her through her pitiful disguise, and then what? She didn’t have time to be detained. She needed to find