Heart Of Atlantis

bare skin, she thought she would go mad.
    “Everyone who isn’t absolutely essential, get out,” Ptolemy said, never raising his voice.
    Instantly, the swarm thinned to only a manageable few, as most of the people in the room all but fell over themselves trying to escape. Now that she could get a better look at the men near the podium, she realized something highly troubling. One of them was the first vampire mayor of New York, and the other was the first vampire secretary-general of the United Nations. The man lurking a distance away she didn’t recognize.
    “What’s the plan?” she asked, sure that Ptolemy wouldn’t tell her anything, but unwilling to meekly become a part of whatever evil strategy he had in motion.
    “The secretary-general will either officially recognize me as the king of Atlantis, right here and now, or I will kill him on international TV,” he said, as casually as if he were discussing what to have for lunch.
    Her hand was partway to her gun before she remembered it was gone. Ptolemy dragged her to the front of the room, and the surge of nausea she’d been fighting burned through her. She was barely able to contain her stomach’s urgent need to empty its contents all over him.
    “Your magic and I are definitely not compatible,” she said, taking in shallow breaths. “What makes you think I’d let you close enough to me to . . . to . . .”
    “To have my baby?” He leaned closer and whispered. “You won’t have a choice. Nobody said you had to be conscious during the begetting.”
    Ptolemy took advantage of her shock-induced paralysis to drag her in front of the cameras.
    “This is my consort, Quinn Dawson, the only human worthy to be queen of Atlantis,” he said, smiling for the international audience. “We are here this morning to accept Secretary-General Filberson’s acknowledgment of our sovereignty.”
    The secretary-general was made of sterner stuff than she was, Quinn thought, or else he didn’t have the ability to sense Ptolemy’s twisted magic at all, because he stepped right up, displaying no hint of fear or revulsion.
    “Since the secret is out, we do acknowledge that Atlantis exists and has been preparing to rise from the bottom of the ocean and rejoin the international community. However, I have been dealing with High Prince Conlan for more than a year now. This man is a pretender, and the United Nations does not recognize or support him.”
    The mayor backed away from Filberson, clearly anticipating the worst. It didn’t take very long for him to get it. Ptolemy reached out a hand that had transformed into that of a beast. His fingers now terminated in five-inch-long claws, and he slashed Filberson in the face. Then, before the secretary-general even hit the floor, Ptolemy kicked him so hard it caved in the side of his head.
    Quinn gasped as the secretary-general’s emotions swung violently from calm determination to pain, rage, and terror, and then she slammed her mental shield into place. She knew from previous experience that she couldn’t feel all of his emotions as he died and still remain conscious, and if she passed out she might wake up dead.
    “This is unfortunate,” Ptolemy said calmly, wiping his bloody hand on the side of Quinn’s dress.
    She silently vowed to kill him. Slowly. She wanted him to suffer for what he’d done to Filberson. For what he’d done to her.
    Ptolemy pointed to the mayor with his hand, which was still smeared with blood despite his use of Quinn’s dress. “Do you have something to say?”
    The mayor stepped over the moaning secretary-general and faced the cameras. “Yes, we agree,” he said hastily. “The city of New York recognizes you as King Ptolemy of Atlantis. No problem. No problem at all.”
    “And you?” Ptolemy pointed again, this time to the man who still lurked a dozen or so paces away.
    Quinn didn’t know who he was, but he looked familiar. He walked slowly to the podium and stepped carefully around the dying vampire on the floor before facing the cameras.
    “I will absolutely recognize you as king of Atlantis or any other damn continent you want to rule,” he said slowly. “I have a family and grandchildren, so I don’t want to die. And this will be my last official act as governor of New York.”
    The governor walked carefully away, down the long conference room and out of the door, undeterred by anyone in the room. Quinn looked at Ptolemy, surprised that he’d let the man escape, but he