Heart Of Atlantis

crush us both.”
    Alaric stared at the boy, unable to understand why he’d do such a thing for the man who’d nearly killed him.
    Poseidon had to make his opinion known, of course:
    ONE OF ARES’S BRATS, I SEE. STAY AWAY FROM THAT ONE, ALARIC, HE’S PROBABLY AS TRICKY AS HIS FATHER.
    Faust actually winked at Alaric, before he turned and ran away.
    One of Ares’s brats?
But Poseidon didn’t give Alaric time to think about Faust any further.
    ATLANTIS IS SAFE, FOR NOW, BUT IT WILL NOT HOLD FOR LONG. I MUST RETURN TO MY BATTLE. FIND MY GEM AND RESTORE MY TRIDENT. ITS CALL WILL BRING ME BACK TO ASSIST IN ATLANTIS’S RISING.
    Alaric bowed. “Yes, I will find Poseidon’s Pride and save Atlantis. But when I have succeeded, I am done. You will have to find another high priest.”
    FUNNY. I WAS GOING TO SAY, SUCCEED OR DIE HORRIBLY. I LIKE MINE BETTER.
    With that, the sea god vanished, and the last of Alaric’s strength drained out of him. Christophe’s message on the Atlantean mental pathway rang into Alaric’s mind, loud and clear.
    Thanks for whatever you just did. We probably have around forty-eight hours now before the dome collapses, so use it well and find what we need. And don’t block me again, or I’ll kick your ass when you get back.
    Alaric realized that his own rage and pain must have blocked Quinn and Atlantis from contacting him before. In his desperation, he’d actually caused his own suicidal idiocy and despair. He groaned once, but then pushed it out of his mind and distilled burning fury to icy calm as he reinforced Atlantis with all of the power he could send such a long distance.
    Forty-eight hours. Quinn was alive, and Atlantis still had a chance. He called out to Quinn.
    Where are you?
    She sent him a visual impression of the images out her window, so he knew she was in a building overlooking Central Park, and he could follow his senses to find her.
    It’s warded by pretty strong magic, so be careful, Alaric. It’s demon magic—from another dimension.
    Oddly enough, he was relieved to hear it. At least it took a monster from another dimension to create something strong enough to have kept him away from Quinn.
    It wouldn’t happen again.
    He transformed into mist and arrowed toward the park. Toward Quinn.
    Toward a future he suddenly wanted to live in, again.

    Quinn walked around the palatial bedroom, which was dressed in rich blues and tawny golds, silk and fine linens. Whatever hotel this was, they’d spared no expense in the décor. Even the air smelled like money—cool and crisp. She didn’t have time to appreciate luxury, though—she needed to find a way out. The windows were impossible without tools she didn’t have, the air vents were too small, the doors were bolted from the outside with unpickable locks, and the phones had been ripped out of the walls. Ptolemy had abruptly told her he needed to go out for a while, locked her in this room, and left.
    At least he’d given her food. Before he’d gone, he’d had room service deliver a cart full of various delicious meals for her to sample, and she’d done her best to devour as much as she could. It was much easier to plot and scheme on a full stomach, even though now that she’d been fed, her exhaustion was pulling her down, trying to suck her into sleep.
    The moment she felt Ptolemy’s demonic presence disappear into a wave of creepiness that felt like that portal again, she tried to contact Alaric. She didn’t know how to call out to him, exactly, so she opened her senses as far as she could and shouted his name. An image flashed into her mind: Alaric in the air, rage burning through him, as he went entirely nuts trying to find her.
    He was—oh no, oh holy crap, no—he was trying to destroy the world. Flashing impressions of a giant tsunami and of Poseidon roaring at Alaric punched into her mind, and she yelled at Alaric to cut it out, but he either didn’t hear her or he was too far gone to care.
    She took a deep breath and put every ounce of energy she had into trying one more time, before he did something so horribly destructive it could never be fixed, and she yelled at him—out loud and in her mind.
    I said,
cut it out
,
you idiot.
    This time, somehow, she was sure he heard her, but the momentary connection between them faded. To distract herself she decided, in typical rebel fashion, to eat while there was food. By the time she’d eaten two more plates of dinner and worked her way to the chocolate