Heart Of Atlantis

him to give me that rock.”

Chapter 24
    It took nearly an hour of argument, during which they’d raided the refrigerator and eaten a cobbled-together breakfast, and Quinn had to pull out the “we’re soul-melded, you should trust me” card, but Alaric finally agreed to let her approach Ptolemy, so long as Alaric was within one hundred feet of her at all times. Rescuing distance, in other words.
    Once an overprotective high priest, always an overprotective high priest.
    He planned to travel as mist, because even if Ptolemy really did have an Atlantean mother, that wasn’t enough for him to be able to sense Poseidon’s high priest when he didn’t want to be discovered, Alaric said. Of course, he hadn’t seen the extent of Ptolemy’s power, but Quinn decided not to mention that. Alaric was already about an inch away from trying to lock her in a closet somewhere, rebel leader or no, and so she decided not to press her luck.
    Another hour and a call to an associate yielded her sympathy she didn’t want and a nonmetallic, poly-fiber combat boot knife she did. She didn’t want to be at the mercy of Ptolemy’s metal-melting skills again. Alaric had leaned against the doorway like an unreasonably gorgeous bodyguard the entire time she’d spoken with the man, making both of them nervous.
    “How to find him is the issue,” Alaric said. “You thought he’d returned to his demon realm?”
    Quinn shuddered, remembering the burst of dark energy that had pressed against her in a suffocating wave. “Yes. But if he’s back, I figure a glory hound like Ptolemy will be making his presence known again.”
    Sure enough, when she switched on the TV, his face filled the screen on both the local and national news channels, broadcasting live from the Statue of Liberty in the bright early-morning sun.
    When the camera turned to the reporter, she showed no trace of the typical newscaster smile. Instead, strain drew lines around her mouth and nose as she faced the camera, her shoulders hunched over, one hand wrapped around her waist.
    Quinn frowned and reached for the remote control, to toggle off the mute button. “Okay, a reporter who isn’t cheerful or perky is odd—”
    Screams interrupted her as the volume switched on. The camera panned out, wide, and showed them a scene of uncontrolled chaos. Men, women, and children ran in all directions, with only one thing in common—they were running
away
from the reporter and her camera. As they watched, a group of three young guys knocked over an elderly woman in their panicked flight, but two of them immediately stopped to lift her bodily off the ground and then carried her with them.
    “I suspect we have found Ptolemy,” Alaric said grimly.
    Before Quinn could reply, the camera zeroed back in on the reporter. She visibly swallowed and then spoke, gripping her microphone with a white-knuckled hand.
    “To repeat, Ptolemy Reborn, the king of Atlantis, is very unhappy with the person who stole his future bride, and he plans to kill a tourist every hour until she—”
    They heard a voice in the background, and the reporter froze, and then resumed, her voice shaking as wildly as her hands. “I misspoke. He will kill
many
tourists, and
as often as he feels like it
,” she corrected, as the first tears broke free and ran down her perfectly made-up cheeks.
    Quinn’s hands curled into fists. “He’s going down.”
    “I’m going to kill him,” Alaric said, simultaneously.
    They didn’t waste another second on talk or preparation. Quinn grabbed a few things she thought might be helpful from Lauren’s tools and then they headed out for the Statue of Liberty. She locked up the loft carefully, and Alaric took her in his arms and leapt into the air.
    In spite of the danger they were soon to face, and the desperate consequences if they failed, Quinn couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the beauty and stark elegance of the city as they flew over it. New York bustled through the morning like an artist’s dream of gritty realism painted with a kaleidoscopic palette. But the fanciful imaginings faded from her mind as they flew across the water toward Liberty Island and their target.
    Instead, the theme music from
Underdog
starting playing in its place.
    When they reached the familiar landmark, all manner of police boats and helicopters encircled it. Alaric turned up the speed, and they moved through the obstacle course of official vehicles so fast that nobody had a chance to stop