Heart Of Atlantis

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 Serai was royalty, after all.

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