Vampire in Atlantis

He’d probably paid them enough to make them willing to brave a witch’s wrath.
    But none of them knew she was more than a witch. She was a sorceress of the black arts, and she would not die alone.
    Ian hugged her, and her inner bravado blew away like a tumbleweed in a strong wind. She didn’t care about taking them with her; she just wanted to escape with her son. She’d try again.
    “Tell me again,” she said wearily. “What exactly do you think we’ll find here?”
    “Rubies.” Smithson’s voice was dark with greed. “Look at this painting. The chief or medicine man or whatever, bowing to the figure with the staff. Between them, on the floor, is a pile of glowing red stones. Our pet archaeologist thought it must be a cache of rubies.”
    She caught the past tense. “Thought?”
    He grimaced. “He was a little too concerned with preserving our heritage, blah blah whatever. He didn’t survive the interview.”
    “Torture, you mean,” Ian said hotly, rising up off the ground. “You’re a monster. That vampire was a better man than you, and he sucks blood for a living!”
    Ivy grabbed Ian and pulled him back, shielding him from Smithson’s gun with her body. “Ian, stop it. He didn’t mean it; he’s just a boy. Don’t hurt him.”
    But Smithson was laughing. “Sucks blood for a living. That’s a good one. Look, I have no time for this and no intention of hurting you or the kid, if you just do your job. Get up off your ass and find those rubies. Then you’re done. Simple as that.”
    Ivy didn’t believe a single word out of his lying mouth, but it didn’t matter. She had no choice. She hugged Ian again and whispered “stay safe” in his ear, then stood up.
    “Give me back the amethyst and point me in the direction you think most likely for those rubies. I’ll make it work this time.”
    Smithson nodded to one of his guards, who held the gem in a cloth-lined wooden box. The man turned a sickly greenish-white, clearly terrified of the scary witch, but he stumbled forward, holding the box as far away from himself as his arms would extend.
    She couldn’t really blame him for that. The gem had enormous power and would probably fry his eyeballs in their sockets if he touched it with his bare hands. Only she could do that.
    Lucky her.
    She gently lifted the amethyst, and it immediately began to glow with deep purple light, warming in her hands until it felt almost malleable, and not like stone at all. She glanced at Ian again, hoping beyond hope that what she was about to do wouldn’t kill her, but knowing that she would almost certainly die at Smithson’s hand if she didn’t try it.
    She closed her eyes and centered her power in her mind, carefully building it from a flicker to a flame before aiming it at the gem and trying again to combine the resonance of her magic with that of the amethyst. The gem held an old and enormously potent magic, but most of its power was far beyond her reach. This treasure-seeking ability felt like an afterthought to her; almost like a parlor trick tossed off by a master magician simply to amuse the children. She had no idea what the true extent of its power might be, but she had a feeling that even a fraction of it would be enough to burn through her, leaving behind only the smoking husk of her body and mind, if she were foolish or unlucky enough to ever try to access it.
    But she didn’t need to try this all on her own. The other attempts had felt awkward, straining. This time she would pull out her not-so-secret weapon and open herself to the vortex energy in the area. Traditionalists and so-called practitioners of New Age mumbo-jumbo claimed the vortex energy was limited to Sedona itself, but she knew better. She could access the power for hundreds of miles, especially that from Bell Rock, her totem rock.
    She’d just see what the massive power of Bell Rock had to say about one ostrich egg–sized gemstone and its dangers.
    Calling silently to the vortex to lend her its strength, she opened her mind to the power of the amethyst, which was now pulsing in her hand like a beating violet heart.
    Lend me your power one last time, please, spirit of this gemstone. My son is held hostage to a greedy man’s whims, and I offer you a mother’s love and a sorceress’s magic as consideration for this request. Help me find the rubies for this monster, before he harms my child.
    An image appeared in her mind; a beautiful dark-haired woman, drawn and pale, who