Warriors of Poseidon 01 - Atlantis Rising

watch, then swore under her breath.
    Nearly curfew. She knew all about curfew; she even had the requisite copy of the 2006
    Nonhuman Species Protection Act taped up to a window of her home, as mandated by the new law. "I don't care. I need this walk. Nobody will bust me for a few minutes past human lights out," she muttered. The ocean meant healing. Solace. Her mind desperately needed both.
     
    Talking to myself. Now there's a sign of imminent whacko-dom.
     
    She kicked an empty can out of her way as she finally reached the sand and shoved the unopened protein bar back in her pocket. Maybe later.
     
    The moonlight pirouetted on the surface of the waves, careless in its joy. Unaffected by human concerns. Riley glanced up, judging its phase. She hadn't caught the lunar alert on the radio that morning.
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    Waxing gibbous. Good. Still a couple of days before the full.
     
    They'd all gotten way better at keeping track of the moon since the shapeshifters had first announced their existence. Funny what a difference a decade made. She probably would have guessed a waxing gibbous had something to do with monkeys, before.
     
    Life had been way easier when the moon was just something cows jumped over in storybooks.
     
    Cows. Storybooks.
     
    That damned bear and its pink ribbon.
     
    Riley sank down on the sand near the water and gave in to the tears.
     
    When a fresh wave of grief flooded his mind, Conlan raised his head, scenting the air.
     
    She's near. She? I don't know how I know, but, yeah, it's a she. Maybe a few miles from here?
     
    He started walking, sped up.
     
    Began to run. Flashed into molecules of pure water with the preternatural speed of his kind.
     
    Must find her.
     
    Need, inexplicable but intense. Primal determination.
     
    Must find her now.
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    Riley heaved in a shaky breath, trying to surface from the currents of sorrow threatening to drag her under. Dina would go to jail.
     
    Please, God, watch out for Dina.
     
    Riley looked up at the impervious moon again and laughed bitterly. Although, why do I bother? It's not like the hundreds of prayers I've sent up before have made a difference.
    The baby is the worst of it. If she even lives, she's going to a foster home.
     
    Riley thought of a baby she'd just placed with a foster home; one of the better ones.
    Mrs. Graham loved all of her kids, but had a special affinity for the broken ones. The baby had peered up into Riley's face as she'd handed his twitching, crack-addicted body over to his new caregiver. His tiny fingers had furled and unfurled like sea anemones searching for a sunlight that might never come.
     
    She rubbed her arms, shivering. Mrs. Graham was at max capacity. Riley didn't have anybody available who was as good. Dina's baby probably would be raised in an even worse form of the culture of violence and poverty that had shaped both Dina and Morris.
     
    If the baby even lives.
     
    Riley almost physically shoved the thought to the back of her mind. She couldn't go there. Not now.
     
    Not when she was so close to the edge of sanity.
     
    Put it in the box, Riley. Think about it tomorrow.
     
    Even as she clenched her jaws to stop the scream clawing its way out of her throat, some weird sixth sense picked up the danger. She caught a glimpse of them out of the Atlantis Rising – Warriors of Poseidon 01
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    corner of her eye, creeping across the sand, flickering in and out of sight in the shadows cast by the clouds.
     
    Three of them. She jumped up into a crouch, ready to run, scanning the area for a way to escape.
     
    Stunned that—for the merest split second—she'd felt too hopeless to even try to save herself.

Chapter 4
    Conlan swirled through the air faster than he'd ever moved, arrowing his focus to use the droplets of water in the sea air as a prism, until he could see the outline of her shape.
     
    Score a point for Atlantean vision.
     
    Shadows caught at the moonlight, obscuring her face. All he could see was a slender form, huddled on the beach. The impact of her grief magnified—trebled—when he saw her shoulders shudder.
     
    She was definitely the source of the emotional grenade that had smashed into his defenses. No army. No vamp mind-control conspiracy.
     
    One lone human female. And she was projecting emotion.
     
    She was aknasha. Empath.
     
    Stunned, disbelieving, he sent a