Warriors of Poseidon 01 - Atlantis Rising

IS ALWAYS HOPE, DISRESPECTFUL ONE. ABJECT HUMILITY? MORE
    LIKE A PETULANT CHILD.
     
    She nearly shuddered in relief, remembering at the last second to remain perfectly still.
     
    Tell me what to do, your royal seaworthiness, and I'm your woman.
     
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    I THINK NOT. YOU ARE CONLAN'S WOMAN, AND A FINE QUEEN YOU'LL MAKE.
    YOU MAY MAKE USE OF MY TRIDENT ONE LAST TIME, GREAT—
    GRANDDAUGHTER OF MY SEED. USE IT WELL.
     
    With that, his thundering presence was gone from her mind. But something hard and sharp was poking her in the butt.
     
    Guess you've got a sense of humor after all. And thanks.
     
    She felt the unmistakable shape of the Trident warming beneath her bent and broken body, filling her with heat and light and healing. With a single, silent blast, every injury was repaired, and she was filled with a sense of enormous power.
     
    The mark on her shoulder burned, reminding her of her duty.
     
    Oh, it will be my pleasure.
     
    With one smooth motion, she grasped the shaft of the Trident and jumped to her feet.
    "Hey, bitch! Wanna play?"
     
    Anubisa, hand full of some disgustingly bloody-looking thing, swung her attention to Riley, hissing. Conlan stood in the center of the room, muscles quivering, clearly unable to move.
     
    "You're not dead yet, little whore? And you think to play with the toys of the gods? Oh, please. This might be fun," Anubisa said, voice purring with smug superiority.
     
    Riley took a deep breath and pointed the Trident at her. "Hell, I don't even know how to work this thing, but let's go with modified light-saber," she muttered.
     
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    Then she screamed out her own defiance. "Take this, you evil, ugly, bloodsucking fiend!"
     
    And she called on the power with everything in her. Now! Now! Let's take her down, now!
     
    The Trident sang with a sweet, clear sound of soaring power, and it vibrated in her hands. As Anubisa's expression changed from a sneer to shocked surprise, a silvery torrent of pure energy shot out of the point of the Trident and arrowed directly into the vampire goddess, blasting her off her feet.
     
    The shock wave of power spread through the room, and Conlan broke free of whatever magic had held him and ran to Riley. "You're alive! Thank the gods, aknasha."
     
    He grasped the shaft of the Trident with his hands over Riley's and they aimed it at Anubisa again, as she tried to stand up.
     
    "Die, you foul hell spawn!" Conlan roared.
     
    "Stay away from my boyfriend!" Riley yelled.
     
    This time, the powerful surge of energy shot into Anubisa and lifted her up into the air, smashing her into the ceiling and holding her there. Her head fell back and her mouth opened, and the energy poured through her mouth and nose and eyes, and then—with a thunderclap of sound—she disintegrated.
     
    The stream of energy shut off like a faucet, and Riley and Conlan fell against each other. He put his hands on her face, turning it back and forth. "You're not hurt? How are you not hurt? I saw—"
     
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    "Poseidon. He healed me with the Trident," she said, laughing and sobbing at the same time.
     
    They both thought it at the same time. "The others!"
     
    They ran to Alaric and Quinn first, and Riley dropped to her knees next to her sister, crying harder at the sight of Quinn lying in such a huge pool of blood. Conlan yanked the sword out of their bodies, then knelt beside Riley, putting his hands over hers on the Trident again.
     
    They both focused, channeled the power again. Watched as the healing silvery-green light spread over Alaric and Quinn. Saw the color come back to their faces. Heard the gasps of air sucked into their lungs.
     
    Quinn opened her eyes. "Riley?"
     
    "You're going to be fine, Quinn. Everybody is going to be fine."

Chapter 39
    Conlan and Riley blinked at the light as they walked out of the door and into the bright sunshine. Quinn and Alaric, Jack, back in human form, and the rest of the Seven and the shapeshifters followed them into the bright noontime sun. Reisen came last, cradling his wounded arm, with Micah. The Trident had healed him, but Poseidon had not gifted him with the return of his hand.
     
    The sea god's vengeance would be served its pound of flesh.
     
    The band crossed the street and walked, content to be alive and free, down the sidewalk to where it