Warriors of Poseidon 01 - Atlantis Rising

hadn't been any mention of the battle in the media. Of course, the furry-assed controlled the media since they'd taken over CNN and the broadcast networks, so he guessed it wasn't enormously surprising.
     
    Still, he decided to take it as a point for his side. After all, Alaric couldn't follow a news story that he never heard.
     
    The priest would be tracking the news. Alaric would make it his life's mission to find a way to track Reisen down and separate his balls from his body.
     
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    Slowly.
     
    He glanced at the glowing numbers on the face of his father's silver pocket watch. It was ironic that the only remembrance he carried of his father was the one rendered unstable by the powers he channeled.
     
    Watches didn't like the powers of the elements, much. He pulled his cell phone out of his pants pocket, grimacing at the blank screen.
     
    Not much machinery did, come to think of it.
     
    But he wouldn't need to confirm his appointment with the Platoist Society. It wasn't a meeting they were likely to forget.
     
    And when the Trident was whole and in his control, the five he'd lost today would be avenged.
     
    His father, too.
     
    The landwalkers would burn.
     
    Conlan positioned the players in his impromptu meeting quite deliberately. Alaric leaned against the wall on one side of the room.
     
    Riley sat with Quinn on a couch directly across the room from Alaric.
     
    He and Ven took the other two walls, so it looked like some weird game of four-player Atlantean chess, using real game pieces.
     
    Come to think of it, he'd felt a hell of a lot like a pawn ever since his return.
     
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    That shit was over.
     
    Quinn stretched her legs out and crossed one boot over the other, in a clear display of studied nonchalance. She was every bit as tough as her sister but—unlike Riley—Quinn knew she was a hard-ass. She owned it.
     
    And for a few seconds, when he'd allowed her inside his mind, he'd felt the black stain on her own soul. She had secrets, Quinn Dawson did.
     
    Dangerous ones.
     
    "Are we talking or just staring at each other all night?" Quinn drawled. "Not that you aren't all a fine bunch of eye candy, but I've got things to do, people to kill."
     
    Riley stared at her sister in disbelief. Conlan sent a light touch to Riley's emotions, checking for any false note.
     
    No, nothing. She was completely bewildered by Quinn's presence in this disaster.
     
    Conlan folded his arms over his chest. "Interesting choice of words. Perhaps you're ready to tell us what you were doing with those shapeshifters you call 'your' wolves."
     
    Alaric said nothing, merely stared at Quinn, unblinking, eyes glowing a hot green.
     
    Quinn laughed. "Yeah. Right. Well, you show me yours and I'll show you mine, as they say."
     
    "Hey, what exactly do you want to see? I'm game," Ven said.
     
    At the words, the room trembled, as if an undersea fault line threatened. Conlan felt the icy wind shear past his face toward his brother, and knew what caused the temblor.
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    Or, rather, who.
     
    "Cut it out, priest," he growled. "Whatever you're playing at, we don't have time for this shit. We need to put our respective cards on the table, now."
     
    It was as if he hadn't spoken.
     
    "You want me to show you mine?" Alaric stalked across the room toward Quinn and Riley, but stopped a half dozen paces away, before Conlan or Ven had a chance to move. "Well, how about this?"
     
    Eyes glowing hotter than Conlan had ever seen, Alaric casually lifted first one, then the second, of his hands into the air. In tandem with the motions, Quinn and Riley were lifted off the couch until they were levitating inches from the ceiling, still in seated positions, resting on glowing balls of blue-green light.
     
    "How's that?" Alaric demanded. "Or how about this?"
     
    He sliced both hands in a downward motion, then raised then, palms up, muttering something under his breath. The women plunged down toward the floor, then a fountain of water caught them and gracefully lifted them both back onto the couch.
     
    With another abrupt hand movement, the water disappeared. Neither Riley nor Quinn had a drop on them.
     
    Riley gasped a little. "Wow, that was pretty… that was—"
     
    "Cute parlor trick, fish face," Quinn said. Then she feigned an enormous yawn. "Are we