Warriors of Poseidon 01 - Atlantis Rising

for our food, Lady Riley. Although we thank you for the offer."
     
    She shrugged, let him put the money in her hand. "Okay. Maybe being a royal warrior pays better than being a social worker?"
     
    Brennan positioned himself behind the door, moving an umbrella out of the way. "Do Atlanteans really need umbrellas? I thought you guys liked water," she teased, hoping Denal would start talking about the dome again.
     
    But Denal merely grinned and shook his head, lurking behind the closet door. She glanced down at the wad of bills. "Sheesh, we don't actually need a couple of hundred dollars for pizza. The guy would get a heck of a tip!"
     
    Laughing, she pulled open the door, still separating the bills. "Come on in, dude, how much is—"
     
    And was knocked backward onto the floor by the first of a swarm of hissing vampires.
     
    Alaric faced Reisen across the heads of the cowering humans, wanting to vomit at the sacrilege of seeing the Trident in this dismal place.
     
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    With this thieving bastard.
     
    The concussion of his first blast of energy had bounced off a circle of power surrounding the Trident and its bearer. Yet even as the Trident protected Reisen, its siren call sang ever more urgent in his head.
     
    Rescue me, priest. Take me back to the temple of my god.
     
    The power in it, amped up beyond any he'd known before, scorched him even while it seduced. Power beyond imagining.
     
    And Reisen had only added the first jewel.
     
    Yes, only the first. Restore me to my glory, Alaric, and glory and power will be yours beyond measure.
     
    For the span of a mere whisper of thought, Alaric's thoughts turned to Quinn. But she could never be his. If power would be his only mistress, he would ride its heat.
     
    He raised his arms, levitated into the air, and floated over the bodies of the warriors who'd fallen at his first blast.
     
    "I'm coming for what is rightfully mine, Mycenaean," he called, his voice deep and resonating with the power he channeled.
     
    "Yours? You claim much for yourself, priest. The Trident belongs to Poseidon. You are merely his servant," Reisen sneered. "Or do you aspire to godhood now that Conlan is dead?"
     
    "Conlan lives, fool. He is even now on his way to defeat your pathetic force—what is left of you after the shapeshifters defeated you yesterday."
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    "You lie!" Reisen roared. "You would lie about your dead prince in pursuit of your own power?"
     
    Conlan's voice cut through the hum of gathering power. "It seems the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated."
     
    Reisen jerked his head toward his very alive prince. Shock must have loosened his grasp, for his hands trembled on the Trident, and he nearly lost his grip on it.
     
    Even as Reisen's warriors stirred and started to rise from where they'd fallen during the first blast, Ven, Justice, and the rest flowed in through the building's windows and a back door. Surrounded the room.
     
    Reisen stood, gaping. "Conlan! How are you alive after seven years?"
     
    Conlan took a step toward him, menace shadowing his features, royal command in every line of his body. "Oh, we'll talk, Mycenaean. Or rather, I'll talk, and you'll listen. But for now, you'll return the Trident to Poseidon's priest."
     
    Reisen held the shining staff in the air. "I think not. We have decided that Atlantis shall take a new path. Even if you are not compromised by so many years with Anubisa, you are stuck in the past. I am the way of the future. With this, I am unstoppable."
     
    Alaric drew on the elements, formed a ball of shining power and hurled it at Reisen. The Trident only deflected a part of its force, and the energy sphere smashed Reisen back a few steps. Around him, warriors of the House of Mycenae drew steel and began their approach.
     
    Conlan turned his gaze to Alaric, nodded. "Let's play."
     
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    Riley stared up into the red and glaring eyes of the vampire whose hands crushed her throat. She heard voices; the sound of battle. Denal and Brennan roaring out the name of Atlantis and Poseidon. Yet somehow it all sounded far, far away.
     
    And seemed to be happening in slow motion.
     
    All she could focus on was the drop of saliva gathering at the corner of the vamp's mouth as it killed her. As it drew back its lips over yellowed and cracked fangs and