Warriors of Poseidon 03 - Atlantis Unleashed

realization hit him belatedly.
    She‟d called him honey.
    When he sauntered into the clearing, grinning like a fool, the men shot knowing grins his way but said nothing. He waved and wandered over to the table where some of the women were setting out a midday meal. As he came close enough to smell the delicious aroma of spicy vegetable stew, his stomach rumbled, reminding him of Keely.
    Of course, everything reminded him of Keely. Maybe he did need to have Alaric examine his mind and find out why he was turning into a love-struck fool.
    Alaric. The portal. His smile faded as he realized he hadn‟t tried yet that day to call the portal.
    Part of him knew his reluctance was due to fear that the magic would not answer him.
    Part of him just wanted to avoid the consequences if it did.
    Which part am I, then? the Nereid, who had been silent since the previous night, asked him.
    Your conscience or your goad?
    Neither. Both, Justice replied. You are a part of me that I cannot deny and remain whole.
    He closed his eyes and centered his consciousness, reaching for the portal‟s magic to respond.
    Something shimmered at the very edges of his mind, just out of reach, taunting him with its nearness but still unavailable. If he could just focus more strongly, he would have it. He clenched his hands into fists and leaned forward, physically pouring his will into his effort. It was just there . . . just there . . . He could almost touch it . . .
    And then Keely‟s screams shattered the air.

Chapter 38
    Keely clutched the shredded blanket in her hands, unable to believe the evidence although she was staring at it. She screamed again.
    “I‟m so sorry, señora,” the woman said through her tears. “She was sleeping, and we were all working very near this building, so we didn‟t worry at all about leaving her alone.”
    Keely couldn‟t answer her. Should have been able to think of something reassuring; tell her it wasn‟t her fault. But she couldn‟t. Because it was Keely‟s fault. She‟d left poor orphaned Eleni alone.
    The love-struck archaeologist had wild sex in the middle of a crisis, leaving an abandoned child to be captured and hurt. She would never forgive herself.
    She didn‟t deserve to be forgiven.
    She couldn‟t think, couldn‟t react, couldn‟t bear the slicing, rending pain that ripped through her body.
    So she screamed again.
    Justice smashed the door open and ran in with his sword drawn, then skidded to a halt. “What is it? Are you wounded? Tell me, mi amara .”
    Keely finally stopped screaming and mutely held up the torn remnants of the blanket so the words on the sheet beneath it were clearly visible. Hateful words drawn in black charcoal, as if to mock the survivors huddling in the burned-out village.
    WE HAVE THE CHILD.
    SAN BARTOLO AT TWILIGHT.
    OUR TURN TO BARTER.
    Justice lowered his sword, but his sword arm was shaking as if with some immense inner pressure. “They took her. Eleni.”
    Keely nodded, unable to force words out past the pain-filled lump in her throat. Then she pointed a shaky finger at the object that had caused her to scream. There, lying half hidden in the tangled sheets, was Eleni‟s poor dead mother‟s bloody slipper.
    But some of the blood on it was fresh.
    Justice roared, a hideous, wrenching sound of fury and pain, and Keely flinched and covered her ears. She couldn‟t hear him. Couldn‟t bear it. Couldn‟t stand this feeling that her heart, finally given freely, would be ripped out yet again.
    Her brain stepped in and ruthlessly clamped a lid on Keely‟s emotional meltdown. Coldly, logically, she began to plan. Because there was no way in hell she was going to sit there on her ass when there was a child to save.
    She blinked furiously to clear her vision, scrubbed the tears she hadn‟t known she was crying from her face, took a deep breath, and stood up. “So now we figure this out,” she said flatly.
    “Now we figure this out,” Justice echoed, ice coating his voice.
     
    An hour later—an hour closer to dusk—and Justice wanted to kill something. Real bad.
    They‟d huddled all the remaining children into the building and set armed guards inside and out. They‟d ignored the old women who‟d tried to bully them into eating. One of them, a sour-faced crone, had attempted to put forth the idea that Eleni was some kind of devil child and not worth saving. Keely had lit into her so savagely that the old woman had run away, muttering something about