Warriors of Poseidon 03 - Atlantis Unleashed

When I touch objects, I get impressions—Mom, we‟ve been over all of this for years and years.”
    There was a silence on the phone, and then the quiet sound of sniffling, as though her mother were trying not to cry. Again.
    Keely wondered how many other daughters caused their mother such heartache simply by existing, but tried to shove the thought away when the acid in her stomach lurched its way up to cyclone force.
    “Do you still have to wear those gloves to avoid touching anything? Have you seen Dr.
    Koontz? He says if you‟d try the hypnosis again—”
    “No, I‟m never going to see Dr. Koontz again, Mom. He thinks I‟m crazy. He refused to believe me, even when I gave him proof by reading that pencil holder his son made for him.”
    “That wasn‟t very nice, Keely. Making up stories about his poor little boy locking his sister in the closet,” her mother said, voice chiding.
    “It wasn‟t a story, and if you‟d watched him closely when I told him my vision, you‟d know that he‟d suspected his son of bullying for some time. Anyway, I couldn‟t go back even if I wanted to. Dr. Koontz fired me as a patient.”
    She hadn‟t known shrinks could do that—fire people—but evidently they could. Like most people who‟d seen her “talent” up close and personal, he‟d never wanted anything to do with her again. Maybe some irony there. Even the shrinks thought she was a freak. Maybe she didn‟t need to go there, even in the privacy of her own insecurities.
    She hoped he‟d at least gotten his son under control.
    “Can I talk to Dad?”
    “Well, he‟s, um . . .” Her mother‟s voice faltered. “He‟s having a little nap.”
    Right. The lump in Keely‟s throat was suddenly back, and bigger.
    “Dad‟s never taken a nap in his life, Mom. Couldn‟t you at least try to come up with something believable?”
    “Keely, you know that he loves you. He just doesn‟t know how to deal with your . . . your problem.”
    “Right, Mom.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice but could tell she was failing badly. “My problem. Well, hey, I need to go. Hundreds of voice-mail messages to return, letters to answer. You know, from the people who do want to talk to me.”
    “Keely! That‟s not fair. You know I‟m always so happy to hear from you.”
    Keely softened. “I know, Mom. I was thinking I might come by for a visit this week. We could drive up to—”
    “Oh, honey, this isn‟t a good week. We, ah, we‟re just so busy. I‟ll call you this weekend and we‟ll have another chat, okay?”
    “Right, Mom. Okay. This weekend. I—” Keely‟s voice faltered, but she took a deep breath and forced the words to come. Forced herself to say the words to the mother who didn‟t even want to see her. “I love you, Mom.”
    “I love you, too, baby. We‟ll talk soon.”
    After she hung up the phone, Keely put her head down on her arms, there on her dusty desk, in the middle of her silent office, and finally gave in to the tears.

Chapter 3
    Present day, the Void created by Anubisa,
    goddess of Chaos and Night
    Justice floated in a dark dimension composed entirely of pain, his mind cannibalizing his memories for some sense of himself. Viscous as a thick, murky potion conjured by a dark sorceress, the pain surrounded him, taunted him, buffeted him, and cradled him until he no longer existed other than as a supplicant, a slave, an unwilling participant in a twisted and torturous game.
    His consciousness had dwindled down to the barest pin-prick of flickering light. He knew his name, knew he was Justice in a vastness of injustice, knew that his sacrifice had saved others whose names had long been torn from his mind. But nobility was as nothing against the pain; the pain ate nobility, consumed strength, devoured pride. Ate the Body until what was left of the Body burned in acid rebellion against the Mind. The Mind screamed and howled, silent shrieks of protest against an unyielding evil that licked his blood, feasted on his terror, and laughed a dark, breathless humor of longing.
    But the memories flashed, taunting him with their evanescence. First, a glimpse of the beginning. There was the cavern, and then there was after. After had been when the pain began. Of that, at least, he was sure.
     
    Rousing slowly to consciousness, Justice had woken to a nightmare that must surely exist in the lowest of the nine hells.
    As designed by Vegas.
    He stared up at the canopy of the biggest bed ever