Warriors of Poseidon 03 - Atlantis Unleashed

have explanations to make. I have explanations to make. We‟ll go to the palace. It must be the beginning, although we don‟t yet know the ending.”
    Keely took a deep breath and nodded. “Part of me wants nothing more than to go home, have a hot bath, and drink a bottle or two of wine. But we need to tell the prince about the Star of Artemis and the Trident. All of Atlantis could be in serious danger if they try to ascend without the full set of gemstones.”
    He held out his hand and she twined her fingers in his, and a fountain of sparkling light merged into a geyser around them. Entranced by the hypnotic allure, he almost missed her next words.
    “Just tell me this is safe,” she said, attempting a smile. “I know we did it once before, but I can‟t help but feel a little bit like a guinea pig. I really don‟t want half of my atoms going to Borneo while the other half end up in the palace here in Atlantis. I watched Star Trek on DVD, you know. That transporter was not exactly reliable.”
    From somewhere in his past, he found an echo of humor that hadn‟t yet been beaten out of him by years of battle—or months in the Void. “I hear Borneo is nice this time of year.”
    Somehow, against all odds, Keely started laughing. Justice called to the magic of his Nereid ancestors and, holding her in his arms, he stepped off the edge of reality and into the tapestry of the universe. They dissolved into pure energy, and both halves of himself—Nereid and Atlantean—marveled at the brilliance of captured sunlight that he held so carefully in his arms.
     
    Keely melted into nothingness, again—or maybe not. In some nearly indefinable way, this was different. She felt herself more an active participant in the process, although it certainly wasn‟t her bringing the magic. As a scientist, she tried to observe and catalog. Sensations, reactions, experience as experiment.
    But the matter transference defied description. At least, it defied any rational description. Any sane explanation. Magic consumed her, swallowed her up. She could only hope it would spit her back out, whole, when she got to the other side.
    Colors and sounds clashed around her, as though she‟d taken a mind-altering drug and fallen into the middle of a symphony. It was beautiful and terrible; sensation piled upon sensation until she thought she would go mad.
    And then it was over.
    They fell, whether down or up was unimportant, but they fell out of the currents—out of the maelstrom—and back into reality. As they landed, ever so gently on their feet, in a room Keely hadn‟t seen in any of her visions, she wondered why reality suddenly seemed so dull.
    Startled shouts rang around her, and before she could get her bearings, the business ends of two daggers and a sword were pointing in her direction. Pointing at Justice, actually.
    Justice‟s arms tightened around her and then he moved to shield her so quickly that he was a blur.
    “How dare you raise weapons against us?” His voice was little more than a growl, but she understood the words and intent clearly enough. She could see the trembling in his muscles that told her he was nearly incoherent with rage.
    Keely knew she had to do something. The Atlanteans were threatening the fragile peace Justice had brokered with his Nereid half, and she wasn‟t going to stand for it.
    She stepped out from behind him and held up her hands in surrender, looking toward Conlan, who stood slightly in front of Ven. “Hey, I come in peace. Keely McDermott, archaeologist.
    You invited me , remember?
    “Thanks,” she said, putting a hand on Justice‟s arm. He was making a low, bestial growling noise in his throat as he scanned the room, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. He looked exactly like the predator she‟d thought him to be; but now she knew he was that and so much more.
    After years of archaeology, Keely was no stranger to dealing with foreign governments. This one might be more foreign than any of the other ones she‟d encountered, she thought with grim amusement, but the principle still held true.
    The room was a simple one, bare of any trappings of royalty. This was a working space, it was clear. She glanced around, openly curious. “This is some kind of strategy room, isn‟t it?”
    The prince‟s brother nodded, but still no one spoke. So much for small talk.
    “Justice,” she hissed, “I‟m not making much headway here. You need to help me out.”
    Conlan and his brother slowly lowered