Warriors of Poseidon 03 - Atlantis Unleashed

too animalistic for an Atlantean to track.
    Jack preferred it that way, ally or no. A red haze crossed his vision at the thought of Jack.
    Quinn‟s partner had deeper feelings for her than he admitted, and the thought of the two of them, always together, sliced through Alaric like a razor‟s edge through flesh.
    Before he could destroy any more of the innocent fence, a shimmer of emotion not his own—anger mixed with pain—glanced a featherlight touch at the edge of his consciousness. The unique colors entwined in the emotional resonance told him the source instantly. It was Quinn. She was alive. The deep twilight, silvery gray, and wine red of her emotional aura were unique colors among those of any humans he‟d ever encountered.
    Relief, longing, and a joy so pure it burned seared through his veins. She was alive.
    Quinn was alive .
    And now he knew exactly where she was.
    He drew power to him and blasted the door off of a stone mausoleum, shattering the heavy door into shards of shattered wood and the padlock into twisted bits of melted metal. She was alive, and no door or lock ever made would keep him from her, with all respect to the Denham family who‟d carved their name into the lintel.
    Not even bothering to transform into mist, he strode through the open doorway to the crypt, unsurprised to see a dark opening at the back. Crossing the stone floor, he offered a brief nod of respect to the long-dead inhabitants. At the opening, he found a steep wooden staircase that circled its way down into the dark.
    Of course the vampires would have a home base in tunnels under a graveyard. Vampires were nothing if not predictably clichéd.
    Alaric bared his teeth in a fierce approximation of a smile and headed down the stairs. He could feel Quinn, and she was down there. Neither dead bodies, nor vampires, nor the risen demons of the nine hells themselves would keep him from her.
    She was an ally. She was his heart made flesh. She was his woman in some alternate reality where his own future was not bleak despair, solitude, and a lonely death.
    He projected his thoughts to her along their unique mental connection. Quinn, I come for you.
    Are you injured?
    Her thoughts came back to him, strong and holding not a hint of fear, but perhaps something of vulnerability. His warrior woman.
    Alaric? Somehow I knew you’d come.
    Are you injured? He sent the demand more urgently as he picked up his pace and started running at a blurring rate of speed. Her answer, when it came a few moments later, pushed him to run even faster, calling power as he ran.
    Not yet, but Jack and Denal are. We’re about ten feet away from that door, but it’s guarded by vamps. Feel free to blow it out of its frame.
    Straight ahead, Alaric saw the barricaded wooden door at the end of the tunnel. He called even more power and smashed through the door with approximately the speed and force of a tropical typhoon. Shattered boards imploded inward, and one had the impossible fortune to land dead center in the heart of one of the guardian vampires.
    One down, only a dozen or so to go.
    He scanned the layout of the room while still on the move and didn‟t stop until he had swept Quinn up from the floor where she was sitting, holding one arm at an awkward angle. He shot across the dark and dank room and gently lowered her slight body, which seemed to weigh almost nothing, until she stood with her back to the wall, as he called a shield of water to block her from any danger.
    Whirling around to face the room, he noted Denal and Jack‟s positions. Jack was in human form, unconscious or dead, on the ground in a corner. Denal lay in a crumpled heap near Jack, but Alaric could at least sense Denal‟s life force, strong and steady.
    Ten vamps crouched in varying stages of threat, fear, or obeisance, all oriented toward one very fashionably dressed vampire who leaned against a very old coffin in the center of the room.
    “I find myself wounded that you did not invite me to your party, Quinn,” Alaric said dryly, never taking his eyes off the vampires. “Furthermore, we will discuss the meaning of „not injured‟ later.”
    Quinn laughed, although he could hear the edge of pain in it. Her arm was definitely broken, but he had no time to heal it just yet. “Hey, you know me. Always a party girl.”
    The foppish vamp raised one eyebrow, then deliberately yawned and adjusted his French cuffs. “You must be another of the famed Atlantean warriors. Really, is