Warriors of Poseidon 04 - Atlantis Unmasked

Tiny. Still shaking his head, Alexios continued walking the circle of the rooftop, constantly scanning for any sign of movement or approach.
     
    He thought of Grace, lying injured on her bed on the floor below, and his fingers tightened around the mug. He needed Alaric.
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    He needed Alaric here now , not off on some hopeless quixotic chase after Quinn. He put the mug on the floor at his feet and then stood up and raised his hands into the air in order to help him call the energy that would power the Atlantean mental pathway between he and Alaric. This type of communication came more easily to some than others; it had never been effortless for him. But then again, he‟d never had such need.
     
    Alaric, if you can hear me, answer me now. I have need of you—Grace is injured and needs your healing. Come now.
     
    He slowly lowered his hands, waiting—hoping—for some sign, but there was nothing.
    Pride gave way to desperate longing, and he added the word he had so rarely used.
     
    Please.
     
    But still there was nothing. An empty silence instead of a response.
     
    Either Alaric was out of range or he had chosen not to respond. Both options were unacceptable. A perfect storm of helpless rage swept through Alexios, until he had to let it out or explode. He threw back his head and roared out his fury to the stars and the night sea. Grace had been hurt—she could have died—and there had been nothing he could do about it.
     
    He fell to his knees on the hard, cold concrete and let his head drop forward, unknowing and uncaring if Tiny or any of his men were witnesses to his breakdown. The terror of almost losing her drove sharp teeth into his spine and shook him the way the panther had shaken Smith earlier, until he felt he must break apart into splinters, fractured by the fear and pain and rage.
     
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    A voice scratched at the edges of his mind, growing more and more insistent. A voice he knew—its familiarity was breaking through the rise of the war drums in his mind. A voice he knew, but it wasn‟t Alaric.
     
    Are you going to answer me, or am I going to have to come up there and thump your head against a wall? The voice in his head was rich with amusement, but also threaded with concern. Remember, I can easily kick your ass for you. Hells, my woman can kick your ass for you .
     
    Relief washed through Alexios like a cooling wave over burning sand. It was Bastien.
    Thank Poseidon .

Chapter 18
    Alexios watched the sun rising over the horizon and stretched, finally feeling like he could take a deep breath for the first time all night. One of his oldest friends and fellow warriors was on the way, so it didn‟t matter that the portal still refused to answer his call.
    Bastien was one of the Seven, and he was bringing Ethan and Kat, both panther shifters and, according to Bastien, far more lethal than any Alexios could have faced the night before.
     
    Ethan is alpha, Bastien had explained. You‟ll have to see for yourself what that means, but trust me when I tell you he has nothing to do with these attacks .
     
    Bastien wasn‟t much better than Alexios at the use of the Atlantean communication path over long distances, so it had been a very short conversation. But, even now, Bastien, Ethan, and Kat were on the way to St. Augustine from Ethan‟s home and headquarters near Miami. Bastien has said to give him an hour; the shifters couldn‟t travel as mist or through water portals.
     
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    Alexios hadn‟t thought to ask Bastien if the portal to Atlantis was cooperating with him.
    The portal‟s magic was capricious, and it seemed to open and close according to some rules it never bothered to disclose.
     
    The portal was older than Atlantis and older than any written record of history, so not even the elders, the scroll keepers, or the scholars fully understood how or why it functioned as it did. A thought occurred to him, surprising in its unexpectedness. What if the portal considered itself a protector of Atlantis? There was no question that it was sentient; what if it knew the prince and heir was born and wanted to protect the vulnerable infant?
     
    Perhaps. Of course, as had been true for more than eleven thousand years, there was no way to know. Maybe Keely would be able to use her archaeological skills or her