Warriors of Poseidon 05 - Atlantis Redeemed

goes home happy.
    The high prince wasn’t exactly down with the idea. Christophe “wasn’t a team player.” “Had a chip on his shoulder.” Insert social worker psychobabble here. Conlan’s new human wife had the prince by the balls and Princess Riley was all about kindness and understanding.
    Which sucked.
    Christophe would have preferred that Conlan just haul off and punch him in the face, like the prince used to do in the old days when somebody pissed him off. It would have been far less painful.
    “Less painful than smelling your stench, for example,” he said to the vampire who was floating up the side of the tower, probably trying to surprise him.
    “Interesting place to hang out, mate.” The vamp levitated up until he was eye level with Christophe. “Got a death wish?”
    Christophe scanned the vamp, his gaze raking it from spiky blue hair to steel-toed boots. He blamed London’s punk rock scene.
    “You threatening me?”
    The vamp shrugged. “Just pointing out that you’re pretty far up for a breakable human.”
    Christophe bared his teeth in what passed for a smile with him these days, and the vamp flinched a little. “Not human. Not breakable.”
    Atlantis Redeemed – Warriors of Poseidon 05
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    Holding his hands up in a placating gesture, Punker Boy floated back and away from him. “Got no beef with you. Just surprised to see somebody in my spot.”
    “You’re Queen Victoria, then?”
    The vampire laughed and, surprisingly, seemed to be genuinely amused. “Know your Latin, do you?”
    It was Christophe’s turn to shrug. “I get by.” But then an inconvenient twinge of duty nagged at him, and he sighed. “You planning to kill any humanity tonight?”
    “Any humanity?” The vamp floated closer, his eyebrows drawing together as he studied Christophe. “What are you talking about?”
    Christophe dropped his daggers from their arm sheaths into his hands and balanced them, not taking his gaze from the vamp. “Duty, sacred oath, blah blah blah. If you’re planning to kill any humans, I need to end you.”
    “I’d be stupid to say yes, then, wouldn’t I?” The vamp’s voice held genuine curiosity, and not a little wariness.
    “Stupid. Vampire.” Christophe shrugged again. “Yeah, those words have gone together a time or two.”
    “No.”
    “No?”
    The vamp eyed the daggers. “No, I’m not planning to kill anybody tonight. Or ever, for that matter. Who needs all the trauma, with synth blood and donors?”
    Christophe judged the vamp to be sincere enough. He considered killing him anyway, just for something to do, but didn’t really feel like chasing his daggers all the way down after they’d sliced the vamp’s head off. Especially since his night wasn’t over—he still had to go steal one of the crown jewels from the Tower of London.
    He slid the blades into their sheaths and shot a considering stare at the bloodsucker. “So.
    Here’s a question. Was Jack the Ripper a vampire?”
    Campbell’s Hunt Manor, an hour outside of London
    Fiona Campbell pulled the scarlet leggings up over her legs and then fastened her belt into place. So important to have the right accessories these days, although no fashion magazine would ever feature her handworked leather tool belt on its up-and-coming-trends page. A memory flashed into her mind, though, as her fingers checked the snap on one tiny pocket that held her backup switchblade, and she laughed. Her assistant, Madeleine, had rushed into Atlantis Redeemed – Warriors of Poseidon 05
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    Fiona’s office just last week, waving a glossy magazine in the air. Vogue UK had done a spread on the new color for spring: bright crimson red.
    The Scarlet Ninja was setting fashion trends.
    “Sorry, Dad,” she murmured, glancing out the window into the uncharacteristically clear night sky. Spring weather was wet, wet, and more wet, but she’d planned this little outing for the one night this week that the meteorologists had promised to be dry. So unpleasant to plan impossible heists in the pouring rain, after all.
    The expected knock came and she heaved a sigh. “I’m not decent, Hopkins, please go away.”
    The door opened and the man who was the nearest thing to a grandfather she’d ever had walked in, carrying a tray. “I prefer indecency in both women and foreign films. Chocolate?”
    Fiona sighed again and tried not to grit her teeth at the sight of his perfectly combed silver hair and his perfectly