Warriors of Poseidon 05 - Atlantis Redeemed

intellectual state. He tapped a finger on the photo of the woman staring up at him from the folded newspaper. “This is she?”
    Something tugged at him; some flash of, what? Recognition? Admiration? The reporter’s face, even in the grainy black-and-white of the newsprint, was beautiful. But it was a quality in the look of her eyes that had captured his attention. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it was almost as if he could read the sadness haunting them.
    Or perhaps more than two thousands of years without emotion had destroyed his ability to discern it in others. Especially through such an inaccurate prism as that of a newspaper photograph.
    High Prince Conlan nodded and resumed his pacing. “That’s her. She’s our reporter contact, and she has news of who—or what—might be behind the shifter attacks in Yellowstone.” Conlan shot a wary glance at his brother Ven, then at Brennan. “She’s also the one you, ah, the one—”
    “The one you went miertus over and had some kind of convulsions about back in Boston,”
    Alexios added dryly.
    As members of Conlan’s elite guard, the Seven, hand-picked from among the best of the best of the Warriors of Poseidon, Alexios and Brennan had trained and fought together for centuries in the continuing battle to protect humanity from the dark forces that sought to destroy and enslave it. Both were masters at remaining calm and in control under pressure; Brennan through a god’s dictate, Alexios through decades of training.
    Except, from what Alexios and Christophe had told him, Brennan had failed spectacularly during one crucial mission, going so far as to kill a vampire they’d needed to question. Also, even more unbelievably, he’d then threatened his own friends and fellow warriors—all over a human f emale.
    Tiernan Butler.
    He almost could not—would not—believe it. If it had been only Christophe who recounted the tale, he most certainly would not have believed it. Christophe’s sly sense of humor often caused him to find sport in mocking Brennan’s emotionless existence. But Alexios was a different matter. Alexios would never, ever lie to him.
    Atlantis Redeemed – Warriors of Poseidon 05
    Page 8 of 232
    And there was the small matter of the dreams. Flashes of what he now believed to be memories, persistent in spite of the curse. Holding the soft warmth of her body in his arms.
    Looking down into the bottomless depths of her dark, dark eyes.
    “Thus, it must be true,” he murmured, coming to the unpleasant conclusion he’d refused previously to accept. Some of his control was finally cracking. After so many years, perhaps even the strongest of steel became brittle. Or—worse—the curse was coming to its fulfillment.
    Would that be worse or better? He dismissed the question as irrelevant; worse or better, what would be, would be.
    Alexios leaned against the battered wooden table that had seen so many of their planning sessions, and stared off into the distance, studying the ancient tapestries that lined the walls.
    Or simply trying to avoid meeting Brennan’s gaze.
    Ven, slouched in an overstuffed chair, one long leg thrown over the side, finally spoke up.
    “Look, we need to quit dancing around this. We’ve got to send somebody, preferably a team, to Yellowstone to help Lucas and his wolf shifters defend themselves against the attacks from outside and, even more important, I think, attacks from inside the pack. The threat of vampire enthrallment is growing every day. Tiernan is our contact, and she’s undercover doing the story on the science conference and the vamp regional leader there, so we need to work with her.
    So, major problem: can Brennan work with her or not?”
    Brennan straightened and inclined his head toward Ven, then put a touch of frost in his voice.
    “If the vampires are truly able to enthrall shape-shifters now, which they have never been able to do in all the millennia of their existence, this matter is of crucial importance to our mission.”
    He flashed a glance at Alexios and then returned his gaze to Ven, whose relaxed pose could not quite hide the lethal danger of one named the King’s Vengeance. “I am perfectly capable, Your Highness. I am sure that whatever happened in Boston was a one-time aberration.”
    Ven rolled his eyes and repeated his familiar threat. “Call me ‘Highness’ again, and I’ll kick your ass. I’m just Conlan’s brother, my friend. Leader of the Seven and uncle to one very