Warriors of Poseidon 06 - Atlantis Betrayed

what she was feeling. He even understood her need to howl out her rage. But it wasn’t helping their current problem, and he needed for her to think. He figured he’d give her another minute before he tried shaking her or pouring cold water on her head, or whatever he should do to calm hysteria. One minute, and then she had to stop.
    She stopped screaming thirty seconds later.
    “Right,” she said briskly, as if she hadn’t just had a minimeltdown. “Let’s figure out what to do next.”
    Her cell phone rang. She pulled it out like it was a lifeline, then held it up in a shaking hand. “It’s him. It’s Declan.”
    She flipped it open and adjusted something so they could all hear.
    “Declan, honey, are you okay?”
    Atlantis Betrayed – Warriors of Poseidon 06
    Page 162 of 188
    “How touching.” Fairsby’s voice—no, Feransel’s voice—rang out.
    A wave of fury hotter than molten steel forged in the fires of the nine hells swept through Christophe, searing and burning everything in its path, until all that was left was rage and determination. The Fae was going to die for hurting Fiona. He was already a dead man. He just didn’t know it yet.
    “You put my brother on the phone, Fairsby, at once,” Fiona demanded.
    The Fae laughed, and even through the phone, the sound was so chillingly evil that all three of them recoiled as if a serpent perched on the tiny electronic device instead of at its other end.
    “He’s a little busy at the time, with a few water nymphs. Did you know your baby brother is a virgin?” He laughed again. “Oh, too bad. I do believe was is the correct verb tense.”
    All the blood drained out of Fiona’s face. Christophe took the phone out of her shaking hand.
    “What a brave elf to play with little boys, na Feransel,” Christophe said, mocking him. “Does your mommy still wipe your ass for you, too?”
    “Call me elf at your own peril, Atlantean. I would think, in any case, that you had enough to concern you,” the Fae said; still calm, still taunting.
    Christophe had shaken that smug serenity a little bit, though, and he planned to shake it up even more.
    “I heard Telios stole your thunder with the Siren. Sad, that. Outwitted by a vampire. What’s next?
    Shifters in the Summer Lands?”
    “Ah, yes. Telios. I learned of his little demonstration just a bit too late. So sad that he was defenseless in his sleep this morning. One would have expected more of a fight from the celebrated Jack the Ripper. I so wanted to keep his head to decorate my wall. So tragic that they dissolve so fast.”
    Fiona traded a glance with Hopkins and then they both looked at Christophe. She made a “move it along” gesture.
    “What, you expect us to mourn for him? Where and when do you want to meet? The boy had better be safe and intact, or you will answer to me.” Christophe never raised his voice. He didn’t have to. Power roared through his body and enhanced his words until they thundered through the air and into the phone.
    “Interesting trick,” the Fae said. “Your voice alone just killed my favorite rosebush. I’ll have to take that out of someone’s flesh, of course, but it was interesting. I wonder how much of that raw, rough power I have caused.”
    Christophe stared at the phone, but knew better than to allow the Fae to draw him into a useless argument.
    “When and where?” Fiona shouted at the phone, at the Fae. “Just tell us when and where, damn you.”
    Atlantis Betrayed – Warriors of Poseidon 06
    Page 163 of 188
    “The dulcet tones of my future wife. Yes, my dearest one, I know you are impatient to join with me and bear my sons. Tonight, at midnight. A bit clichéd, but for a reason. The hour holds sacred power here in the Summer Lands.”
    Fiona fell back against the desk, her mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out. Christophe took over, forcing himself to ignore the bit about “future wife”—for now.
    “How do we get there?”
    “Come to Fairsby Manor, of course,” the Fae who was and was not Fairsby replied. “I’ll be there to meet you. Midnight and not a minute sooner, mind, and only the two of you. Oh, and Fiona? I’ll gladly trade your brother’s freedom for that Atlantean’s head on a plate.”
    The click as he hung up on them echoed in the space between the three of them.
    Hopkins nodded once, decisively. “Now we go plan how to kick his arse.”
    “Yes,” Fiona said. “Now.”
    An hour later
    They’d cleaned up and