Warriors of Poseidon 06 - Atlantis Betrayed
She’d failed, of course—they all failed. But then again, that had been before they knew vampires existed. Perhaps now was the time to unleash his alter ego again.
Whitechapel and its residents had missed him for far too long.
A sound from the hallway interrupted his reveries of flesh and blood and death, and he crossed to the case that held his prize. Vanquish, sparkling like a whore who’d robbed a jeweler. Gaudy and over adorned. The question crossed his mind yet again—why did the Fae want this particular sword so very, very much?
Voices in the hallway sounded, closer, and he had no time for questions. He pulled on his favorite leather gloves, punched a hole in the glass, and removed the sword with both hands. Even through the gloves, a tingle of power zapped him with an almost electrical shock, but it wasn’t his left hand that felt the jolt. It was his right—the hand that held Vanquish’s hilt.
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The jewel on that hilt glowed with the fierce blue of the ocean dazzled by sunlight. He’d never seen a more beautiful gem, but it wasn’t only the beauty that captured his interest. This aquamarine was magical, somehow. No wonder the Fae wanted it. Perhaps Telios would keep it for himself for a while and try to discover its secrets. Always better to know the things that others tried to hide. Especially the nasty secrets of Unseelie Fae.
The voices changed, from conversational to aggressive, and he realized his presence had been discovered. By the time he whirled around to face them, his two enthralled guards were fighting like madmen to keep their colleagues from entering the room. Three lay dead or dying on the floor already.
Telios knew he could take on the remaining five by himself if he had to do so, but there was no need.
“Guard me as I leave,” he commanded, and his two guards immediately fell back to protect him.
But they were protecting him from no one. The other guards weren’t attacking. They weren’t rushing his two guards or even trying to attack Telios. Every single one of them had turned, backs to Telios, weapons held in the air at a readiness position.
Telios tried to understand this new trick. How was this strategy supposed to work? Before he could puzzle out even a possible answer, all seven guards—the two he’d enthralled and the five others—spoke as one.
“We guard you as you leave, Master.”
Telios’s mouth fell open and his fangs retracted involuntarily from pure shock. He stared around the room at the guards. Each face held the same expressionless blankness. The same readiness to serve him.
The gem in the hilt of the sword pulsed once in his hand, flaring a brighter blue than before, and he slowly bent his head to look at it.
“It’s you, isn’t it, my beautiful bit of rock?” He whispered the words, almost not daring to believe them.
“No wonder the Fae prince wants you so very badly. The sword was a distraction. What he really wants is you and your power.”
He raised his head and felt the triumphant grin spread across his face, stretching long-unused facial muscles. It had been a very long time since he’d had reason to smile. “Let’s all dance,” he told the guards, and he laughed his very rusty laugh as they waltzed all the way to the door.
Chapter 7
Fiona finished changing into her jeans and shirt, toweled off her damp hair, and pressed the button to lower the privacy glass so she could talk to Sean.
“I’m still not sure hiring you was such a good idea,” she said, uncapping a bottle of water and taking a long drink as they prowled through the dark and light of London at night. “I don’t know how much good ‘getaway driver’ is going to do you on your résumé. Not to mention the unfortunate and very real possibility of prison.”
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He grinned at her in the rearview mirror, still looking far too young to even be allowed to drive, let alone be the chauffeur of a hardened criminal like herself. “Funny, that. Just sent out fifty résumés yesterday and I’ve had forty-nine job offers already. Evidently getaway drivers are in high demand these days.”
The grin faded and his eyes narrowed as he swerved around a badly parked car. “Stick your arse end out in the street, and you’ll lose it, Mr. Volvo,” he muttered.
“Forty-nine offers, hmm? Does that mean you’re leaving me to fend for myself?” Fiona
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