Warriors of Poseidon 06 - Atlantis Betrayed

back into the sunshine of the fields, which released him from the spell of the Fae, and he became a real boy again.
    As in so many modern fairy tales, the children in the tale all lived happily ever after. If only life outside of books were as happy or predictable.
    “We need to help now,” Declan said, and Christophe realized that everyone was clapping and standing up from their seats. “They’ll ask questions and then queue up to get their books signed.”
    “What do we do?” Christophe asked, bemused that this lad was confident enough in his new partner to order him around like an old friend. Hopkins would have been pointing a gun at him, undoubtedly.
    “We ask for names, entertain the kids in the line, that sort of thing.”
    Christophe folded his arms across his chest. “Do I look like the sort of man who would stand around entertaining children?”
    Declan blinked. “Actually, I don’t know what you look like. You don’t seem to exist in any database, civilian or governmental, so I’m guessing Fae. Hopkins has a bit of a talent for reading minds, actually more like reading intent, and he said you believed you’d never harm us, and, well, you rather look a bit like an action film star, but this is what we do, you wanted to be here, soooo . . .”
    It took Christophe a moment to work his way through all that. Hopkins could read people, could he?
    Obviously not in any degree of specificity or the questions that morning would have been a great deal more intense. As to entertaining children? “Absolutely not. I’ll be out front, looking for danger, protecting our flank, and that sort of action film star thing.”
    “Whatever, dude. Gotta get busy.” Declan strolled off, turning on his not inconsiderable charm, leaving Christophe blinking at the idea that a human man—barely a man, practically a child himself—had just called him dude and Christophe hadn’t stabbed him for it. Something was very, very wrong.
    Atlantis Betrayed – Warriors of Poseidon 06
    Page 53 of 188
    Maybe the sex had made him soft.
    He grabbed one of the books on his way to the front of the store, where he could breathe since the crowd was all centered around Fiona. As he casually opened the book and started flipping through the pages, he slowed, and then returned to the first page to begin the story. Examining each illustration, he realized that Fiona had a true gift. The soft watercolors made her paintings come so alive that he half expected the fairy to dance right off the page. Her imaginative retelling of the tale kept the slightest undercurrent of danger, but the bright, cheerful language and happy ending guaranteed both small children and parents alike would be content to share this book, over and over, at bedtime, with no fear that it might cause nightmares of being stolen by the Fae.
    Not that only the Fae stole children. Sometimes humans stole children after the Fae finished murdering their parents in front of them.
    He gritted his teeth against the memories that he’d thought safely buried in the dark recesses of his mind so many long years ago. Perhaps being around all these children was doing it. Whatever the cause, he needed it to stop. He needed to focus. Steal the Siren, forget about his worthless childhood, and conquer his obsession with the Scarlet Ninja.
    Easy.
    No problem at all.
    The voice that spoke up behind him was as unexpected as it was unwelcome. “Christophe, we’ve got a problem.”

Chapter 13
    Christophe swung around to find Denal standing behind him. The younger warrior was trying to act casual and doing a terrible job of it. In his black clothing, the bones in his face standing out starkly, Denal was as out of place in the children’s bookshop as Christophe himself. Looking around, though, Christophe noticed several of the mothers—and a couple of the fathers—giving the two of them more than friendly looks. The Atlantean gene pool working its magic. Christophe scowled, and most of them quickly found something else to do.
    “What are you doing here? How did you find me? And what problem?”
    Denal grinned. “One question at a time. I’m here because Prince Conlan sent me. I found you because I could feel your presence on the Atlantean mental pathway, even though you weren’t answering me, and the problem is something we probably shouldn’t discuss in public.”
    Denal glanced around curiously. “What are you doing here anyway?”
    “Browsing,” Christophe said dryly. “This