Authors: Katherine Irons
Waterborne (9 page)
“I don’t know. I doubt if anyone could answer that question. All Atlanteans can breathe air for hours, even days, but we have to return to the sea, or we die. We can’t survive on land.”
“But I’m not Atlantean or human. I’m some sort of freak.”
“I prefer hybrid. And being part Atlantean isn’t all bad. We don’t get sick, not as humans do. We aren’t prone to cancer or heart disease, diabetes, or any of the sexually transmitted diseases. And we live a long time.”
“How long is a long time?”
“Hundreds, sometimes thousands, of human years. We aren’t immortal. We can be killed, but we have tremendous healing properties. And we’re much stronger than your kind.”
She wasn’t sure how much of what he was telling her that she believed, but some of it made a perverted sort of reason. She’d learned that her own senses were the only things in the world she could trust, and she’d spent the last few days under water without drowning. So, if she wasn’t locked up in a mental ward in some sanitarium and she wasn’t in a coma and delusional, maybe ... just maybe there was truth to it.
“All right, while we’re playing twenty questions. Why are you—why am I dressed like someone out of a Hollywood version of ancient Greece?”
“When I take you to Atlantis—and sooner or later I’ll have to—there are historians that can explain our similarities more fully, but the simple answer is that Atlantis existed first. Egypt, Greece, and, to some extent, the Mayan and Roman civilizations copy from our culture. We certainly taught them architecture, medicine, and science. Ours were the first roads, as you know them, the first coined money, and the first writing. The Phoenician alphabet is very close to Atlantean.”
“Sorry, sandals under the water seem silly.”
“They are more formal wear than for open ocean, or ...” He spread his hands, indicating the space around them. “Or as we are now, in a land situation. Certainly humans have their own curious customs. Men’s suits and ties? The necktie, I’ve read, was once necessary when your people traveled by horseback and needed a length of material to bandage a mount’s injured leg. I’ve never observed that men like wearing them, but they seem to buy them in great quantities.”
“All right.” She chuckled. “I’ll give you that point. Neckties on men are ridiculous. But the notion that all the great civilizations in the world came from Atlantis is stretching it.”
“Not at all. Do you think it’s a coincidence that there are similar pyramids in Asia, Africa, and Central and South America? Or that there are symbols carved into the walls of Peruvian cities that are identical to some I could show you in Ireland or the oldest section of Atlantis? And I never said that all civilizations developed from ours, only some of the greatest. And we can’t take all the credit. Much of our ancient knowledge came from outsiders, travelers from the stars who visited Earth long ago.”
She blinked, suddenly feeling a little dizzy. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“You asked for the truth.”
“But how is it possible? If you ... if your civilization exists beneath the ocean ... why haven’t we had contact before? Humans and Atlanteans?”
“We have.” His gaze met hers and she read not only sorrow but anger. “Many times. But your kind dismisses ours as myth. Children’s tales. Northmen, Britons, Koreans, and South Sea Islanders all have tales of mermaids and seal people. Sailors of every nation tell of strange beings they’ve sighted at sea, and all are laughed at. Your kind recognize the intelligence of whales and dolphins, yet you continue to hunt them for food and destroy them for sport.”
“Not all humans.”
His mouth tightened into a hard line. “Most.”
“You sound as if you don’t think much of the human race.”
“I don’t,” Alex said. “And with good reason. Humans murdered my mother.”
CHAPTER 9
“I’
m sorry,” Ree said. She believed him. He wasn’t lying about this. She’d been taught to withhold the truth and give false information, and she’d learned how to distinguish the two in an opponent. Human or not, Alex’s mind worked the same as hers, and on a gut level she knew that he was being absolutely honest with her.
m sorry,” Ree said. She believed him. He wasn’t lying about this. She’d been taught to withhold the truth and give false information, and she’d learned how to distinguish the two in an opponent. Human or not, Alex’s mind worked the same as hers, and on a gut level she knew that he was being absolutely honest with her.
“I wasn’t looking for sympathy.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
His pupils darkened. A muscle twitched along his cheek, and she noticed the faint shadow of fine gold hairs on his jawline. Alex barely had any body hair, other than that on his head and his groin area, making him a rarity in the men she’d known intimately. She’d always been attracted to dark-haired men, and hairy chests and legs were part of the package. But she had to admit that Alex’s smooth body with its corded muscle and hard planes was sexy as hell.
She couldn’t help thinking how different he was from Nick, both physically and in personality. Nick had been the only man that she’d ever loved and trusted. How was it possible that she could compare Nick and Alex? She barely knew Alex, and most of what he told her was impossible to believe. Added to that—by his own admission—this green-eyed Adonis wasn’t even human.
And why had Nick come to mind? She made it a rule never to compare the men she’d shared sex with ... but then, she supposed, rules were made to be broken.
“How old were you when you lost her?”
“I didn’t lose her,” Alex said. “She was murdered. And I was still a boy, young enough that it took me a long time to believe that she was really gone. I never saw her body, and I used to imagine that it was all a mistake, that I’d look up and see her coming ... that I’d feel her arms around me again.” He shook his head.
Ree’s chest tightened as a rush of emotion caught her off guard. She’d been the one to ask, but she wished she hadn’t. It was a bad subject, a door that was better left closed. Her own mother had died when Ree was six.
And not just her mother, but her father as well. In one awful night she’d gone from an adored only child to an orphan. No one had told her the truth for years, but she’d always known they had ceased to exist. She’d sensed the emptiness in her world, and she’d known the housemothers were lying when they said her parents were coming to visit in a few months. The visit never came. There was always a new excuse, until finally, she and the other students, who’d also been lied to, had stopped asking.
“They’re young,”
Ree had heard a supervisor whisper to one of the instructors.
“Children forget.”
But that was a lie, too. They didn’t forget. At least she didn’t forget. She still remembered the scent of her mother’s perfume and the way her nose had wrinkled when she laughed. She’d had freckles on her nose, and Ree had teased her by drawing imaginary lines connecting the small imperfections on her skin.
Ree had heard a supervisor whisper to one of the instructors.
“Children forget.”
But that was a lie, too. They didn’t forget. At least she didn’t forget. She still remembered the scent of her mother’s perfume and the way her nose had wrinkled when she laughed. She’d had freckles on her nose, and Ree had teased her by drawing imaginary lines connecting the small imperfections on her skin.
The knot in her chest tightened. She remembered her father, too, a big dark-haired Irishman with a gift for music. How many times had she drifted off to sleep at night to the sound of the hammered dulcimer, the pennywhistle, or his flute? He’d been more distant than her mother, almost brooding at times, but when he drank too much, he would sing Irish rebel ballads, dandle her on his knee and call her his darlin’ girl. Most of the time, he was a quiet man, cautious and watchful. Ree thought she inherited her skepticism from him, that and her gift of pyro-kinetics.
“My mother was murdered, too,” she said, surprising herself. She never talked about her parents, not even to Nick ... not to anyone. He’d never mentioned his family either.
Alex regarded her closely. She could see the doubt in his eyes.
“Both my mother and father died in a fire.” Her voice echoed in her head.
Fire ... fire ... fire.
“It wasn’t an accident. Apparently my father had made political enemies, people who wanted him dead badly enough to burn the house down around them.”
Fire ... fire ... fire.
“It wasn’t an accident. Apparently my father had made political enemies, people who wanted him dead badly enough to burn the house down around them.”
She hadn’t been able to bring their murderers to justice, but over the years, she’d done her best to rid the world of other evil. The organization had trained her for that reason. Human garbage like Grigori Varenkov, dictators, drug lords, war criminals, gangsters, serial killers, those too wealthy or too powerful to pay for their sins, were judged by an impartial jury of nine. She and others like her used their special gifts to carry out the executions.
“Do you know who was responsible for your parents’ deaths?” Alex asked.
“Not really. Either agents of a radical Protestant Irish party or the British government.
The Irish troubles.
My father was considered an undesirable.”
The Irish troubles.
My father was considered an undesirable.”
“And your mother?”
“At the wrong place at the wrong time, I suppose. I don’t believe she was political, but I was young. I can’t say for certain. I know she never went with him at night to his meetings. She always stayed with me.”
“I’m luckier than you. I had my father ... and my brothers.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
Alex chuckled. “Many. My father was fond of marriage. But three that I’m close to.” He waved toward the table. “Come, eat. Enough of this gloomy talk.” He smiled at her. “I like you, Ree.” His smile widened into a boyish grin. “You’re a special woman.”
And how many women has he delivered that line to?
she wondered. But she couldn’t blame him. There were courtesies that one offered to a partner the morning after. If it was a night ... Here, beneath the sea, there seemed to be no division between day and night.
she wondered. But she couldn’t blame him. There were courtesies that one offered to a partner the morning after. If it was a night ... Here, beneath the sea, there seemed to be no division between day and night.
Ouch!
When had the possibility that all this was real become solid? When had she come to believe that she was at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean sharing a morning
after
brunch with a hot Atlantean in a short skirt?
When had the possibility that all this was real become solid? When had she come to believe that she was at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean sharing a morning
after
brunch with a hot Atlantean in a short skirt?
Alex looked thoughtful as he plucked fried shrimp from a golden bowl and heaped them in a large scallop shell before offering them to her.
“Thanks.” She took one and tasted it. The shrimp was golden brown, cooked in a thin batter, and seasoned perfectly. It was delicious, and she reached for another with her fingers. “How did your mother die?”
“It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”
“Not that long ago. You can’t be more than what? Thirty? Thirty-five?”
“I’m older than you think. We don’t count years as humans do.” He poured a crystal goblet of white wine for her and offered her a napkin.
Ree looked at the linen. The stitching was exquisite, but the material didn’t seem to be one that she was familiar with. “What is this made of?” she asked.
“Fish skin, the same as your tunic. If you examine it closely, you’ll see the minute scales. It’s fairy work, very time consuming, but almost indestructible.”
Ree glanced down at the soft folds of her garment and grimaced. “Fish skin? I’m wearing fish skin?”
He smiled. “What did you expect? Lamb’s wool?” He broke off a section of bread and divided it, giving her half.
“More fish?” she asked. When she took a bite, it tasted of fruit and honey and walnuts. “I don’t care. It’s wonderful.”
“Fairy bread,” he said. “Any who eat of it are promised sweet dreams.”
Abruptly, he rose and went to the window. Nothing had changed. The clouds were still as white, the sky as blue, and the hills and forests as green. Using an eating knife he’d removed from the table, Alex began to pry at the corner of the woodwork.
“Don’t do that!” boomed a thunderous voice in Ree’s ear.
“Show yourself,” Alex said.
“Is this the way you repay our hospitality?” came a shrieking demand.
“What are you doing?” Ree asked. “Didn’t you tell me—”
“Quiet!” Alex turned to the fireplace, kicked aside the burning logs, and thrust his hand up the chimney.
Ree jumped aside as the flaming embers vanished. Where the fire had been was nothing but a black hole.
“How dare—” The imposing timbre changed to the high-pitched tone of a small, frightened boy. “Let me go!” he squeaked.
Alex dragged something kicking and squealing into the room. Ree stared at the shrieking child in the green moleskin jacket and trousers, and then realized that it was an adult, a little person, either a dwarf or something else entirely. “I thought this had the odor of fairy dust,” Alex proclaimed. “Ree, meet ... Excuse me, but neither the lady nor I know your name.” He stood the little man on the bench and stepped back. “Pardon my manners, but you have been deceiving us.”
The tiny man glared back at them. He stood no more than two feet tall. His eyes were brown, his skin the color of clover honey, and his hair as black as a crow’s wing. He wore a pointed Robin Hood hat with a red feather and red leather boots. At his waist hung a golden sword and a hunter’s horn banded in copper. “Sorley,” he said. “I am Sorley of the Well.”
“And I am Prince Alexandros of Atlantis,” Alex replied. “This is the lady Ree O’Connor.”
The little man turned his black gaze on her. “An Irishwoman? You should know better than to allow this wicked giant to behave so badly in sanctuary.”
“And you? Do you believe your behavior to be without blame? To hide yourself and pretend to be a ghost?”
The little man folded his arms over his chest. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t turn you both out into the sea.”
“Because the Atlanteans did your race a service, and you are in our debt.”
Sorley scowled. “I’m not alone here, you know. One word from me and you’ll be surrounded by armed soldiers and thrown to the mercy of those who hunt you.”
Alex nodded. “If I’ve offended you, I offer apology. You have offered us sanctuary, and we appreciate it. But you were spying on us, and that is forbidden, isn’t it?”
“I wasn’t spying,” Sorley said. “Observing. Making certain you weren’t breaking rules, and I caught you attempting to destroy property.”
“Observing when we sat down to eat, or observing when we were otherwise engaged?” Ree asked. Sometime in the midst of their last lovemaking session, she’d had the suspicion that they were being watched. “What are you? Some sort of pervert?”
The little man’s face turned a deep puce and his features twisted. “For an Irishwoman, you have no more manners than this underwater oaf.”
“And for a gentleman, you play hard and fast with the truth,” she replied.
“Shall we call a truce?” Alex asked. “We shall both forget the breeches we have committed. We shall take advantage of your hospitality for a few more hours, and you shall promise to refrain from spying on us.”
“How do I know you won’t do more damage?” Sorley demanded.
“Your earth-scape is a fanciful creation, but I’d prefer to see what’s really outside this sphere,” Alex said, motioning to the windows.
“I only thought to make the lady’s visit more pleasant. She is a human, isn’t she?”
“That’s a good question,” Ree said. “But I agree with Alex. I’d like to see truth beyond this room.”
“As you please.” The little man removed his hat, smoothed out his feather, and replaced the hat on his head. He turned around three times, spoke softly in a language that Ree couldn’t understand, and waved his hand. Instantly, the hills and forests shimmered, the meadows dissolved, and the blue sky and white clouds swirled to a blend of blue—green watercolors. Grass became rock-strewn desert, and grazing deer and winged birds became fish and other sea creatures.
In the distance, Ree could see the shadowy outlines of an underwater volcano with fiery rivers spilling down its sides. Lightning-like flashes of light swept through the depths, illuminating hundreds, perhaps thousands, of jellyfish, and darker silhouettes of ominous shapes moving silently through their midst. To the right, Ree could see a raised ribbon of rock or coral and swimming over it were almost human figures.
She pointed.
“Lemorians,” Alex said. “A scouting party.”
“Do they know we’re here?” she asked.
“Of course not,” Sorley scoffed. “This is sanctuary! So long as you remain within, they can’t harm you.”
“My companion, the warrior that came before us. Do you know if the Lemorians caught her?”
“That one was Lemorian, was she not?” the fairy asked.
“Her name is Anuata,” Alex said. “She said you have dolphins that could act as messengers. Could we—”
“The one you speak of left sanctuary. What happened to her later I know not. What do you think I am? Clairvoyant? I’m fairy, not druid. And I have no dolphins to lend you. Your friend sent out two. They haven’t come back, and I don’t know if they’re safe or not. The jellyfish are very thick, and our dolphins are defenseless against their poison.”
Alex glanced at Ree. “I’ll have to leave you here for a while. It’s important that I get word to my friends. We’ll need help getting out of here, and the longer we stay, the farther away the Russian is getting.”
Ree shook her head. “If you go, I go. You aren’t leaving me here.”
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