Riley walked over to the stasis pod next to Brandacea’s and stared down at the golden-haired woman inside. Merlina.
“We won’t fail you, Merlina,” she promised. “Or Guen or Helena, either. No matter what it takes.”
Conlan took her hand. “I swear to you that we will do everything we can.”
“I know, because I’ll be there with you,” Riley said.
Conlan shook his head, but Riley held up a hand to forestall any protest. “Ven said he couldn’t find Serai’s trail. I’m an empath—aknasha—so I can maybe find her emotions even if nothing you can do works. We have to find her and the Emperor, Conlan, and I’m going to help.”
A muscle in Conlan’s jaw jumped as he clenched it, but he finally nodded. “You may be right. Let’s go through now and see if we can pick up her trail, and then I’ll return for Ven and the warriors.”
He called to the portal and then turned to the rest of the women and Horace. “Please don’t take this as your personal failure, Marie, Erin, Keely, Horace. Something had to be done, and you four were very courageous to even try.”
“Kind words, Conlan, but meaningless to Brandacea,” Marie said, her tearstained face pale and grave. “We all bear responsibility for these deaths.”
Erin and Keely nodded, and Riley wanted to scream. “It doesn’t matter whose responsibility it was right now, does it? All that matters is that we stop this before anybody else dies. Let’s go. Call the portal, Conlan.”
He turned to her, his brows drawing together. “I called the portal. It should be right—”
They both looked where he was pointing, at the empty space where the portal’s oval shimmer should have been forming.
“There,” he continued slowly. “No. Not again. Not now.”
He called again, louder. “Portal, heed my call. Answer to the need of the high prince of Atlantis.”
The silvery shimmer began to form, and Riley sighed in relief.
A female voice called out from the middle of the ovoid sphere. “Prince, indeed, and yet so ignorant of your heritage, Conlan of Atlantis. Know you not that I heed no call unless I deem it worthy?”
“So my relief was premature,” Riley said, putting her hands on her hips. “Could we possibly have one single day without something going wrong? Look, portal, women are dying. You pick now to do this? Also, I’m arguing with a glorified elevator?”
She could hear the way her voice was rising in nearhysteria, but she didn’t seem able to control it. She’d just caused a woman’s death, and the damn doorway was going to argue with her?
“I have no desire to cause you distress, Princess of Atlantis, but you do not understand our ways,” the portal said. Instead of the oval shape it had always taken before, the light shimmered into the shape of a slender woman, not much taller than Riley. “I was created by the gods themselves to serve as test of whether or not a chosen one was worthy of the task set for him or her. Poseidon bent me to his will when Atlantis sank beneath the sea, and I have long since grown bitter and yet resigned to my role as portal . . . or ‘glorified elevator,’ as you so succinctly named me.”
Riley did something she never would have imagined herself doing. Ever. She apologized to the doorway.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—We’re very upset, after Brandacea’s death—”
“Do not apologize to me, nor will I apologize or give quarter to you,” the portal, or woman, or demon from hell, continued.
Riley shot a glance at Erin, to see if the witch had any ideas, but Erin shrugged helplessly.
“My magic can’t touch this, Riley. I’m sorry,” Erin whispered.
“Wise that you do not try, human witch,” the portal said, pointing at Erin. “I enjoy your presence here and would regret destroying you, I think, although regret, like so many emotions, is only a faded echo of what it once was.”
Conlan stepped forward, between the portal and Riley, and bowed deeply. “You honor us with your presence and shame us with our lack of knowledge of your existence and purpose, my lady.”
The portal actually laughed. Sharp, silvery laughter, like the sound of glass bells, pealed out and Riley shuddered as if a shadow had crossed her grave.
“Such pretty words to go with such a pretty face, Conlan of Atlantis, but you shall not charm me. I will not let you pass until the test set for Serai of Atlantis has been passed or lost.”
Riley pushed past Conlan. “Lives depend on finding the Emperor, and whoever you are, however old you are, surely you can’t condemn those women to death on a whim?”
The portal’s light wavered, and the figure bowed its head.
“Their death is no more my responsibility than yours. The task is set for Serai. She will pass it or not. Just as Alaric of Atlantis will pass or fail his test, and Jack of the nearly lost tiger tribe will face his challenge. The time of the final crisis is near, Conlan of Atlantis, and the gods would have me determine if those who support you in your quest to bring Atlantis to the surface are worthy.”
“What? What about Jack? Did you see my sister?” Riley wondered if asking questions of an ancient being made up of light and bad temper was particularly intelligent, but she was past caring.
“Good-bye for now, lords and ladies of Atlantis. I must follow another path, for the tiger has lost one part of his soul and I have found it in my keeping. I will leave you with the magic of the portal while I am away, but it will not come to your call until Serai has accomplished her quest.”
“Stop! You can’t just leave like that. We need—”
But the portal didn’t care what Riley needed, or what any of them needed, because one moment the woman made of light was blathering on with her cryptic BS about the tiger’s soul, and the next moment she was gone. She was gone. The shimmering light flicked off like a cheap lightbulb.
Conlan called and called, in every way possible, for the next half hour, until he was hoarse with shouting, commanding, and finally pleading, but it made no difference. The portal didn’t return.
Serai and Daniel were on their own.
Chapter 29
Serai woke up first from the exhausted sleep they’d fallen into after the epiphany of the soul-meld. She still could hardly believe it. Even in her time, to reach such a joining had been a rare occurrence, and for it to happen with a nightwalker—a vampire—was so incredible, so unprecedented, that she was amazed Poseidon himself wasn’t swirling up a typhoon here in the middle of desert country to punish her for her transgression.
She curled closer to Daniel, wrapped securely in his strong arms, and opened herself to the magic surrounding them. The vortex magic she’d sensed before was stronger now, due to geography or due to her own willingness to open herself to it, she didn’t know. The day was fully on its way now, it must be mid-morning, and Daniel slept soundly, a smile on his face.
He looked peaceful. Content. Descriptive terms she certainly couldn’t have applied to him even once since she’d found him again in Atlantis mere days before. The soul-meld and the realization that she would never leave him seemed to have calmed something dark and tortured inside him. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods again that she had found him, and then she turned her senses outward again, seeking the Emperor.
It was there. Still in the same place, she realized, and relief poured through her. Not calling her, though. Almost silent. Faint, as if resting or recharging, if she could apply anthropomorphic terms to what was, essentially, a rock. Such a rock, though. Its power surged once, when she reached out to it, and she briefly connected with the maidens back in Atlantis. The four of them were . . .
The three of them. Brandacea was gone. Her life force extinguished. Vanished, as if she’d never lived at all.
Serai cried out as the pain seared through her, and Daniel instantly woke up and scanned the room for danger.