Without missing a beat, she’d filled in the gaps of his story, her keen journalistic observations contributing quite a lot that he’d missed. But never, not once, had she returned to that particular part of the story, and she cut him off a couple of times when he edged close to the subject.
“You do not have to protect me,” he’d snapped at one point.
She’d planted her hands on those luscious hips and stared him down. “Tell that to Alaric,” she’d sweetly suggested, and rage burned through him again at the thought that Alaric could have hurt her.
Rage and something deeper. More possessive. She had hurled herself in harm’s way—in
Alaric’s
way—for him. Even after telling him they had no future together.
It was clear proof that she cared for him, too. Now he only had to find out what had happened during the soul-meld and somehow fix it. Break the curse. Persuade Poseidon to allow him to keep her, forever. To take her as his wife.
“You can’t go back,” Conlan said. “To Yellowstone, I mean, although of course I don’t see how you can go back to the time before Tiernan broke the curse either, but let’s leave the metaphysical discussion for later.”
Riley nodded, though she looked troubled. “You can’t even be sure you’d learn anything of value, Tiernan. They’re going to lie to you, at the very least. More likely they’ll just try to kill you.”
Tiernan glanced at Brennan, a question in her eyes, and he nodded. It was time to tell all of it. “Tiernan is a truth teller,” he said. “She possesses the lost Atlantean Gift of divining falsehood whenever it’s spoken.”
“Almost whenever it’s spoken,” she corrected him. “Sociopaths, pure narcissists, and vampires don’t register with my . . . talent.”
“Atlantis has always put truth tellers immediately to death,” Conlan said, and suddenly he loomed over her, his eyes shuttered and the threat of her immediate murder in every line of his face. “I see no reason why that tradition should not continue.”
Brennan instantly threw himself between Tiernan and Conlan, his hands going for the daggers he’d left in his rooms. To kill a prince was treason, punishable by death. He’d willingly pay that price.
“Conlan,” Riley said, rising from her chair. “No!”
Tiernan caught her breath, but then she laughed and put her hand on Brennan’s arm. An instant wave of peace swept through him, taking his rage with it. “It’s the tuba. You’re the tuba when you lie, Prince Conlan.”
The menacing expression vanished from Conlan’s face as though it had never been there, replaced by one of quizzical interest. “Tuba?”
“Lies resonate with me on a sort of sound-wave frequency, if that makes any sense. Some lies are like fingernails on a chalkboard, or a petulant rooster screeching at dawn. Your lie sounded like the tuba, but played very badly by a beginning student.” She grinned. “Sorry if that was insulting, Your Highness.”
Conlan grinned right back at her. “It’s only insulting if you ever call me ‘Your Highness’ again.”
Brennan tried to keep up, but the adrenaline shooting through his body was muddling his mind. “It was a test?”
“It was a test,” Conlan confirmed. “I’d heard stories that the ancient truth tellers used a musical analogy to describe their Gift. I find it interesting that the old ways still ring true.”
“Ring true? No pun intended?” Tiernan laughed and squeezed Brennan’s arm. “It’s okay to stand down now, but thank you for protecting me.”
Riley blew out a breath. It was not a happy sound. “We shall talk, my darling husband,” she told Conlan. The baby started to cry, either alert to the tension in the room or waking from his nap.
“I think Prince Aidan has had enough of war-room talk,” Brennan said.
“I hope he never has to face war-room talk on his own,” Riley said, a cloud passing over her face as she cuddled her fussy son close.
“As do I, my love,” Conlan said. “Perhaps you should take him somewhere more pleasant and I’ll tell you everything when we’re done here.”
Riley lifted her face for her husband’s kiss, and Brennan turned away. Beside him, Tiernan squeezed his arm again.
After Riley had said her good-byes and departed, the three of them that remained in the room stared at one another, somewhat at a loss.
“I’m going back,” Tiernan said. “If you try to hold me here against my will—”
“I’m going with her,” Brennan said, and she rewarded him with a brilliant smile.
“I’m not trying to stop you,” Conlan said, throwing himself down into a chair. “I’m going to suggest that we have a plan, though.”
“Like what?” Brennan wanted to pace the room, but forced himself to sit, pulling Tiernan down to sit next to him. “Conlan, they are torturing shifters, and humans. If they succeed in determining how to permanently enthrall either group, we will have lost this war before a single battle is joined. Whatever plan we develop, we must make sure that we waste no time.”
“Here is a plan, warrior,” Alaric said, suddenly back in the room and sitting in a chair across from Brennan. “If you ever hit me again, you’ll discover what torture really is.”
“I think I’ve had enough of you threatening Brennan,” Tiernan said, glaring at the priest. “Cut it out. Also, that poofing in and out is just annoying; has anyone ever told you that?”
Every nerve in Brennan’s body went on alert as he prepared for whatever terrible retribution Alaric might try to take, but he was completely unprepared for what the priest actually did: he smiled.
“You know, I like you, Truth Teller,” Alaric said.
“My verdict is still out on you, Priest,” she countered, but then her eyes widened and she smiled back at him. “That was truth. You do like me.”
“Or else I’m a sociopath,” he said, the power in his eyes flaring hot for a moment.
“Sometimes we
have
wondered,” Brennan told him.
Conlan tapped the table. “Enough. Let’s figure out what to do next.”
“There’s a chance our cover isn’t blown,” Tiernan said, going straight on the offense. “Brennan is set up to be an eccentric rich guy. What eccentric rich guy doesn’t take it in his head to do something out of the ordinary sometimes? So we went off the grounds. We can pretend we were, ah, we were . . .”
Brennan rescued her when he realized the rosy blush rising in her cheeks was all about what they actually had been doing, both the night before and this morning. His cock twitched at the memory and he had to do some quick, serious mental maneuvering to calm his newly raging libido. Just the thought of her flawless skin was enough to turn him into the youngling he’d accused Alaric of being. He hadn’t had to fight a cock stand in an inappropriate place in more than two thousand years.
“One thing is definite,” Alaric said. “We cannot allow these vampires to enthrall either group. Certainly not in light of the prophecy. We will need them all as allies. Even the Fae, I fear.”
It was the first Brennan had heard of a prophecy that needed allies. “What prophecy?”
Conlan and Alaric exchanged a look that—just for a second—left Brennan feeling uncomfortably like an outsider.
“It’s not important right now,” Alaric said dismissively.
“That is a lie,” Tiernan shot back. “A big lie. Huge. Want to try again?”
Conlan tilted his head, but his considering gaze was aimed at Brennan, not Tiernan. “How much do you trust her? She is a reporter, after all.”
“With my life,” he said without hesitation. “That is, after all, what she already holds in her hands, through means of the curse.”
“So you have no choice,” Alaric said.
“I want no other choice.”
Tiernan waved her hands around. “I’m right here, boys. Right here, in the room. Talk to the nice reporter, and not around her.”
Conlan and Alaric exchanged another glance, but then Alaric, surprisingly enough, answered, “It’s the Ragnarok. It’s coming all over again.”
“The Gotterdammerung?” Brennan blurted out. “You truly believe this?”
“The Doom of the Gods?” Tiernan said, her brows drawn together. “He’s not lying,” she told Brennan. “But why is Poseidon’s priest worried about Norse mythology?” She shot a sly look at Alaric. “Confused, much?”
Conlan answered her. “Simply because primitive peoples tried to order their world and their gods by regional pantheons does not mean the world or the heavens ever actually worked that way. Did you never wonder why an Egyptian death goddess leads the vampires?”
“Anubisa?” Tiernan said the name with the loathing befitting the abomination who had killed and consumed thousands over many lifetimes. “Egyptian?”
“She claims to be daughter-wife to Anubis,” Brennan said, revulsion snaking up his spine at the thought. “More important, though, when and where did this new prophecy originate?”
“We have learned much that was previously undiscovered since Keely started working with her. Her object-reader Gift has helped us find objects hidden in plain sight, even within the walls of the palace,” Alaric said. “This scroll was found hidden in the base of a statue of Poseidon in the library. Heavy magic protected it, and Keely was knocked unconscious merely from touching the outside of the statue.”
“I am sure Lord Justice was very happy about that,” Brennan said, wondering how many warriors had ended up in the healing chambers because of Justice’s rabidly protective nature. Then again . . . He stole a look at Tiernan’s profile. He’d have done the same himself.
“Not only must we return the remaining gems to the Trident for Atlantis to rise, but we now must facilitate the eventual intermarriage of all races with Atlanteans,” Conlan said. “The prophecy is short and quite to the point:
The Doom of the Gods is on the horizon. Only a child born of all races, ruling Atlantis into the future, will prevent it
.”
“Sounds like Keely is helping you guys out quite a bit,” Tiernan pointed out. “I hope you’re paying her a lot.”
“I would give her the crown jewels themselves, were they mine to give, for the nature of her revelations about Nereus and Zelia,” Alaric muttered.
Tiernan raised an eyebrow, and Brennan gave her the short version. “Priests were evidently able to marry and have families in ancient times, so apparently the vow of celibacy is a new development. Alaric finds this to be—”
“Useful knowledge?” she interrupted. “Fabulous? Holy crap, happy day, crazy good? The future’s looking bright for you, my friend.”
Alaric narrowed his eyes at Tiernan’s remarks. “The future will be bright or dark, with or without me.”
“You will not abandon the priesthood for Quinn,” Conlan said firmly. “Not now when your people need you. When we need you.”
Alaric turned anguished eyes to his prince. “Really? You, of all men, would try to use that argument against me? After you were fully willing to abdicate the throne itself for Riley?”
Tiernan cleared her throat. “Maybe we can argue the fate of all Atlantis and the world later? Right now we need to get back to that hotel or we may as well give it up as a lost cause. We can come up with a cover story that may just barely keep us out of trouble, but not if we delay any longer.”
Conlan frowned. “Brennan, this decision I leave to you. Can you handle this mission with the curse and your unbound emotions hanging over you like the Sword of Damocles itself?”
“I can handle anything,” Brennan said quietly. “So long as I am with her.”
Conlan sighed and shook his head. “You know, that’s how it starts. Alaric has a point about the diaper changing.”
Brennan inclined his head. “Yes. You will remember I was with you when you first spent time with Riley.”
“I’m not pregnant,” Tiernan said, the flood of indignation in her voice reducing it to a squeak. “It was—”
“Something we can discuss later,” Brennan said firmly. “For now, we’re going back to Yellowstone to stop these vampires and their scientist flunkies.”
As if on cue, they all stood up from the table, and Conlan bowed to Brennan and Tiernan. “Keep me informed. I’ll rally the warriors and send in reinforcements, but for now you’re on your own.”
“No, he’s not. I’m his backup,” Tiernan said.
“All of humanity and the entire shifter community are depending on you, small one?” Alaric said, rolling his eyes.
Tiernan whipped a small canister out of her backpack and held it up. “Hey. I’ve got pepper spray, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
Alaric was still laughing seconds later when she whirled around and brought a sharpened wooden stake in a rapid strike to stop only inches away from his throat.
“People underestimate me,” she said. “I use it.”
“People fear me,” Brennan said. “I use that.”
Alaric looked back and forth between the two of them, that gleam of amusement still in his eyes. He finally smiled, and the stake in Tiernan’s hand glowed a hot green and she yelped and dropped it.
“I don’t care what people think about me,” Alaric said. “But come with me, Brennan. I have something that might help.”
Chapter 22
Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel
Brennan’s warrior senses shot to high alert when Lucas’s Pack driver pulled the limousine into the hotel driveway. “We’re on,” he told Tiernan, who’d been clenching and unclenching her hands for the entirety of the short drive.
“Thank you,” Tiernan said to the driver. “Please thank Lucas for meeting us and providing us with the car, too.”
The driver nodded, and Brennan suddenly realized the man hadn’t spoken a single word since they’d climbed into the ridiculous vehicle. He’d put his hand on the door handle, when the driver surprised him by finally speaking up.
“They were my friends. The ones that those scientists took and messed up their minds? They were my friends. Make sure you get these bastards and call us when you need help,” he said, more than a little of the wolf in his voice.
“We will. You have my word,” Brennan said.