Atlantis Rising Read Online Free Page B

slow motion from a grimace of violent hate to one of surprise. They both looked at the scarlet stain blossoming, blooming, spreading over his shirt. Even as Riley touched a questing finger to the dark stickiness that splattered her face, the room went black.
    Conlan opened the portal, focusing on the East Coast of the United States. Virginia, to be precise. Ven had been “collecting intel,” according to Alaric.
    Translation: beating information out of scumbags for miles in every direction. His brother always had favored the direct approach.
    Now Ven was calling the rest of the Seven to him to accompany Conlan to the surface. Except Conlan was in no mood to wait. Not even for his brother. Maybe especially not for his brother. If he saw even a glimmer of pity in Ven’s eyes, he’d—
    Well. Forget that. Focus on the portal.
    Seven years of disuse, and the magic was rusty. Or the portal, temperamental on a good day, was playing with him, Conlan discovered, as he stepped through into water.
    Lots of water.
    Luckily he’d instinctively heaved in a deep breath before plunging through the shimmering opening. There was another lesson learned the hard way: the portal had its own power, independent of the Atlanteans who had first harnessed it more than eleven thousand years ago.
    They ought to hang a “User Beware” sign on the capricious thing. He kicked off and headed for the surface, judging he was about ten meters deep from the looks of the shallow-water flora and fauna that shimmered in the diluted moonlight.
    But distances could be tricky in the sea.
    And then, there was the problem of where the hell the shore might be. He wouldn’t be the first to end up treading water in the middle of the ocean.
    The portal’s idea of a practical joke. If portals had emotion, this one was packing a vindictive sense of humor.
    As he broke the surface and sucked in a lungful of air, an almost-tangible force smashed into him. Agony sliced through his head, then shut off as if by a switch. A bitter taste seared his mouth; a sourness like lemon soaked in brine.
    Another wave of pain crashed through him, knocking him off balance. He nearly sank below the waves again, barely noticing the sands of the shores nearby.
    He shook his head from side to side, trying to escape the fire inside of his head. He barked out a laugh. He’d had a lot of practice with pain, just lately. Think, damn you.
    Crazed thoughts swirled in his bruised brain. If an Atlantean prince’s head cracks wide open in the ocean, does it make a sound?
    He almost laughed again, but snorted water up his nose instead. Choking and coughing, he finally forced his limbs to cooperate and headed for the shore, eventually realizing he could touch bottom and walk.
    His training kicked in, keeping him upright and coherent. Analyze. Reason. Use logic.
    A third wave of pain seared through him, driving him to his knees, face caught under the breaking waves. He fought his way back to standing, plunged forward toward the shore.
    Vamp mind powers? Doesn’t feel like it. They could trap your mind, but not project pain like this. Could it be Reisen? Did the Trident give him some kind of mental power we don’t know about?
    His boots hit dry sand, and he collapsed, stumbling onto his knees. He sent a mind call out to Ven.
    Needed help.
    But it wasn’t Ven’s familiar patterns that answered his call. Instead, a tiny pinprick of awareness deep in his mind sparked, sputtered like a candle in a back draft, and then focused.
    An image of beauty sheared by pain. A woman with sun-colored hair.
    Something slammed shut in his mind, and the woman and the pain vanished. Almost as if a mental door had closed.
    And Conlan wasn’t the one who’d shut it.

Chapter 3
    Riley blinked at the EMT who was peering into her eyes while his fingers measured out her pulse. She looked away from him and scanned the room, knowing she looked as bleary-eyed as she felt.
    He repeated his sentence, slower this time, as if