Tridia (The Poseidia Series Book 3) Read online

  Reassuringly, he snaked his arm around mine, intertwining our limbs. His touch instantly calmed me. “Whatever she is up to, she has taken a different direction. We cannot find any trace of her in the Connective at all. Either she is dead… or…”

  Letting go of Atlas’s arm, I asked, “Or what? We’d never be so lucky as to find her half-eaten-by-sharks, rotten corpse.” The thought of finding her decaying body gave me a sickening, yet satisfying, delight. I really ought to clear my mind of such monstrous thoughts.

  “Or she has taken to land,” Atlas finished, staring off into the velvety night sky. His shoulders slumped as he leaned forward, his hands returned to the cold, slimy stones. I detected a surge of guilt from him.

  My hand hovered over his broad back, aching to touch, yet hesitant. My anger at the torture remained real, and warred with my concern for Atlas.

  “Are you leaving to try and find her?” My throat clenched. Anger demanded I be the one to find her and slit her throat. I didn’t want Atlas near the bitch. She was mine.

  “No,” he answered, again biting his tongue.

  I ducked under his arms, standing between his chest and the rocky ledge. Looking up, I searched his eyes, begging for the truth hovering between his words. “Tell me. What information are you holding back?” Confused by the complexity of emotions swirling around him, on tippy-toes, I touched both hands to each side of his face, forcing him to meet my gaze.

  Atlas’s eyes turned red around the edges and watered. “Our son.” Atlas let out an enormous sigh. “Our son,” he repeated.

  Time froze. An imaginary giant metal fist punched me in the gut while squeezing the life out of my heart. In shock, I nearly fainted. I’d wondered, dreamed, and fantasized, but had been more terrified of learning he hadn’t survived, than of allowing myself the comfort of confirming his destiny.

  Without me.

  “Our son,” I squeaked out, barely above an audible whisper. Not a question, but a confirmation of life.

  Of his immortal life.

  After all this time, a spark of hope ignited in my heart. Of joy. Elation.

  Ultimately, terror at the realization Atlas planned to go without me and hadn’t mentioned me accompanying him. Releasing my hands from his face, I rocked back on flat feet.

  “His… name?” I asked, beyond terrified, holding my breath.

  “Clemeon,” he answered softly, anticipating the shock to my mother’s heart.

  A second, but hardly the last, gut punch. Another puzzle piece, one which made him all too real. “Clemeon,” I repeated, the name hanging on my tongue. Questions pushed at my mind, another near lapse into déjà vu.

  When Atlas had rescued me from the clutches of his evil queen, we’d had to mind meld—sort of. I’d relived and embraced my death in my past life. Our past life, Atlas’s and mine. Forced to recall a distant and taunting memory, blending energies being the only way for me to travel through an instant portal with Atlas. The syncing saved my life.

  And confused the hell out of me.

  Every night since, I had vividly relived my death, along with other pieces of our shared Atlantean life. Stubbornly, out of fear, I had refused to explore any other memories. As a result, many questions remained unanswered. Including, did we have other children? What of their fate?

  From the memory, I recalled belonging to a family, but the pain of loss remained too much to bear. In that life, I’d died. Selfishly, I didn’t want to know how everyone moved on happily without me.

  Heartbroken, I imagined the years I had missed. Our son growing up, progressing through all the milestones any child, even a demi-god’s child, would achieve.

  When I experienced the memory, I had retrieved the knowledge that Atlas’s soul had evolved beyond the mere mortality of human.

  However, my soul—human then— remained tied to a human life and soul cycle.

  Our son, Clemeon, had inherited Atlas’s god-like lifespan.

  In some dark recess of my mind, I sensed there had been many more of my human lives in between then and now.

  Which meant two things…

  One—I had accepted this whole past life nonsense.

  Two—once I started remembering one, others might overwhelm and confuse me.

  Three—okay there were three things—did all this past life stuff really matter?

  The here and now remained my reality. The only one truly tangible to me.

  As a mother in this life, a young boy needed me. And I loved someone who lingered in hibernation, and may never wake up.

  When I looked Atlas in the eyes, my heart ached. I ached for a love I barely remembered. My higher soul recalled how much we once loved each other. How would I learn to trust those sentiments?

  My soul. Oh yeah.

  Sigh.

  My fractured soul. Sarah, my former past-life sister, who visits me in a place called No Time, warned me I must journey to the afterlife, and confront David. Neither of which a prospect I looked forward to experiencing. Conflicting with my reservations, I sensed the expiration point fast approaching to retrieve whatever piece of my soul he’d stolen when I killed him. As a human, I’d allowed him too much power over me, and somehow he still held on beyond death’s dimension.

  Atlas enclosed me in his arms. He must have followed every fleeting, confused, reluctant thought. Whispering into my ear, he calmly responded to my inner dialogue, “When you’re ready.”

  “For what?” I asked, snaking my arms around his waist, allowing him to pull me close. My shoulders tucked perfectly under his arms.

  “For everything. To meet Clemeon. To remember the whole of our life. Our love. To reclaim your soul. I told you, I’ve become an incredibly patient man.” He kissed the top of my hair and gently cradled my head to his chest.

  Relaxing into his embrace, I revealed, “I’m afraid.” I’ve already lost an eternity with you.

  He kissed my temple. “In time, you won’t be.”

  “How… will I know?” My eyes met his.

  “Trust me, I won’t lose another lifetime with you.”

  Without thinking, and without restraint, I kissed his lips, my fingers lightly brushing over his stubbly day-old beard. “Promise?” I asked, as I pulled away.

  Atlas kissed my nose. “I promise.”

  Chapter 8

  Back in San Diego, I stood outside the Mer mansion, dreading the coming confrontation with Eric. I’d parked the car I borrowed back in the garage, but instead of entering the house via the garage door, I slowly trudged to the house’s front entry.

  Preoccupied, I walked with my head down. A car trunk slammed shut, startling me out of my daze. Eric walked around to the front of his red Jaguar, parked off to the house’s side.

  “Hey, can we talk?” I asked, keeping my voice low, anticipating a massive battle. My heart pounded—I hated conflict—especially when I had been the one who messed up and would have to own my failings.

  “You’re lucky you have friends in high places,” Eric retorted, turning his back to me as he strutted to the front door.

  I scrambled after him. “Look, I screwed up. I’m sorry, but there has to be an alternative to killing Mark.”

  An arrogant smirk formed on his lips, revealing the pleasure he took in his mind games. “Not your decision to make. You don’t get to think about, or debate, orders. You are to execute exactly what you’re told to do. No questions, remember?”

  “Killing isn’t easy.” Dropping my overnight bag on the front porch at my feet, I wanted to strangle Eric. “Not for me, anyway. There has to be another role I can play.”

  “The mission is as easy as you decide it will be.” He tapped his finger to his temple. “It’s all mental.” With his back to me, he inserted the key and turned the front door lock. “We have to go back and finish what you started.”

  “You can’t possibly expect me to kill him. I’m not an assassin, and I don’t want to be. I wanted to help humans. And Mers. The world.” Head down, I picked up my bag, h
ugging the small duffel to my body, and followed him into the foyer.

  Eric spun. “You are helping.” He kicked the door shut behind me.

  “Not this way.” I hugged the bag tighter.

  Frustrated with me, he waved his arms around as if attempting to punch the air. “All you were supposed to do was kiss him. You question too much. You shouldn’t have overthought the mission. A simple, quick brush on the lips, and then you’re done. Quick peck, long drawn out make-out session—I don’t care. Make sure your lips meet his.” He slammed his keys down on the entryway table.

  Defeated, I slid my protective duffel to the floor. “We’ll find another way. He has a young daughter, who’s sick and needs her father.”

  “We have an entire colony sick, because of what humans have done.” Eric spun around, his arms out wide, eyes gleaming in anger.

  “But what… what has he done?”

  For a second, his eyes lost their know-it-all attitude. Only a second, but enough for me to catch his hesitation.

  Eric broadcasted his desperation to shut me up. He preferred his ignorance. “Questions lead to more questions. I don’t want to know. I don’t need to know. I do what I’m told. I don’t require specifics to carry out my orders and do a good job.” He slammed his hand on the table next to the keys. Damn it, his mind screamed.

  “But… but…”

  Face flushed, Eric hovered his finger at the tip of my nose. “Go back and finish the job or you’re out. King Atlas agreed.”

  Mouth dry, I swallowed audibly. “King Atlas is okay with me killing someone?”

  Dropping his finger, Eric leaned forward until his face nearly touched mine. Seething, he fumed, “King Atlas wants you off missions as much as I do, although for completely different reasons, I’m sure.”

  My face drained. “He what?”

  “Surprised? Confirms you’re naïve and have a lot to learn. We leave in two hours.” He pointed to the stairs. “Go get ready. I left a short list of instructions and some gear on your bed.”

  I can’t believe Atlas would set me up to fail.

  What does he want?

  Does he expect me to… to… be home, safe, and close to him?

  Naïve girl.

  I’ll show him. I can do this, and do the right thing. But… the right thing for whom?

  Shit.

  Chapter 9

  Resigned to make this work, partly in rebellion to Atlas’s control, I took the steps two at a time. Back in my bedroom, fuming, I found the promised list lying on the bed, along with leggings, a hoodie, and combat boots, everything solid black. What does Eric expect? For me to rob the place?

  Ridiculous.

  Misgivings aside, I followed the instructions and dressed carefully, according to Eric’s specifications, including my human-illusion bracelet. Part of me wondered if this would be a set-up—if he would pull a prank and watch me fail again.

  He’d never earn my trust. Not as Roman had.

  Damn, Roman, wake up. I need your guidance.

  The final item I placed in my sweatshirt pocket—the same small tub of tingly lip gloss.

  Poison.

  Had to be, right?

  Stupid missions. Why can’t saving the world be all puppy dogs and kittens?

  I took one last glance in the mirror. My face frowned. It’s for Mer’s and humanity’s greater good. Not my decision to make. No questions.

  Downhearted, I tiptoed out into the hallway.

  Eric waited for me out front. He leaned against the hood of his car, smoking a cigarette. Blond hair hung loose and tousled around his head, his ripped jeans more rags than pants.

  Smoking? Seriously, Eric?

  “Cigarettes will kill you.” Opening the passenger door, and appreciating the improvement over the last mission outfit, I easily slipped onto the cool leather seat.

  “Not me,” he said snarkily, flipping the cigarette into the grass. Without so much as a glance in my direction, he plopped into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

  Shivering from stress, I zipped up the front of my hoodie and tucked my short hair into the hood.

  Roman had made me feel beautiful, regardless of my imagined flaws.

  My heart ached, missing him. I closed my eyes and imagined him sitting here with me, instead of Eric. We’d figure this out together, in a way that no one had to get hurt.

  In real life, people get hurt.

  “Where are we going?” Expecting Eric’s standard annoyed response, I asked anyway, because arguing was easier to stomach than silence and anticipation.

  “To see the target.” Eric shifted into fifth gear as he entered the divided highway.

  “Why am I dressed like this?” I gestured to my soft, stretchy pants, a stark contrast to the slutty dress he had me wear before.

  “Are you always going to ask questions, despite being repeatedly told not to?”

  “Yes. I’m not one of those mindless people you can control. Let’s find a way to work together. Humor me.”

  He snorted. Not an, I’m-drunk-and-snorting, laughing in my beer kind of snort, but an I-think-you’re-an-idiot-but-I’m-not-going-to-say-the-words kind of snort.

  “For the greater good,” I added in the sweetest, most innocent, yet completely fake voice I could muster.

  The condescending snort again. He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair.

  “Fine, Eric, don’t be cooperative. Just tell me what to do when we get to wherever we’re going,” I huffed, stuffing my fists into the jacket’s pockets, where I nervously fingered the mystery tub of ointment.

  Without warning, Eric pulled the Jaguar off the road onto a dirt driveway. Turning professional in his tone, he instructed, “About a mile down this road you’ll find lover boy’s weekend cabin. I’ve been told he’s by himself.”

  “By whom? And what exactly am I supposed to do? If I sneak up on a place in the dark, I could get shot.”

  “You’re smart. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” He pulled off onto the dirt road’s grassy side. “I’ll wait here. Goodbye.”

  Stunned into silence by the backward compliment, I opened the passenger door and stepped out. After Eric turned off the car’s headlights, and further from passing cars, the night grew pitch-black. Dry grass crunched beneath my feet. As my eyes adjusted, I could see the dirt road’s outline. My enhanced Mer sight on land paled in comparison to my abilities in the ocean. No moon, but twinkling stars overhead lit my path. I stayed near the tree line’s edge in case anyone happened to be watching.

  Crickets and tree frogs chirped. An animal howled, too close for comfort. The hustle of little feet over dried leaves gave me the creeps.

  My hand tightened around the tiny jar in my pocket. Maybe I can talk to Mark, reason with him to stop whatever he’s doing or… or… warn him he’s a target. He could change for his daughter.

  Shit. I’m in over my head.

  Guilt-ridden, I looked down at the container in my palm. Is the ointment really a poison, or am I overreacting? Eric never confirmed one way or the other.

  My mouth dried and I coughed, pausing to listen if I’d alerted anyone to my presence. I hated the dark.

  Big chicken.

  In the near-distance, a light flickered through the trees. I paused, listening to the creepy sounds of night.

  Maybe I could run away with Laith.

  No, I can’t. The High Council would never stop searching for us.

  How am I supposed to get this guy to kiss me? Knock on the door, and say: Surprise I’m here!

  No, he’ll think I’m a stalker and call the police.

  Do I say, Hi, Eric sent me?

  No. Too stupid.

  How about, My car broke down and I’m lost?

  No, he’s not dumb.

  I’ll go to the door and tell the truth. Hi, I’m here to kill you.

  Nope. I’ll say, Hi, your people told me I could find you here, I hope you don’t mind. And then show him my boobs. He’s a man, he
won’t question.

  Okay, I’ll wing it.

  Two cars were parked in a dirt semi-circle driveway fronting the cabin. To avoid being seen, I jumped behind a stack of cut firewood.

  Two cars?

  He’s not alone.

  Better make sure.

  Legitimately, I can tell Eric I couldn’t finish the mission because he had company. A witness. I mean, you can’t kill someone with a witness present, right?

  Yes! My way out of this mess.

  Crouching, I darted behind a tree to the cabin’s right. The curtains were pulled closed, but a light shone through the thin, aged drapes.

  Someone’s still awake.

  I watched for about ten minutes, expecting someone to leave, but no one did.

  Do I go to the door?

  Staying low to the ground, I duck-walked to the cabin’s largest window.

  My heart hammered. Thankfully, no dogs started barking, no security system squealed, and no motion lights clicked on.

  My imagination played tricks on me, making me think any minute a guy would dart out from behind a tree with a chain saw and cut me to pieces.

  Every noise, every rustle of leaves, sent my heart quivering.

  Holding myself in a crouch, I peeked over the windowsill into the house.

  Staying well-concealed by the drapery, I scanned the living room. Mark paced. His arms repeatedly went from behind his head, to pointing at something down the hallway. Obviously stressed, he alternately yelled and lowered his voice to where I couldn’t hear clearly.

  Come on, you have super Mer hearing. Concentrate.

  Closing my eyes, I focused on his voice. In the background, a woman interrupted him.

  “I can’t change this, Mark. I would if I could.” Complete desperation tainted her words.

  “We’ll find another specialist. We’ll take her to the best hospital in the world,” Mark replied.