Too little, too late. If even half of her enemies had seen that broadcast, she’d be dead soon. Better to focus on Noriko’s bizarre story, rather than her own probable early death.
Noriko, unaware of Quinn’s dark thoughts, smiled, which transformed her skeletal face into something approaching loveliness. “Tigers are very wise. I’m sure his friend had a good heart, beneath his churlish ways. And, no, Noriko is at peace that she will not die from the cancer.”
“Yeah. Maybe. And you? What kind of heart do you have?”
“One that wishes to assist you in any way that I can, Quinn Dawson,” Noriko said, staring at Quinn with eyes both old and sad. “I have watched you and your sister during the past few years, and I have come to know the strength and goodness in your own hearts. Riley is truly fit to be queen of Atlantis.”
“Why did you quit being the portal?” Quinn asked, ready to change the subject. Sure, Noriko knew things she shouldn’t know, but that still didn’t mean her story was true.
“Poseidon plays his games. This is one of them. I must prove that I am worthy to be mortal again—a woman instead of an untouchable spirit.” Noriko dropped her head so her hair covered her eyes, but Quinn didn’t miss the single tear that escaped and made its way down the other woman’s cheek.
Either Noriko was telling the truth, or she was an Academy Award–worthy actress. Quinn still wasn’t betting on which one it was. She decided abruptly that she didn’t have time right now to care.
“Help me, then, if your heart is so true,” she challenged. “Noriko must speak Japanese, right? If she’s in there, too, help me find a way to the airport. I need to get to New York. Ptolemy wants me? Okay, then, he’s going to get me.”
Noriko’s eyes widened. “But your companions meant for you to stay here . . .”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to live in this century, Gailea, you need to learn something. Women do whatever they want to do these days.”
Noriko nodded and drew a slim phone from her pocket. “I will find out the fastest way to Narita International Airport in Tokyo and book you a flight. We have something called a Visa platinum card, evidently.”
“JFK Airport, please,” Quinn said. “If you have access to unlimited funds, by the way, instead of worrying about dying or Poseidon’s games, you might want to consider joining the rebel alliance and helping out. We’re humanity’s best hope.”
“Are you recruiting me?”
Quinn shrugged. “Once a rebel leader . . . If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I need to say good-bye to a hungry tiger.”
Noriko rose and bowed again, and then left the room, tapping away at her phone. Quinn looked down at Jack and wondered how to say what would probably be her final good-bye to the best friend she’d ever had.
Jack opened one eye, probably some tiger sixth sense or something at work. Quinn dug her hands into the fur on the sides of his face and pulled his shaggy head up closer to her own.
“I have to go, fur face. I have to find out what that nut ball Ptolemy wants from me and what he’s up to. If the jewel really is what Alaric thinks it is, and it really has that much power—well, who knows how much damage it can cause. Somebody has to stop him, and I seem to be out of any other kind of job, so I guess it needs to be me.”
Jack pulled away from her and snarled, placing one heavy paw on her leg as if to hold her down.
“Look,” she said, almost desperately, fighting the tears threatening to close her throat and run down her face. “I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you. Can’t you please come back? Please be human again, just for a while?”
She stared into his eyes, searching for any trace of his humanity, but saw nothing to reassure her. Nothing but wildness and ferocity. Maybe Alaric was right. Maybe Jack really was gone—permanently gone—and only a faint memory of their friendship kept him from mauling her or worse.
She stopped fighting the tears. Nobody was around to see them anyway, and Jack deserved at least her tears.
“You saved my life so many times I can’t even count that high,” she whispered. “You loved me when I didn’t deserve it. You stood by me when I took us into trouble, and battles, and worse. You even stood by me when I fell in love with an Atlantean priest who has sworn a vow of celibacy to a god.”
He snarled again, more quietly, and gently butted her shoulder with his head.
“I never deserved you, Jack. Not your love or your friendship. Not even your amazing ability to always have my back,” she continued, openly crying now. “I never did, and now I can never hope to. I love you, you know? Not the way you want, but I love you. If you really love me, try to come back. For me. Please.”
She gave up at that point, since further words would be meaningless. Jack—her Jack—knew what was in her heart. Instead, she put her arms around him as best as she could and she cried into his soft, silky fur until it was soaked, while her heart shattered into tiny, tiger-shaped pieces.
Finally she stood up and scrubbed at her eyes with her hands. “Good-bye, my friend.”
In the most painful blow of all, he didn’t even try to stop her from leaving. He just sat there and silently watched her walk away.
Chapter 6
The Plaza Hotel, New York City
“Pretty fancy, isn’t it?” Ven looked around and whistled. “Whoever he is, he has money. This place doesn’t run cheap, and he’s in one of the best suites, from what you tell me of where you feel that magic.”
Alaric shrugged. He didn’t care about money or hotels with gold and gilt fixtures. He cared about Quinn. Her life was in danger. Nothing else mattered.
“It’s probably a private elevator to get there,” Ven said. “This could be a problem, if you want to be subtle.”
Alaric raised an eyebrow. “Elevator? Subtle? Really? Has domestic bliss befuddled your mind?”
Whirling around, he headed back out to the street, leapt on the edge of the fountain, and then shot straight up into the air, transforming his body into mist on the way. What did he care for subterfuge or hiding his powers from humans now? Ptolemy had announced the existence of Atlantis to the world, so what did it matter if a few New Yorkers saw Alaric as he claimed Atlantean water magic?
Below, he saw Ven stare up at him, cursing, and then take a less dramatic approach to achieve the same end, ducking behind one of the ubiquitous yellow taxis before he, too, transformed. Alaric felt a moment’s grim amusement at the idea that practical jokester Ven had acted with more caution than he had. He soared up until he felt the source of the magic as it pulsed and pounded in front of him, coming from behind a wall of glass.
Nice view these bad guys have, Ven sent to him on the shared Atlantean mental pathway.
Let them view this, Alaric returned, just before he blasted a hole in the window and soared through.
Ven changed back from mist to his body mere seconds after Alaric did, and the first thing he did was punch Alaric in the arm.
“Way to go. Seriously, nice stealth move.”
Alaric ignored him, concentrating on the group of green-robed humans cowering on their knees in the room. “It’s them again. The Platoist Society. Remember, with Reisen? They worship anything they think is Atlantean.”
“They don’t have to wonder if I’m Atlantean. I have already told them, and the world, that it is so,” Ptolemy said, stepping out from behind a teenage boy who was the only human standing.
The boy was trying desperately to look brave, but sweat stood out on his dark skin and his eyes were wild. Ptolemy still carried the enormous tourmaline, but he’d fastened it to the end of a gaudy gold-gilt scepter. It glowed faintly, and Alaric could feel pure Atlantean magic course through every nerve ending in his body. From underneath and around the shimmer of power, however, the tainted pulse of demonic magic bit into him with jagged teeth.