Boone glanced at his watch. “He’s got less than a minute. Better hustle his ass.”
Max disappeared from sight. Agonizingly slow seconds ticked by before his watery form seeped under the door. His body taking shape, he quickly jumped into his shoes and pants. He yanked his shirt in place just as voices preceded an approaching tour group in the tunnel. Slicking a hand over his wet hair, his mouth adopted a wry twist. “Hopefully no one notices I’m soaked.”
Boone chuckled. “If they ask, just say you took a dip with the sharks.”
“Very funny.”
They started walking at a fast pace, keeping ahead of the crowd behind them. Willa peeked at Max, unable to hold her curiosity. “Okay, you’re going to have to tell me how the hell you did that.”
“It’s built into my DNA.” He hitched his broad shoulder as if insinuating that shifting into water was no more mysterious or amazing than brushing one’s teeth.
“So what did Frank say?” Boone asked. “Does he know anything about the mind sweeper?”
“Yeah. And it’s not good.”
She peered up at Max. “Why? Is he dead or something.”
“No. Worse.” Max’s jaw clenched. “He’s a leviathan.”
Chapter Twenty
For the second time in less than thirty-six hours, Harrison glared at the entrance of The Wet Spot. There couldn’t possibly be a leviathan on the planet with worst luck than him. It seriously made him consider saying fuck it all and finding some nice, quiet cavern at the bottom of an ocean somewhere.
No, damn it. He was destined for better than that. And he sure as hell hadn’t gone to all this trouble, put up with the endless bullshit from previous employers and his current pain-in-the-ass hostess, only to chuck it all.
With that determination firing his blood, he loped across the street and barged into the strip club. Kragos was once again pouring shots behind the bar. Harrison had worked out his plan a million times in his head. Obviously it would require some duplicity—and the knockout drug in his waistcoat pocket—to convince Kragos to go along with everything.
Approaching Kragos, Harrison checked his appearance in the smoke-damaged mirror behind the bar. He’d gone to great lengths in creating an illusion of having just survived a bloody attack. The sleeves of his waistcoat looked like they’d lost the battle with a paper shredder, and his face bore deep gouges. Perhaps from a woman’s fingernails. In reality, they’d been his own. No matter. They would clear up as soon as he ditched this ridiculous uniform, since it was all merely part of the mirage he’d spun.
Kragos finally looked up from his bartending, a scowl overtaking his craggy face. “I haven’t changed my mind.”
The stupid bastard thought he was here to inquire about mentorship? Did he not see Harrison’s false wounds? Or maybe the buggerhead didn’t give a donkey’s dick. “Come, you must help me stop the crazy bitch. She plans to murder us all.”
Kragos passed one of the shot glasses to his mesmerized patron. “When did your mother get back in town?” The old geezer leviathan snickered at his own joke.
So now the jackwad was insulting Harrison’s mother. One more reason to kill Kragos once his usefulness was finished. “Not her. Reva Bellemuir.”
Kragos’s gaze whipped in Harrison’s direction. “What is this nonsense you speak?”
Oh, now he had the soul collector’s attention. “She’s escaped her prison and is building her army even as we speak. I was a fool to listen to her promises of riches in return for offering my services. I barely escaped her with my life intact.”
At long last, the elder leviathan seemed to notice Harrison’s disheveled appearance. “You know where she is?”
“Yes.”
“Take me to her.”
With pleasure. Harrison stepped aside as Kragos stormed out from behind the bar. He followed the old soul collector into the rear hallway of the strip club. Digging into his pocket, he snatched the cloth saturated with the knockout drug.
Kragos gave him an impatient glance. “You are the slowest creature ever. Armageddon will be here and gone before we reach my damn car.”
“No need to drive. I can teleport us.”
“You?” A snort blew from Kragos. “Not likely—” He broke off with a smothered grunt as Harrison slammed the cloth over his mouth.
Harrison struggled under the dead weight of Kragos’s unconscious body, but his satisfied smile still slid in place. “Yes, you see, I’ve been practicing, you asshole.”
And with that, they both blinked out of sight.
Willa remained quiet on the ride back to the ducal mansion. Not that Max could blame her. He’d been pretty damn silent during the trip himself. It was difficult to dredge up much motivation to talk when all of their plans consistently insisted on hitting roadblocks.
They approached the gate fronting Justin’s property, and Max slowed the vehicle, waiting for the guard to buzz them through. Willa shifted restlessly on the backseat. “D-do you think we should try to find this Kragos?”
“Baby, I wouldn’t even know how to start. The leviathan community isn’t exactly accessible to those outside of it. And Frank didn’t have anything more than the creature’s name. I get the feeling that Kragos’s skill is usually enlisted for unsavory purposes, hence the reason he and his clients avoid being on anyone’s radar.” He met Willa’s gaze in the rearview mirror. He couldn’t tell if her expression was one of disappointment or relief. Possibly a combination of both.
The gate opened and he cruised past it. “I’m not giving up on this idea of getting your memories back. You’ve already proven that some of them are breaking through.” He mentally circled around to what she’d whispered last night before passing out. Help me remember, Max. Help me get back.
Help get her back to where? Where all of her memories began and died?
Atlantis. It had to be. But how did he go about getting her there when he couldn’t even convince her to step into the portal?
Frustrated, he parked in front of the mansion and handed the keys over to Boone. While Willa escaped into the coolness of the house, Max hung back, his thoughts heavy.
“Any ideas on the next step?”
He jumped at the sound of Boone’s voice. Hell, he’d been so wrapped up inside his own head he hadn’t realized Boone was still in the vehicle. He glanced at his friend. “Yeah, but it’s not going to be easy.” He read the curiosity in Boone’s eyes. “I want to get her into the portal, but she’s deathly afraid of water.”
“Is that why she looked so spooked in the aquarium?” Boone juggled the keys between his hands. “Shit, that’s weird. Imagine a nymph being afraid of water.”
“It’s an implant.” He returned to staring out the windshield. Sunlight glinted off the mermaid in the fountain, making her scales sparkle. Absently, he watched the water trickling down the curves of the statue’s breasts.
Like a recording, Boone’s words replayed in Max’s mind. Imagine a nymph being afraid of water.
The tingles started along the nape of his neck. “Yes. That’s the key. Her nymph.” He turned toward Boone. “She can defeat her fear of water.”
“Uh, don’t you think her nymph would have done it by now?”