Night Forbidden (19 page)

“I’m only half Atlantean, and, as such, I was an experiment of sorts,” she explained. “They implanted the oxygenating crystals in only one of my lungs, hoping that I could be fully functional on land in the mortal world as well as in the water. And . . . it worked.”

“So . . . I don’t know much about the legend of Atlantis, but I was always under the impression that the Atlanteans were just normal humans who had advanced technology, and whose city sank beneath the sea. Is that right?”

“Some of it. Their island city didn’t sink, but much of it was destroyed by a massive earthquake that made it seem as if it had sunk. From the stories I’ve heard, it seems as though one day it was there, the next everything went crazy and then it disappeared. But before that, they’d already begun to build a city at the bottom of the ocean, so the survivors ended up there.”

“How the hell did they breathe down there?” Fence couldn’t quite control the dart of panic in his belly.

“They found the Jarrid stone—one of the largest of the deep-sea crystals. They realized if they held part of the stone or its crystals in their mouth, it enabled them to breathe . . . like those things people used when they . . . scoobered? Scoobied?” She frowned.

“Scuba diving,” Fence interjected. “So the crystal acted as a sort of regulator, allowing them to breathe. That’s amazing.”

“The earliest Atlanteans were just as human as you are, but once they found those energizing crystals and began to utilize them—eventually experimenting with ways of attaching them to the body, piercing them, and, finally, implanting them—they began to change physically as well as mentally. But they realized too late that the stones, though powerful, also made its user dependent upon them. They gave strength, power, and youth, although not necessarily immortality—as well as the ability to breathe underwater—but they also become part of the body and weaken it when they try to remove them.”

A rush of horror erased any lingering sexual thoughts he might have had. “Like an addiction? Do you mean that you . . . also . . . are weakened? That you have to stay near the water too?”

Ana shook her head and gave a half shrug from her reclining position. “I’m perfectly able to live on land without feeling weak, despite my crystals. That’s why they find me so fascinating. I could possibly be the answer to the problem of the Atlanteans being tied to the sea.”

Fence thought of Marley then too, who, although she wasn’t an Atlantean, had a crystal implanted in her body as well. It was true: when she was away from flowing water for a great length of time, she became ill and weak. But the crystal didn’t allow her to breathe underwater, and it gave her immortality. And Quent had the one used for communicating with them. How many freaking kinds of crystals were there?

“And so you and your dad left Atlantis?” Fence asked, bringing the conversation back to Ana’s personal story.

“Before she died, Mamya told Dad and me that we needed to leave. In fact, she tried to make us go before she passed on, but we sure as hell weren’t going to do that. Dad wanted to take her with us, to see if anyone on land could help her, but she was too weak.”

“Why did she want you to go?”

“She was afraid of what would happen to us once she was gone—what they’d do to me. Experimentation and who knows what else. And to Dad, because he’d been studying those crystals for years. She told us how to get out.”

“There are gates?”

“Walls and gates, and the old city is of course underwater—although the Raised City is a place where we’ve—they’ve—been trying to adapt to for the last fifty years. Since the Above was destroyed.”

Fence had a million more questions, but this was enough for now. “So your mother told you how to find a way out. A secret way, I’m guessing. And that’s when you almost lost your leg?”

Ana nodded. “I wasn’t quite fast enough—we only had a few seconds to get beneath the gate. Mamya told us how to time it, how to measure the beats of light in the crystal locks. Dad got smashed on the head as he was trying to help me when the iron bars came down. We were a bloody mess—it really is a miracle that we made it away safely. He did most of it, dragging me off, forcing me to swim, watching for sharks . . . and when we finally got somewhere safe, he conked out. And when he woke up . . . he wasn’t exactly the same. He’d lost some of his memory—mostly of our years in Atlantis. Although he’s never forgotten Mamya.”

“How did he breathe underwater? He doesn’t have crystals, does he?”

“No. He wore one around his neck on a chain, like the early Atlanteans did until they learned how to implant them permanently. It helped him to breathe, but it also sapped some of his brainpower and memory. I think that might be part of the reason he doesn’t remember much detail from Atlantis.”

“Hell, the man seems pretty sharp to me,” Fence said with a little laugh. “Growing bacteria for drugs and studying up on them. He asked Elliott if he could look at the crystals from Kaddick and study them a bit.”

She smiled with affection. “Dad’s brilliant in that way . . . but the rest of him has . . . shall we say gentled.” And then, with a sudden slap of her hand onto the bed, Ana said, “Well, now that you know my secret—probably more than you ever wanted to know—it’s time for you to pay up, big guy.”

While Fence still hungered for more information, he also hungered for more of something else . . . and changing the subject was the first step in easing back into exactly where he wanted to be. So he had no problem following her lead and said, “Now what was it you wanted to know?”

“How you got your nickname. And what your mama called you.”

“Brat,” he said with a laugh.

She smiled back, and he felt that little tingle deep in his belly again. “I can see that.”

“Yeah, all right then. My real name is Bruno, but I got the name Fence when I was about fourteen and a bunch of my buddies and I were . . . well, I’m not too proud of myself now, but we were causing some mischief—”

“What kind of mischief?”

Here he had to hesitate. Because, damn, the world wasn’t the same back then as it was now, and how the hell was he going to explain they’d been teepeeing the houses and Saran-wrapping the cars of the opposing football team’s coach and quarterback the night before the biggest game of the season? Too many parts of that scenario were dangerous to divulge. “We were—uh—digging around in some place we weren’t meant to be, and we got caught, and so we took off running. We had to climb over a fence to get away and I got the ass of my jeans caught right on top of it. It was so bad I had to cut it loose, and I left half my pants—and my shorts—up there on the fence. And so I had to go home, bare-assed, and my buddies never let me forget that shit, ’bout how I got caught on a fence.”

Ana was laughing again, and he thought he might have to tell the story one more time, just to see her face light up like that.

“What did you tell your mom and dad?”

His grin turned sheepish. “I didn’t have to tell them. They already knew by the time I got home, because I’d left the evidence right there on the top of the fence.” He skirted over the detail that his parents had learned of his mischief from a phone call—because then he’d have a whole lot of other explaining to do.

Although . . . hell, a woman who lived in the legendary city of Atlantis probably wouldn’t be all that freaked out over a guy who was eighty but looked as if he were only thirty.

Maybe.

“Were Quent and Elliott in trouble too?” she asked.

It took Fence a moment to realize what she meant, and he was caught by surprise with another stinging rush of emotion. Though he hadn’t even known Lenny, or any of the other guys from the cave back in 1995 when he earned his nickname, the surviving five of them had bonded deeply and in an unexpected way through their experience in Sedona and coming out of that time-warping cave.

“They weren’t with me,” he explained. “I didn’t actually meet any of them until I was a lot older.” Damn, why was he having to blink so hard?

He reached for Ana, more than happy to dismiss those thoughts.

But, with a smile, she gently resisted. “I have one more question, now that things are a bit less . . . intense.”

Trepidation filled Fence and he tugged her closer again. “Enough with the questions, sugar. I didn’t get a chance to taste all of you, and I swear I’m gonna turn into a shriveled-up piece of—”

Her hand closed around his dick, and he lost whatever cajoling words he had on tap.

“Funny, you don’t feel too shriveled up,” she said with a naughty grin. And then she slipped her closed fingers up and down along his length a few good times so his breathing went all out of sorts and his hands started their own wandering.

She stroked her finger over the top of the head, where the little bead of moisture had gathered, and the slip-sliding sensation had him curling his toes to keep from going over right there.

“Now,” she said, sliding her hand to the base of his dick and loosening her grip. “My question. What were you doing just before we . . . um . . . got together. You turned away and I didn’t see.”

“A condom,” he managed to say, still feeling the pressure of her fingers around him, even though she’d eased up.
And
oh shit, thanks for the reminder
. He’d need another one.

Which he didn’t have.

Motherfucking hell.

It wasn’t as if he could go out to a drugstore and buy a box of Trojans either.

Birth control was frowned upon by the people in Envy and elsewhere. After so much of the human race had been destroyed, it was thought that attention should be given to repopulating the earth. Well, that was fine, Fence thought, but he wasn’t just going to play Johnny fucking Appleseed, planting babies with his junk. He was even less interested in fathering a child with a woman he wasn’t committed to.

“A condom?” Ana was frowning.

“To prevent pregnancy,” he said. “A little cover that . . . uh . . . keeps me from spilling inside you.”

“Really.” She was looking down at the heavy length in her hand, and he had a moment of glee, hoping she was wondering how the hell he found anything that fit over
that
.

“No offense,” he said, “but where I come from, a guy’s careful about making babies unless he’s ready to settle down and commit to the woman.”

“Atlanteans have a difficult time getting pregnant,” Ana said. “It’s not impossible, but they think their fertility has been affected by the crystals because it doesn’t happen as often as they might like. That’s why Mamya and Dad only had me, which is about the average for Atlantean couples. But when they want to make certain to prevent pregnancy, they use a sponge to . . . um . . . block things. I’ll get one,” she added. “Tomorrow.”

He started to respond with an okay but she’d moved her hand again, and this time she meant business.
Oooh.

Fence closed his eyes when she bent to take him in her mouth and he realized he didn’t need to worry about a condom this time.

Chapter 13

A
na opened her eyes to find sunlight streaming through the window. She stretched languorously, sliding along the warm body next to her.

Not only had last night been the first time she’d had sex in a bed, or even out of the water, but it was also the first time she’d ever slept—in the literal sense—with a man.

And awakened with him, warm and dry and cozy.

These land dwellers do it the right way.

She smiled to herself and reveled for the moment in the warmth, the comfort of blankets and softness. Everything beneath the sea was, of course, wet, but also cooler, and it had such a different
feel
to it. There was the slip-sliding all the time, the fine barrier of water and sometimes grit from the salt between bodies and mouths and elsewhere. Even the pressure of the water’s weight.

Obviously, she’d had plenty of pleasurable moments in the ocean with Darian, but she could appreciate the difference being on land, and not being constantly buffeted or rocked by the rhythm of the water.

Darian.

The thought had Ana’s insides squeezing up unpleasantly.

Back to reality.

She slid from the bed and Fence—or should she call him Bruno?—made a snuffling, snoring sound. Also something she wouldn’t have heard in the ocean, and, in spite of her trepidation at what the day might hold, she grinned to herself.

She supposed he’d earned a good night’s—morning’s?—sleep after all of the activity. A deep shiver in her belly reminded her how she’d been the lucky recipient of those energies, and she smiled as she padded over to the bathroom.

It was odd, being able to talk with Fence—with anyone—about her heritage. She’d kept the secrets for so long, kept so many people—men in particular—at arm’s length, even though she craved companionship and intimacy. Even Yvonne didn’t know her secrets.

And now all at once she had found not only a group of people who seemed to understand her need for secrecy, who appeared to actually be on her side, but also a man who could turn her into a puddle of boneless desire with little more than a look. He was sweet and kind—a big teddy bear, in some ways, she thought, remembering him with the children. Hadn’t he even been the “bear” they’d been tracking? She smiled, remembering his reverence for nature, for the world around them, helping her in the kitchen with such great ease that it seemed natural . . . and the way he talked about his mother. His eyes had gone moist when he mentioned her.

He made her laugh too, in spite of herself, with his huge yet charming ego. The ego that, she suspected, was just a shield behind which to hide his soft heart . . . and whatever else was bothering him about the water.

Ana realized with sharp clarity how much she liked Bruno. How much she’d come to care for him in the short time they’d known each other.

She just hoped she hadn’t made a mistake, allowing herself to begin to feel for him. Letting him in. Hoped she hadn’t placed her trust blindly, as with Darian.

Darian again.

It seemed, today, that all thoughts circled back around to him.

But it was a fact, a reality. As delightful and amazing as last night had been, this morning brought her to the harsh eventuality of facing Darian again, and knowing that her safety was now in jeopardy. She couldn’t forget that the crystal had ignited or activated hers, and that somewhere, someone was probably out there looking for her.

Trying to figure out how to find her in Envy right now.

Ana shivered and swallowed hard. She would do this on her terms, with Darian. She’d find him before he found her. And she’d learn everything he could tell her about what was going to happen to Envy.

By now Ana was in the adjoining bathroom and finishing her morning ablutions. When she came back out, her hair braided in a loose plait over one shoulder, her face damp and fresh, she found Fence sitting up in bed.

“Isn’t that a pretty sight,” he said.

His morning voice was even deeper than usual, not quite as smooth, but definitely just as pleasing. It reminded her of something she’d had once, something very rich and very rare, called chocolate. Darian had given it to her when he was trying to woo her, and she’d shared the small, bittersweet dark block with her dad.

Ana paused in the doorway of the bathroom, aware of the picture she made—dressed in only a pair of panties, one of her few bras, and a black tank top—and deftly arranged her bad leg behind her good one. “Thank you,” she said, her gaze lingering on his before she sauntered over to where she’d unpacked her small satchel.

“Except you have too many clothes on,” he added. The grit was gone from his voice, and he’d pulled himself up on one elbow, the covers falling away from his torso.

Ana tossed him a smile. “I’ve got things to do. No more time to play.” She pulled a crinkled peasant skirt from her bag and carefully stepped into it as he watched.

“Who said anything about playing?” he coaxed. “I’ve got some serious plans for you, sugar. Some real hard work. If you know what I mean.”

He winked and she couldn’t hold back a grin. The guy was ridiculous. But, heck, he made her laugh.

Ana had to go near the bed to get her shoes, and with a sly look, he lunged for her. Laughing, she dodged, but awkwardly. She stumbled on her twisted foot and before she could catch herself, fell smack onto the floor.

“Aw, Jesus.” Fence was out of bed with grace and speed amazing for his size and gathered her up from where she’d landed in a heap of skirt-tangled legs. “Ana, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

One of her knees had caught the brunt of her weight as she fell, along with her left elbow, but beyond those aches she wasn’t injured, other than the shock of landing on those two points.

Yet she felt like a fool. Only moments ago she was standing in the doorway, pretending to be a seductress . . . and now here she was, an awkward, graceless,
clumsy
mess. Her cheeks burned and her eyes stung.

“I’m fine,” she said, clenching her teeth to keep her voice from wavering. It was more annoyance and anger than pain or sadness. Despite her efforts to shake him off, Fence assisted her to her feet—which made her feel even more helpless and mortified.

“I’m
fine,
” she said again, more firmly, when he insisted on looking at the elbow she was rubbing. “It’s not as if I haven’t done a few face plants in my life. Hasn’t everyone?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking so crestfallen that she nearly forgot her own bruised ego in favor of his. “I have to remember . . .”

His voice trailed off, and she had a feeling it was because of the dark look she knew was crossing her face. “You have to remember what?”

While she knew she was oversensitive, she also thought it was important to get the subject out into the open. If there was any chance of she and Fence becoming more than a one- or two-night “thing,” he had to understand that she wasn’t a glass figurine.

“I’m such a big, clumsy dude,” he said, as if wading through deep, thick muck. “My mama always told me I don’t know my own strength—”

“Don’t be obtuse. This isn’t about you, dammit, Fence. It’s about me. I’ve been living with this”—she gestured to her leg—“for twelve years. I’m used to it, and I’m used to how it limits me and how it makes me look. You don’t have to act like you stepped in a pile of horse poop every time I stumble or trip. Not only am I crippled, but I’m also more than a little clumsy.”

“But Ana, I’ve got to be—”

“No. No you don’t. You don’t have to treat me any different from any other woman you’ve been with. Or will be with. Okay?”

“Will be with?” A furrow appeared between his brows.

Ana flapped a hand at him in dismissal. “Let’s be realistic here, okay?”
Crap.
This wasn’t the conversation she wanted or needed to have right now. Her knee still ached, her pride was banged up, and she felt like a mess.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “Realistic is good.”

“So, what I’m saying is—”

An impatient knock at the door stopped her.
Who can that be?

Dad!

And at that thought, Ana hurried over as fast as she could.

She felt Fence’s eyes following her awkward progress, but fortunately for him, he remained silent. And still. The knock came again, annoyance reverberating in its very tone, and Ana open the door to find Zoë standing there.

“Yes?” she said to her visitor.

Impatience vibrated off Zoë in waves. “Quent was looking at that stupid fucking crystal again and he found some weird-ass markings on the bottom of it. You need to get down there and look at them.” And then she looked past Ana for the first time. “Well, there the hell you are, Fence. I guess opportunity just keeps showing up at the damn door, doesn’t it?” Her eyes gleamed with delight.

Ana didn’t bother to invite her in. Nor did she mind that Zoë seemed to be more than a bit interested in all of the parts of Fence that were exposed since he’d leapt, naked, out of bed to help her. Who wouldn’t notice an amazing body like his? And he wasn’t making too much of an effort to be modest either.

Zoë’s understandable distraction had given Ana a moment to consider the request, such as it was. She did not want to get near that hunk of Jarrid stone again; there was still the slim chance that her own crystals’ awakening had been too brief for any connection to be made back to Atlantis.

But at the same time she’d promised to help these people. It was also the least she could do after Elliott had taken care of Dad.

“Are you coming?” Zoë demanded, hands on her hips, eyes flashing with renewed annoyance.

In the end, Ana acquiesced. She figured Quent could draw the symbols or markings for her and she could attempt to interpret them, all the while keeping the crystal at a safe distance.

“I’ll be over in a bit,” Fence said, flashing Zoë a wide white smile, and Ana a less certain one.

When Ana and Zoë got to the subterranean chamber, there was a pretty redhead sitting at one of the computer tables, clicking away on the keys. She wore headphones, and her mouth moved as if she were either talking to herself or singing along with something on the headphones. Ana assumed it was Sage, who’d helped Theo and Lou Waxnicki put all these computers together on what they called a network. Whatever that was.

“Ana doesn’t want that damned crystal near her, genius,” Zoë announced to Quent as they entered the room. “At least someone’s brain is engaged. She wants you to draw the symbols so she can look at ’em.”

Moments later Quent produced a piece of paper and Ana took it from him. “It’s the Atlantean alphabet,” she said. “A bit like hieroglyphs, but more advanced. They also use the Roman alphabet, as you do.”

He was peering over her shoulder. Sensing his acute interest, she began to point out the individual hieroglyphs and explain their meanings. “It appears to be instruction to the finder of this stone. There’s a ship. Here’s water, and this one—”

“Right. And I recognize that,” Quent said, pointing at one of the symbols. “The labyrinth and swastika together are part of the symbol for the Cult of Atlantis, the group my father belonged to. They’re the ones who have been in contact with your people.”

“That’s the sign Atlanteans use to denote themselves. And here . . . this I think is the direction or location where this piece of Jarrid stone was hidden, or otherwise left. And here . . .” She looked at him. “It’s the instructions on how to use the stone for communication.”

Ana saw the great leap of excitement in Quent’s face. It was matched by the downward spiral of her own belly. “I have to warn you, though—there is a great chance, because many of these crystals are connected by intuitive energy, that if you activate it and try to contact them, they’ll likely not only communicate with you, but also be able to identify your location. Exactly where you are.”

The damage might already have been done.

“Are you saying that if he gets this damned thing to work, all those fucking Atlanteans are going to descend on us like a damned bunch of crystal-wearing zombies?” Zoë demanded. “Like, down here? No fucking way, genius.”

Quent’s head swiveled between her and Zoë, and Ana saw indecision in his face. “What do I have to do to activate it?” he asked, and Zoë leapt to her feet.

“Look, Quent, you don’t want to risk every damn person’s ass here—”

“I’m not quite that incompetent, luv,” he said, with an edge to his voice. “I have to assess the risks, and—”

“What exactly do you have to fucking assess, genius? I can’t be out there saving your damn ass every fucking day again. And everyone else’s. I’ve got other—” Zoë snapped her teeth together audibly as her voice broke, and then silence reigned.

Except for the sounds of Zoë grinding her teeth together.

And the nonstop clicking of Sage’s fingers on the keyboard. Ana noticed that the redhead seemed oblivious to the war going on around her. Probably just as well; it was clear that Quent and Zoë had a volatile relationship, and Sage was probably used to their fiery arguments.

“You think about things, assess the risks,” Ana said as the couple glared at each other. “I’ll be back in a little while; I have some things I need to check on.”

“But—” Quent began.

“Don’t,” Zoë interrupted him. Now Ana recognized a glint of fear in the other woman’s eyes, buried deep beneath her bravado.

Fence had told her that Zoë was several months pregnant, and that almost everyone except Quent knew about it. “There’s gonna be some real fireworks when he finds out and tries to keep her sitting pretty at home like a good little woman,” he’d said with a little chuckle. “That’s gonna be some good shit.”

Ana had been looking at the slender woman, wondering how far along she was, trying to see a sign of it . . . but she couldn’t tell. Maybe beneath the loose cargo pants there was the beginning of a bump, but not a very big one. Ana had watched, in silent misery, all of the young women in Glenway through their various stages of pregnancy, and noticed how each one developed differently. Some women hardly showed at all for many months, or showed in different ways.