Watchtowers : Water Page 3

  She glanced back at Zion. The beginnings of a smile changed the angles in his face.

  “Good, go on.”

  Dragging on her jeans, Keely sighed and crept closer to the entrance. “Changes in the current are usually related to weather and climate.”

  “Exactly!” he shouted with excitement.

  “Exactly?”

  “Yes, I’ve been sent to discover why the weather is changing, why there are more storms."

  “And have you?”

  Zion sauntered closer to her and the entrance, nodding.

  Curiosity got the better of her when he stopped speaking. “Well, then, what did you find out?”

  “Someone controls the water.”

  She snorted. “Impossible. No one has that sort of ability.”

  He reached out a hand and lifted a strand of her dark hair. “Oh, but they do, dear Keely. Our mischievous friend is not alone either. There are at least two other entities that have the ability to control the ocean.”

  “Two more?” This whole tale was far-fetched. She couldn’t keep the disbelief from her voice. “I suppose you know who these entities are?”

  Outside, the storm waned. The ocean calmed. The clouds parted and light edged back into the sky. To the west the sun began its descent and tinged the clouds with fingers of orange and red, the colors reflecting on the water’s surface.

  He rubbed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I do.”

  He’s real, he’s real. The reminder did little to keep her body calm, especially when he touched her like the long held lover he claimed to be. “Who,” she stammered, “has this power?”

  “Walk with me.” The words fell from his lips like a gentle command rather than a question. Zion extended his hand to her and she automatically reached toward his.

  In an attempt to gain control of her confused emotions, she yanked her hand back to her side and stuffed it into her slicker pocket. “Why? Where to?”

  “I realize this is difficult. Not at all what your scientific reasoning wants you to face.” He spoke patiently, as if he schooled her in a simple truth she should have readily comprehended.

  “It’s not everyday I see and speak with a man who looks like the spitting image of my fantasies.” Her mind flitted to snatches of conversation she’d heard between her parents. Her mother claimed to know Poseidon. Now Keely was talking with a man who purported to be his son. Had she slipped over the edge and joined her mother?

  They left the confines of the cave. Keely peeked behind her at the prints her steps made in the dark sand. There were two sets filling with water from the tide. The prints proved he was real, not some construct of her mind. She breathed a sigh of relief. She was fine. She hadn’t hallucinated Zion or the aborted sex.

  Suddenly, another truth struck her. Zion was the one suffering from mental illness. She was okay. He wasn’t.

  Fear clenched her chest, made it hard for her to breathe. Gradually, she fell back to increase the distance between them while keeping pace with his long-legged strides. Maybe if she kept him talking he wouldn’t attack her. She swallowed a lump in her throat, willing herself to be brave. Her voice betrayed her emotions with a tremor in her words. “Where are we going?”

  Zion pointed to a section of beach not far from where she’d found him. If he’d heard her fear he’d ignored it.

  “Why?”

  “I need to show you something.” He fell silent and continued his steady march along the beach, powerful muscles in his hips and legs flexing with each step.

  Great. He wasn’t engaging in chitchat right now and her body was still reacting with sexual hunger to his physique.

  Keely glanced at the darkening sky. She didn’t want to be out on an isolated beach with a naked, horny, self-proclaimed deity after dusk. “Will this experiment take long?”

  “No. Just evidence to go with what I tell you.”

  Games. They were playing word games. He still hadn’t answered her questions about who had the ability to control the water.

  “What do you need to share?” She sounded like her analyst.

  “All Poseidon’s sons have special abilities. I can, to a small degree, control the movement of the ocean.”

  She choked back a terrified laugh. “Really?” What was he going to do? Control the waves by offering her as some sort of ritualistic sacrifice? Her entire life she’d been terrified of inheriting her mother’s insanity. Never had she imagined she would be a victim of someone else’s madness. Cautiously, she began to speak as she tried to calculate how she could manage to get away. “How are you going to prove this to me?”

  The scowl on his face indicated he knew she thought he was insane. Tough. She watched him turn toward the ocean, his hand bent at ninety degrees, palm facing the water.

  “Do you see that large wave coming in, about fifty meters out?”

  She scanned the ocean looking for a vessel she could hail by waving her arms cloaked in the bright yellow slicker. “Yes.”

  “Watch,” he barked.

  She stared at the wave and watched as it rose to curl just before breaking. Zion flexed his fingers and the wave stopped at its apex, the descent of the swell barely started.

  Keely gasped. “How did you do that?”

  He flexed his hand again, and as if it had never been stopped, the wave continued inland.

  She backpedaled as fast as she could from the unnatural phenomenon she’d witnessed. Fumbling in her pocket, she was grateful her magnetic key remained within. With a final wide-eyed glance at the sea and a gloriously naked Zion, Keely gave in to her fear, turned tail, and fled.

  Chapter Three

  Zion watched his father, Poseidon, draw the rushing chariot to a halt on the surface of the South Pacific Ocean. The hippocampi dragging the conveyance struggled to get their breath. They thrust their heads under the sea, splashing Zion in their haste to recover. Nearly five thousand years old, the Greek god managed to use more energy than his brother, Zeus.

  “Why did you call me from my race?” Poseidon’s angry voice created a violent swell in the water.

  Zion respectfully kept his eyes cast down. The vibrations slowed and the water returned to a calmer state. The gentle undulations wouldn’t last long once he confessed to his father his failure.

  “You asked me to report on my interaction with Keely Shane.”

  Poseidon nodded, his long, curled locks, swinging like tendrils of anemone. “Will she help us?”

  Shifting his weight from hip to hip, Zion treaded water, refusing to look into his father’s eyes. Instead, he stared at the surface of the ocean. The heat of the sun-warmed water caressed his torso and legs but didn’t comfort him. He swallowed hard, not wishing to inflict on any his father’s anger. “No.”

  His father’s face scrunched, the skin around his eyes crinkled, and his lips turned downward in a grimace. “I’m getting old, boy. Speak up.” He lifted his three-pronged spear, grasping the shaft so tightly his knuckles turned white.

  The heavy oppressive silence stretched on. Zion gathered his strength and inhaled deeply. “I said, Father, ‘No” she will not help us.”

  “What do you mean, ‘No’? Use your charm. Seduce the wench into using her power to help us. It is your duty to protect Atlantis with any means at your disposal.”

  Zion flushed, his face heating with anger. His father’s past conquests had resulted in nearly thirty half-brothers and sisters, most of whom were illegitimate, including him. No amount of entreaty revealed the name of his mother. “I’m not like you.”

  Poseidon’s eyes narrowed. “What’s that comment supposed to mean?”

  “It means I don’t rape women to get my way.” Poseidon’s requests and personal lifestyle frayed the limits of Zion’s ability to defer to the man. Zion turned away in disgust, his fists clenched in anger.

  A shadow fell across the surface of the water. Zion ducked beneath the surface of the sea and darted to the right. His father’s trident sailed past. In the wake
of the weapon, a whirlpool developed, not as strong as those he’d created to destroy Odysseus but still deadly. Another trap for hapless sailors.

  Poseidon had kept an interested eye on the sorcerer when he started playing with the ocean currents, but hadn’t challenged him. Zion was tempted to tell his father to deal with Amidurah on his own, but he didn’t. He had his reasons. To do so would release Poseidon on Keely, and Keely belonged to him, not his father.

  He dove deeper into the water, his legs morphing into a muscular tail and headed toward his room at the coral palace, prepared to pay later for his impudence.

  *****

  A week later, Keely stood along the beach’s edge from which she had first seen Zion. Since her terrifying eye-witness experience of the manipulation of the ocean and with her psychologist’s encouragement, she’d doubled her medication. During the days, she could work. Nights were another matter altogether. Her dreams at night alternated between erotic romps with the sexy sea god and nightmares about the other unknown entity controlling the waves. Each equally disturbed her.

  A quiet chirp emanated from the implant above her ear. “Yes, Father.”

  “The International Funding of Scientific Studies representative has arrived.”

  “I’ll be up, straight-away.” She sighed. Her stomach clenched in anxiety. The IFSS would want to see her results.

  The chirp sounded once more, an indication the conversation was over. IFSS only visited for one of two reasons. To award funds or to withdraw them. Since she already had her funding for the year, the visit didn’t bode well.

  Keely hurried to the castle, conscious of her less than perfect state of dress. At least IFSS would know she hadn’t spent their money on expensive clothing. She barged through the main doors, and the beautiful cherry wood colored polyresin slid into the wall without a sound. Down the hall she heard voices, including her mother’s.

  Already she formulated in her mind what she would say to her distinguished guest. IFSS funds have gone a long way in furthering the world’s understanding of one of the most intelligent creatures on our planet. Yes, that would get the discussion off on the correct foundation. Until someone lacking patience interrupted her, as they inevitably did, forcing her to defend herself emotionally rather than logically. She’d gone through the frustrating scene numerous times. She steeled herself for a repeat, praying she’d actually have someone stay quiet long enough for her to detail her discoveries.

  She paused for a moment to look at her reflection in the hall mirror. Her cheeks were wind burned, her long hair a wild red tangle. She mentally heard her parents harping about her appearance. How she was a sound repository of high quality DNA. Her real purpose–find a suitable DNA match and harvest super-children to save the world from itself.

  Using her mind wasn’t as important as the perpetuation of the best the human species had to offer, all packaged in a pretty body to attract a high caliber male.

  No thanks. She wasn’t interested in becoming a living science experiment no matter how good the cause. There was plenty of suitable DNA material around to gather and clone. Bitter emotions never failed to erupt when they discussed her life as if she weren’t present or even a human being.

  Besides, she held the secret. Zion was right about one thing. She talked to dolphins. Understanding why, that was another matter. She couldn’t explain it and the lack of knowing why drove her studies.

  She opened a drawer in the table beneath the mirror and pulled out a brush swiping at her hair with hard, fast strokes. She’d attempt to look presentable at any rate.

  Shoving the implement back in the drawer, she continued to the parlor where her parents held court. Keely knocked on the partially open door and waited for permission to be granted this rare audience.

  Keely never understood why her father encouraged the pretense of royalty. The lines of British aristocracy had died out centuries ago.

  From within she heard her father command, “Enter.”

  She stepped into the room, paneled in dark, pressed polylation, an environmentally safe material that insulated the castle walls. Portraits of her supposed ancestors hung in gilt frames on the striped paper walls. How the family managed to hang onto the golden frames when pure metals of any kind were rare and highly sought after was just another of the dynasty mysteries.

  “Hello, Sweetheart,” her mother trilled from her restoration Queen Anne chair. “We’ve someone we’d like you to meet.”

  “Father, I thought you told me members of the IFSS were here.”

  Her father stood. His tall, lanky frame dwarfed her and her and her mother. But his height was nothing compared to the man who rose and stood next to him. “Darling, I’d like you to meet Stephen Doubilet.

  She sized Doubilet up quickly. His aura of confidence felt abrasive. Her instincts went on full alert. This man wanted something, but what?

  Strangers taxed her well-ordered world. She knew she lacked warmth in her voice. “Mr. Doubilet.”

  “Please, call me Stephen.” He extended his hand. Out of courtesy, she shook it.

  Immediately, she withdrew it, wishing she hadn’t touched him. His shake was limp, cool and effeminate. She resisted the urge to wipe her palms on her jeans. “Why?”

  Her mother gasped. “Keely Shane, mind your manners. We’ve raised you better. Apologize immediately.”

  Stephen Doubilet smiled. The action didn’t resonate with the rest of him. In fact, his eyes seemed to issue a challenge. “Because, Miss Shane, I intend to...”

  Her father coughed. “Have a drink, Doubilet?”

  Keely smelled a set-up. The pretense of a visit from the IFSS irked her. How was it her parents didn’t understand her need for quiet so she could pursue her research? She didn’t need a man in her life making demands that detracted from her studies. “Father, a point of clarification?”

  He nodded and filled two glasses with ice and bourbon and handed one to Doubilet.

  “The IFSS?”

  “Stephen is here on their behalf.”

  Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She snapped it shut with an audible click.

  Her father spoke in the uncomfortable silence. “Keely, Mr. Doubilet would like to spend some time with you. I think you’ll find his proposal quite enlightening.”

  Her father’s choice of words set her nerves further on edge and offered no encouragement. Doubilet by some standards was handsome. Dark hair curled back from his pale face, exposing a high forehead, narrow face, and dark eyes. His sort of good looks didn’t appeal to Keely though. If her father thought to set her up with a man like Doubilet, he was sadly mistaken.

  The image of Zion standing before her in the grotto flashed in her mind. Defined, muscular arms had lifted her from the rock ledge as if she were nothing more than a small child. Locks of golden hair made her want to run her hands through it and use those strands to bind him to her.

  She sighed. Zion hadn’t made an appearance since her terrified run from the beach. Nor did she really expect him to. It had taken more than the customary forty-eight hours for her body to adjust to the increase in her dosage, but now she was back at work, undisturbed until now.

  Stephen stepped forward and took the drink her father had poured. “I’d hoped to take you out to dinner. There’s a new place in Shannon developing quite the reputation for haute cuisine.”

  “I think you will find Stephen’s suggestions beneficial to you and your research.”

  Her father’s comment intrigued her. Other than preserving her grant, how could Mr. Stephen Doubilet assist the project she held near and dear to her heart?

  *****

  “So, what is it you really want, Mr. Doubilet?” Keely asked over her dinner of synthetic mutton. The vegetable protein, loaded with vitamins and minerals, looked more appealing in this incarnation than the normal pale gray health food conglomeration everything was created out of. The chef had done wonders making the syn-food appealing.

  Doubilet placed his fork on the t
able with a slow, measured motion. He leaned forward and whispered. “I know you communicate with dolphins, Keely.”

  She covered her shock at his words by delicately wiping her mouth with her napkin. “You sound as if this is a conspiracy, Mr. Doubilet. I assure you of two things. Yes, I do communicate with the dolphins. Two, I’m not involved in nefarious activities. Everyone in this region,” she waved her hand about, “knows of my research.”

  He patted her hand. “Keely, Keely. Did I say anything about your engaging in suspicious endeavors?”

  Removing her hand from beneath his, she motioned for a waiter, and then turned her attention back to Doubilet. “Let’s get to the heart of the matter, shall we?”

  A bot wheeled up to the table. “How may I serve you?”

  “Water, please,” Keely replied.

  “Your best bottle of champagne,” Doubilet countered. Then he smiled.

  Frissons of apprehension set the hairs of her arm standing at attention.

  The machine rolled away. Stephen reached out and clasped both of her hands between his limp ones. “IFSS is not impressed with the progress you’ve made with their money.”

  Her stomach felt as if it had been coated in lead. Her studies were finished. She looked into Stephen’s gloating face. So smug.

  “You needn’t worry, beautiful. Withdrawing support from your studies will only be a loss to the IFSS. There are other sources available to you.”

  She ground her teeth in an attempt to keep her temper in check. Calling her beautiful was his first mistake, tossing him into the same category as most of the men she knew. He was bent on using her for his own purposes, not interested in her mind and what she could contribute to the betterment of society.

  “Other legit means of support don’t exist for me.” Her mind flashed to the condition her father had placed on her research financing. With one stipulation, he’d happily sponsor her studies if her current funds dried out. He’d give her the money if she found a husband that could afford to either stymie the local politicians or pay for her specialized equipment.