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I’ll have to wipe your memory clean of this encounter and go on to the next archaeologist on my list. A man by the name of Lloyd, I believe. He does not have your Gift, but . . .” He left the threat hanging, unspoken, in the air.
    Outrage flooded Keely, burning out the last remnants of residual shock. Dr. Lloyd was always one of the first to make patronizing comments about her “female intuition,” usually from the front row of the audience whenever she was presenting a paper at a society meeting.
    Usually while he stared at her breasts.
    No way was he getting his skanky hands on a single speck of Atlantean dirt. She put her hands on her hips and glared at Liam. “Lloyd? He couldn’t excavate his way out of a paper bag! His theories on . . .” Her voice trailed off as his lips quirked in a smile he was unable to entirely suppress.
    He’d been playing her all along.
    â€œRight. Nice . Not very high priestly, but effective. Very well, Mr. Liam. I’m all yours. I just need to gather my gear and handle some personal things.”
    He shook his head. “As to your personal affairs, you will give me a list, and any tasks you need to accomplish will be handled by one of our stewards. All the gear you need is already prepared, and I’m assuming this bag on the floor contains your own tools?”
    â€œHow did you—”
    He bent down and lifted her heavy bag as if it weighed nothing. Probably with muscles like that, it didn’t. “Your graduate assistant was very helpful,” he said.
    Keely glared at him. “I just bet she was, once she got a load of you.”
    A wicked smile flashed across his face, and his resemblance to the high priest from her vision grew even stronger. “I believe the term was ‘total hottie.’ Perhaps you could explain it to me on our journey?”
    â€œFigure it out yourself,” she muttered, snatching up her gloves and pulling them on, then taking a last look around her office. “I’m on vacation, anyway, so nobody will miss me for a while. Lead on, McHottie.”
    He lifted one eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
    â€œYeah. You should beg my pardon,” she said, but there wasn’t much bite to it. As she followed Liam out the door, Keely wondered what exactly she’d gotten herself into, but she couldn’t suppress a shiver of excitement. Atlantis. She’d seen it herself, and her visions had never, ever been wrong.
    The adventure of a lifetime, and it was all hers. She nearly laughed out loud, imagining the expressions on the faces of the countless shrinks her parents had dragged her to see.
    Overdeveloped imagination bordering on psychosis, my butt, Dr. Koontz. I’m going to Atlantis.

Chapter 8

    Boston
    Â 
    Alexios stared at Brennan, who continued his litany of murder in low, hoarse tones. “Kill them. Kill them all.”
    Brennan lifted his hands, aiming his deadly throwing stars at a group of humans who huddled, naked and trembling, in the corner. The motion snapped Alexios out of his state of shock and into movement, and he flashed across the room to grab Brennan’s shoulders, noticing with his peripheral vision that Christophe was changing position to protect the humans.
    Protect the humans.
    From Brennan .
    It boggled the freaking mind.
    â€œBrennan! Stop it now,” Alexios shouted, shaking the warrior’s shoulders. The pale green of Brennan’s eyes had faded into silvery fire, and there was no sign of recognition on his face when he stared at Alexios.
    For a moment, even as his mind recoiled from the idea, Alexios thought he’d have to fight the man who’d saved his life on countless occasions. Brennan’s arms tensed under Alexios’s hands as he strained to escape, but then the enraged warrior’s eyes slowly subsided back to green as a gradual sense of awareness returned to his features.
    â€œAlexios? What—” Brennan’s