Warriors of Poseidon 03 - Atlantis Unleashed by authors_sort Read Free Book Online Page A
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to try to alleviate the tension that had knotted her up into hunchback status. “I spent eighteen months out of the past two years working the Lupercale, in three-month stints. Eighteen months, three cave-ins, one mugging, and two trips to the emergency room.” She shook her head. “You‟d think my Italian would have improved more by now.”
George Grenning spoke up from where he hunched in a chair by the door, seemingly trying to fit his lanky frame into the smallest possible space. She‟d worked with him for five years.
George was a renowned researcher, frequent publisher, and Indiana Jones wannabe. Even though he was head of her department, therefore her boss, and had fifteen years of age and experience over her, he still didn‟t have any self-confidence. “The Lupercale. The actual cave where a she-wolf nursed Romulus and Remus, the twin founders of Rome. I‟d give my left arm to have been invited on that dig.”
Keely‟s eyes narrowed, but George‟s open, affable face showed only a touch of awe, no envy.
Archaeology was a small world, and academic politics sometimes lent themselves more to backstabbing professional jealousy than any true camaraderie, as she‟d learned, painfully, through her own experiences. Even though he outranked her in the office and in the field, her special . . . talent . . . meant that she was highly in demand.
Highly in demand, in spite of the fact that nobody she‟d ever worked with had known that she was anything but normal. They all credited her with “amazing cognitive leaps” or, less generously, “women‟s intuition.”
If she‟d told them the artifacts literally talked to her, she‟d be coordinating her future digs from the loony bin.
Liam turned the full effect of his “I am in command” stare on George, who shriveled even further. “Dr. Grenning, while I appreciate professional curiosity, I have very little time.
Perhaps you could excuse us while Dr. McDermott and I discuss the parameters of our request?”
Keely almost laughed at the sheer nerve of the man. He‟d just dismissed George from her office. “George stays,” she said flatly, lifting her Diet Coke and downing a healthy gulp.
Maybe a little caffeine would help. “And you‟re not the only one with very little time. I said no, so perhaps you should be on your way?”
Liam clenched his jaw, and the illusion of pleasant persuasion he‟d worn like a mask faded, leaving stark arrogance and command stamped on his features. “I would be more than pleased to accept your denial, except that my high prince has tasked me with this mission,” he gritted out. “We are aware of your Gift, Lady Keely. We know you are an object reader, and as such you possess a Gift believed long lost in the waters of time. For that reason, and because of your reputation as a brilliant archaeologist of impeccable integrity, it is my honor to invite you to Atlantis.”
Keely‟s laughter got trapped in her throat as she looked into his eyes, which now smouldered with pure liquid silver, distracting her. “How do you do that thing with the eyes? And, seriously? Atlantis? The lost continent? You—”
The beginning of his statement suddenly registered, and she shot an alarmed look at George, who was staring avidly at the psycho who claimed to be from Atlantis. “My gift? I don‟t know what you‟re talking about, and clearly you‟re a nutcase. Atlantis, right. Sure, let me pencil that in.”
She pretended to scan her desk calendar, but the phrase “object reader” whirled in her mind, scratching at something buried deep. Ignoring it, she smiled sweetly and utterly insin cerely at Liam. “I can fit Atlantis in two weeks from now, right after I excavate Oz.”
Liam never cracked a smile. “I know not this Oz, but your priorities just changed.”
“Look, I‟m going to call campus security,” she began, standing up and scanning her desk for anything she could use as a weapon if he got violent. The marble bust of
George Grenning spoke up from where he hunched in a chair by the door, seemingly trying to fit his lanky frame into the smallest possible space. She‟d worked with him for five years.
George was a renowned researcher, frequent publisher, and Indiana Jones wannabe. Even though he was head of her department, therefore her boss, and had fifteen years of age and experience over her, he still didn‟t have any self-confidence. “The Lupercale. The actual cave where a she-wolf nursed Romulus and Remus, the twin founders of Rome. I‟d give my left arm to have been invited on that dig.”
Keely‟s eyes narrowed, but George‟s open, affable face showed only a touch of awe, no envy.
Archaeology was a small world, and academic politics sometimes lent themselves more to backstabbing professional jealousy than any true camaraderie, as she‟d learned, painfully, through her own experiences. Even though he outranked her in the office and in the field, her special . . . talent . . . meant that she was highly in demand.
Highly in demand, in spite of the fact that nobody she‟d ever worked with had known that she was anything but normal. They all credited her with “amazing cognitive leaps” or, less generously, “women‟s intuition.”
If she‟d told them the artifacts literally talked to her, she‟d be coordinating her future digs from the loony bin.
Liam turned the full effect of his “I am in command” stare on George, who shriveled even further. “Dr. Grenning, while I appreciate professional curiosity, I have very little time.
Perhaps you could excuse us while Dr. McDermott and I discuss the parameters of our request?”
Keely almost laughed at the sheer nerve of the man. He‟d just dismissed George from her office. “George stays,” she said flatly, lifting her Diet Coke and downing a healthy gulp.
Maybe a little caffeine would help. “And you‟re not the only one with very little time. I said no, so perhaps you should be on your way?”
Liam clenched his jaw, and the illusion of pleasant persuasion he‟d worn like a mask faded, leaving stark arrogance and command stamped on his features. “I would be more than pleased to accept your denial, except that my high prince has tasked me with this mission,” he gritted out. “We are aware of your Gift, Lady Keely. We know you are an object reader, and as such you possess a Gift believed long lost in the waters of time. For that reason, and because of your reputation as a brilliant archaeologist of impeccable integrity, it is my honor to invite you to Atlantis.”
Keely‟s laughter got trapped in her throat as she looked into his eyes, which now smouldered with pure liquid silver, distracting her. “How do you do that thing with the eyes? And, seriously? Atlantis? The lost continent? You—”
The beginning of his statement suddenly registered, and she shot an alarmed look at George, who was staring avidly at the psycho who claimed to be from Atlantis. “My gift? I don‟t know what you‟re talking about, and clearly you‟re a nutcase. Atlantis, right. Sure, let me pencil that in.”
She pretended to scan her desk calendar, but the phrase “object reader” whirled in her mind, scratching at something buried deep. Ignoring it, she smiled sweetly and utterly insin cerely at Liam. “I can fit Atlantis in two weeks from now, right after I excavate Oz.”
Liam never cracked a smile. “I know not this Oz, but your priorities just changed.”
“Look, I‟m going to call campus security,” she began, standing up and scanning her desk for anything she could use as a weapon if he got violent. The marble bust of