Warriors of Poseidon 05 - Atlantis Redeemed

alive. This is dangerous, Tiernan. You are not Lois Lane.”
    “I don’t want to be Lois Lane,” she snapped right back at him, slowing to negotiate a tight turn.
    “I want to be Superman. I want to send the vampires involved in this plot back to hell, where they came from. I want to be able to sleep at night without nightmares of how Susannah died, and I want to be able to face myself in the mirror knowing that I did something about it.”
    She lifted a hand to brush the angry tears from her cheeks.
    When Rick finally spoke again, his voice was much calmer. “I know. I know. I just can’t take it if you wind up like Susannah, or worse. They’re not just enthralling shifters, you know.”
    “I know. That’s why we set up this investigation into the International Association of Preternatural Neuroscience in the first place. We need to know how they’re doing it, so we can stop it,” she said flatly. “Why would any human scientist do such a thing? I mean, I get that the vamps have no souls. But these are human beings.”
    “If you use the term loosely,” Rick said.
    She rounded a curve and recognized her destination, sighing in relief. “Reporter Lost in Wilderness” didn’t have quite the headline ring to it that she was going for.
    “That’s the North Entrance station, Rick. I’ve got to let you go and put on my ditzy reporter face Atlantis Redeemed – Warriors of Poseidon 05
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    while I talk to this guy and pay the entrance fee.”
    “You’re not even blond.”
    “Funny. I’ve found that being underestimated gets me way more info than showing off my brains. Gotta go. Will call you later.”
    She tapped the button on her wireless earbud and slowed to a stop at the gatehouse, flashing a dazzling smile at the square-jawed ranger who sauntered out to talk to her. He blinked and then smiled eagerly back at her, all blue eyes, buzz cut, and Boy Scout sincerity.
    “You here for the IAPN conference?” He glanced down at a clipboard he held, not waiting for her response. “Name?”
    “Tracy Baum,” she lied smoothly. Her cover credentials would survive quite a bit of checking.
    “Neuroscience Quarterly.”
    The ranger made a check mark on his clipboard. “You’re all set, Ms. Baum.” A broad smile spread over his face. “You know, the—”
    “Thank you so much,” she interrupted, putting the car in gear again as she recognized the sign of a man wanting to chat. “Much to do, the science news waits for no woman. Thanks, Officer.”
    Tiernan settled back in her seat and pulled away from the guard, heading toward the hotel. If only she’d arrived in the daytime, she could have appreciated what she’d heard was an absolutely spectacular view. Electric Peak was reported to be amazing, and the bridge just ahead crossed the Gardner River, another must-see in the tourist guides.
    Not that she was a tourist. Tourists didn’t usually try to discover secrets that could get them killed. She hadn’t admitted it on the phone, but Rick had had a good point. Of course, he usually did—the man was honest to a fault.
    If there could even be such a thing as honest to a fault when it came to her. Honesty was a gift of grace in a world filled with deceptions, secrets, and lies. Every one of which caused her actual physical pain, if her shielding wasn’t strong enough.
    But not Rick. He’d insult the heck out of her before he’d lie. He was definitely a “your story sucks, fix it” kind of guy. The thought made her laugh a little, as a blaze of lights came into view.
    She’d made it. The Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel. She pulled into the driveway and edged the car into a space between a ginormous white limo and a flashy red sports car.
    “Holy Italian deliciousness,” she murmured reverently. “That’s the Lamborghini.”
    No valets or bellmen were in sight, so she hit speed dial. Rick answered on the first ring.
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    “We’ve got confirmation. I’m looking at the vampmobile. A 2009 Lamborghini Gallardo LP560-4, to be exact.” She scanned the driveway for the driver of that very distinctive car, which, as she knew very well, had been made to spec for one very important customer. Its windows were made of black glass, which had been engineered so that not a single ray of sunshine could penetrate.
    Rick’s voice barked in her ear. “Which means what, Butler?”
    “It’s the ultimate vamp car. Belongs to Devon, last name