Page 3 of Violet Legacy

“Don’t let them leave without me.”

“Rieka!”

She ignored him. The smoke burned her lungs as she tore through the flimsy door of her tent. She tasted ash. Where was it? She threw the papers and maps off her desk; they scattered around the room as the siren grew louder. When had she last seen it? The beaten leather-bound journal was half-hidden under a stack of papers; the charcoal leather almost blended into the layer of soot that was covering everything. She grabbed it and bolted through the tent opening, her eyes stinging as she tried to orient herself.

“Put this on.” Chay roughly placed a mask on Rieka. Soot covered his golden-brown hair and tanned face. His dark blue eyes glowed. “Breathe.” He shook his head. “You need to leave now.”

Rieka clutched the journal to her chest and nodded. A yellow SUV screeched to a halt in front of them. Dust and dirt spluttered on top of them as its front wheels spun into the ground. Leila gripped the wheel, her pale skin almost neon white. “Sorry.”

“Get in, Rieka.”

She didn’t bother to protest as she scrambled into the seat. The earth vibrated and rocked. Rieka slammed into the seat in front of her, her body screaming in protest. Everything streamed past them as they sped through the changing terrain.

Rieka settled back, her heart racing as a silent tear fell. She was quick to wipe it away before anyone else noticed.

A decade of work. Gone. She shuddered, the warmth of her pendant soothing her as she held onto the journal. No one else knew about the mosaic. She hadn’t mentioned it to Chay or any of the team, hoping she could buy valuable time. Now she didn’t need to worry about it.

“Rieka.”

Chay wore a look she didn’t recognize, cool and distant. Calculating. It was a harsh reminder that Chay, despite their four-year friendship, was Atlantean.

“What happened in the cavern?”

She ignored the question, choosing to focus on the landscape speeding by and the growing black plume descending over the entire camp site. Best case scenario it would take years to excavate the temple again, worst case, the mosaic of Vandana was destroyed, forever. Either way, Rieka was left with more questions than she had answers. And she was no closer to understanding her connection with Vandana. Or finding the tomb.

Chapter 3

Atlantean Quarter, Manhattan

Two weeks later—01 November 2076

Delacroix Arx—House Mneseus

“Howlonghaveyouknown?” Dante Delacroix asked the newcomer. The sound of heels clicking on the tile floor broke the silence. Only a handful of people had access to his office, even fewer could enter without an invitation. Dressed all in white, Sypha cast an angelic shadow that almost blinded him. Dante turned his attention back to the bustling city he now called home. The city had helped him build an empire. The orange and red hues of the rising sun danced along the skyline until the colors merged into one. He had spent the last three hundred years helping to shape the city. And in turn it had helped him build an empire. The city was the pinnacle of Atlantean and human ingenuity, an example of what both species could accomplish when they worked together.

“Three weeks,” Sypha said, the words curt and to the point.

“Why did you wait?”

“I was uncertain about the woman’s identity,” Sypha stated. There was no hint of emotion in their voice. They moved closer to him. Even with heels, Sypha barely reached his shoulders. “I can see potential futures,” Sypha softly reminded him. “Possibilities. I don’t dictate when they appear.”

Dante glanced down at his watch; the silver band gleamed in the emerging light. “Are you sure she is who we have been looking for?”

As his senior adviser, Sypha was privy to all the intricate details of his work. The world may view Sypha as his personal assistant, but they were so much more—perhaps even the reason he could stay one step ahead of his competitors.

“Yes,” Sypha said. They glanced at their gloved hands. “The council has denied your request to access the vault outside of the Jimourt. This was not an option until now.”

Dante did not need to be reminded of the shortcomings of the Atlantean council. The elected officials had held no genuine power in the last eight hundred years, but they still clung to some vestige of the past. “Dr. Sinha is your solution? The archaeologist we recently terminated.”

It had not been personal. The council had demanded an investigation into the accident and had wanted full accountability. As an outsider, the hybrid had been a simple choice. None of the committee had disagreed with him. If he had known it would come back to haunt him, he may have made another decision.

“Yes.” Sypha handed him the tablet. “Rieka Sinha was the only person who entered the temple.”

Dante flicked through the report. He had funded the excavation, and like every other one, it had been a dead end. He was earning a reputation for being far more like his father than any of his family and enemies had previously given him credit for. An idealist and a dreamer—it had been a fatal combination for his sire. Let the council and the elite families think he had inherited his father’s madness. It was always the same until they realized they needed him more than he needed them. He bit back a laugh. Locating Vandana’s tomb would give him enough leverage among the Houses that the small empire he was building would stand the test of time, long after he was gone. “There was nothing in the temple.”

“The excavation directors submitted the final report three days after the accident,” Sypha said.

Chaucer Delacroix. He had trusted his younger cousin with the excavation, but perhaps he had been too hasty. Dante let the silence grow between them. It was going to be a long day. “What did you see?”

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