Jewel Of Atlantis. Gena Showalter

her, Gray rolled to his back before easing up and into a crouch. As he glanced at his wristwatch, a soft, salty breeze drifted past him, reminding him of the beach vacation he so craved. This area would be as good as any other, he supposed. He’d run out of time.

      “Let Operation KTB commence.” He slipped on his shirt, unzipped his backpack and rooted inside.

       What are you doing? Run, you fool.

      “You need a name,” he said, ignoring her demand and continuing his search inside the bag. Didn’t all split personalities have names? If he was going to be insane, he might as well embrace it fully. For now, at least. Once he returned home and told the captain about his new friend, he’d be poked with so many needles it would make an alien probing seem like a sensual massage.

      Maybe he’d call her Bunny. Or Bambi.

      Please, she cried. You need to hide. If you don’t, you’ll be hurt again and—

      “I’m not running. I’m going to kill it.”

      She paused, absorbing his words. Listen, Gray. You aren’t insane. I’m not a figment of your imagination or a personality inside your mind. I’m very real, and I can help you. I know Atlantis and the, creatures here. Listen to me and you just might live for one more day.

      Now it was his turn to pause. Her claim made a weird sort of sense. Throughout the years, he’d seen and experienced all sorts of strange things. “Can you prove it?” he almost said, but stopped himself.

      Though he hadn’t actually spoken, she heard him and uttered a frustrated hiss. You are such a human. Prove this, prove that. Humph! I’m speaking with you, aren’t I?

      Several alien races communicated psychically, so he already knew it could be done. He just hadn’t known it could be done with him. Fact is, he was relieved his brain hadn’t experienced full meltdown.

      “Where are you?”

       Hades, it seems.

      He grinned. “Yeah? Me, too. Want to tell me how you know my name?” He resumed his search inside the bag. “And how are you getting inside my mind?” That bothered him, a lot, but he had too many other things to worry about right now.

       Do you really wish to discuss this now? Time is your enemy.

      Again, she was right. He truly didn’t have long, perhaps five or ten minutes and he needed every second. “I’ll let those questions slide, but there’s one thing I’ve got to know. Why are you helping me?”

      Pause. It would be a shame to mar your pretty face.

      Good answer. Dare he say irrefutable?

      “You know how to take down a demon?” Myths claimed garlic, a stake through the heart, or holy water would do the trick. Wait. Those killed vampires. What the hell killed demons? The Book of Ra Dracas might have very well provided step-by-step instructions, yet he’d paid no attention, seeing the script merely as camouflage for the hidden code about the jewel. Stupid.

       There is no reason to fight. I can lead you to safety.

      “Poison? Dynamite?” As he spoke, he lifted the items in question.

      Heavy silence blanketed his mind.

      “I’m not going anywhere, honey, so you might as well tell me.”

      His neck, she finally said on a trembling catch of breath. You have to—well, you know.

      “Yes, I’m afraid I do.” He bypassed the grenades; he might need those later, and withdrew four sticks of dynamite, as well as his night-vision goggles.

       That dynamite won’t help you. Demons are strengthened by fire.

      “I’m hoping the force of the explosion will slow him down so I can get close enough to him to…you know.” He slapped a clip into his gun and slid a load into the chamber. This was his last round of ammunition, so he had to make the most of it.

       Be careful. Please, be careful.

      So many emotions layered her words. Terror, regret, hope. Concern. Emotions he didn’t understand and didn’t have time to ponder.

       Promise me.

      “I give you my word,” he answered, and then he tuned her out completely, unwilling to let her distract him from his purpose. If he wanted to win, he had to get in his zone—and stay there.

      Sensing his needs, she said, I won’t speak again until this is over.

      Forming a large circle with the dynamite, Gray planted a stick next to each of the towering trunks. The breeze intensified, prancing with renewed life. Darkness approached steadily, threading gnarled fingers through the thickness of the trees. Adrenaline thundering through his veins, he anchored his night goggles over his eyes, the world dimming to reds and grays.

      Dynamite in place. Check.

      Gun in hand. Check.

      Bullets loaded. Check.

      Knife. He lifted the machete and hooked it to the waistband of his pants. Check.

      All that remained was covering his body with a blanket of leaves, camouflaging him from the demon’s view. But as he bent to gather the first leaf, a whiz sounded next to his ear, followed by a sulfur-scented wind and taunting laughter.

      Too late.

      The demon had arrived.

      Mentally cursing, Gray crouched low and tightened his grip on his weapon. As he lay there, sweat dripped from his forehead and onto his goggles, momentarily shielding his line of vision. His head moved slowly, his eyes scanning from side to side, looking for a telltale blur of heat. Where the hell was it? Come on, show yourself.

      Not finding a hint of the creature on land, he flicked a glance upward—and saw a figure speedily diving toward him, down, down. He didn’t panic as it came closer. Closer still. No, he grew eager, anticipatory.

      Almost here…Gray rolled out of the way a split second before contact. The demon crashed into the ground, and an evil hiss slithered through the night. Unfortunately the creature was up and hidden in the trees before he could fire off a shot.

      “You want to play hide and seek,” he shouted, “we’ll play hide and seek. Come and get me, you ugly bastard.” Gun pointing straight ahead, Gray jumped to his feet and ran. Ran toward the first cluster of dynamite, praying the demon followed. When he heard the rustle of a cloak and felt the warmth of breath on the back of his neck, he smiled with satisfaction.

      Oh, yeah. The little shit had followed him.

      As Gray passed the tree, he whipped around and aimed his gun. Boom! The bullet nailed the dynamite. Instantly fire spewed, and the tree exploded. The blast lifted Gray into the air, then slammed him onto the ground, shoving the air from his lungs. It did the same to the demon, and amid its howls of pain and fury, wooden shards and charred leaves rained.

      He’d hit him, Gray knew, fighting for breath, but had he slowed him down?

      An acrid stench and black smoke billowed around him as he pushed to his feet. Gray launched into a sprint, closing the distance between himself and the second cluster of dynamite. Infuriated, the demon followed once more; no longer playful and taunting, it stayed close on his heels. Saliva dripped from the too-white, too-sharp teeth, and onto Gray’s neck.

      Gray spun around and fired. Boom! The second cluster exploded, lighting up the shadows with orange-gold flames. A blast of pure heat swept over him; he went airborne again, but this time he expected it and hit the ground rolling. The demon propelled into another tree trunk, shrieking in rage and renewed pain, growling curses in a language Gray didn’t understand.

      Gray jolted up and started running.

      Now!