Page 13 of The Dark Labyrinth

Keep looking,the goddess whispered, and Penelope jolted back from the desk.

Penelope's eyes drifted to the background on her screen, and she closed the program. There was a picture of her standing in the waters of Crete, holding a lump of rock.

"The tablet." The dream came back to her in a rush. She had been in Venice with Atlanteans, including the love of her life. Cold fingers of dread crept over her. "How did I get here? I don't…" She didn't belong there. Not anymore.

How was she back? Penelope leaped out of her chair, hurrying through the cubicle maze. She made it to the bathroom before she wretched up coffee and biscuits.

"No, no, no. I can't be back here. I was never going back." She washed her hands and bare arms. She grabbed more soap and scrubbed at her forearms harder and harder. Faint lines of tattoos seemed to float like shadows under her skin. Penelope remembered pain, Aelia singing, and the marks that had remained. She remembered Poseidon kissing the back of her wrist and leaving the tattooed mark of the book and trident.

"Give them back. This isnotmy life!" she snarled, scrubbing harder. This was a nightmare. She froze, her pulse in her throat. "I'm in the labyrinth."

Penelope looked around her at the prints of flowers on the bathroom walls and the line of stalls. She stepped back out into the halls of the university.

The labyrinth will make you confront your shadows,a deep masculine voice whispered through her mind.

"Alexis," Penelope whispered, her hand resting over her thrumming heart. She saw a silvery string of light in her mind'seye and almost wept. It was still there. Alexis wasn't a figment of her imagination.

Penelope walked down the hall of the university department, the nausea clawing up her throat again. This was the labyrinth fucking with her. She had to hold onto that to keep the panic attack at bay.

Penelope had faced real demons and murderers in the past year, and yet she stood in her greatest fear—that she would wake up and Alexis and her magicians would have all been some kind of dream.

"And what makes you think you haven't completely lost your mind?" Stuart Bryne appeared before her. His brogue was light most of the time but when he was in a yelling sort of mood, the Irish came out in him. "I always said your hunt for Atlantis was a complete waste of time and talent.Mydaughter, labeled as some kind of pseudo-archaeologist! You're a disgrace."

Penelope cringed back. "No, I'm not. I found evidence.Realevidence. No one believed me. I know it's real. I've met survivors."

"Survivors! Listen to yourself, Penelope. No on can survive for thousands of years."

"Now, love, don't shout," Kiri said, appearing at Stuart's side. "We talked about this. Penelope has been very stressed and just needs a nice break to get her head right. I've been told that the facility is very upmarket and peaceful."

"What are you talking about, Mom? I'm not going into any facility." Penelope's hands clenched at her side. "You two should have believed me. Should havesupportedme. I am your daughter, and yet you chose to think I was crazy. Atlantis was real. The survivors are real.Magicis real."

Penelope's fingers ached, and the rain outside the window started to circle around in patterns. Poseidon's magic flowed inher veins. The Storm Bringer. Overhead, thunder boomed, and the glass rattled.

"I don't belong here," she said, her voice rising as she looked at her old office and disapproving parents. "This isnotmy life anymore. It was only a stop on the path to where I was truly headed."

Her father started saying something, but his voice was drowned out by more thunder.

"Let me out," Penelope commanded.

The glass of the windows shattered, and saltwater rushed in, washing away her parents and colleagues, the desks and bookshelves toppling in a wave. Penelope no longer feared the sea. The sea was freedom. She dived under the waves and swam through a broken window.

Light shone above her through the water, and she kicked hard. She breached the surface with a deep gasp.

Carolyn was sitting on the edge of the pool, a glass of white wine with ice cubes in one hand. "Jesus, Pen, you were under there so long, I thought I was going to have to jump in and rescue you."

Penelope swam to the pool's edge and hauled herself onto the hot terracotta tiles. She wiped the salty water from her face. Salt. She had been in the ocean a moment ago.

"Sorry, what were we talking about?" Pen said, reaching for her bottle of Peroni.

"Why I'm stupid enough to agree to give Tim another chance," Carolyn replied, and she looked behind them to where he stood at the BBQ.

"Tim…" Penelope swallowed the hard lump in her throat. "You're giving him another chance because it's Tim, and you love him."

"You're right there. If only I could get him to stay away from Qumran," Carolyn said with a dramatic sigh. "Why do I have such a weak spot for archaeologists?"

"Because our attention to detail makes us the best lovers. You really should go with him next time," Penelope pointed out. She got to her feet. "I'm going to make sure he's not burning the sausages."

She was halfway across the backyard when she remembered the last time she saw Tim. He had been nothing but pulped flesh. Murdered by Abaddon.

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