The opportunity to travel to the legendary city of Atlantis did not come often, even for a mythical tree creature over a hundred years old. Ranger Woodruff Sprite was, as his name suggested, a wood sprite—a mythical creature who shared a special kinship with nature, in particular with trees. A spriggen in Celtic lore, a dryad in Greek mythology, sprites were known by various names across different cultures, and they were all technically part tree—a little-known truth that helped explain why the creatures could talk to trees. Woodruff had had wonderful conversations with cypresses and pines in his time at the Everglades park. Because they were stationary, trees were inquisitive about the world outside their realm, and being a gregarious sort, Ranger Sprite loved to regale them with stories from his colorful past. They especially enjoyed his stories of Atlantis, as did Sam London and the Guardian Tashi, whom he briefed about the city on the car ride to the dvergen subway station in Falling Waters State Park.
Vance had dozed off in the passenger seat of the SUV, preparing to take a driving shift halfway through the seven-plus-hour haul to Chipley, while Iaira was sound asleep in the back, no doubt exhausted by the day’s events. Fortunately, her fin had reverted to legs a few minutes after being hoisted out of the water in Biscayne Bay.
Even though Iaira had experienced the life-changing epiphany that she was a mermaid princess, her memories were shadowy at best. There was no choice for the group but to try to find Ta Cathair by following the path of the sacred points, starting with the first point—Atlantis.
“The island acts as a kind of neutral zone between mythical creatures of the sea and land,” Sprite explained while Vance snored. “The city has a diverse population and many opposing interests, which enabled the Atlantis Assembly, the city’s governing body, to negotiate an unusual agreement with Phylassos in the aftermath of the curse. For one, the city not only voluntarily shields itself from humans—”
“What do you mean ‘voluntarily shields itself from humans’? It’s not invisible because of the curse?” Sam interrupted quietly.
“No, it isn’t. Any devices or structures built by mythical creatures fall under the gryphon’s curse and are invisible to humanity,” Sprite noted. “But Atlantis was built with the help of ancient humans, who worked closely with dwarves.”
“The city is a hybrid. Part human, part other—like me,” Tashi concluded.
“Correct. And that creates inconsistencies. So the leaders agreed to hide the city through the use of an Atlantean fire crystal, which sits in a tower high atop the island.”
“Have you ever been there?” Sam inquired.
“A few times,” Sprite answered. He had been there three times to be exact—once as a child and twice in his work with the DMW. His second trip was a special errand for Phylassos. On that visit, Sprite recruited an operative to keep an eye on the city and report back with anything that might be of interest.
“What’s it like?” Sam asked.
“To be honest, it is much like a town in the Old West, where everyone instantly knows when a stranger shows up,” the ranger said with a smirk.
“He means they’re paranoid,” Sam told Tashi, who he assumed did not understand the analogy.
“Why is that?” she wondered.
“Atlantis was once a nexus of trade and commerce in the ancient world, but now, because it is always moving and difficult to reach, the populace has become isolated and suspicious of visitors.”
“How suspicious?” Sam followed up at the end of a yawn.
“Let’s just say that although Phylassos ensured that employees of the DMW would be allowed to conduct investigations anywhere the case might lead, we’d best keep a low profile. Atlantis is a wild, unpredictable place where trouble is often unavoidable.”
Sprite had no idea if his plan to get them to the mysterious island would work, given how far removed the city made itself from the rest of the world. All he knew was that in ancient times there were places that could be reached only through the use of a special key. This key would be inserted into a slot on the navigation console of a dvergen subway. Given the dwarves’ involvement in the building of Atlantis, it was believed that the keys were Atlantean crystals, and this was likely the reason Maris had parted with the object. Of course, this crystal had already sent Iaira soaring into the air and blasted a hole into the side of Sprite’s cabin….The question was, would it actually get them to Atlantis in one piece, or just blow them all to pieces? With the fate of the world resting in the balance, Sprite concluded that attempting to use the crystal as a key was a worthwhile gamble.
“Why are we picking up speed?” Sam asked as the dvergen subway car shot blindly through the narrow tunnel. They had been traveling for several minutes when the contraption had begun speeding up, which—considering how fast these machines traveled normally—was both impressive and terrifying. Sam remembered it increasing in speed when it was under the spell that had sent him and Vance to Scotland in his first case with the DMW. But this was different. This time the subway was moving even faster.
“I have a working theory, but you’re not gonna like it,” the doctor announced. His answer was barely audible over the noise of the jets.
“I believe I have the same theory,” Sprite added.
“Hold your breath!” Vantana exclaimed. “We’re about to get a little wet.”
Wet? Sam wondered what the doctor meant as he followed Vantana’s request and sucked in a breath. It became clear a moment later when the subway left the track and burst through the seafloor. It shot up to the surface, and Sam was instantly drenched. Then the subway leapt out of the ocean and rocketed into the sky. Iaira and Sam screamed in terror as the car continued its gravity-defying ascent. Maybe Sprite was wrong about all this, Sam thought. If he was, it was going to wind up costing them their lives.
Sam noticed that the car wasn’t shooting straight up. Rather, it was on an arcing trajectory. That provided a little relief; at least they wouldn’t wind up in orbit. And then the car began to descend—more like plummet—back toward the ground. They appeared to be headed for a lush, mountainous island and, more directly, into what appeared to be the mouth of a volcano.
“We’re coming in for a landing!” Vantana declared.
“Headfirst into that?” Sam asked incredulously, pointing at the mountain that was zooming ever closer.
“Let’s hope it’s no longer active,” Vance chimed in. Sam swallowed and shut his eyes, praying that he’d live through this to open them again.
As it turned out, the headfirst landing into the volcano was the preferred method of arrival in Atlantis. As soon as Sam felt the subway’s momentum begin to slow, he cautiously peeked with one eye and saw that the manner in which the subway car was being stopped was reminiscent of the hooks on aircraft carriers that were used to halt landing jets on short, narrow runways. But this wasn’t a hook; it was a metallic net that caught the subway car like a lacrosse ball and deposited it on a track running along a polished stone platform carved out of volcanic rock.
“That was unexpected,” Vance remarked as Iaira hurled herself out of the subway car and then hurled her lunch up onto the platform.
When Sam and the others emerged from behind the waterfall that hid the station, they found an overwhelming sight: an island-city unlike any Sam could have ever imagined. The waterfall flowed down from the emerald-green volcano that towered above their heads. It was the center of a small mountain range that skirted the island’s southern end. The crystal-turquoise water poured into a narrow river, which wound through a valley of lush jungle and into the city, where it split into canals between buildings. And oh, those buildings…
Gleaming towers of blue, green, and white stood more than fifty stories high and fanned out from a central point denoted by a shimmering obelisk that rose higher than all the surrounding structures. It reminded Sam of the Washington Monument on the National Mall in Washington, DC, but there was a niche below the capstone. Inside was a massive blue crystal the size of a truck that gleamed like a beacon in the sun. Sam’s awe was interrupted by the sounds of geese. He turned toward the noise and spotted a dozen colorful birds scampering across an open area near the river, but they weren’t geese.
“Are those dodo birds?” Sam asked in disbelief. He recognized the flightless birds from a school report on extinct animals he had written in third grade. They were about three feet tall and looked like a cross between a duck and a pigeon, with a long, hooking beak. According to his research for the report, the last known sighting of the creatures had been in the seventeenth century.
“Correct, Sam,” answered Sprite.
“Aren’t they extinct?” he asked.
“They would have been if not for the great dodo airlift of 1620,” Sprite revealed. “Now, that would have been a sight to see—a thousand dodo birds being whisked away to safety on the backs of flying horses. Songs were even written about it.” Sprite continued to walk ahead, humming an unfamiliar tune. Sam paused and tried to imagine the fantastical scenario before continuing on. As they approached the city limits, Sprite reiterated, “Remember, if anyone asks, we are on an investigation for Phylassos and that is all you need say.” Everyone nodded in agreement.
“Any idea where this first sacred point could be?” Dr. Vantana asked. “I reckon it’s mighty easy to get lost in a lost city.”
Sprite glanced over to Iaira, who bit her lip while thinking.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t remember.”
“That’s all right,” Sprite told her. “There is another option. It has been some time, but I do know a creature who has a finger on the pulse of this city. If there is anyone who knows where the first sacred point is, it would be her.”
“Her?” Vance inquired. Sprite nodded.
“She is a Nuppeppo with a penchant for collecting secrets.”
“A Nuppeppo? That’s from Japanese mythology, right?” Sam clarified. He recalled stumbling across the name when studying Nuks’s history.
“It is,” Sprite confirmed.
Sam’s attention was pulled away by the presence of Atlanteans going about their business. He saw mythical humanoids and their children playing in a park, alongside cynocephali and other creatures.
Sam and the rest of the group made their way into the city center along a sidewalk that ran the length of the river. The city itself looked like images Sam had seen of Venice, Manhattan, and Tokyo all rolled into one. Billboards advertised strange products, giant screens displayed bizarre sports, and flying contraptions carried creatures high above their heads. But there was something else even more exciting that caught Sam’s eye.
The canals of Atlantis were filled with unusual watercraft zipping this way and that, and among those boats were creatures—long-necked aquatic beasts that resembled seals with a giraffe’s neck. Sam had seen pictures of what was purported to be the legendary Loch Ness Monster, and these creatures were an uncanny match. Could they be the same kind of creature that had been spotted in Loch Ness, the large lake in the Scottish Highlands? Sightings of the creature dated all the way back to the sixth century, though no human had ever proven the monster’s existence.
Sam noticed that the beasts had four giant flippers, which they used to propel themselves rapidly through the water. They also had small square platforms on their backs that were carrying passengers, and that’s when Sam suddenly realized that the Loch Ness Monsters were water taxis.
“Are those Loch Ne—” Sam began.
“Don’t call them monsters,” Vance quickly interjected. “They’re sensitive to that.”
“Then what are they?” Sam asked.
“They’re a species of plesiosaur with a few minor differences.”
“Really? What kind of differences?” Sam inquired. Vance pointed to one of the creatures as it made a lane change. It was attempting to get around a giant conch shell that was doubling as a Jet Ski. The Loch Ness plesiosaur shot forward with tremendous speed and whipped in front of the vehicle.
“Whoa! They’re quick!” Sam exclaimed.
“Some of the fastest creatures on the planet,” Vantana told him. “They have to be to avoid detection. It’s an ancient water creature, so it must hide its existence.”
When Sprite stopped at the canal’s edge, Iaira took the opportunity to sit down and let her legs dangle in the water. She quickly transformed them back into a fin. She was getting the hang of it, Sam noted.
Sprite whistled, and one of the Loch Ness creatures swam up to the walkway. The plesiosaur wore a yellow baseball cap that read “Mesterville Argonauts,” which Sam concluded was a local sports team.
“Five of yous?” the creature asked with an accent that sounded strangely Brooklyn-esque.
“That’s right. You wouldn’t happen to know where Squishy and the Believers are playing tonight?” Sprite asked.
The creature scoffed. “Of course. Everyone knows where Squishy plays. She’s got a nightly gig at the Lemurian Lounge in Elasipposton.”
“Can you take us there?” Sprite inquired.
“You sure yous wanna go there?” the creature asked. “Squishy is great and all, but why not the new waterfront? They’ve got crystal-bottomed boats, and the whale Jonah rode in gives rides to tourists. It’s pretty popular.”
“Is it popular with your wallet as well?” Sprite said, suggesting that the creature received a kickback for his recommendations. The monster sighed.
“All right, all right. Climb on. The name’s Niles,” he said.
“Nice to meet you,” Sprite offered, without giving his name. The omission did not go unnoticed, as the creature’s eyes lingered on him for a moment before shifting to Iaira and her fin.
“You—mermaid—you look familiar to me.”
“I have that sort of face,” Iaira retorted. “You mind if I just swim alongside?”
“No offense, but you couldn’t keep up. Grab one of those straps and hold on tight,” he said, nudging his head toward two straps attached to the rider platform. They looked like the kind in subway cars that commuters use to hang on. Iaira swam over and grabbed one.
As Tashi climbed on, Niles studied her with squinty eyes. He made a barking sound like a seal. Tashi paused and met his gaze, then turned away. He chuckled.
“Hang on!” Niles warned as he took off through the water. He zoomed in between other vehicles and animals, zipping right and left and right again. Iaira appeared to be having an absolute blast and even shouted an excited “Woo-hoo!”
“Do you think he recognized the princess?” Sam quietly asked Sprite.
“Perhaps. Hopefully he is discreet,” the ranger said.
“He doesn’t strike me as the discreet type,” Vantana added.
“Me neither,” said Tashi. “That bark he uttered—in his language it means ‘Guardian.’ ”
“Smart cookie,” Vance concluded.
“It is best if we finish our business as quickly as possible and leave this place before rumors start circulating,” Sprite suggested.
Niles pulled into a narrow offshoot of one of the city’s main thoroughfares. After an abrupt stop, he announced, “Here we are. Tell ’em Niles sent you!” Sprite eyed him.
“Another kickback?” the ranger asked.
“C’mon, pal. I’ve got a family of eighteen to feed.”
Sprite nodded, then pulled out of his pocket several coins that glinted with a reddish-gold hue.
“What are those?” Sam whispered curiously.
“Orichalcum,” Sprite told him. “An ancient alloy that originated right here in Atlantis and remains quite valuable.” Sprite dropped the coins into a pouch that hung off Niles’s neck.
“Very generous,” Niles said, his eyes widening. “Very generous. Will you be requirin’ any additional transportations? I can wait and take you where yous wanna go.”
“That would be welcome, if it’s not too much trouble,” Sprite told him with a smile.
“No trouble at all. I’ll take my dinner break, if it’s all right with yous.”
“Sure,” the ranger agreed as they all stepped off Niles’s platform to a set of limestone stairs that led down from the sidewalk and into the water, where the nightclub was partially submerged. Fortunately, it was only about three feet of water. They headed down the steps to the entrance to the club, where a flickering sign at the bottom of the stairway announced: “The Lemurian Lounge Presents Atlantis’s Own Squishy and the Believers. Nightly at 5 AT and 7:30 AT.” Sam spotted Iaira swimming through a tunnel from the canal to the club’s entrance.
“They’re very accommodating,” the mermaid observed.
“When you’re a place that also caters to sea creatures, it’s just good business,” Sprite said. He glanced up at the sun. “The first show ends in a few minutes; hopefully, I can have a word with Squishy between sets.”
“Let’s go grab a table in the interim,” Vance announced, and started for the door. Sprite put a hand on Vance’s shoulder to stop him.
“Perhaps it would be best if I went alone,” he suggested. “Squishy can be reticent about land dwellers.”
“I appreciate that, Ranger, but heck no,” Vance told him. “I’m not splitting us up. Not here. We go together.” Sprite nodded but still appeared hesitant.
The Everglades ranger slid the front door open, and they sloshed in, with Iaira swimming alongside. Music filled the venue—it was a slowed-down version of an eighties song Sam had heard before.
“Culture Club.” Vance identified the band, amused.
The chorus of the song asked the peculiar question “Do you really want to hurt me?” Sam found it particularly haunting when paired with the singer’s voice, which was feminine but deep and raspy. The group made their way to a rounded booth and sat down.
The crowd was sparse and included an eclectic array of mythical creatures, many of which Sam didn’t immediately recognize. The waiters appeared to be a sort of humanoid dolphin. Vance must have noticed Sam eyeing them.
“Encantado,” he noted. “They’re from South American folklore.”
They sped around delivering food and drinks, their trays held a few inches above the water’s surface. The tables were both above and below the water, with some patrons eating snacks that consisted of live fish still swimming in bowls. Gross, Sam thought. The interior of the club was dark and dank, like a cave. In fact, it appeared to be carved out of the same black volcanic rock as the subway platform.
Sam’s eyes finally reached the band on the stage, part of which was also submerged. There was a bevy of strange instruments, including horns made of shells; red coral drums, played by an octopus-man; and string instruments that used thin strands of multicolored seaweed. The singer was one of the oddest creatures Sam had ever seen—in person or in the pages of books. The one they called Squishy was as tall as Vance and three times as wide, with pinkish-white skin. A lot of skin. So much that the creature’s face was nearly lost in the drooping folds of flab. Stubby appendages stuck out from the body, which were likely its arms and legs. It looked like a melting candle, with a dome-shaped top that finished in a square-shaped bottom. Squishy’s eyes were barely visible, but Sam could see they were staring at his table.
“That’s her,” Sprite informed them.
“Squishy?” Vance verified. The other ranger nodded.
“She’s been performing in Atlantis for centuries,” he told the group, “and is quite popular and very well networked, which should help us.”
When the song ended, there was light applause and Squishy took a sip of a purple liquid from a tall glass on a nearby stool. She used a straw that was a few feet long to avoid having to pick up the drink with her short arms. She finished quenching her thirst, then spoke to the crowd in the same deep, gravelly tone as her singing voice.
“This next song is dedicated to a couple who walked into this club over a decade ago,” she said in a Japanese accent. “So very much in love. This was their song. Squishy often wonders what happened to them.”
The band kicked in with the song “Happy Together.” Sam recalled hearing the tune around the house and in the car with his mom. Ettie called it an “oldie but goodie,” and she’d often sing along. This version was slower, more deliberate in its delivery. Oddly, Squishy didn’t take her eyes off Sam or his table during the entire performance.
“I prefer the original arrangement,” Vance quipped quietly to Sam.
“Me too,” Sam agreed.
At the end of the tune, Squishy waved one of her stubby appendages to her audience, who clapped appreciatively. She waddled offstage, where she was met by a yeti that sported two blue-tinged stripes on its head and was easily the largest Sam had yet seen. Sam saw Tashi tense at the sight of the Guardians’ mortal enemy.
“Stand down, Guardian,” Sprite told her. “He’s hired security. Very professional.”
“I thought yeti weren’t allowed outside their valley,” Sam remarked, thinking back to what Vantana had told him. He knew the yeti had rebelled when the gryphon chose the Guardians as protectors of the claw. It had been a new arrangement that ended centuries of yeti protection of Phylassos and spurred tremendous discord. The yeti were subsequently prohibited from leaving their home in the Himalayas.
“Yes, but the prohibition applied only to the yeti who were present in the valley when the edict was put in place,” Sprite explained. “They were the ones who organized and launched the rebellion. There were several clans living on Atlantis then, working as security for officials and celebrities. These yeti were allowed to continue their work but were banned from returning home.”
“Learn somethin’ new every day, huh, Tashi?” Vance said, nudging the Guardian with his elbow. Tashi eyed the doctor curiously.
“I do, Doctor. Often more than one thing,” she replied, clearly not catching the sarcasm. Vance just shook his head and chuckled.
“You crack me up, kid.”
“Here she comes,” Sprite announced. “I will do the talking.”
As Squishy approached the table, she eyed the group and slowed to a stop. The yeti guard loomed over her from behind, leveling a steely glance at Sam and the others.
“Woodruff Sprite,” Squishy said. “It has been a long time since Squishy has seen your face.”
“Yes, it has,” Sprite replied with a smile. “The DMW keeps me quite busy. But I’m pleased to see that you sound as wonderful as always and are just as lovely as when last we met.”
“Flattering Squishy, are you?” she said with a cynical tone. “Woodruff Sprite must need something. The DMW does not travel to Atlantis without a purpose.”
“My compliments are sincere, I assure you, but you are correct that I come with a purpose. A rather important one. Urgent, even.”
“One that could affect the fate of the world, no less?”
“There is that distinct possibility,” he responded.
“There always seems to be with you,” she replied snarkily.
“What is that smell?” Sam asked Tashi under his breath. It had just now surfaced. The stench was subtle, nearly overwhelmed by a strong flowery scent. But it was there, lingering just beneath the perfumed air. It was best compared to rotting fruit. What was with the pungent odors on this case? Sam wondered. First the skunk apes, and now this.
“What odor?” Tashi replied loudly.
Squishy immediately bristled at Tashi’s remark, and Sprite’s face changed to one of extreme concern. Iaira must have recognized a faux pas in the making and quickly intervened.
“I think it smells wonderful! Like gardenias,” she remarked with her charming smile. Squishy shifted her gaze to the mermaid and appeared to relax.
“Thank you. You smell nice as well,” the creature told her, before pivoting back to Sprite. “Squishy is sorry, Woodruff, but she has to prepare for the next performance. Some other time, perhaps? Squishy will check her calendar and get back to you.”
“Squishy, I—” Sprite stood up and began to make a plea, but the yeti held him back with one hand. Squishy waved him away.
“Thanks for coming.”
And with that, the creature shuffled off, disappearing through a doorway at the end of the bar. Sprite was dumbstruck.
“I wasn’t expecting that sort of response,” the ranger admitted. “We have not seen each other in some time, this is true, but I was hoping she’d be willing to at least hear me out.”
“Maybe she offended her,” Iaira suggested, gesturing toward Tashi.
“Me?” Tashi asked defensively.
Sam interjected. “That was my fault.”
“It’s possible. She’s very self-conscious about her smell,” Sprite told them thoughtfully. “Always has been.”
“Why’s that?” Sam asked.
“Nuppeppos are known to stink somethin’ awful,” Vance explained. “But I thought she smelled rather nice, considering. Perfumed herself up, I reckon.”
“Squishy prizes perfume. That I recall,” Sprite said with a smile.
“So what’s plan B?” Vance inquired.
“I’m afraid I don’t know. We may have to contact the big guy,” Sprite posited.
“Phylassos?” Sam asked, to which Sprite nodded.
“That could take days,” Vance said. “I’ve already got a line in to him and I haven’t heard a thing.”
A moment of silence passed as the five sat considering their circumstances and options. And then Sam had an idea, or rather, he smelled one.
“Princess?” Sam said, getting Iaira’s attention. “Do you have any of your perfume in your bag?”
“Yes,” she replied. “It’s a perfume that I—I mean, Pearl—helped create. It’s sold in boutiques in Miami. You can smell like me. It was pretty popular with all of my gems.”
“Can I have it?” Sam asked. Iaira eyed him curiously, then reached into her waterlogged purse and handed him a small glass bottle in the shape of a pearl. The liquid inside was clear, and an etching on the front read “Shimmer by Pearl.”
“It’s all yours,” she said with a smile.
“What’s percolating in that head of yours?” Vance asked him.
“Follow me,” Sam replied. He slipped out of the booth and led the group to the backstage door. He cracked the door open and noticed the yeti standing guard outside Squishy’s dressing room. “Ranger Sprite, do you think you could get his attention?”
Sprite eyed the boy. “I believe so. As long as Tashi has my back.”
“I do,” Tashi assured him, gripping her shekchen. Sprite swallowed and headed into the hallway.
“Excuse me. Mr. Yeti, I demand an audience with Squishy this instant!” Sprite announced as he marched toward the creature. The yeti turned and met Sprite halfway, blocking his path. “You don’t scare me,” Sprite told him. He attempted to push past the yeti, but the creature moved to block him. Sam took the opportunity to slip by the two of them and head to the dressing room unnoticed. He could hear Sprite continue to protest as Sam knocked on the partially opened door. Sam peeked inside to find the singer sitting at a dressing table, applying copious amounts of makeup in the mirror.
“Fans are not allow—” Then she paused, spotting him. “You again? Squishy thought she made herself clear to Woodruff. Must she call security? He’s a yeti, you know. Rumor has it, you had an experience with yetis not too long ago.”
“So you know who I am?” Sam inquired with a touch of surprise.
“Of course, Sam London. Everyone knows about you. Some longer than others,” Squishy said.
“Oh?” Sam replied, unsure of her meaning. Squishy gazed back into the mirror and continued her regimen.
“Woodruff is well aware that secrets have a cost, and the one you seek is highly valuable, as it puts Squishy in danger.”
“You know what we’re looking for?” Sam asked her curiously.
“That girl with you…she is Princess Iaira, is she not?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam responded, feigning ignorance.
“You’re an adorable liar, Sam London,” Squishy said. “What is that in your hand?”
“It’s a gift for you,” Sam told her, holding up the bottle of Pearl’s perfume. He added, “Sprite said you like perfume, and we all wanted to give you a gift after you graced us with your wonderful voice.”
Squishy eyed Sam, then waddled over with surprising speed, snatched the bottle out of his hand, and returned to her dressing table. Sam was stunned by her quickness. Squishy sprayed herself with the perfume, then closed her eyes and smiled as she breathed in the scent. When her eyes opened again, they were fixed on Sam.
“Squishy likes you, Sam London,” she said. “You know how to treat a lady.” She gestured for him to come closer, and Sam stepped forward. He was happy she had sprayed the perfume, as it helped mask her true scent. “Squishy does not know for certain the answer to what you seek, but she hears many things,” she said just under her breath. “One thing she has heard more than all the others, and so that is the one she believes to be true. The first sacred point is said to lie above the great crystal at the top of the Tower of Atlas.”
“You mean the one way up…” Sam gestured, and Squishy nodded.
“Iaira’s return to Ta Cathair will save lives, but be warned, there are those who do not wish to see her return. Squishy hears many things.” Sam nodded, understanding.
“Thank you,” he said, then moved to leave.
“Do you know why Squishy did not give Sprite this information?”
“Because he didn’t have a gift?” Sam answered earnestly. Squishy shook her head, which shook her entire body.
“Because he did not make good on his promises. Squishy has been keeping a secret for him and the gryphon for twelve years.”
“That’s as long as I’ve been alive,” Sam told her.
“Of course it is,” she said, and smiled. “Perhaps he will tell you this secret. Perhaps you should ask him.”
“Okay…,” Sam said, uncertain as to why he should but wanting to be agreeable.
“And tell Dr. Vantana Squishy said hello, though he may not remember Squishy,” she added. “Memories are fleeting things in his line of work. This reminds Squishy that she has a gift for you as well.”
“You do?”
Squishy nodded, and again her whole body moved. She reached into a drawer in her dresser and pulled out a small, wrapped, square-shaped package. “Well, not for you in particular. But for you to give to someone. Squishy has been holding on to this for quite a long time. Waiting for the recipient to come along.” She handed it over to Sam. “This is to be given to Dr. Vantana when your journey is over, and not a moment before. Do you promise this?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“When the journey is over, Sam London,” she repeated. Sam nodded.
As he exited Squishy’s dressing room, Sam considered what the creature had said about Vance. He knew from his first case that Penelope Naughton’s memory had been erased, and it appeared Squishy was suggesting that Vance had also lost memories of some kind. A discussion for another time, he thought as he exited the club and found the group waiting outside.
“Well, she didn’t eat you,” Vance quipped. “That’s a good sign.”
“You assured me she was harmless, Dr. Vantana,” Tashi said, annoyed. “I would never have agreed to—”
“It’s a joke, Tashi. Relax. He’s fine.”
“I’m more than fine,” Sam announced. “I know where the first sacred point is,” he whispered. They all leaned in to hear. “The Tower of Atlas, above the crystal.”
“Of course,” Sprite said. “Makes perfect sense. Though I am surprised she told you.”
“The perfume softened her up,” Sam explained. “She claimed you didn’t make good on some promise,” he then told Sprite. “Something about a secret. And she wanted me to say hello to you, Dr. Vantana.”
“Me? I’ve never met her before,” Vance replied.
“She said you might not remember.”
“I reckon I’d recall meetin’ a Nuppeppo named Squishy,” Vance said, puzzled. “What do you make of that, Ranger?”
“Memories can be fleeting things,” Sprite replied with a shrug. Before Sam could note that Squishy had spoken the same words, Sprite quickly added, “I best be getting back to the Everglades before the trees start to miss me. You’re on the right track now. Good luck.” Sprite headed off to the main canal and waved over another taxi.
On the way to the Tower of Atlas aboard the Loch Ness water taxi, Dr. Vance Vantana reflected upon the fact that he had never been to Atlantis before. Technically speaking, he was barred from traveling to the lost city. It wasn’t anything he’d done, per se; rather, it was a request made by Dr. Knox after an incident in the Russian taiga forest more than a decade earlier. Vance’s memory of the ordeal was sketchy, given his run-in with a mythical creature known as the Baba Yaga.
As Knox had relayed the story days later, Vance had come to check on his mentor after Knox went to speak with the Maiden Council—a ruling council of swan maidens on Russia’s Lake Baikal—regarding human encroachment on the habitats of mythical sea creatures. When Vance didn’t hear from the doctor after an agreed-upon time, he hiked into the forest to check on Knox. Unbeknownst to Vance, this was a major violation, and the attack from the Baba Yaga was swift. Vance was knocked out cold and woke up in the care of Knox, who explained that the meeting had not gone well.
Knox subsequently concluded that it’d be best if Vance and other human rangers working with the DMW avoided interactions with creatures of the sea realm. This included visits to Atlantis, given the island-city’s preponderance of mythical sea creatures. Fortunately, no investigations had required Vance to travel to the city, so the issue had yet to come up. That is, until now.
It had been years since Knox’s edict, and given the urgency of this case, Vance felt it was permissible for him to travel to Atlantis on this occasion. After all, it was a mythical sea creature that had violated the gryphon’s law on land, and the DMW was well within its jurisdiction on the matter. He wondered if he should have checked with Phylassos about the decision, but the gryphon had become even more difficult to reach since the events in Hérault. Phylassos was clearly distracted by something, but by what, Vance hadn’t a clue. Maybe it was another case that was more critical to the mission of the DMW. Hard to say, but whatever the situation, Vance had little choice but to follow this lead to Atlantis and take his chances.
Vance stepped off Niles’s back and onto the city’s bustling central plaza, which was filled with all manner of mythical creatures selling their wares or shopping. He stared in awe at the gleaming tower that stood at the plaza’s center and represented the very heart of Atlantis, literally and figuratively. This tower held the crystal that powered the entire city, so getting inside would not be an easy task, especially since two stoic scorpion men were guarding the entrance. The humanoid scorpions, complete with tails that could sting with deadly harm, hailed from Mesopotamia, an ancient area of the Middle East.
“How are we going to get inside that place?” Iaira asked.
Before Vance could propose a plan, the massive orichalcum doors opened and a large figure stepped out. He was a broad-shouldered and bare-chested man, wearing a long turquoise robe and a short beige kilt with elaborate colored symbols. He held what appeared to be a kitten in his hands, until he got closer and Vance realized it was actually a tiger.
“Naw, it can’t be,” Vance thought out loud.
“Who? Who is it?” Sam asked.
“Gilgamesh.” They all looked at Vantana blankly. “Seriously? The Epic of Gilgamesh? Only happens to be one of the great ancient works of human literature. Y’all need to go to a library when we get back.” Of course, the doctor had learned years ago that The Epic of Gilgamesh wasn’t exactly literature, at least not of the fictional variety. It actually happened. The story told how Gilgamesh was an arrogant king whom the gods sought to punish by sending a wild man to defeat him in battle. But the man and Gilgamesh became lifelong friends. When the wild man died, Gilgamesh was heartbroken and went on a pilgrimage, searching for the secret to eternal life. In the story, he never discovered this secret, but in reality he found it and kept it to himself ever since. Vance had a run-in with Gilgamesh back when the doctor was just starting out with Dr. Knox, and he remembered the former king as being the consummate big-time operator, someone who traded favors like they were currency. Recently Vantana had learned that after a long stint in the Atlantis Assembly, Gilgamesh had ascended to be mayor of the city.
“A meeting with the mayor? I’m guessin’ this ain’t coincidence,” the doctor said with a smile as Gilgamesh walked up. The latter chuckled deeply.
“You’d be surprised how quickly word spreads when continent dwellers are roaming around my island with a long-lost mermaid princess,” he replied.
“Nothin’ gets past you, huh?” Vance remarked.
Gilgamesh shrugged. “The Bishop Fish are advisors to the Assembly. Iaira, is that really you?” He studied the princess, and a smile broke out across his face that was broader than his shoulders. “By the legend of Sharur, it is you! Everyone believes you to be dead,” he disclosed.
“We hope to change that,” Vantana told him. “Are things as dire as the selkie claimed?”
“From what I’ve heard, war is looming. Iaira’s return could calm the waters, but it will be choppy.”
“Then we need to get there A-SAP, but the problem is she doesn’t remember where it’s at,” Vance told him. “So now we’re on the path of the five sacred points.”
“Let me guess. You believe the first one is at the top of the tower?” a smirking Gilgamesh asked.
The doctor played it cool. “We’ve heard rumors. We thought we’d go have ourselves a look-see.”
“You thought wrong,” the mayor informed him. Vance had anticipated this. Gilgamesh was not the type to just roll over because an entire civilization was at risk. He would see this as an opportunity to further his influence. “I will let Iaira pass, because I owe her mother a favor,” he said. Then he turned to Tashi. “You can pass because you are a Guardian and I have great respect for those whom Phylassos trusts with his life. But you two may go on only one condition,” he told Sam and Vance. “The DMW will owe me a favor. A big one.”
“What kind of favor?” Sam asked.
“The only thing I don’t know is the future, my boy. You’ll find out when I do.”
“I know I’m going to regret this, but all right. Let’s get on with it,” Vance capitulated. Gilgamesh happily nodded his approval and gestured to the entrance of the tower.
“Follow me.”
As they stepped through the tower’s massive doors, they found the interior pulsating with cables of blue luminescence that snaked down from the top of the tower, along the walls, and to the floor, where it disappeared in every direction. There was an elevator on one of the walls that reached to the tower’s peak. It was a simple platform with three railings. Before they climbed on, Gilgamesh turned to Tashi and gestured to her shekchen.
“If what I know about those weapons is true, you may want to leave it down here,” he suggested. Tashi glanced over to Vance, who nodded his agreement. She hesitated, then set it on the ground and got onto the platform.
Gilgamesh handed out dark goggles, like something Sam imagined a welder would wear. Everyone put them on, and the platform rose until it reached the crystal’s chamber. The brightness was overpowering—without the shades, it would have been impossible to see anything.
“What now?” Iaira asked as they stepped into the chamber.
Sam pointed to the crystal. “She said it was above the crystal….Maybe you have to get closer to see it,” he suggested. Iaira looked to Gilgamesh for approval.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “I’ve never been near that thing. I don’t think anyone has. Much too dangerous.”
“Come, I will guide you,” Tashi told Iaira, offering her hand. Iaira took it, and the two approached the massive blue crystal. It sat only a few feet off the ground and was positioned directly beneath the capstone. Up close, it seemed to pulse like a beating heart, the light shining strongly, then dimming, then gleaming again. Iaira stretched out her free hand to touch the crystal, as if drawn to it.
“Don’t—” Vance warned her.
“I won’t,” she told him, holding her hand a few inches from the surface. “I learned my lesson. I was just trying to see if—”
There was a sudden and massive surge of blue energy that leapt from the crystal and poured into Iaira’s body. The crystal blinked off, and the building went dark as the electricity for the entire city shut down. Iaira’s body was instantly illuminated, and she rose several feet off the floor. She appeared to grip Tashi’s hand more tightly, and the Guardian’s eyes closed, her face grimacing. Then the blue energy shot out of Iaira’s mouth and nose and back into the crystal. The current instantly started flowing again, and Vance could hear the distinctive whir of power being restored. Iaira dropped to the floor in a heap. Tashi was thrown backward and slid across the floor. She caught herself just before she went over the edge. Iaira’s hair was now standing on end, and she appeared frazzled, pale, and terrified.
“Are you okay?” Sam asked, rushing to Iaira’s side. “What happened?”
“It was—in the water—it was raining down—on me,” she stammered.
“What was?” Sam responded. She met his gaze and whispered ominously:
“Blood.”