Derek sat as quiet and still as possible, not daring to hope, not daring to say, Yes, take me to them, to the Prince, and I will tell all, for certainly they could not treat him as horribly as this fiend. For hours he’d listened to Benji’s old broadcasts, and realized the great camaraderie that existed within the tribe. They were not all lawless fiends. The Prince was no lawless fiend. But then again, how did Derek know what they would do with him? Could he expect the mercy they’d shown Rhoshamandes when Rhoshamandes had fallen into their hands? Rhoshamandes had been one of them, after all.

Allesandra made a soft exasperated noise. She stood between Derek and Rhoshamandes, and turned her full attention once more to Derek. She spoke again of “the bulletin” which had gone out over Benji’s “live” broadcast this evening, of Garekyn in New York, of Garekyn slaying one of their kind and devouring the brain, of Garekyn wounding a cherished blood drinker by the name of Eleni and escaping the powerful blood drinker Armand. She spoke again of what Armand had seen in the creature’s blood. The city. Amel. Derek put his arms over his head and buried his face in his left arm like a bird burying its head beneath its wing.

Glad he killed one of you, glad he escaped, glad he is free! And blast the intelligence to the whole world on your radio programs! Do it! Blast it to those of you who are not wicked, and not spiteful and not full of evil! Blast it to those who have hearts still in their breasts.

Rhoshamandes moved Allesandra to the side so that he loomed over his prisoner once more.

“I saw a city in your blood,” Rhoshamandes said, “and now the others are calling this city by a name, they’re calling it Atalantaya. Is that the name of this city? Are you the survivors of Atalantaya? This is Atlantis, isn’t it, Plato’s Atlantis?”

“Oh, don’t give him any ideas,” said Roland. “And certainly not anything as grand as the lost kingdom of Atlantis! The little fool. Don’t you realize that this creature is likely nothing but some form of mutant, who knows no more about himself than humans know about themselves?”

Arion interrupted. “They’re broadcasting more on this,” he said. “There is a woman now under investigation.”

“A woman?”

Derek kept his eyes tight, listening.

“Dark skin and the same black hair with the golden streak in it. Well, this is certainly beyond coincidence.”

“What, gold streaks in dark hair?” asked Roland. “What does that mean?”

“There’s more to it.”