Atlas Corrigan Book Novels & Stories

She was trying so hard to make me listen to her, but it was nonsense. I smiled bitterly. "You just focus on that until you don't notice anything." My gaze flickered, losing its focus without any object in sight. "You obviously don't know who Atlas is. He is a man who dislikes frivolous and weak things, while I am what he dislikes. So what nonsensical conclusions are you telling me?" Rory only feels what she wants to feel, while I have my own views and considerations. I was sure Atlas wasn't as he said because I saw and knew him.

"There's no date, there's also no cohesive language. It's almost like a diary that's been added to over the centuries." "Shit." I rubbed a finger over my eyebrows. "Exactly. Atlas and Taryk are going to see about getting a private showing." I raised an eyebrow. "They have that kind of clout?" Ransom chuckled. "They have enough." "What does the book say about changing into animals?"

I dropped my bag and sank to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. "Hiding won't make the whispers stop, you know." I jerked my head up. Atlas was sitting two aisles over, his long legs stretched out in front of him, leaning back against a bookshelf filled with books on the French Revolution. He wasn't wearing his varsity jacket, just a dark, fitted sweater. Without the gold and black armor, he looked surprisingly human. "I'm not hiding," I lied, wiping a frustrated tear from the corner of my eye. "I'm studying."

“Meghan.” She looked up. “Leave Harbor Point alone.” I knew Meghan wouldn’t understand why I was pushing her away from Harbor Point. The truth was, Atlas had never been a normal development project. The people who had been involved in its dealings weren’t ordinary businessmen, and I’d seen what happened to people who got too curious. Some ended up in prison. Some disappeared. Others lost their minds trying to make sense of things they were never supposed to know. I’d learned early not to ask too many questions.

"Look, I’m not leaving until—" "Frank Carrington?" He froze at the sound of that voice. Turning, he saw a woman approaching the gate with a polite smile. Relief washed over him, when he saw that she bore a huge resemblance to Atlas...as in Atlas might as well been a younger male version of the woman, brown same eyes, same shade of brown curly hair. He didn’t need to be genius to tell that was Atlas’s mother. "Mrs. Harrigan," he said quickly, stepping forward. "I—uh—I’m really sorry to show up like this, but I’ve been trying to reach Atlas for days and—"

When I wake up, Atlas is sitting up beside me, reading the book I had recently been devouring to keep myself entertained. Eyes widening, I feel a wave of embarrassment flare through me as I realize just what that book was full of. "You’re up?" Atlas asks, not missing a beat. "Y-yeah," I respond, trying to ignore the burning on my cheeks and the back of my neck. "Um… How much of that have you read?" "Enough," he smirks. "No wonder you’re such a freak in bed." Shit. Could the earth open up and swallow me whole now? How could I have forgotten to hide that book like I was doing all the other times? Now he was going to think that I was some weirdo for reading such things.

The title gleamed on the cover: Yun’s Aromatic Codex. “Look closely, Hector. Do you recognize it?” He leaned in, scrutinizing it. Nicoletta’s words echoed in his mind: with both volumes together, one could uncover the map to Atlantis and claim the Shard of Life. With it came freedom from sickness and the promise of long life. For an old man staring down death, its allure was irresistible. “I’ll show you.” Caitlin opened the book to a middle page. Yellow powder spilled across the parchment, wriggling with something alive.

What?” I answer, working my way through the stacks of papers to rejoin him at the work area. “Did you discover something?” Atlas gestures, still incapable to pry his eyes absent from the paper, and that alarms me more than anything. Struggling to fight off a sudden wave of unease, I peer over his bear at the record. It’s small more than an office reminder, scribbled in a untidy hand—or paw—by somebody as well apathetic to record it accurately. It looks like Map book has pulled it from a stack of comparative messages, and by all appearances, there’s nothing uncommon almost it. On it is written:

Atlas said and I stepped forward, walking towards his cell. “Are you certain you would be able to…” Atlas started to ask me, worry written on his face. I didn't let him complete the sentence before cutting him short. “Open the gates.” Sighing, Atlas immediately opened the gate for me and I stepped in. The stench of blood and other things hit me and I tried my best not to double over. It was a good thing that Batya was with her cousins instead of following us down here. Stepping into the cells fills me with memories of hottigan, before it could get to me I pushed the thought aside as I ran my eyes around the cell meeting with the man who I assumed to be Greta's ally.

The door was opened, and a bright light shone into the room. An obscene voice was heard saying, “Whoa, you gorgeous ladies are pretty capable. You actually managed to untie yourselves.” When Bianca's and Quinn’s eyes finally adjusted to the light, they saw the disgusting man standing at the door. “Atlas Harrigan!” Bianca immediately recognized him. He was the only son of Tyson, and he had inherited his father’s lecherous ways. He loved having fun with women. “Yes, it's me. You didn’t dream you'd one day end up like this, did you, Bianca?” Atlas sneered as he approached them slowly.