“Where’s the other one?” Ari asked.
“On her side.” Nick nodded toward the bloodstained shirt.
Ari peeled the fabric away, then laid his hand over the wound beneath her ribs and repeated the process. Seconds later, it was over. Cynna lay limp on the ground, gasping and moaning.
Ari leaned back on his heels. “You’ll need to cover those. The burns will heal quickly, but they can still get infected.”
Nick nodded, a wave of relief sliding through him. Relief that was as foreign as the protective urge he’d felt before. “Thanks.”
Abruptly, Ari pushed to his feet and drew in a deep breath, as if sniffing the humid air. A low growl built in his throat.
Nick’s head came up. He shot a look at Ari, then glanced around the dark airstrip. “What do you sense?”
Ari’s head darted from side to side, and that crazed, wild look filled his mismatched eyes all over again. “Sirens.”
He shot into the trees and was gone.
Blinking rapidly, Cynna looked toward Nick, still pale and glassy-eyed, but at least now no longer bleeding. “Wh-what was that?”
Nick pulled the extra bandages from his pocket, which he’d snagged from that house. “Serious psychosis, that’s what that is.”
He wrapped the first bandage around the blisters forming on her inner arm, then moved to her side, careful not to press on the wound. Even though it was closed, the burns had to hurt like a bitch.
“Who is he?” Her voice was weak, tired, and run-down. But at least now rest would fix that. Relief slid through him. Which, again, was a wacked reaction for him to have.
“An ex-Argonaut.”
“Ex? I don’t recognize the name.”
“Remember I told you he faked his death? He did it after his son came of age and joined the order. His given name is Aristokles.”
Cynna’s brow lowered. “That sounds oddly familiar. Which Argonaut is his son?”
Being Argolean, even if she hadn’t lived in Tiyrns, it made sense she’d know who the guardians were. Everyone in the damn land did. “Cerek.”
“Why did he leave the order?”
Nick shrugged. “Couldn’t take it anymore, I guess. You saw him. He’s a little different.”
She was silent for a moment while he pulled her shirt down and covered her with the blanket again. “What’s with the Siren thing? Are they really out there? Why would he go looking for Zeus’s warriors alone?”
Nick settled back and rested his hands on his knees, feeling a hell of a lot better than he had only minutes before. “Because he hunts them.”
“Hunts Sirens?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
He shrugged again and looked toward the trees. There was no telling how long Ari would be gone. The guy was like a cat, here one minute, gone the next. And while before her questions might have irritated him, at least now they kept him from thinking about what he was going to do with her once he got her back to the colony.
“Remember I told you a soul mate is a curse, not a blessing?” She nodded. “Ari’s the perfect example of that. Several years back, while he was out on a mission for the Argonauts, he came across an injured nymph. The way he tells it, she’d been hurt escaping from Zeus’s clutches. He took her to Argolea, where Zeus and the other Olympians can’t cross, and basically fell for her. Claimed she was his soul mate and that they were meant to be together. Some would say she was his prisoner, others, his lover. I’m not sure. I wasn’t there and don’t know. But according to Ari, they were madly in love. Only Zeus wanted her back. He was pissed that an Argonaut had stolen his prize. So he sent his Sirens to kidnap the nymph and bring her back. When Ari realized she was gone, he went a little ballistic and abandoned his duties to find her. Caused all kinds of trouble for the guardians. Eventually he caught up with the Sirens, and a fight resulted. The nymph was killed.”
“Oh geez.”
“After that, he lost it. Went on this killing spree. Any Siren he could find. It was bloody. The guardians tried to rein him in but couldn’t. When an Argonaut loses his soul mate it can get nasty. Anyway, to keep peace with Olympus, they banished him to the human realm. His son, Cerek, however, didn’t want to accept that ruling. He found him. Thought he could rehabilitate him and bring him back. Ari didn’t want to go back, though. All he wanted to do was go on killing Sirens, chipping away at Zeus wherever he could. But he also knew Cerek would never give up on him. So he faked his death to get his kid to back off.”
“In a fire,” Cynna mumbled.
Nick glanced her way. “How do you know that?”
“The scars on his face and neck.”
“Yeah.” Nick looked back at the flames in front of him. “In a fire. One I set.”
“You?”
Nick shrugged. “He asked for my help. I gave it. I held no love for the Argonauts back then.”
“And now?”
His mind drifted to his soul mate and his brother, Demetrius. And though that pull toward Isadora was still there, it wasn’t nearly as strong as it had once been. Something he found both odd and relieving. He shrugged again. “Now I still hold no love for them.”
Cynna was silent for several moments. Softly, she said, “I didn’t know about the tracker. If Zagreus put it in my arm, it means he doesn’t trust me.”
Nick knew she was right, but he was fighting conflicting feelings where she was concerned. And those feelings, combined with his strange increased powers and the changes in the soul mate draw made him mistrust his gut reaction. More than ever, he wasn’t about to get caught being stupid. Not by Cynna. Not by anyone. “I haven’t decided if I trust you yet either.”
“You have every right not to trust me,” she said in a tired voice. “But I promise you, I’m not working with Zagreus.”
Promises were easy to make. It was keeping those promises that was the hard part. As much as Nick wanted to believe her, knowing she’d voluntarily been with Zagreus meant there was a whole other side of her he’d yet to uncover. A side he wasn’t quite sure he was ready for.
He looked out at the dark jungle. “You should sleep. Ari could be gone a while. I’ll wake you when it’s time to leave.”
She stared up at him, and he sensed she wanted to say something more, but didn’t. After several long seconds, she sighed, tipped her head on the blanket beneath her cheek, and closed her eyes. “Thank you for saving my life.”
A lump formed in his throat, one he didn’t like. He looked back at her, eyes closed, that odd blonde hair falling across her cheek. “Don’t thank me. I’m only keeping you alive as leverage.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “You still saved me. No one else even tried. I won’t forget that.”
Neither would Nick. And he had a strange feeling that fact was going to change things for him in ways he wasn’t sure he was ready for.
A popping sound erupted in the trees behind him. Far off but growing closer. Nick jerked around and looked that direction.
Cynna’s eyes flew open, and she pushed up on her hand. “What was that?”
“Gunfire.” Nick rose to his feet and squinted to see toward the trees, his senses growing sharp, tuning in to the surroundings. Seven, no…ten men. In two vehicles. Heading their direction.
An engine revved. More gunshots exploded. Cynna pushed to stand at his side, wobbled, then gripped his arm to hold herself upright. “Gunfire?”
“Shit.” Nick’s pulse shot up. And not from the warmth of her palm resting against his bare skin. No, this was from the fact something bad was about to go down.
The brush rustled to his left. He reached for the blade he’d swiped from Zagreus’s lair and left by the fire. Swords and axes and other handheld weapons were effective against the Prince of Darkness’s minions, but gunfire meant humans. And humans shooting shit meant trouble of a whole different variety.
The rustling grew louder. Nick pushed Cynna behind him. “Run for the plane.”
“But—
”
Ari lurched through the brush before Cynna could finish her protest, his arms waving wildly, his eyes as wide as saucers. “Go! Run! Get the fucking engine started!”
Nick’s muscles bunched, and he ushered Cynna toward the plane. She stumbled and almost fell. Swooping her into his arms, Nick picked up his speed and sprinted. Ari raced up at his side.
Nick reached the plane, set Cynna down, and jerked the door open. “What the hell did you do?”
Ari skidded to a stop, kicking up dirt and rocks. “I was wrong. Not Sirens. Not even close. Couple of whores servicing a group of drug runners.”
“Skata.” Nick helped Cynna into the back of the plane. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I only sampled one.”
“Son of a fucking bitch.” Nick knew exactly what Ari’s “sampling” entailed. The fucker liked to play with his prey. “You didn’t stop when you realized she wasn’t a Siren?”
“She was hot, even if she was a whore. I have needs, asshole.”
Nick climbed into the plane after Cynna and yanked the door closed. Ari slid into the pilot’s seat and reached for his headset.
“I must have stumbled across their grow. No way they cared about those chicks.” Rapidly, Ari pushed buttons on the instrument panel. Lights flicked on, then the engine roared, and the propeller coughed to life, spinning slowly at first and picking up speed.
Nick took the copilot’s seat and reached for his seat belt while Ari maneuvered the plane toward the end of the grass runway. The tires bounced along the uneven ground, jostling them in their seats. “They’re going to be through those trees any minute.”
“I know, I know,” Ari repeated, hands gripping the wheel.
“You’ve got a fucking problem, psycho.”
“I’m saving your ass, aren’t I?”
“Barely,” Nick tossed back. Son of a bitch, he should have called the damn Argonauts instead of this nut job.
“Ah, Nick?” Cynna said from the backseat, fear filling her voice.
Nick whipped around and glanced over his shoulder, out the window. The sun was just starting to come up, casting an eerie white light through the jungle. But he easily saw what she was looking at. Two trucks emerged from the trees and barreled toward them, the beds filled with men carrying automatic weapons.
Nick’s jaw ticked. “You better fly, Ari.”
“Flying high’s what I do best.” Ari turned the plane toward the runway and punched the engine. “Hold on, fuckers. This is going to be one hell of a takeoff.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Cynna’s whole body was stiff and sore. Rolling to her back, she lifted her arms over her head, stretched, and blinked several times. Slowly, her vision cleared, and she focused on a gigantic iron chandelier hanging from old-world beams and a high-pitched ceiling.
Confused, she sat up and looked around. She lay on a mattress. Fuzzy blankets covered her legs, and a fire crackled in the biggest stone fireplace she’d ever seen. But a shiver rushed down her spine, and, looking to her right, she realized it was because the glass in the tall arching windows was shattered and broken, letting in a cool breeze that sent a chill through the gigantic room.
Tossing the covers back, she pushed to her knees, then climbed to her bare feet. She’d been thankful they’d escaped those drug lords with barely a scratch, and had slept most of the flight. By the time Ari had finally landed the plane, she’d been groggy and out of it. She remembered being in a car. Then walking through something dark, but that was about it. Moving toward the broken windows, she crossed her arms over her chest to ease the chill and looked out at the view, then drew in a surprised breath.
Cliffs opened to a wide lake, which spread out before her like a crystal-blue blanket. Purple-green mountains rose all around the lake, melding with a steadily darkening sky. The first twinkle of starlight flashed high above, telling her it was early evening and that she’d slept longer than she’d thought.
Her gaze drifted down to her arm, covered in a white bandage. She tugged the edge free and studied the cut underneath. A thin red line marred her skin. Reaching for the edge of her bloodstained shirt, she pulled the cotton up and found the same on her side where she’d been pierced by that satyr’s blade.
Ari had succeeded in healing her. Fuzzy memories of that whole ordeal whipped through her head. Turning away from the view, she wondered where the strange Argonaut had gone. There was no sign of him in this room. She looked around, searching for Nick, only there was no sign of him either.
Unease filtered through her chest, but it calmed when she caught sight of Nick’s weapons in the corner of the room. He wouldn’t have left without them. And the fact he wasn’t carrying them now meant wherever they were—and she was confident they were no longer in the Yucatan—there was no immediate threat.
She breathed easier as she moved past the mattress, intent on finding him. Little furniture sat in the giant room besides the makeshift bed. A pile of wood lay scattered in the corner. A couple of couches were overturned, the cushions sliced, stuffing littering the ground. And one whole wall was blackened, as if a fire had roared through this part of the building.
This wasn’t a house or even a compound. It was some kind of ruins. An archway opened to a wide hall with scuffed walls and crumbling stucco. Ahead, a giant curved staircase—or what was left of one—disappeared to upper levels. Boards were missing. What had once been intricately carved wood was now blackened and covered in soot. Another set of dilapidated stairs dropped to floors below, but she couldn’t see where they led.
She stilled. Listened. Couldn’t hear anything but the cry of a bird somewhere through the broken windows. Whatever this place had once been, it was clearly now abandoned.
Her stomach churned with both apprehension and dread. Gritting her teeth, she told herself standing around wasn’t going to answer any of her questions. She moved for the staircase. It was battered but stable, and she grasped the railing on the right as she climbed to the next level. Another hallway opened before her, this one not quite as wide. A frayed carpet ran along the floor, and broken doors sporting holes and splintered wood hung open on hinges that looked as if they could give with a tiny gust of wind.
She glanced in rooms as she passed. The remnants of a library—books charred and torn and scattered across the floor like kindling. A dining hall—tables shattered and overturned; windows broken with tattered curtains blowing in the breeze. An office—computer screens cracked and smashed, lying on the floor; desks splintered and busted as if someone with a sledgehammer had gone ballistic.
That unease came rushing back. She turned the corner and stopped, peering into what she knew on first look had once been a nursery. Toys were broken and ripped and scattered across the floor. Cribs lay in shambles. A rocking chair sat in pieces near a shattered window.
These weren’t just ruins. This was a demolition.
Her head grew light. Her stomach a tight knot. She turned out of the ruined nursery and swiped a hand over her suddenly damp brow as she passed room after ransacked room, looking for one that wasn’t in pieces. At the far end of the hall, she found a closed door that was still hanging on two hinges, wrapped her hand around the knob, and pushed.
Paper lay scattered across the floor, and a few mirrors on the walls were cracked and broken, but this room hadn’t sustained the kind of damage the others had. She walked through a sitting area, then stepped into what she knew instinctively was a salon.
Swivel chairs were lined up on each side of the room. Mirrors—whole, undamaged, normal mirrors—sat in front of each one. Scissors, hairbrushes, razors, and clippers were all tucked into canisters on the workstations.
She caught her reflection in one of the closest mirrors. Her skin was still pale, her eyes a little wild after everything she’d seen, and her clothes were a mess, stained with blood and dirt. She fingered the ends of her bleach-blonde hair and stared at the image Zagreus had created.
Not her. Not who she was inside. Not
who she ever wanted to be again. Suddenly, she felt the need to purge herself of everything related to the last year.
She rummaged through cupboards until she found what she needed. Tugging on clear plastic gloves, she mixed the solution she figured was closest to her natural color in a plastic bowl, then rubbed the cream into her artificial blonde locks. After wrapping her hair in a plastic bag, she secured the end, then went in search of something clean to wear.
The next level up had clearly once been sleeping quarters. These were left in shambles too, but she didn’t focus on the destruction. In one room she found clean jeans that looked as if they’d fit. In another, a loose-fitting white sweater with a ballet collar. In still another, she dug through a ramshackle closet until she pulled out a pair of boots her size.
She went back down to the salon. In the back of the room, she found a full bathroom decked out with a wall-length mirror, granite counters, and a glass-enclosed shower with a rock floor. She flipped on the shower. The water sputtered as if air had been in the line, then finally flowed freely, growing warmer with every passing second. Tugging off her disgusting clothes, she stepped beneath the spray, rinsed her hair, and sighed.
Just being clean made her feel a thousand times better. She stayed in the shower as long as she could, then climbed out and dried off. After dressing in the fresh clothes, she moved back into the salon, wrapped a towel around her shoulders, found a pair of scissors, and started cutting.
She’d always hated that white-blonde Zagreus was so fond of. The blue streak had been her one attempt at defiance, but he’d liked that too, the bastard. She snipped and cut, using her fingers as a guide. When she was happy with the length, she tugged the towel off, ran her hands through the brown shoulder-length locks, then stared at her reflection.
It was like looking at the old her. Before anger and hate had driven her to become someone else. Her gaze strayed to the white sweater that showed off the length of her neck and the line of her collarbone, still bruised from Zagreus’s hands. Disgust swirled in her belly, but she forced it down along with the memories, focusing instead on the fitted jeans that were so new, she guessed they’d been worn only once or twice.