Enraptured

  He climbed out of the pit, started down the hill away from the ruins with the air element in his palm. Lachesis appeared on the path, stopping his feet.

  “You were destined for something greater than this, Orpheus. Greater than thievery and vengeance, and much greater than ignorance. Do not fall into the trappings of the gods. For it makes you no better than them.”

  He ground his teeth. “Look close, Fate. I am no better than them. The fact I was born part daemon proves that loud and clear.”

  He pushed past her, nothing but a gust of wind hitting him where her solid flesh should be. He was done with people telling him what to do. His father Perseus had tried. Zeus had ordered. This Fate had even cajoled long ago. And in this life? Isadora, the Argonauts, even Skyla…they were all trying to make him into something he wasn’t.

  Thoughts of Skyla flittered through his mind, followed by memories of when they’d first met so many years ago. When he was a man wanting more. When he’d known she was sent by Zeus to seduce the element out from under him. When he’d turned the tide on her and seduced her right back, just to torment the god.

  “You are not a daemon, hero,” the Fate called after him. “Not anymore. You earned your soul back, just as I knew you would.”

  So he’d been right. His daemon really was gone. And that fullness he’d felt in his chest…that had been his soul. A soul he’d come to believe he just didn’t have. Not that it made a difference. It didn’t change who he was inside. The same man he’d been over two thousand years ago. One who cared for nothing but what he was due.

  “Vengeance will do you no good,” the Fate added. “And a great many will suffer if you fail this time.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Fate. Retribution’s the only thing that’ll make all the shit I’ve been through worth it.” What he’d done, what Skyla had done, what had happened in the long lonely years since.

  “You—”

  “And the nice thing about revenge,” he added, “it means I’m not in hell anymore.”

  “There’s more than one kind of hell in this life, Orpheus. There’s the hell that Hades can subject you to, and then there’s the living hell. The kind you create for yourself. The kind that’s impossible to break free from. Ask Skyla about that hell. Ask her how many lovers she’s taken since your death or why she stayed with the Sirens for so long. You are not the only one who sacrificed and suffered. You are simply the one who got a second chance.”

  His feet stilled on the sodden grass. He didn’t want to hear about Skyla or what she’d been through. He didn’t want to think about the consequences of what he’d done. He just wanted to hold on to his anger as he’d done for so long. To blame the gods for the fucking hand of fate he’d been dealt. He just wanted…

  What? What did he want?

  I choose you. Daemon or no daemon. Argonaut or not. Zeus and Athena are wrong about you, Orpheus. You’re not evil.

  How can you be so sure?

  Because I watched you with your brother. An evil soul can’t love like that.

  I don’t have a soul—

  Yes, you do. One that deserves so much more than you’ve been given.

  The air felt as if it shot out of his lungs, tightening his chest to painful levels. He wanted that. He wanted to feel the way he had in that moment. When the past and future, when gods and wars and who had done what to whom didn’t matter. When he’d only known contentment and peace and…love.

  He turned to glare at the Fate, only she was already gone.

  He looked around the rubble of the temple, half expecting her to pop out from behind a broken column, only she didn’t. He was alone. And the Orb that had moments ago felt so hot against his chest was now cold and flat.

  “Bloody Fate,” he muttered. “Bloody conscience.” He looked up at the sky, a swirling gray threatening—what else?—rain. “I’m not supposed to have a conscience!”

  Only he did. He always had, even when his daemon had been with him. A conscience that now told him Skyla wasn’t entirely to blame for what had happened to him.

  He looked down at the air element in his hand. It too was cold. Just like the rain beginning to fall in big fat droplets around him.

  “Orpheus.”

  He turned on the path to find Skyla feet from him. She was dressed in the same get-up she always wore, and with her blond hair flying back from the wind and the rain drizzling down around her, she looked powerful and formidable. How he imagined Athena would look before taking down a target.

  Her gaze shot to the air element in his hand. The one she’d suspected him of taking. The one they’d argued about that last day. The one he’d told her had nothing to do with her and was none of her business. “You found it.”

  He heard the accusation in her voice and told himself to be careful. She was still a Siren, no matter what she’d said to him last night. And no matter where he went from here, he wasn’t going to be the fool again. He closed his hand around the element, blocking it from her view. “I did.”

  “What do you plan to do with it?”

  “Does it matter?”

  A long beat of silence drew out between them. And then she said, “No.”

  She stared at him head-on. And in her amethyst eyes he couldn’t read her thoughts. Couldn’t tell if it didn’t matter because she believed in him or because she was finally going to kill him.

  The rain increased. Water slid down his cheek. A lifetime—two lifetimes—of things left unsaid hovered between them.

  She took half a step toward him. “Orpheus—”

  Movement behind her drew his attention. Five figures approached. Five females, all dressed in the same femme-fatale fighter gear, bows drawn, arrows ready.

  “Good job, Skyla,” the tall Siren with multicolored hair said. The one Orpheus recognized from the woods outside the colony. “You led us right to him.”

  Skyla’s spine stiffened. Her panicked eyes held on Orpheus. “I didn’t. I swear.”

  He wanted to believe her, but history told him otherwise.

  “Step aside, Skyla,” the tall one said.

  Six against one. Even with the Orb, this wouldn’t be easy to fight his way out of. But then he didn’t have to fight, did he? The one gift his lineage had bestowed on him was the ability to flash on earth.

  “Sappheire,” Skyla said, turning to face her sisters. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “It concerns the order,” the tall Siren answered. “It concerns me. Now step aside.”

  Orpheus was just about to get the hell out when Skyla stepped fully in front of him, blocking him with her body. “No.”

  “If you want him,” Skyla added, “you’ll have to fight me too.”

  His heart leaped. Right there with five arrows pointed at his chest, ready to kill. She was protecting him. Standing up for him, even though he’d just proven Zeus’s claims true.

  “Skyla—” he started.

  “Is there a problem here, ladies?”

  The male voice at the edge of the clearing caused the Sirens to shift sideways, arrows at the ready. Theron and the rest of the Argonauts appeared from the trees.

  “Argonauts,” the dark-haired Siren on the right hissed.

  Orpheus blinked twice, barely able to believe what he was seeing.

  “Yes, we are,” Theron said as Zander and Titus took up the flank on his left and Phin, Cerek, and Demetrius did the same on his right. “And he’s one of ours, so if you’ll kindly lower your weapons, we’ll get to the bottom of whatever disagreement you’re all having.”

  “There’s no disagreement,” the dark-haired Siren said, shifting her bow from Orpheus to Theron. “And you’ll move back.”

  Titus had his blade at the Siren’s throat before she even saw him move. “I wouldn’t advise that, missy.” Her eyes grew wide. “Now lower your weapon before anyone accidentally gets hurt.”

  “Lower it, Daphne,” Sappheire said.

  The Sirens brought their bows down, but tension still crac
kled in the air. Even Orpheus could tell this was no surrender. It was a lull before the battle. The battle over him and the Orb.

  Snarls and wolflike howls erupted from the trees around them.

  The Argonauts stepped back, in line with the Sirens, and together the group of would-be enemies glanced from tree to tree.

  “Hellhounds,” Sappheire snapped, shooting Skyla a glare behind her. “Now do you see how this concerns the order? Fan out, Sirens.”

  Whatever prejudices they held against each other were forgotten as the Argonauts and Sirens took up space, blades drawn, bows at the ready. Skyla turned and pushed Orpheus back three steps. “Go. Get out of here before Hades shows up.”

  Panic closed in when she reached for the bow from her boot, pressed the button, and the weapon unfurled.

  “Not without you.”

  Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds before she shoved her hand hard into his chest. “He doesn’t want me. He wants the Orb. Now go!”

  He stumbled back as she raced to the line with the others and drew her weapon. The tree branches and foliage swayed. And then monsters from the Underworld broke free and charged.

  Blades clashed against bone and muscle. Howls and snaps echoed through the small clearing. The whisk of arrow after arrow being released echoed through the air.

  The Orb warmed against Orpheus’s chest, but without all four elements it wasn’t any help as a weapon. He could use his witchcraft to harness the powers of each element, though.

  He looked up at the sky as the battle raged in front of him, clasped the air element in his hand, and called up a storm spell. Thunder echoed above. Black clouds swirled and a bolt of lightning shot down from the sky.

  It struck a hellhound about to devour one of the Sirens to Orpheus’s right. She grunted and kicked the beast away. Another bolt struck the soil with a snap and singe and billow of black smoke.

  They were holding their own, but the sound of hooves or feet or claws thumping the ground from ahead told Orpheus they were about to be overrun by something else. Something worse. Something…Oh, shit.

  Ahead, through the swirling mist of rain and smoke, Hades approached, the image of imminent death. And on each side, a Minotaur. The legendary man-eating creatures with the bodies of men and the heads of bulls, snorting red plumes of smoke as they zeroed in on the battle in the meadow.

  Okay, playtime was over. Orpheus tore down the hill after Skyla. All around him, Argonauts and Sirens battled hellhounds. He grasped Skyla’s arm just as she let go of an arrow. “Come on. It’s time to go.”

  “What? I can’t go anywhere. I—” She whipped around, saw Hades and the Minotaurs. “Holy hell.”

  “Pretty much. Let’s go, Siren. Can you flash?”

  “Yes, but…” She looked at her sisters. “The others…”

  Orpheus’s gaze followed. To the Argonauts. Battling back hell’s underlings. For him. The only way for them to escape was through a portal back to Argolea, and they’d never risk opening one with hellhounds that close.

  “Damn sonofabitch fucking conscience,” Orpheus muttered, glancing up at the sky. “I didn’t ask for this!”

  “What are you doing?” Skyla’s eyes grew wide as he pulled the Orb from beneath his shirt and shoved the air element into place.

  “Trying to give us all a fucking chance. Stand back.”

  She stepped in front of him, blocking him from the battle, lifted her bow, and took aim at a charging hellhound. Orpheus closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, focusing his energy on both the Orb and the mother of all protection spells, pulling on the two elements as much as he could. Against his shirt, the Orb grew hot.

  The ground rumbled. The wind picked up, tossing his hair away from his face. The chant grew in his mind and spilled from his lips, and as it did he imagined a protective barrier all around the meadow. It wouldn’t save them from the hellhounds already in the circle, but if it held, it would shield them from Hades and the next wave the evil god had planned.

  “Orpheus!”

  He heard his name called just before the barrier was in place. Felt some sort of energy siphon through, like water through cheesecloth. But then the barrier solidified, holding a tight, careful perimeter.

  He opened his eyes. Caught Hades’s furious glare on the other side of the barrier. Around him the battle between Argonauts and hellhounds and Sirens waged on.

  A scream echoed from ahead. He looked that direction just as Skyla’s body jerked as if she’d just been hit with a bolt of lightning.

  “Skyla?”

  A gurgling sound echoed. She dropped to the ground at his feet with a thud. From her chest, the long curved blade and black wooden handle of a scythe protruded, surrounded by blood already welling around the blade to seep through her clothing and spill into the ground.

  “No. Oh, shit. No. Skyla?” Panic beat a drum line to his heart as he fell to his knees. He reached for the handle of the scythe marked with the image of a three-headed dog.

  “No,” Skyla rasped, her shaking hand lifting to try to stop him from pulling it out. “No, don’t…”

  He jerked the blade free and dropped it on the wet grass at his side. She groaned in pain, her eyes rolled back in her head, but all he could see was the blood gushing out of the wound in her chest. So much blood.

  Oh, gods…He had to stop the bleeding. He needed a healing spell. Couldn’t think. Frantic, he tore the Orb from around his neck and pressed it to her chest, knowing it had some kind of healing element to it. “Demetrius!”

  “Don’t,” Skyla rasped again. “It’s…too late.”

  He looked down at her pale face and his heart clenched. Tight. So tight he felt as if he’d been stabbed with that blade. Reality, and a future, one that didn’t include her, ran out like a carpet of red before him.

  “It’s too late,” she rasped. “Let me—”

  Her hand closed over his bloody one atop the Orb. But her eyes never left his. Amethyst eyes that were even now glazing over.

  “Orpheus…” A ghost of a smile tugged on her mouth. “I think of you as Orpheus now. Not as Cyn—”

  She coughed. Her body shook. Blood pooled at the corners of her mouth. Gushed from her chest.

  No, no, no, no, no. This wasn’t happening. Not when he’d just realized she was the only thing that mattered.

  Tears blurred his vision as he leaned over her. The battle continued around them. Shouts and clashes of blades and teeth and arrows winging through the air. “Listen to me, Siren. Don’t give up. Do you hear me? You hold on. I’m going to get you out of here. Just…just don’t let go. Skyla?”

  Her eyes slid closed and she drew a deep, shuddering breath. A breath he felt all the way in his soul. “Don’t let Zeus have it. Or Hades. Don’t let…any of the gods have it. P-promise.”

  “They won’t. I promise.” He flipped his hand over and squeezed her bloody fingers. Rain ran down his face. Why wasn’t the Orb working? And where the fuck was Demetrius? “Stupid, stupid Siren.” Tears lodged in his throat. “What were you thinking, stepping in front of that scythe? I don’t need you protecting me, damn it. I need you alive. I need—”

  “Was thinking…of…you…” Her voice grew weak. “You were…meant for something…greater. Be greater, Orpheus.”

  Her hand softened against his.

  No, gods, no. He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her into his lap, pressed one hand against the wound. Her head lolled against his arm. The Orb pressed between them, covered in her blood and his tears. “Skyla? Stay with me. Stay with me, damn it.”

  Please, Dimiourgos. Don’t take her from me. Don’t…

  He looked up again, searching through watery vision for Demetrius, the pain in his chest so sharp he could barely breathe.

  A figure moved toward him. A figure that looked like Demetrius at a dead run. Screaming…his name.

  “I—” she started.

  “Shh…” Hope leaped in his chest. He pressed his lips against the wet hair plastered
to her forehead. “Help is coming. Just hold on a little longer, okay, baby? Don’t let go.”

  “Never…did.” Her hand slid down his chest to clasp his again. And through his tears he looked at their bloody fingers, entwined over her heart. Over his heart. And he knew in that moment that was exactly what she was. What she’d always been: his heart. Only he’d been so consumed with anger and jealousy and vengeance, he hadn’t seen it. Not the first time. Not the second. Not until now, when it was too late.

  “Never forgot…you,” she whispered. “Not…once.”

  Demetrius skidded to a stop at his side. “Skata. O?”

  Her breathing slowed, and even before Demetrius dropped to his knees to help him, alarm raced through Orpheus’s body. He grasped her chin with his bloody hand, tipped her face up. “Skyla?”

  She didn’t move.

  “No.” He gripped both sides of her face, willed her to open her eyes. “Skyla? Dammit, Skyla?”

  “O,” Demetrius said, “let me…”

  Demetrius took her from his arms, laid her out on the ground, and leaned over to listen for her breath, then felt for her pulse. His body went still, then his gaze roamed over the gaping wound in her chest. And before he could stop it, every muscle in Orpheus’s body went rigid with disbelief.

  “No!” He knocked Demetrius back and away from her. Demetrius hit the ground on his ass. Orpheus leaned over Skyla and grasped both of her shoulders. “Wake up, damn it! It’s not time for you to go! Do you hear me? It’s not time…”

  Hands landed on his shoulders, pulling him back. Around him he saw boots—heavy, rugged ones worn by the Argonauts and platform kick-ass, knee-high ones worn by Sirens. Silence descended, seemed so out of place all of a sudden. No more battle sounds. No more roaring monsters. Just the empty, gut-wrenching silence that told him it was already too late.

  He thought he’d known pain before. He was wrong. Two thousand years of torture in the Underworld hadn’t prepared him for the agony that ripped through his heart and soul.

  He watched through blurry vision as Sappheire dropped to one knee next to Skyla, her face drawn and somber as she ran her hand over Skyla’s brow, muttering in a language Orpheus didn’t understand.