“It’s nothing.” Isadora turned toward Orpheus. “The secret portal. Take us to the nearest one.”
Orpheus looked from one to the next, then finally shrugged and headed east into the trees without another word. As Isadora made a move to follow, Callia stepped in her path. “Hold on. I don’t need you paying anything for me.”
Isadora heaved out a breath. “I know you’re mad at Zander right now, but don’t take it out on me. Orpheus and I have…an agreement.”
“What kind of agreement?”
“One that doesn’t concern you.”
“Isadora—”
Isadora was seriously losing her patience with this. “Do you really want to spend time arguing or do you want to get to the human realm and find your son? Because all you’re doing is wasting time.”
Callia’s jaw tightened. “I don’t need your pity.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for your son. And Zander. And because helping you bugs the hell out of the Council. And right now I’m enjoying making waves.”
Callia’s violet eyes searched Isadora’s face. Eyes, Isadora noticed for the first time, that were just like Casey’s. Just like the king’s. And nothing like hers.
“You’ve changed,” said Callia.
“You have no idea.”
“Ladies,” Orpheus called from the trees. “Either we go now or we’re going to miss it. When I said these things were temporary, I wasn’t kidding.”
Callia stared at Isadora a beat longer before turning to follow Casey into the woods. They walked for roughly twenty minutes before they came across a small tent city. Orpheus left them and headed for a female sitting on a stool outside a neon green tent. She rose, wearing a long red, flowing skirt, a white sweater, and a purple scarf wrapped around her neck, and greeted him with a pat on the arm and a smile like they were old friends.
They spoke for a few minutes, then Orpheus pointed their way and the female looked over. Long snow-white hair curled around her shoulders. Her wrinkled brow said she wasn’t thrilled by their arrival.
As they approached, the witch zeroed in on Callia. “The king’s daughters I know. This one is a mystery.”
“I—”
“She’s the king’s healer,” Isadora said.
“More than a healer.” The witch took a step toward Callia. “Why do you seek passage into the human realm? Danger lurks there. You know that to be true. You’ve experienced it. Do you seek something of value? Is personal gain your goal? Power? Is that why the three of you have come here today?” Her gaze swung over them. “Do you expect me to help you with that goal in mind? That which you do not understand cannot be made to—”
Frustration bubbled through Isadora. “She doesn’t want—”
“I can speak for myself.” Callia shot a warning look Isadora’s way, then refocused on the witch. “Yeah, I am looking for something of value. My son. He was taken from me and I need to get to the human realm to find him. These two”—she nodded toward Isadora and Casey—“offered to help me. But if that’s not a noble enough cause for you, then so be it.” She glanced at Orpheus. “You said there are several secret portals, right?”
“Um.” Orpheus looked down at the witch. “Yeah.”
“Fine. Take me to the next one.”
Orpheus hesitated, then spoke to the witch in a language Isadora didn’t understand, a language that definitely wasn’t ancient Argolean.
The witch searched each of their faces while she listened, and something in her expression shifted. She said something back to Orpheus, but before any of them could ask what was happening, the witch stepped forward and held up her hands, palms out.
“I bind thee, the Hours, from doing harm unto yourselves or others.” Then she closed her eyes and chanted. “Goddess divine, now bring me power that grows with every passing hour. Bring control back unto me. As I will, so mote it be.” She opened her eyes, dropped her hands. “You may pass.” She called over her shoulder, “Isis!”
A female with red spiked hair, wearing leggings, a military jacket and hiking boots ducked her head out of a purple tent behind the witch. “Yeah?”
“These three are to receive safe passage through the portal. Take them there.”
Isis hustled out of the tent and looked them each over. “Seriously?”
“Isis—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Isis said with a scowl, motioning them on. “Well, hurry it up. These things wait for no female, and I don’t have all day, you know.”
Casey and Callia exchanged bewildered glances but did as the second witch prodded. The first turned to follow. Before Orpheus could do the same, Isadora grabbed his arm. “What was that?”
“What, Isa? You don’t speak Medean?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t play games with me, Orpheus. She called us the Hours. I was right about the Horae, wasn’t I? And what was all that ‘binding’ crap?”
Orpheus glanced around to see if anyone was watching, then reached down and patted the outside of her leg where her mark was located. “I told you what you’ve got there is a powerful weapon,” he whispered.
She gritted her teeth so she wouldn’t pull away from his shockingly intimate and revolting caress. At some point she would have to pay him back. Thankfully, that wouldn’t be today. “And that scared her.”
“Yes. Because she knows what you could do with it if you wanted.”
“And what is that?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Oh, Isa. Do you really think I’m going to lay all the cards on the table for you right now? Before you’ve given me what I want?”
She drew in a breath, tried to keep herself calm. With Orpheus, it was always a game. But at least he’d confirmed her speculations. Callia—her half-sister—was as linked to her and Casey as they were to each other. The question was, just what did it all mean?
“No, Orpheus. I don’t think you’d ever do anything for anyone but yourself.”
She turned to follow the others, but this time he caught her arm, spinning her around to face him. The humor was gone from his face when he said, “Be careful in the human realm, Isa. There are evils there you can’t begin to imagine. And where you’re concerned, they’re amplified. A thousand times.”
“Are you trying to scare me?”
“Yes. And you’d be smart to be scared. Even though I’ve been training you, your new powers will be unpredictable. Even more so with those two.” He nodded toward the tent Casey and Callia had already disappeared into. “Do not think this so-called weapon you have will protect any of you.”
“Careful, Orpheus. In a minute I’ll think you actually care.”
“I do. I have a vested interest in you, Isa.” His eyes sharpened. “And when someone strikes a deal with me, I always collect.”
He held her gaze until she wanted to scream. Held her arm until sweat pooled at the base of her spine and she fought the urge to struggle free. Her stomach churned with apprehension and doubt. And not for the first time, she questioned that vision she’d seen of him saving her. The last one she’d had before she’d lost her powers. That little voice in the back of her head screaming Devil! grew louder with each passing day.
Finally he let go, but he didn’t break eye contact. And the warning she saw flash in his dark eyes sent her nerves spinning all over again. “You’d better go, before the others start to wonder. But don’t worry, Isa mine. I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”
They’d driven twenty-four hours straight, stopping only to gas up.
In Vancouver Jeb dropped the load he’d hauled down from Alaska and picked up a new one. He hadn’t asked Max a ton of questions, and he hadn’t cared when Max had stayed in the truck out of sight during the switch. At first it had seemed weird. What kind of guy didn’t wonder about a homeless ten-year-old? Then Max decided Jeb’s lack of interest was a good thing. He might just make it through this yet.
They’d taken off again, heading south. At the border Max cr
awled into a compartment behind the driver’s seat when they’d gone through customs. Not that he knew what the big deal was, but Jeb had told him it was either that or get tossed out in the cold, so he’d listened.
Jeb was quirky but, Max decided, harmless. Sometime after passing through Seattle, Max finally relaxed and drifted to sleep. He wasn’t sure how long he was out—a couple hours? more?—but when he came to, there was a jacket covering him and the truck wasn’t moving.
He pushed up, groggy and out of sorts. The jacket fell to his shoulders. Anxiety pricked his skin, sent sweat to his brow. It didn’t matter how far he’d come; as far as he was concerned he’d never be far enough. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced through the big rig’s windshield and realized they were at some kind of truck stop. Bright lights beat in from the outside, and Jeb was outside talking to a middle-aged woman with a cap covering most of her gray hair. She wore snow boots and a thick winter jacket zipped over her middle.
Jeb handed the woman something—money?—waved and headed toward the truck. The woman turned and went inside the small building.
The driver’s-side door groaned open and Jeb pulled himself up into the monster vehicle. He flicked one look at Max before pulling off his coat and shoving it into the compartment behind his seat. “Thought you’d done died, boy. You been out goin’ on seven hours.”
Seven hours? Max peered through the windshield to get a better view. Dusk was just settling in, but he could see the landscape here was different from the Seattle area. Thick pine and fir trees surrounded them, a thin layer of snow covered the ground and city lights were nowhere to be seen. “Where are we?”
“Just past Mount Hood. About eighty miles north of Bend, Oregon. We ran into some heavy snow near Government Camp. Had to chain up. Thought fer sure that’d wake you. But nope. You sleep like the dead, boy.”
Max barely heard the man as he rambled. They were in Oregon. He knew from conversations he’d overheard that the half-breed colony was somewhere in the mountains of Oregon. And the half-breeds were continuously outsmarting and outmaneuvering Atalanta and her daemons. Which meant he was as close to safety as this trucker was ever going to get him.
Jeb turned the key in the ignition and the big rig roared to life. As he put the truck in gear, Max said, “Aren’t you hungry? I’m starving. Can’t we stop longer so I can get something to eat?”
Jeb turned right around the back of the truck stop instead of left onto the road. “Already ate. Maggie’s gonna let us park it here so I can get some shut-eye. You can go on in and get something if you’re hungry. She made some elk stew that’s the best thing since my pappy gave me my first can of Copenhagen.”
They were stopping? For real? And Jeb was going to take a nap? This couldn’t be any easier. Max fought a smile as he sat up in his seat. “Yeah. Cool. I’m so hungry I think I could eat a bear.”
Jeb killed the ignition, tossed the keys onto the console between the seats and shot him a what-the-hell’s-gotten-into-you? look. “You haven’t strung more’n five words together since you climbed into my truck. What got stuck in your bonnet all the sudden?”
“Me? Nothing.”
Jeb studied him closely. “You’re not plannin’ to run off are ya? There’s nothin’ good in these woods out here, you know. You’d just freeze to death. Or worse.”
“Run off?” Max tried to brush off the worry. “Where would I go?” He reached for the door handle before Jeb could stop him. “I’ll just let you sleep while I go eat. Thanks, Jeb.”
Jeb harrumphed. “Okay, but don’t wander. Be ready to go in two hours. I got a schedule to keep.”
Max nodded as he jumped out of the truck. “Two hours. Got it.”
Jeb was already leaning back in his seat and pushing the cap over his face as Max closed the door. The frigid air bit into his skin, but standing in the middle of the back lot of the small truck stop, Max took his first deep breath of freedom. He hadn’t thought he’d make it this far. Couldn’t believe his luck. He wasn’t home free yet, but once he had some food, he’d snag a map and figure out where he was going next.
Against his chest, the disk warmed his skin, and he walked toward the building with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. A shadow moved behind the window. Squinting closer Max realized it was the woman from out front—Maggie. She lifted a hand and waved at him. Almost on reflex, his stomach growled.
He made it as far as the back door of the building before he heard the scream. A blood-curdling shriek that froze his hand on the door handle and sent his heart rate into the triple digits.
A roar echoed from inside. Something hit the door hard. Max jumped back and let go of the handle. The screeching stopped altogether.
Run. Go. Now!
His adrenaline surged as he took off toward the truck. Though there was no way the daemons could have found him so fast, the bone-chilling temperature told him otherwise. They were here. Somehow. They were here.
“Jeb!” Hear me! Turn on the truck! The door to the building behind him crashed open, followed by an ear-shattering roar, but he didn’t look back. “Jeb!”
Twenty feet from the big rig, the driver’s-side door popped open and Jeb dropped to the ground, muscles coiled tight, face white as snow. He didn’t cower the way most humans would in the same situation, and the look in his eyes as he took in the monsters behind Max said he’d seen daemons before. “Come on, boy! Run!”
Max didn’t have time to question the hows or whys of that. He sprinted as hard as he could toward the truck, his arms and legs pumping, his heart pounding in his ears.
“Run!” Jeb hollered, motioning with his arms.
Just as Max reached the tail of the semi, something caught his leg. He went down hard, face-first into the gravel. Snow and rocks impaled his hands and face. The daemon growled behind him, grabbed on to his leg and yanked.
Terror clawed its way up Max’s throat as he dug his fingers into the frozen ground, tried to grab something to stop him from being dragged across the parking lot.
And then he heard a roar, only this one wasn’t daemon, it was human. Something warm and fluid squirted across his neck. The daemon let go of his leg.
“Get up!” Jeb screamed.
Max pushed up to his knees, his ears ringing, his hands and face a mixture of dirt and blood. Whipping around, he saw Jeb holding a hunting knife as long as his forearm. The daemon was on the ground behind him, blood spilling from a wound in his chest.
“Get up!” Jeb screamed again.
Max scrambled to his feet.
“Go! Go!” Jeb got a handful of Max’s jacket and half pulled, half pushed him toward the cab of the truck. As Max skidded to a halt and reached up to grab the handle, he glanced back and saw Jeb standing with the knife in his shaking hand while the daemon pulled himself to his full height and glared down at him.
Max tugged himself up. Inside the cab he spotted the keys Jeb had tossed on the console. Could he drive this thing? He’d watched Jeb all the way down here. Hell yeah, he could drive it. And at the very least he could mow down some daemons while he learned. His hands shook as he found the right key and shoved it into the ignition.
“You made a foolish choice, human,” the daemon outside growled. “Like the half-breed inside. The boy belongs to us.”
Max’s fingers froze on the keys. Maggie was a half-breed?
“I got a knife here that says different.”
“You’re no match for me, human,” the daemon snarled.
“Yeah, prob’ly not,” Jeb answered. “But I’m not about to make this easy for you. That boy’s done nothin’ to nobody.”
Max hesitated. All he had to do was turn the key, stomp on the gas and take off. Never look back. But something stopped him. Something in the center of the chest that ached so bad, it wouldn’t let him leave.
I grow tired of your humanity, Maximus. Kill or be killed. That is the world in which we live.
Never before had Atalanta’s words been so true. If Max left, the d
aemon would rip Jeb to pieces. If Max joined him, even if he was able to overpower this one, the other two inside would be on top of them in minutes. And there was no telling how many more were out in those woods.
The disk burned hot against his chest. He looked down at the markings on his hands. What good was ruling the world if you lost yourself in the process?
The daemon growled outside. Max let go of the keys, whipped around and searched the storage area behind the seats for Jeb’s toolbox. When he came up with a twelve-inch-long screwdriver, he figured that was as good a weapon as he was going to find, threw the driver’s door open and leapt from the truck.
Jeb had circled around so neither he nor the daemon were looking Max’s way. As Jeb lunged with the knife, Max tightened his grip on the screwdriver and inched closer. Jeb’s knife only nicked the daemon’s arm, didn’t even draw blood. The daemon chuckled and swiped out with his claws, catching Jeb across the chest and abdomen.
Jeb howled and fell back against the ground with a thunk. Blood oozed from his torso, staining his shirt. The knife flew from his hand to land yards away on the cold ground. Jeb tried to crawl backward over the ground to reach his knife, but it was too far away. The daemon leaned down so he and the trucker were face-to-face. “I told you that you made a foolish choice, human. Say hello to Hades for me.”
Jeb’s eyes widened with horror as the daemon lifted his razor-sharp claws.
Max charged. Arm raised high, he shoved the end of the screwdriver deep into the daemon’s neck. Immediately the daemon shot up, wailing in pain. He threw Max off. Max hit the ground hard, the impact stealing his breath, and rolled across the frozen lot. The daemon stumbled backward until he hit the side of the semi, shakily grabbed the handle of the screwdriver and pulled.
Blood spurted from the wound like a fire hose. It was clear the screwdriver had hit the daemon’s jugular. The daemon fell to his knees on the ground, shrieking while his hand covered the wound and blood continued to pour through his fingers.
“The knife,” Jeb croaked, still trying to crawl backward.