“You can’t know for sure,” Callia protested. “It’s possible he escaped while the daemons went after this man.”
“No,” Zander said again, hating to hurt her more but needing—now—to be honest with her. “If it was him, Callia, if it was our son, he wouldn’t have run. He wouldn’t have left this human vulnerable.”
She glared up at him. “How do you know? He’s just a boy. He’s just—”
“He’s an Argonaut. It’s bred into him.” Zander glanced toward Theron and Titus, who had followed them into the room. Toward the doorway where Gryphon, Phineus and Cerek had gathered to see what was going on. And he thought of his own SOB father. To the way he himself had been as a child. To how he’d been raised. Trained. To that instinct he’d never been able to get away from.
“We were all more advanced than the average youngling. You can teach an Argonaut to be a warrior. You can beat out his emotions, take away his dreams and train him to be a killer. And if this was our son, if he was really with Ata-lanta, then I’m guessing that’s exactly what she did. But she wouldn’t have been able to alter his instinct. It’s as much a part of him as his hair and eyes and skin. If he somehow got free from her, if he was with this human when the daemons attacked, he’d have fought. And he would have protected.”
Tears gathered in Callia’s eyes. She turned and looked at the human lying motionless on the bed. And the grief radiating from her filled Zander’s head and heart and soul.
No one spoke as she looked around the room, as if in a daze. The only sounds were the beeps and whirs of the machines. Slowly she eased out of Zander’s grip, moved across the floor and stopped at a chair where a small jacket was tossed over an arm.
“Is this…was this his?”
“The human was holding that when they brought him in,” Lena said softly. “Whatever personal items we took off him are there.”
Callia lifted the jacket to her face, drew in a deep breath. The jacket was ripped and shredded, covered in blood and grime and streaked with green, but she didn’t seem to care. She closed her eyes, lowered it and clutched it to her chest. And that was all Zander could take. Because his heart was breaking too. Minutes ago they’d been so hopeful, and now…
He moved around the bed, turned her so he could cradle her against his chest while she cried. Whispered voices sounded behind him but he didn’t care what the others were saying. Sobs racked her body as he pulled her close, the jacket pressed between them. He didn’t even have the strength to pray this wasn’t exactly what he thought. Because he knew. Some sixth sense inside him said this coat belonged to his son. And his son had somehow saved this human.
“Thea…”
Tear tracks stained her cheeks as she lifted her head. She opened her mouth to say something, moved the jacket between them. Then froze. Slowly, her brow furrowed.
“What?” he asked.
She pulled her hand from inside the coat. The fluorescent lights above reflected off a circular silver disk in her hand that looked tarnished from time and weather. A heavy chain attached to one side slipped through her fingers. Four empty chambers composed most of the body, but in the center was a small circle stamped with the seal of the Titans.
“Holy Hera,” he whispered.
Her eyes widened. “That looks like—”
“The Orb of Krónos,” Theron said in wonder from across the room.
Zander and Callia both glanced toward Theron, who was staring at the disk with wide eyes himself. Next to him, Casey and Isadora both stood silently, also transfixed by the medallion in Callia’s hand.
Zander hadn’t heard either of the females step into the room, but as he took in Isadora’s new appearance—the short hair, the new clothes, the questions on her face as her gaze bounced between him and Callia—guilt snaked through him. He needed to talk to the princess, explain to her what had happened. Tell her he couldn’t go through with the binding ceremony after all. And just where that would leave the monarchy, he wasn’t sure. But if this—he glanced back at the disk in Callia’s hand—if this was what he thought it was, then even that didn’t much matter right now.
“Okay,” Casey said cautiously. “You’re all looking at that thing like it’s the Antichrist. Could someone please fill in this clueless Misos?”
Theron pulled Casey to his side, shaken out of his trance by her voice. “Krónos was the father of Zeus, Hades and Poseidon. A Titan. The Titans were—”
“The ruling deities before the Olympian gods took over,” Casey finished for him. “Yeah, I know my mythology. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
“It’s just another myth,” Nick said.
Theron shot the half-breed a look. “Myths are usually rooted in reality. And this—don’t you think, warrior?—proves the point.”
Nick frowned, shifted his legs wider in a defensive stance. Sensing the tension in the room, Zander said to Casey, “According to the legend, when Krónos realized Zeus and his brothers were going to overthrow them, he created the orb.” He nodded toward the disk. “He poured into it the Chthonic powers, those of this world, and the four classic elements—air, water, fire, earth. Before the last battle of the Titanomachy, the war between the Titans and Olympians, he gave the orb to Prometheus for safe keeping. And he instructed him to use it only if the situation turned dire.”
Casey’s eyebrows pulled together. “But Prometheus was a Titan, wasn’t he?”
“He was,” Isadora said, speaking up. “But he didn’t participate in the war, and he and a few others weren’t condemned to Tartarus with the other Titans. When the war was over, Zeus had the losing Titans locked in the lower levels of Tartarus where they would be tortured for all eternity.”
“And Prometheus didn’t use the orb to unlock them,” Casey guessed.
“No,” Theron said to her. “Prometheus was a champion for humankind. He didn’t want to see any of the gods with the orb. He scattered the four elements over the earth, and according to the legend, he hid the empty orb someplace where Zeus and his brothers could never find it.”
“Something of great value,” Callia muttered, looking at the disk in her hand. “He hid it in the Aegis Mountains. In Argolea.”
Zander glanced at the disk in her hand. Even he could feel the raw power radiating from the ancient metal. If their son had had this when he faced the daemons, it was possible he would have had the strength to escape after all.
His eyes lifted to Callia’s. And he saw then that she was suddenly clinging to the same hope.
“Okay, you lost me there,” Casey said, letting go of Theron and moving to stand in front of Callia. “Why would Prometheus hide it?”
“Because, according to the legend,” Isadora explained, “the person who wears the orb with the elements intact not only has the power to release the Titans from Tartarus, but he has the power to control this world as well.”
Realization dawned over Casey’s face. “She’s using it to get around the prophecy.” She looked at Isadora, then at Zander. “Is that what you’re telling me? If Atalanta has this orb, and the four elements inside, she has the power to control the human realm?”
“Yeah,” Zander said. “And the human realm is the one realm the gods haven’t been able to control. The skies, the Underworld, the seas…those are theirs. But the human realm has forever been off limits. As long as she has the orb, she’s immortal again, and more powerful than any of them. And if anyone challenges her”—he glanced at his guardian kinsmen, standing near Theron on the other side of the room, all tense because they knew just what this little thing could do—“she can unleash the Titans, which would then start a war like no one’s ever seen before.”
“Oh, God,” Casey whispered, looking down at the orb. “So I guess it’s a good thing she doesn’t have it, huh? But I still don’t understand how it got from Argolea to your son.” She looked up and around, questions in her eyes.
Isadora focused on the orb. “It had to have been smuggled out. Someone must have found it
.” Her jaw clenched. “Orpheus.”
“That little piece of shit,” Nick muttered from across the room.
“It doesn’t matter how it got out,” Theron said. “If the boy had it, he must have gotten it from Atalanta.”
“He stole it,” Callia said softly, looking up at Zander. “That’s why he was with this human. That’s why the daemons were hunting him.”
Yeah, he’d figured that out as well. And that’s why they would kill him as soon as they found him. If they hadn’t already.
“Hold on.” Isadora’s voice drew Zander’s attention. “There’s a catch. Atalanta can’t wield the orb on her own.”
“Why not?” Casey asked.
“Because in her god form she’s considered an Olympian, not a Titan. In order for any Olympian—even one of the Twelve—to wield it, they have to have a key. They have to have something from both the human world and their realm. They have to have—”
“They have to have someone who is half god, half human, perfectly balanced,” Casey finished for her, eyes wide.
“Yeah,” Isadora said softly, realization dawning in her eyes as she glanced at her half-sisters. “Now it makes sense, the markings we share. The Horae were all about balance and timing and order. Casey and I, as the Chosen, are that perfect half-god, half-human, but we’re not balanced without you, Callia.”
“So she needs one of us to wield the orb,” Callia whispered.
“Yes,” Isadora breathed. “Or one of our offspring. And since Casey and I don’t have young yet…”
Callia reached up and touched the marking on the back of her neck. “She came after mine.”
Isadora nodded. “Atalanta didn’t steal your son because his father was an Argonaut. She stole him because she knew what you were before any of us did. Because our father, the king, is somehow linked to Themis, the Titan who spawned the Horae, and we are too. And she needs one of us”—she glanced at each of her sisters—“or one of our offspring to help her get what she really wants.”
Callia’s eyes darted to Zander. “Then she won’t kill him.”
“Wait,” Zander said, sensing her excitement but not wanting to get their hopes up again. “If what Isadora said is true, if you three really are the modern-day Horae, Hours, whatever, and she needs you to wield the orb, then why didn’t she just take you that day? And how did she even find you both in the first place?”
“I don’t know,” Callia said, shaking her head. “I don’t know how she found us, but she wouldn’t have taken me, because a child is easier to manipulate than a thirty-year-old Argolean who’s dedicated her life to the monarchy. She’d have known I never would have helped her. I’d have chosen death first.”
“And maybe she didn’t have the orb at the time,” Casey added. When they all looked her way, she said, “Ten years ago Atalanta was still immortal. She was still in Tartarus, building her army, right? You’ve all said she’s a schemer, that she’s constantly searching for ways to exact her revenge. If that’s the case, then it makes sense she’d have backup plans. In case the prophecy did come to pass.” She looked at Isadora. “In case we found each other and she was rendered mortal after all. She’d have been planning other ways to get exactly what she wants.”
“Which is revenge,” Theron said from across the room. His jaw hardened. “The females need to go back to Argolea. Now.”
“What?” The sisters all turned to look his way.
“Theron…,” Casey started.
“I won’t go back, Zander.” Callia turned. “I have a right to be here.”
She did. But Theron was right too. If Atalanta had lost his son, then she’d have no qualms about taking one or all of the sisters while she figured out a way to get the orb back. It wasn’t safe for any of them to be in the human realm.
“The females have a point, hero,” Nick said from where he stood near the bed.
Theron glared at the half-breed leader. “Stuff it, Nick. This doesn’t concern you.”
Nick’s jaw twitched. “Actually, it does, smart-ass. Probably more than the rest of you, because my people fucking live here, while you all hide off in never-never land.” He looked toward Callia, Isadora and Casey. “You ladies can stay at the colony for as long as you want. You have safe haven here.”
“Sonofabitch,” Theron growled. “Nick—”
Nick glanced at Isadora. “There’s more to the legend, isn’t there? Tell them the rest of it.”
Isadora’s eyes darted sideways. And in her irritated expression it was clear she didn’t like Nick. Or the fact he was telling her what to do. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But she did. Even Zander could see that.
They didn’t have time for this bickering. Zander turned his full attention on Nick. “Can you get me to the truck stop where your soldiers found the human?”
“Chopper will be the fastest way to get there,” Nick said, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “We’ve got one at the airstrip, just outside Silver Hills. I can radio ahead and have it fired up.”
“Good.” Plans materialized in Zander’s mind. From the corner of his eye he saw Callia’s exasperated expression, felt her frustration. But he ignored it. He was heading into attack mode, and this time it wasn’t just duty, it was personal.
“One question,” Nick asked. “What the hell can one Argonaut do against a horde of daemons?”
“He’s not just one,” Theron announced. “If Atalanta’s got one of our own, we’re all going.”
“And me,” Callia said.
Zander didn’t look over. “No.”
“I—”
“Not this time, thea.” Adrenaline pulsing with the prospect of what lay ahead, he focused on Nick. “We’ll need maps of the terrain. Fresh weapons. And your best guess where you think she could be hiding out with my son.”
“Done. But you’re gonna need more than that, hero. Something tells me you’re gonna need the favor of the fucking gods.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Callia crossed her arms over her chest and paced the length of the main living room in the lodge of the colony. Rustic tables and leather couches filled the space, making the room seem homey and inviting, but right now the last thing she could do was sit and relax. Every second that ticked by on the clock sent her anxiety into the out-of-this-world range and thoughts of murder spiraling through her mind.
It was close to ten P.M. Zander and the others had been gone almost thirty minutes. Only Gryphon remained, standing guard outside. Nick had insisted his soldiers could handle the babysitting detail, but Theron had been adamant the guardian remain. And Callia was still more pissed than pleased with the way she and the other “females” had been shuffled off to wait. Again.
“You’re going to wear a path in the floor,” Casey said from her seat on one of the couches. “Come over here and sit down.”
“I can’t.” Callia chewed on her thumbnail. “Where do you think they are right now? If I had a map maybe I could—”
“Woe is the forgotten female,” Isadora said on a sigh from the window where she was gazing out at the waterfall that spilled into a massive pool in the middle of the cavern. She looked over her shoulder at Callia and Casey. “Story of our lives, isn’t it?”
“It’s not like that,” Casey said. “Theron does have a point, whether you two want to admit it or not.”
Callia glanced at Isadora. “She really is a sappy newly-wed, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Isadora said, rubbing her forehead. “Disgusting, isn’t it? Makes my head pound worse than being in the same room with the two of you.”
Casey crossed her arms again and leaned against the back of the couch with a huff. “I’m all for women’s lib, you know, just not when it involves being stupid. And that’s what going out there would be. Stupid.” Her gaze shot to the orb resting on the coffee table in front of her. “If you two stopped moping long enough, maybe we could put our heads together and come up with a way to help.”
“
Like what?” Callia asked, exasperated.
Casey picked up a book she’d set next to her on the couch. “Do you both know the history of the Horae?”
“No,” Callia answered. “Reading hasn’t exactly been high on my priority list lately.”
At her snarky remark, Isadora smirked.
Casey rolled her eyes. “Before Nick took off with the guys he gave me this.” She gestured to the encyclopedia-like tome. “There were three. Sometimes called the Hours, or the Seasons. But mostly they were the wardens of the sky and Olympus. Eunomia was responsible for order in society. Dike maintained justice. And then there was Eirene—the peace and balance between the other two. And they all bore a mark: a winged omega.”
“Eirene,” Callia breathed, easing down to sit next to Casey on the couch. “That’s what Atalanta called me in the cabin.”
Isadora moved to sit opposite them on the other couch. “Our specific powers relate well to the Horae. My foresight, Casey’s hindsight, your balance. It doesn’t surprise me that Atalanta recognized you as Eirene.”
“But I’m a healer. I don’t—”
“What is a healer?” Casey asked. “Someone who restores balance to the body. Callia, you’re the balance to us.” She nodded at Isadora. “To the Chosen.”
Callia glanced between them with the distinct feeling these two were tag-teaming her for something she wasn’t sure she was ready for. She’d yet to adjust to the fact she was the king’s daughter, and here they were throwing mythological bonds at her. “You know, that sounds all cool on the surface, but why do I get the impression there’s more to this than nifty names and historic links?”
“Orpheus mentioned a weapon,” Isadora said. “He told me that the three of us had something we wouldn’t yet understand. I didn’t believe him before, but…I know you both felt that electric shock when the orb was brought out.” She held her hands over the orb resting on the coffee table between them.
“Um…what are you doing?” Callia asked. Sure, she’d felt the jolt Isadora described, but she still had no idea what it meant.
“Orpheus has been teaching me how to focus my abilities,” Isadora answered.