Marked

  His hand paused on the book. “Soon she and her army will be strong enough to overpower the Argonauts, leaving the portal unprotected. Then she can slaughter our people at will. That’s where the prophecy comes in.”

  He turned the book so Theron could see it. Tentatively, Theron stepped forward and looked down at the handwritten page before him. The script was old, but he instantly recognized the native Argolean language.

  “Loosely translated,” the king said, “it speaks of a—”

  “Loophole in Atalanta’s agreement with Hades,” Theron cut in, as his eyes scanned the page. The chronicle he was reading was three thousand years old and bore the seal of Heracles himself.

  Leonidas nodded. “Yes. Hades loves a good joke, and as you know, there’s always a catch to his bargains. Basically, this outlines the end to Atalanta’s immortality. In every generation there are to be two halves of the same whole that, when joined, will render Atalanta mortal once again.”

  Theron’s eyes narrowed with understanding. “She’s hunting for the prophesied. To ensure her immortality.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the halves are human?”

  “No, my son. One is a half-breed. And one is an Argolean.”

  Theron lifted his eyes to Leonidas. “Why have you never acknowledged the existence of half-breeds?”

  The king sighed. “Because there aren’t enough to warrant our concern. They learned early on to keep shielded from humans, and from us as well. The earliest kings believed, unwisely, that Argoleans were superior to humans, and that included the offspring of an Argolean and a human, as well. You see, half-breeds tend to live longer than the average human, but they don’t possess the powers we do. The few half-breeds who popped up were…strongly encouraged to remain with their human parents.”

  “Why weren’t the Argonauts told?”

  “It’s been the burden of every king to decide how much to tell his guardians. I decided long ago, the fewer who knew of the prophecy, the safer we would all be. We have had, as you know, some Argonauts who have not been as dedicated to our cause as you and I. Some who have ignored the rules and let our people pass through the portal unchecked. And usually with terrible consequences.”

  Theron knew that to be true. He thought briefly of Demetrius.

  “Unfortunately,” the king went on, “I’ve changed my thinking on this point.”

  “Why?” Theron asked with narrowed eyes. “What’s changed?”

  “My daughter is dying.” The king moved around the desk to stand in front of Theron, wincing at the pain in his legs. “Callia has informed me of Isadora’s dwindling health. I had hoped we’d have more time, but I see now that’s a dream.”

  The king stiffened his spine, and the regality he’d once commanded seemed to flood his shoulders and prop him up a good three inches. “I’m left without a choice, Theron. In her current state, Isadora will never rule, and without another heir, the Council will override everything I and the kings before me have fought to contain. Your marrying her will not solve this problem, not unless she is well enough to bear an heir, which we both know she is not.

  “The Council does not understand Atalanta’s thirst for vengeance. Over the years and with the buffer the portal maintains, they’ve forgotten how vicious she can be. They want the Argonauts disbanded, seeing no need for the services you and your kin provide, aside from protecting the portal. Which, foolishly, they feel they can do themselves. If that happens, our race will be slaughtered.

  “I’ve thought long and hard on this, and I want you to know now this is a heavy burden, one I would not place on your shoulders unless it were ultimately unavoidable. Isadora bears the marking of the One. I’m fairly certain my other daughter bears the other mark.”

  Seconds passed as the king’s words sank it. If Theron had thought the king’s admission of the existence of the half-breeds was a shocker, he’d been wrong. Nothing compared to what had just been revealed.

  “Yes,” the king said quietly. “There is another heir, though she will never rule, because she is a half-breed. Odds are good she doesn’t even know what she is or that her fate is about to change forever.”

  “How…?” Theron had trouble grasping what he’d just been told. “How long have you known about her?”

  “Since she was born. Her mother was human, a student I met when I ventured to Athens. Gaia was…” Something soft passed over his eyes as he looked off into space. “Kind. Isadora’s mother had passed not long before I met the woman, and Gaia provided the comfort I needed at the time. Our affair was brief, but she meant a great deal to me. I arranged for her and her daughter to be well cared for, and I was careful not to reveal who or what I was, but I think Gaia knew. She was a very bright girl. Passionate. Full of life, and very interested in her heritage and the myths of the gods. She disappeared with the baby shortly after the birth, and though I have often wondered what happened to them, I never saw them again.”

  Unease rolled through Theron’s stomach. “Then how do you know this child bears the marking?”

  “I don’t. But I suspect, primarily because Isadora and this young woman are of the same strong bloodline, and because Isadora went looking for her after she found the passage of the prophecy in the chronicles days ago.”

  That explained what Isadora had been doing in the human world. She’d gone to find her other half. His mind ran back once more to what he’d seen on Casey’s skin last night. To the marking he feared was more than just a tattoo.

  “The only way to ensure the race’s safety is to find this marked half-breed and bring her here to Argolea before the daemons find her and kill her first,” Leonidas said firmly.

  “And then what?” Theron asked. “If the prophecy is fulfilled and Atalanta becomes mortal, she’ll be more violent in her quest for revenge.”

  “True, but her powers will be limited. And then, Theron,” the king said quietly, “the war truly begins. The one that will eventually give us our freedom.”

  Theron thought back to everything his father had believed in. Everything Theron despised. “And what of the humans? Will she not use them to get to us?”

  The king stiffened. “We are running out of options. Every king has had to balance the directive of Zeus with what is best for our people. In the end, I must think about our world first. Yes, there may be more human casualties if the prophecy is fulfilled, but it’s a small price to pay for the safety of our realm. Ultimately, I have faith that you and your kin can mount a defense. And in doing so, Theron, you will save Zeus’s precious humans. You will also save your queen. You save our monarchy and our way of life. And you ensure the Council will not rule in my stead.

  “Your destiny has called you, my son,” the king said more softly. “You are the one I trust to finish what was started centuries ago. It’s what you were born to do.”

  Theron considered all that the king had told him. Though the hurt of betrayal ran through his veins at the secrets kept from him and his kinsmen, he understood that knowledge of the prophecy could have caused pandemonium in the race, especially among the Council.

  No matter how Theron looked at it, every choice in front of him was riddled with the probability of failure. A great many would die before the end—humans, half-breeds and Argoleans—and if he lived through it, he’d have to look back and know his decisions were made at the expense of many lives.

  “What happens to this half-breed woman if I find her and bring her to Isadora?”

  For the first time, the king avoided Theron’s eyes. He dropped his arm and seemed to study his slippers with great interest. “One can’t be certain.”

  “But you are,” Theron said, sensing the king’s lie. “You know exactly what will happen to her. Don’t hold your tongue now, not when so much is at stake.”

  The king looked up. “She’ll die. Her Argolean essence, that part of her that Isadora is losing, will be recycled by Isadora.”

  “And you know this for a fact?”

 
“Yes.”

  “How do you know it won’t be the other way around?”

  “Because weak as she may be, Isadora’s Argolean heritage is stronger than the half-breed’s. She’ll take what she’s missing and she’ll be healed.” The king reached out and laid a hand on Theron’s shoulder, and in his touch there was compassion, though Theron couldn’t tell if it was directed at him, at Isadora or at the daughter he’d never known. “It’s not a question of how, Theron, it’s a question of when. You have to find this woman and bring her to Isadora. Before it’s too late.”

  This woman. Theron didn’t miss the fact the king refused to call her by name. If she was indeed the Chosen One, and Theron was sent to find her, his presence in her life would lead her right to her death.

  He’d killed many. Death was a part of who and what he was. But rarely a human, and only when it was unavoidable. And never a female.

  What if Casey was this Chosen One? Could he do it?

  As quickly as the thought struck, he dismissed it. The marking he’d seen on her back wasn’t proof. There was still a chance it had been nothing more than a normal tattoo. Or a simple birthmark. He’d been tired and injured and spiked up on lust when he’d been with her. He hadn’t been thinking clearly last night.

  “How will I know her?” he asked.

  “Because she bears the marking of the Chosen, just like Isadora.” The king’s voice softened as Theron’s mind spun. “Sometimes, my son, a great sacrifice by one must be made for the survival of many. Find her, Theron. And bring her to Isadora. You are the only one who can.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Casey clenched her hands in her lap, released her fingers and fought the urge to pop her knuckles. What the hell was taking so long?

  She glanced at the wall clock in Dr. Carrow’s exam room Monday afternoon and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Ten minutes she’d been waiting. Only ten minutes. She needed to get a grip and settle down.

  Two more minutes passed. Two minutes in which Casey felt like crawling out of her skin.

  Okay, so sitting still wasn’t going to do it for her. The paper crinkled as she hopped off the table and held the pink cotton gown together at her back. Coming here was a smart thing. Playing the what-if game over her exhaustion and nausea wasn’t doing her any good. There was a logical explanation for the way she’d been feeling lately. It didn’t mean she was going to end up like her grandmother.

  A crisp knock sounded at the door, and Casey whipped around at the sound. “Come in,” she said quickly, moving back to the exam table.

  Dr. Jill Carrow walked into the room dressed in slacks and a navy blouse. Her auburn hair was pulled into a ponytail, a stethoscope was looped around her neck and she held a medical chart in her hand. She was, Casey thought, probably not much older than herself, but she exuded a confidence Casey had never known. And that put Casey at ease. At least a bit.

  Jill smiled. “It’s good to see you, Casey. It’s been a while.”

  “Yeah.” Casey shrugged, feeling stupid for not calling the woman who’d taken care of her grandmother up until the end. She balled her hands into fists at her sides against the vinyl cushion and thought of the thousand excuses she’d conjured up for why she hadn’t scheduled that lunch date as she’d promised six months ago at her grandmother’s funeral. They all sounded lame now. She settled on the truth instead. “Doctor’s offices aren’t my favorite places to hang out.”

  Jill chuckled. “Trust me, I know. No harm done.” She sat on the swivel stool, opened her folder to study her last notes and then looked up. “So tell me what’s going on.”

  Casey took a deep breath. “Nothing much. I mean, well…” Here’s where she sounded like a hypochondriac. She crossed her dangling stocking feet at the ankles, twisted her hands together in her lap again. “I’ve been having some symptoms. Nothing major, but…” She bit her lip.

  Jill immediately nodded in understanding. “But you just thought you’d get them checked out to be safe.” She rose from her seat and set the folder on the counter along the far wall. With one hand she pulled a penlight from her pocket and flashed the beam over Casey’s eyes. “Let’s take a look.”

  “It’s probably nothing,” Casey said quickly. “I mean, a little insomnia’s not a big deal, really. I—”

  “Casey.” Jill put her hand on Casey’s arm. “A smart woman takes cues from her body. If she notices something out of the ordinary, she gets it checked out. You did the right thing by coming in. I’m sure it’s probably nothing, but it’s worth a quick check. And considering your family history, it’s a smart one.”

  Casey released the breath she’d been holding. Of course Dr. Jill got it. She’d been foolish to think the woman wouldn’t. She managed a weak smile. “Thanks.”

  Jill smiled. “Okay then. Now tell me what’s going on.”

  Casey described her symptoms—insomnia, nausea, loss of appetite. She tried to downplay the bits of memory loss she’d experienced over the weekend because it hadn’t been anything her grandmother had gone through, but one scathing look from Dr. Jill and she threw them out there anyway. Might as well be completely honest.

  A small furrow creased between Jill’s eyes as she felt behind Casey’s ears and down her neck. “So they’re not exactly blackouts but—”

  “More like lapses,” Casey said quickly. “And only the past couple of days.” She decided not to mention her weird dreams for fear the good doctor might send her to a shrink. Instead she added, “I remember going home from the club but not how I got into my car or why I left.”

  “Hm,” Jill said. “Could just be exhaustion. You’ve got some marks here on your neck.” She moved to study the side of Casey’s throat closer. “They look like—”

  Heat crept up into Casey’s cheeks. “Oh, yeah. That.” She reached a hand up to rub the mystery hickey from the mystery man she’d very nearly had a one-night stand with.

  Theron. That was his name. Another of her lapses. She remembered his name, but not much else about him, other than that he seemed to be a walking sex god who had a strange way of speaking. Oh, that and the fact that there was something oddly familiar about him, and that she’d wanted to jump his bones the moment she met him.

  But the important stuff—like how he’d ended up at her house and where he’d gone when he vanished after their impromptu make-out session—were still a mystery to her.

  “Casey?” Casey’s eyes snapped up to Jill’s curious face. “Something you want to tell me?”

  Yeah, right. Casey gave her head a swift shake. “No. Ah, I mean, that was from a date.”

  Sort of.

  A sly smile spread across Jill’s face. “Well, at least I know you aren’t so sick or tired that you’ve given up your social life. That’s a good sign.”

  Casey frowned. She wished that were the case. Her evening with Theron the Mystery Hunk had been a definite exception to her measly love life. Or lack thereof.

  “You’ve got a couple swollen lymph nodes,” Dr. Jill said. “Nothing major, so my guess is your body’s fighting off the flu, which is why you’re not feeling so hot right now. Just to be safe though and to rule everything out, let’s do a complete physical, okay? I see from your chart you’re due for one anyway.”

  Casey blindly nodded. Knowing she wasn’t doomed to the same fate her grandmother had been dealt was worth suffering through a half hour of poking and prodding. “Okay.”

  Jill smiled. “I’ll get the nurse and be right back.”

  As Jill moved out of the room, Casey leaned back on the angled table and rested her head on the pillow. The paper crinkled beneath her. She stared up at a tiny fairy hanging from a strand of fishing line from the ceiling, crossed her hands over her belly and breathed out a sigh of relief.

  She was good. All was well. When she left here she could go back to doing exactly what she’d been doing before her crazy weekend rendezvous with Theron. Mainly, figuring out a way to keep her grandmother’s bookstore afloat. She really didn?
??t have a choice, did she? If she couldn’t make this work…where else would she go?

  At some point she had to stop wandering and settle in. Quit looking for that elusive paradise where she’d fit in and grow roots. She was twenty-seven years old, for crying out loud. It was way past time. Her grandmother had loved this town, had loved the bookstore. Casey was determined to make this last move work.

  As she relaxed farther into the pillow, she thought briefly of her almost one-night stand again. Her cheeks heated. Not the smartest thing she’d ever done, but at least one of them had come to their senses before it was too late. She’d just chalk the whole experience up to bad choices. And being overworked. And exhausted. But one thing was certain. It definitely wouldn’t happen again.

  “Casey?” Dr. Jill called from the other side of the door with a soft knock. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” Casey said. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Nick sensed the air change just as he had two days before. He lifted his mouth from the breast he’d been laving and went completely still.

  “Jesus, don’t stop now,” Dana groaned beneath him as she arched her back to offer more. “Not yet.”

  “Shh.” He planted a hand on the crisp sheets of her bed and tuned his hearing toward the disturbance he’d felt.

  Her eyes narrowed in concentration as if she were listening as closely as he was. Of course she couldn’t, but it didn’t make her try any less.

  “I don’t feel anything,” she whispered moments later. Her breath fanned across his cheek, remnants of the vodka and cranberry juice she’d inhaled to celebrate the end of her shift at XScream wafting toward his nose. Outside, a car whooshed by on the rain-slicked streets, the only sound drifting up to the second-floor apartment she kept above the Wash-n-Go Laundromat on Third Street in downtown Silver Hills.

  He knew why she kept the apartment and didn’t live with the others, but it bothered him. Their kind should stick together. Especially now. Especially when he sensed there was a change coming. His scars had been tingling for days now.