A sexy crease wrinkled her forehead and he took a deep breath to avoid looking at her full-on. “Imagine what an unsuspecting human would think if they landed here by accident.”
“I see your point.”
“The first guardians trapped the monsters here and then sealed off the island.”
“With what? And by whom?”
He frowned. “Are you always full of a thousand questions?”
“Always. As the future leader of our realm, I find it interesting no one’s bothered mentioning any of this to me. Aside from a few brief history lessons in school, this is news.”
“Your father probably didn’t think it was a big deal. Like I said, no one’s ever been able to find it. The area around Pandora messes with electronic readings of any ships and planes that venture into the area.”
“You mean like the Bermuda Triangle?”
“You know about the oddities in the Caribbean?”
“Who doesn’t? Another myth.”
“Most civilizations are rooted in myth. Ours as well. And many that disappeared from the map are also entrenched in myth.”
“Wait. You mean like Atlantis? Are you saying Atlantis is somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle? That that’s the reason for the strange shipwrecks and disappearing planes in the region?”
He shrugged. “I don’t have proof. But yeah, that’s what most of us think.”
“‘Most of us.’ As in the Argonauts?”
He didn’t answer, but he also didn’t miss the shocked expression on her face. As she pondered the ramifications of that, he kept his mouth shut and kept walking.
Finally they reached the stream. He set her down and moved off to crouch by the edge and splash as much cold water on his face and arms and chest as he could. Not the same as dunking himself in the ocean, but it was better than nothing.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.
“I told you I was fucking fantastic. Stop asking the same damn questions over again.”
“You must like that word. Fucking. You use it a lot.”
The sound of her dainty lips uttering that one graphic word reignited the erotic image from earlier in his mind, then triggered an all-new one: her naked on all fours in front of him. His body pressed in tight behind her, thrusting deep while she mouthed the word fucking again and again.
Blood pounded straight into his cock. He grew hard in an instant. The only thing that kept him from losing it was the fact he was angled away from her and couldn’t see her face.
Focus, breathe, stay in control.
He dropped the buckets by the edge of the water and rose as fast as he could. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t stay. And he definitely couldn’t give in and show her just how much he really did like that word.
***
“Don’t linger,” Demetrius said again as he looked anywhere but where Isadora wanted him to look.
“I won’t.” What was wrong with him? He was avoiding eye contact like he was the one who had something to be embarrassed about, not her.
Thank the gods he hadn’t seen what she’d done in the ruins. Heat rushed to her cheeks all over again. If he’d been just a few minutes earlier…
“Fill the buckets and head right back. Got it?”
“Yes.”
He looked as if he wanted to say something more. Birds chirped high in the canopy of trees, and the small river, roughly six feet across, gurgled and swirled over rocks and downed tree limbs. It was darker in here, but the trees were spaced far enough apart so plenty of sunlight filtered through the canopy. There was no hint of danger, no sound out of the ordinary. Scowling, he pulled a small dagger from his waistband and handed it to her. Their fingers grazed and heat trickled over her skin, but he didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t even look at her. “Just in case. Go straight back, do you understand?”
“Yes, I’ve got it. I’m not an invalid, Demetrius.”
He harrumphed as if he didn’t agree. Then he flicked her an irritated look before heading off through the trees.
She was never going to understand him. Wasn’t sure she even wanted to. And yet these hot, wicked fantasies kept running through her head, all centered on him. Isadora watched until he disappeared. Feeling a strange sense of loss at his departure, she sighed, then turned to glance around the streambed.
Across the brook, grass and plants edged the river and turned to trees, which thickened until she could see nothing beyond. Reminding herself not to dawdle, she eased down, set the dagger on the moss beside her, and filled the first bucket.
The water was cold and fresh. She ran her hand over the smooth surface, lifted the bucket, and took a deep drink. Droplets slid down her chin to land on her chest, cooling her overheated skin. After filling the remaining buckets, she set them to the side and eased her feet into the creek.
Heaven. Her eyes slid closed. She took deep breaths as every muscle in her body relaxed. She’d told Demetrius she wouldn’t linger, but the water felt too good on her feet to ignore. Two minutes. That’s all she’d take.
She waded out into the middle of the stream, then held her breath and dropped down to dunk her whole body. She came up gasping, the shock invigorating. Brushing the water out of her eyes, she stood up, feeling a thousand times better than she had minutes before. She was just about to turn and head back to gather her things when she spotted movement to her right, toward the dark trees.
Slowly, she shifted in that direction. And came face to face with a shadowy wraith with red eyes, massive claws, and razor-sharp teeth.
“Oh, skata.”
Too late she realized the birds had gone silent. Even the wind seemed to have died down as if it too were afraid to move. Isadora’s pulse shot into the stratosphere as she glanced to where the dagger Demetrius had given her—just in case—lay on the moss, feet away.
The creature opened its fanged mouth and screamed. She had an instant to make a decision.
She sprinted for the dagger. Water splashed up around her. Something sharp stabbed the back of her neck. Her hand flew to the spot as she cried out in pain. But before she even reached the far side of the mossy shore, her vision blurred and her legs buckled beneath her.
And then she was falling backward. Going down. This time with no one to save her.
Chapter 11
Casey bit her lip as she waited outside her father’s suite. She’d promised Theron she would try to take a nap before dinner, but seriously, that was just an asinine request. Who could sleep at a time like this?
The door to the king’s rooms opened and her half sister stepped out. Callia closed the door quietly at her back, drew a deep breath, and rubbed her forehead.
“I know that feeling,” Casey said.
Callia’s head came up. “How long have you been out here? You should have come in. He—”
“He’s not the one I’ve been waiting to see.”
“Probably best. I had to give him a sedative. He’s not handling the news about Isadora well.” Callia glanced back toward the door. “This is pushing him closer to the end.”
A space in Casey’s chest pinched at the thought of her long-lost father, the king, dying so soon after she’d found him. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. But it was life. And if there was one lesson she’d learned over the years, it was that you made the best of what was thrown your way. Even when you didn’t like the pitch.
The door opened and Callia stepped back as Althea, the king’s personal attendant, moved out with a scowl on her face. “I can hear you both plain as day. Shoo. He needs his rest. Take your naysayer attitudes somewhere else.”
Casey, familiar with Althea’s bossiness, rolled her eyes. The frown on Callia’s lips shifted to a smirk.
“I’m thirsty,” Callia said to her sister. “Grab a drink with me? You look like you need one more than I do.”
“I’m fine,” Casey said. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I’m a healer. It’s my job to worry.”
?
??Actually,” Casey said hesitantly, drawing Callia up short, “Theron asked for you.”
“Is there any—”
“No. No news. This is more about Demetrius.” At Callia’s perplexed expression, Casey motioned toward the hall. “Come on. I’ll explain on the way.”
The two fell into step down the massive corridor. The king was rooted in tradition and it showed in every inch of the castle. Massive Grecian columns lined the hallway, rising at least thirty feet to the soaring ceiling. Candles in sconces lit the way. Rich-colored throw rugs and plush furnishings lined the rooms they passed. Casey explained what little update she knew as they moved, but as they reached the end of the corridor and headed down the grand stairs to the king’s study several floors below, she noticed the tightness in Callia’s shoulders.
She stopped her sister with a hand on her arm before they reached the bottom step. “No one blames you about Gryphon. You know that, right? You did everything you could.”
Callia turned to look at Casey. They were roughly the same height and weight, with the same violet eyes and some of the same mannerisms. Though they didn’t share the same mother, the similarities between them were obvious now. “Did I?”
“Yes, you did,” Casey said with conviction. “I was there. I saw him. No one blames you. Not Theron, not the other Argonauts. No one.”
“Orpheus blames me.”
Casey frowned. “Orpheus is—”
“Orpheus is right.” Callia held up her hand, studied it as she turned it in the low light. “I can’t help thinking if he’d had another healer…” Her gaze shifted from her hand to Casey. “It’s fading. I can feel it. Something’s wrong with me. When I was treating Gryphon, I needed Max to use his powers of transference for things I should be able to do myself. Every day that passes…I feel like I’m losing a part of myself.”
“How?”
Callia huffed. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now. Except that I feel a change. Zander feels it too, only he won’t talk about it. I can tell by the way he looks at me though. And I’m tired, Casey. All the time. More every day. Just like I know you are.”
Casey’s chest pinched at Callia’s words. Yes, she was more tired today than she’d been yesterday, but she was trying not to read too much into that. But this…this news that Callia felt it too…She hadn’t considered the ramifications of Isadora’s absence. As the Chosen, she and Isadora were linked together. Hades had warned them not to separate too far or too long. But Callia…she wasn’t technically part of the Chosen prophecy.
She was, however, one of the king’s three daughters, and as they’d all recently learned, she was connected to both Casey and Isadora through the Horae, the ancient Greek goddesses of balance, and a paternal link all the way back to Themis, the Titan who’d spawned the Horae. If Casey was feeling the ill effects of Isadora’s separation, it made sense now that Callia, as the balance to the Chosen, would feel it too.
And then there was Zander. The only immortal Argonaut. Only he wasn’t quite so immortal after all, was he? The guardians had all assumed he couldn’t be killed because he hadn’t found his Achilles heel like every other male from his line had. But after 829 years, they now knew he had one vulnerability: Callia. Whatever physical effects she suffered, he suffered as well, and when her life ended, his would too.
Casey’s stomach churned and a whole host of new worries lit off in her brain. This now went beyond simply Casey and Isadora. If Isadora wasn’t found…not one, not two, but four would die. And the kingdom…
She had to tell Theron.
“Something has to be done,” Callia said, her worried voice cutting through Casey’s thoughts. “I’m not afraid to die, but I can’t—I won’t—let anyone turn out my son.” Until Isadora produced an heir, Max was next in line for the throne. “Do you honestly believe the Council would let a ten-year-old rule?”
No, Casey didn’t believe for a second Lucian, the Council leader, would live up to that agreement. It didn’t matter that Callia’s son Max was of royal blood, that his father was an Argonaut. To the Council he would forever be the illegitimate grandson of the king. And in their eyes, tarnished. Casey now understood what Theron so adamantly protected every day of his life—not just the order of the Argonauts, but their entire kingdom, their world. The Council did not grasp the depth of Atalanta’s vengeance or her hatred. If rule were left up to them, Atalanta would already have Argolea in ruins.
“I can’t sit back and do nothing much longer,” Callia whispered.
“Hopefully you won’t have to.” Casey tugged Callia the rest of the way to the king’s study and pushed the door open.
Heads turned as they entered. Theron looked up from some map he was studying on the desk and smiled Casey’s way, but it was a tight, strained motion that spoke of his stress. Zander crossed to tug Callia close. Max sat in Theron’s chair, listening to the guardians, and his face brightened when he saw his mother step into the room. Cerek and Phineus stood by Theron’s desk with their massive arms crossed over their chests.
“Where is Titus?” Casey asked her husband.
“He went to see the witches, to try to locate Orpheus.”
Casey glanced at her sister, then back at Theron. “Why do I get the feeling that’s not a good thing?”
“Because O’s gonna seriously fuck things up instead of make them better if someone doesn’t stop him,” Phineus mumbled.
Theron shot the Argonaut a scathing look, then turned back to Casey and forcibly relaxed his features. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”
She frowned, because they’d already been through this. Several times. And they’d already agreed this was the best option they had. “We have to know one way or the other, right?”
“Know what?” Callia asked.
Theron looked her way. “Whether Demetrius is truly guilty of treason like Gryphon said before…skata, before he poofed out of here.”
“And how do you plan to figure that out?” Callia asked.
“Casey’s gift is hindsight, thea.”
Callia turned to look up at Zander. “So you’re telling me she’s going to look back to see if he planned to kidnap Isadora?”
“Not his plans,” Casey corrected. “I can’t see his thoughts. But by touching him—or, well, something of his—I can get a glimpse of his past. I can tell us all if what Gryphon said is true. If Atalanta really is his mother. If she is—”
“Then every one of his badass moods and questionable actions over the years makes a sick sort of sense,” Cerek muttered.
Callia’s gaze swept over the room and then her eyes settled on Max, sitting in Theron’s chair behind the desk, his legs swinging in the air. And as if she’d finally clued in to what was going on, they jumped right to Casey. “You’re not strong enough to do this on your own.”
“I’m fine—”
“You’re not fine, meli.” Theron looked to Callia. “I won’t risk her, even to know this about one of our own. I need to know if it’s safe for her to do this. She grows weaker every day Isadora is gone. I don’t want to put extra stress on her.”
Callia’s eyes settled on Casey again and Casey frowned, both hating and loving Theron’s protective nature. “I’m fine, Callia. Max is only here as a precaution. In case I need a little extra oomph to look. Trust me, if I was really ill I wouldn’t even consider it.”
Callia stepped close, held out both hands in front of her sister but didn’t touch her. Her eyes fell closed and she seemed to be concentrating, but on what Casey didn’t know. Casey felt a warm tug deep in her chest, then nothing but a smattering of tingles.
Seconds later Callia opened her eyes, then looked back at Theron. “She’s telling you the truth. She’s strong enough. But it’s a good idea to have Max here just in case.”
Max swung his legs back and forth, glanced from face to face. His power of transference was the most valuable any of the Argonauts possessed, but he was still only ten, and if Casey’s suspicions were
correct, what she was going to see in Demetrius’s past wouldn’t be appropriate for a child.
“I’ll tell you if I need Max’s help.” Casey turned to her husband. “Feel better now?”
The crease in his brow said no, but it was the worry in his dark eyes that softened her. She stepped to him, ran her hand over his jaw. “Stop worrying, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Everything will be fine when Isadora is home and I know you’re safe,” he whispered. “Until then, you’ll just have to deal with me.”
***
Demetrius made it halfway down the steep hillside toward the beach on the northern side of the island before he heard the horrific scream from the trees behind him.
He jerked that way. Not human, not Argolean, definitely monster. But the sound had come from the direction of the stream.
Isadora.
Shit. Shit!
He’d just left her. She couldn’t have gotten into trouble already. Did the female have a target strapped to her forehead?
He scrambled back up the steep hill, his heart pounding hard against his ribs as he moved. Sweat slicked his skin as he raced along the path. When he reached the riverbank minutes later, he found nothing but empty plastic buckets lying on their sides and the dagger he’d given her resting near the edge of the stream.
“Skata.”
Worry jumped to panic. “Isadora!”
An ear-piercing scream brought his head around. He reached for the blade at his back and took off at a dead run.
He skidded to a stop where the stream spilled into a small lake. A thick, soupy fog hung all around the water, making it hard to see what lay beyond the western shore, but there was no missing what floated in the middle. Or what hovered above, waiting to strike.
Isadora lay on her back in the center of the water, her eyes closed, her hands fanned out to the side. She looked peaceful, like she was asleep, but above her three shadowy wraiths lingered. Waiting. Licking their chops like vultures ready to devour.
His heart shot into his throat.