Her back arched off the table when the wax made contact. A scream tore from her lungs as the tender skin between her breasts sizzled and burned. Tears flooded her eyes, and her vision blurred. And though she fought it, she felt as if something were crawling into her skin, settling deep in her bones, dragging her down into a murky abyss.
She couldn’t see the black magick taking hold, but she could feel it. Slowly, her limbs grew heavy again. That fog descended. Her muscles relaxed one by one, even though her soul screamed for freedom.
“That’s it,” Isis said from what seemed like a great distance. “Good, paidi. Let the magick work. Let it flow through your body. See? We’re going to make this good for you. In a while, Princess, there will be nothing to fear. Only mindless pleasure.”
A hand ran over her forehead. One that was warm and gentle. And though Isadora struggled to stay conscious, darkness edged in. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye and rolled down her temple.
“Sleep now,” Isis said softly. “And rest. Your future has taken a new path, paidi. Your new queen is waiting. And through your desire, we will be reborn.”
Chapter 2
Casey knew when something wasn’t right. This was one of those times.
“Are you sure you questioned all the castle guards?” Theron asked.
Zander rubbed a hand across his jaw, studied the map on the desk in front of them—the desk that sat in the middle of what used to be the king’s office, but now served as HQ for Argonaut business. “All of them. No one’s come or gone in the last hour. Theron, the place was locked down for the binding ceremony. There’s no way she could have gotten out without someone seeing something.”
Theron sighed, ran a hand over his shoulder-length dark hair as he studied the map more closely. They were both dressed in the traditional Argonaut fighting gear they wore when they battled daemons in the human realm, and were roughly the same height and size—over six and a half feet tall and built like tanks. And with their heads together like that, they could have passed for brothers. If, that is, one ignored the fact that Theron, their leader, was dark and Zander looked like a larger version of David Beckham.
Casey watched, tormented by Theron’s frustration. Her husband was a worrier. It was part of his job. Part of who he was. Every minute his guardians were out on patrol, his concern for their safety consumed him. But this was different. This wasn’t simply worry over Isadora’s disappearance just before her scheduled binding. This was fear. That something had happened to her. That she was in trouble. That if something truly had gone wrong, Isadora wasn’t the only one who would be affected.
His eyes lifted, almost as if he sensed Casey’s thoughts, and held on hers. Midnight eyes. Ones she never tired of looking at. Ones that said, You are mine and I won’t let anything happen to you. “Acacia? What is it?”
Casey sighed. She wasn’t helping his anxiety. But then, how could she? She and Isadora weren’t just half sisters, they were linked through prophecy. Though they’d yet to test the boundaries, they couldn’t be separated too far or too long before the illness that had racked them both once before returned. And while Casey didn’t feel sick—yet—she sensed this entire situation was not at all what they thought.
She took a step toward the desk. “Theron, she didn’t just run off.”
“And what makes you so sure of that?”
All three glanced toward the open doorway where Demetrius stood, scowling into the room. Behind him, Gryphon rolled his eyes and Phineus looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
Casey set her jaw as Demetrius stalked into the room with the others at his back. He was the biggest of the Argonauts, at nearly six feet eight inches and three hundred pounds, with short dark hair and a case of mean-cuss Casey hadn’t encountered before. He didn’t like anyone, didn’t care about monarchy business, and his contempt for Isadora was widely known.
“Because she’s not stupid, Demetrius,” Casey said, “contrary to what you may think.”
“You don’t want to know what I think, human.”
Casey crossed her arms. She wasn’t entirely human. She was Misos—half human, half Argolean. And his prejudices were wearing on her already-frayed nerves, especially since all Argoleans—including him—were descendants of the great Greek heroes who had established this realm in the first place. “You seem to forget that some small part of you is human too.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
He was trying to intimidate her. But it wouldn’t work. “You don’t scare me.”
His gaze narrowed. “I should.”
“Demetrius,” Theron cut in, “enough.”
At the sound of footfalls out in the hall, they all looked to the door again. Callia, Zander’s mate, hesitated in the opening, her auburn hair tousled around her shoulders, her eyes wild.
Zander instantly read the alarm in her eyes and moved toward her. “Thea, what?
“I…” Callia curled into Zander’s touch. Showed no resistance when he slipped his arm around her and pulled her close. And their connection was touching to watch, especially when Casey remembered that only hours ago they’d both been resigned to the fact the king was going to hold Zander to his agreement to marry Isadora. Thank God Casey’s father had come to his senses. Anyone within a mile could tell these two were meant for each other. Callia tipped her face up to Zander’s. “I felt something. A—”
“A tingle,” Casey finished from across the room. When Callia and Zander both looked her way, she added, “I felt it too.”
Theron glanced from one female to the other. Then to Zander. He could sense anytime Callia was hurt or in danger, but that didn’t extend to her sisters and their connection as the modern-day Horae.
“I didn’t feel anything,” Zander said. “I’m linked to her”—he nodded at Callia—“not the other two.”
Theron’s growing frustration was evident in his eyes as he rubbed his forehead. “No, that’d be too much to ask, now, wouldn’t it?”
Voices kicked up in the room, speculation about where Isadora had gone and how they were going to find her. Theron ran a hand down his face as he listened to varying theories, rested his palms on his hips, and looked like he had a headache the size of Mount Rushmore.
The marking on Casey’s lower back, the one that looked like an omega with wings and was identical to what Callia had on her neck and Isadora had on her leg, started to pulse. She caught her half sister’s gaze across the room and knew Callia’s marking was pulsing as well.
She put herself between Theron and Demetrius. “Stop it, right now. She didn’t run off.”
Demetrius glared down at her. “I ask again, human, what makes you so sure?”
“Knock off the ‘human’ shit, Demetrius,” Theron warned.
Warmth spread through Casey’s chest at Theron’s protectiveness, but on this she didn’t need his help. She hadn’t lied. She, unlike Isadora, wasn’t scared of Demetrius. “Because there’s no point to it.”
“She’s done this before,” Demetrius pointed out. “When the king betrothed her to Theron, she—”
“She came to find me. Yeah, I know. But this is different. She wouldn’t run now because there’s no point. She can’t hide in Argolea—”
“She can in the human realm,” Demetrius cut in.
“—and she wouldn’t be dumb enough to go to the human realm alone.”
“And why not?” Demetrius sneered. “She seems to like it there. In fact, she likes causing trouble in general, getting us all stirred up so we have to drop whatever we’re doing and go look for her.”
Casey could barely believe what she was hearing. “Do you honestly think that’s what she’s after? Attention?”
“I think that’s exactly what she wants.”
Casey’s temper flared. “For your information, Demetrius, she wouldn’t go to the human realm now unless someone forced her.”
“And why is that?”
“Because she knows Atalanta is hunting the Horae
. And she wouldn’t risk jeopardizing our world for her own satisfaction.”
“I’m not so convinced.”
That did it. Casey took a step toward him. “Well, maybe this will convince you. She also wouldn’t go there because if something were to happen to her there, what waits for her is a thousand times worse than marrying someone she doesn’t love.”
“Meli,” Theron warned behind her.
She ignored her husband, shook off his hand trying to pull her back. His Argonauts needed to know what they were facing. This wasn’t another of Isadora’s attempts to sway the king’s decision where she was concerned. Something bad had happened to her. Casey could feel it. And she was going out of her mind with worry.
“She traded her soul to Hades,” Casey said, glancing from one Argonaut to the next. “She did it to save me when she thought our father’s attempt to complete the prophecy of the Chosen was going to kill me. And Hades is holding her to that bargain, even though he—the sick bastard—knew we would both survive.” When Demetrius only stared at her, she added, “Do you get what I’m telling you? Living, with even one of you, is a thousand times more enticing than spending eternity with Hades. Besides, she’s way too loyal to do anything that would put me or anyone else in jeopardy. Someone forced her to leave. She would not have run this time.”
“Casey’s right,” Callia said. “Even though she didn’t want to be bound to Zander, she wouldn’t have run.”
Silence fell over the room. And Casey knew what each Argonaut was thinking. There was no proof. Only her gut feeling against Isadora’s track record. But in her heart, Casey knew she was right.
Theron ran a hand over his brow. “Meli, the castle’s been under extra security all day for the ceremony. And no one’s seen a thing. She couldn’t have—”
His words broke off when footsteps pounded outside the door. Casey glanced over to see Cerek and Titus move into the room. Titus’s dark brown waves had slipped free from the leather strap he usually kept tied at the nape of his neck. Cerek’s short dark hair flew every direction, as if he’d just walked through a wind tunnel. Both Argonauts’ faces were flushed as if they’d been running.
“Saphira’s missing,” Titus said as he crossed the royal seal in the middle of the floor.
“Who in Hades is Saphira?” Theron asked.
“Her maidservant,” Cerek said.
“How do you know?” Callia asked. “And when?”
Titus shook his head. “Not sure. No one can find her either, but we found this under the ottoman in Isadora’s room.” He held out his hand. In his big palm he cradled a silver bracelet with sun-symbol markings over one shiny side. “Saphira was the last one alone with the princess.”
“Holy skata,” Theron mumbled.
“What?” Casey asked, stepping close to get a better look. “What is it?”
“That’s the symbol of Helios.” Callia moved forward.
Casey’s mind skipped back over her mythology. “The sun god. He was a Titan, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Theron clenched his teeth. “And Medea’s great-grandfather.” He looked at his guardians. “The handmaiden’s a witch? How did no one know that?”
Casey was still having trouble following it all. She took the bracelet from Titus, studied the stamped silver as voices picked up in the room. “Wait,” she said. “Wait!”
When eight sets of eyes glanced her way, she asked, “What would a witch want with Isadora?”
“I don’t know.” Theron shook his head. “But I intend to find out. Titus, Cerek, find where the witch lives.”
“On it,” Cerek said as they both headed back for the door.
“Phin and Z, scour the princess’s rooms again, talk to every guard. If the witch cast a spell to get them out of the damn castle, someone knows something. Find it.”
Phineus nodded. Zander kissed Callia and whispered something Casey couldn’t hear, then Phineus and Zander took off for the door.
“D, Gryphon,” Theron said, “I want you to check the portal, make sure no one’s crossed—”
“Oh, gods, the portal,” Callia cut in.
The blood drained from Casey’s face when she made the connection too.
Theron glanced between the two. “What now?”
Casey turned to her husband. “The secret portals. I told you that’s how Callia, Isadora, and I crossed into the human realm when you and the guardians were at the Misos colony. We couldn’t use the main portal because the Executive Guard was monitoring it and they never would have let us through.”
“I remember. What—?”
She placed her hand on his forearm, right over the Argonaut markings, ancient Greek text that ran up and down his arms and signified him as the warrior descendant of one of the seven greatest heroes in all of ancient Greece. “Theron, the secret portals are manned by witches. Orpheus took us there. They recognized Isadora the day we crossed. I didn’t think anything of it then, but now—”
“Orpheus,” Demetrius growled at Casey’s back.
Casey whipped around and did a double take at the malice in Demetrius’s eyes. Demetrius stalked to the door without a word, his long black coat flapping in his wake.
“Gryphon,” Theron said quickly. “Your brother—”
“I’m on it.” Gryphon jogged for the door. “I may want to kick Orpheus’s ass now and then, but even I wouldn’t sic D on him.”
When the room fell silent, Casey turned toward her husband. She knew he was doing everything he could, but the heavy weight on her heart and that tingling near her lower back told her something was very wrong. “Theron,” she whispered.
“Shh, meli.” He pulled her close. “We’ll find her.”
Casey leaned into his touch and glanced at Callia. Across the room her half sister crossed her arms and chewed on her thumbnail. And in her eyes Casey saw the dread she felt reflected right back at her.
***
The black mist rolled through Demetrius as he flashed to the sidewalk on Corinth Avenue in the Draco region of Tiyrns, the slum that was home to the lowest life-forms in all the city. Dusk had just settled in, and the streetlights above glowed orange in the fading light. He took in the trash in the gutters, the run-down buildings, the bars on the windows, and the swaying signs from businesses that had long ago called it quits in this part of Argolea.
He knew this area well. Knew the pub across the street, with its blaring music and raucous laughter. Knew several who inhabited the seedy establishment even better, because they came here for the same things he did. But there was no way Isadora could have known about this place. And just the thought of her walking these streets to find Orpheus sent that black mist boiling.
He spotted Helios, Orpheus’s “shop,” halfway down the street, and headed in that direction. Oh, the irony that Orpheus’s shop bore the same marking those damn witches glorified.
“Hold up, D,” Gryphon called. “Shit, wait for me, would ya?”
Demetrius ignored the guardian and didn’t stop until he was outside the shop’s door. The sign said “Closed” but he turned the handle and found it unlocked. Stepping inside, he glanced around the dimly lit interior with its tables and shelves overflowing with trinkets. Human shit. Things Orpheus had no doubt pilfered from the human realm and brought to Argolea to hawk.
Gryphon moved past Demetrius and picked up a snow globe on a nearby table. A soft chuckle came from his throat as he turned the globe in his hand and little white flakes floated through the clear liquid inside. “Man, the Council’s gonna love him when Uncle Lucian finally retires.” His eyes shifted to Demetrius. “Can you see good ol’ Orpheus on the Council of Elders, advising the king or Isadora or whoever in Hades is running this place by then?”
No, Demetrius couldn’t see Orpheus as any kind of advisor to anyone. It was a sick twist of fate that he and Gryphon were the only living heirs to Lord Lucian, the leader of the Council of Elders. Since Gryphon already served with the Argonauts, that left Orpheus as the only eligible
ándras to replace Lucian on the Council when he finally retired. But Orpheus was no lord. He was only out for himself. He obviously had no qualms about opening the portal, about letting Argoleans roam back and forth between their world and the human realm. Didn’t give a shit about the dangers that lurked there or the daemons that couldn’t wait to infiltrate Argolea and destroy their home. And he obviously didn’t give a flying fuck about the monarchy, if he was the one who had led Isadora to those witches.
His jaw clenched. Before he could tear into Gryphon about his lazy-ass scheming brother, he spotted a door along the back wall and headed in that direction.
“D,” Gryphon called. “Dammit.”
The doorway led to a dimly lit hall that ran through the length of the building. From the far end, voices echoed.
“Come on,” a male voice said. Orpheus’s voice. “Ignore what you heard and refocus. Act like you’re enjoying yourself. Attitude is half the battle.”
“I am,” a female replied. “Stop bitching at me.”
“I would if you’d just open yourself to this. We don’t have all night.”
That darkness brewed deeper in Demetrius’s gut, like a mist rising up to envelop him. He moved around the corner and into the room.
A female with long blond hair stood at a rectangular table, a bowl of what looked like water in front of her. For a moment Demetrius thought it was Isadora, but then he remembered that the last time he’d seen the princess, her hair had been short. And Isadora was thinner than this female, more wiry, and definitely prettier.
The female’s hands hovered over the surface of the liquid and her eyes slid closed as she chanted softly to herself. Behind her and to the right, Orpheus stood with his feet apart and his arms folded over his chest, a scowl on his face as he watched.
He was as tall as the Argonauts and, because he was Gryphon’s brother and hailed from Perseus’s line, just as muscular. But he wasn’t as well trained, and even though he was a scrapper, Demetrius knew he could take him in a hand-to-hand.