A cry erupted across the field as the middle daemon was wrenched up and back to slam into the frozen ground. The other two jerked to a halt and looked back with perplexed expressions on their gnarled faces.
“What the hell—”
Demetrius shifted around to face his kinsman. “You’ve got about twenty seconds before they reach us.”
“How did you—”
“The magick works like a beacon, Z. It’s how they found me the first time. It’s how they’ll find us now. You can either stay here and be overrun, or you can unbind my arms and help me save Isadora.”
“Save her? I thought—”
A roar erupted across the field and footsteps pounded the earth, signaling that the daemons had realized just where they were. Demetrius’s pulse picked up speed. “Contrary to what Theron thinks, I didn’t hand her over to Atalanta. And I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back. Even sacrifice you if I have to.”
Zander’s eyes flashed from silver to gray, signaling he’d called up one of his legendary rages. “You sonofa—”
Another roar sounded, this one a hell of a lot closer.
“Five seconds, Z. You more than anyone know things aren’t always what they seem. The others won’t be able to get to her. I’m the only one who can. Help me.”
Zander’s eyes held Demetrius’s, indecision warring within their gray depths. “Motherfucker.”
Whether it was the plea or the truth that made up Z’s mind, Demetrius didn’t know. But Zander shoved Demetrius around without another word. Metal clicked against metal as the key slid into the lock, then the cuffs clanged together as they separated.
Zander thrust the ten-inch hunting knife from his thigh into Demetrius’s hand and took a step away, reaching back for the parazonium at his back. “You’d better not make me regret this.”
Demetrius didn’t have time to answer. The first daemon plowed into his body, taking him down hard. His skull cracked against the frozen ground, but he arced out with the knife, catching the daemon at the jugular with the blade. Blood sprayed all over him and the ground. The daemon fell forward, his weight pinning Demetrius to the frozen earth. The beast wasn’t dead, though, and Demetrius had seconds before it got its second wind.
He flipped the daemon to its back and scrambled out from under its weight. Grasping the sword from its clawed hand, he swung out and down, decapitating it before it had a chance to regenerate its strength.
“D!”
Zander’s voice brought Demetrius’s attention around. The guardian was battling two daemons, each coming at him from a different direction. Though Zander could probably handle them alone, Demetrius charged the one on the left and took the monster down with a few carefully placed swipes of his blade.
The fight was over within minutes, the carnage around them a stark reminder of what they faced the closer they got to the compound. Breathing heavily, Zander braced his hands on his knees and leaned forward while he sucked air as if he’d just run a marathon.
“You okay?” Demetrius asked as he wiped his blade against his thigh.
“Peachy,” Zander muttered. He leveled Demetrius with a steely look as he pushed up to his full height. “You’d better not be fucking with me.”
Blood ran down Zander’s right bicep to darken his thin black jacket. Sweat covered his brow. As Demetrius studied his kinsman, he remembered what Gryphon had told him. Callia was linked to the Chosen, and she was Zander’s vulnerability, his Achilles heel. Theron’s words and the thinness he’d noticed in Zander earlier finally registered. Isadora’s separation from Casey was affecting more than just the two of them. Four lives hung in the balance if he couldn’t get to Isadora in time.
“I’m not,” Demetrius said. “Isadora’s being held in an underground bunker near the back edge of the property.”
“Why didn’t you tell Theron?”
“Because I needed a diversion. If Atalanta suspects I’m not on her side, she’ll have an army guarding the area. She knows I’ll be coming for Isadora. I needed Theron and the others to draw them away.”
Zander studied him, clenched his jaw. “Why are you the only one who can get to her?”
“Because I share more than just Atalanta’s DNA.”
“That magick trick you pulled with the daemons?”
“No.” He thought about that black mist curling through him even now. “That’s a gift from Medea. What I share with Atalanta is a helluva lot darker.”
“How do I know you won’t turn that on me when we get closer?”
“You don’t. But I promise you this, my only goal is to get Isadora out of there and back to Argolea. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
Zander’s eyes held Demetrius’s so long, Demetrius’s pulse picked up speed. If Zander didn’t help him now…If he called Theron or one of the others to come back…
“You’ve fallen for her.”
Demetrius clenched his jaw, looked quickly away, and thanked Zeus that Zander couldn’t read minds like Titus. “Yeah, that’s it.”
“Shit,” Zander muttered. “You didn’t just fall for her. She’s your soul mate. Why didn’t I figure that out sooner? Now it all makes sense. No wonder you didn’t want to bind yourself to her.”
Skata. He was obviously doing a bang-up job of hiding his emotions if Zander could see through him like tissue paper.
Demetrius handed Zander the hunting knife then looked over the field. “Can we just go already?”
Zander sheathed the knife and chuckled. “Oh, man. Hera cursed you but good.”
No shit.
Demetrius turned for the tree line around the field. “I’m leaving.”
Zander followed. “This just got a whole lot more interesting.”
The guardian didn’t know the half of it.
They stayed out of sight of any daemons in the area and thirty minutes later were crouched behind a small outbuilding on the far side of the property, waiting for the perfect moment to make their move. Ahead, an enormous warehouse-style building was illuminated by an eerie orange light.
“How many?” Zander whispered.
“Looks like four,” Demetrius said softly. “Two just left. Theron and the others must be causing a commotion at the main house.”
They were far enough away that they couldn’t hear or see anything happening at the lodge a distance across the field. Though Demetrius had told Zander the truth and he did need the others to create a diversion, he hoped like Hades none of them got killed in the process.
Demetrius ducked back behind the shed. “Okay, we’ll go around from behind. One sentry’s walking each side. I’ll take the right, you take the left. Try to make it soundless, then go for the guard on your side at the front door.”
“Got it.”
Hunched down, Zander disappeared into the darkness. Demetrius did the same. His heart pounded hard in his chest as he waited in the shadows for the daemon sentry to move past him. Then, when the beast wasn’t expecting it, he struck.
He was the same height as the sonofabitch. Slipping up behind the daemon, he wrapped his hand around the fucker’s mouth before it could shout out a warning and sliced its jugular in one clean sweep. The black mist inside him screeched to the forefront, but he ignored it, beheaded the monster, stepped over what was left, and tiptoed to the edge of the building.
Two daemons stood at the main doors, still as statues, their glowing green eyes scanning the landscape.
“Come on, Z,” Demetrius whispered.
Twenty seconds later, Zander’s head popped around the far side of the building. He gave Demetrius the thumbs-up, then disappeared again.
“Go time.” Demetrius took a deep breath even as the blackness roared inside. Soon enough he’d let it out. He had to have faith Zander would be able to get Isadora out before he lost himself to it for good.
He waited for Zander to make his move. A swish echoed across the silence, then a grunt, and without even looking Demetrius knew Zander had thrown his hunt
ing knife into the neck of the daemon closest to him. When the daemon on Demetrius’s side turned to see what had happened, Demetrius charged.
His blade was a blur of metal as he struck from the back, decapitating the daemon in one strike. The other daemon cried out, his guttural howl like a blaring alarm. Demetrius jumped over the falling body of the first daemon and swiped out with his blade, catching the second across the back. Zander charged from the other direction, and seconds later all that was left between them were blood, body parts, and steam.
“Come on.” Demetrius dropped to his knees and reached for the keys hanging from the first daemon’s waistband.
He slid the key in the warehouse door, turned, and pushed it open just enough so they could pull the bodies into the darkness. They locked it from the inside, spun around and surveyed the vast space.
Demetrius moved like a wraith, one thought in mind as he headed for the door at the back of the building that led down into the tunnels. Zander didn’t speak, but Demetrius heard the guardian behind him as they eased down the stairs and into the corridor like silent black shadows, low and deadly in the eerie orange illumination.
It was just as he’d remembered—stone walls, lights in the ceiling, and an air of evil that seemed to coat every inch of space.
The acrid odor of brimstone was strong in the tunnel but this time it didn’t bother Demetrius. The blackness inside burst forward, curling around every organ, tightening like a boa constrictor.
He stopped in front of the black door at the end of the tunnel surrounded by a pulsing halo of smoke and stared at the hideous warnings carved in daemonic text all over the burnt wood. He hadn’t been able to read them the first time he’d been here, but now he could. Now, because the black mist inside was on the verge of consuming him, he knew exactly what they said.
“What the hell is this place?” Zander asked, covering his mouth and nose with his hand.
“What you think it is,” Demetrius answered. “The doorway to hell. Hell on earth.”
Give in. Come to me.
He reached out with his hand.
“Um, D? Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“No matter what happens,” Demetrius said without turning, “get Isadora out of there. Open the portal and take her home. Don’t wait for me.”
“Yeah, D, man. I know, but what if—”
“No matter what happens, Zander. No matter what I do or say in there. Just make sure she’s safe.”
He lowered his hand to the door before Zander could say anything else. Power sliced into his palm, raced up his arm, and exploded in his chest, invigorating him with phenomenal strength and the dark, vile energy of his lineage.
“Skata. D—”
The mist whipped into a whirlwind of evilness, whisking through Demetrius like a tornado. Until his vision turned dark, until his limbs grew light, until all he saw and heard and felt was the malicious wickedness that no longer existed only on the other side of that door.
Until, in one mighty pull, the blackness drew him home for good.
Chapter 23
Orpheus came to a dead standstill. Frigid air blew past his face. A tingle ran over his skin. Deep inside, the daemon he kept locked down roared to life.
He felt his eyes shift to green but couldn’t stop it from happening. This time the pull of evil was too great, the mixture of witchcraft and darkness in the empty space that should hold his soul telling him one of his own had just turned.
Rustling to his right brought his attention around. In the darkness he watched Phineus and Theron slink from the shadows to take down the three guards on the north side of the building. A barren field surrounded them. They were using shadows and darkness to cloak their attack, but they weren’t a surprise. The daemon inside him roared again, signaling the darkness was coming. It was coming, and it knew, and it was ready to destroy.
Urgency pushed at him, drew him, dominated every cell in his body. He moved in stealth mode to Theron’s side, where the guardian was sheathing his blade. “She’s not here. It’s a trap. Get your guys the hell out of here.”
“What?” Theron glared at him. “How do you—”
A roar sounded from the other side of the building. Theron’s head jerked in that direction.
Orpheus’s eyes glowed bright, illuminating the darkness in a surreal green light as he took a step away. “I’ll get to Isadora. Just go!”
He closed his eyes, blocking out Theron and the others and what he hoped didn’t happen, and instead focused not on the darkness that was so much a part of him but on the magick of his mother. On his link to Medea and what he’d sensed hidden in Demetrius from the very start. He let that guide him as he flashed from the frozen field, across empty space, through earth and solid walls. And hoped like Hades he wasn’t too late.
***
A thick haze of darkness surrounded Isadora, pulling the breath from her lungs and settling deep in her bones.
Her heart beat was fast and erratic. An evil air hung heavy in the stillness, ratcheting her adrenaline and fear to epic levels. A sense of déjà vu washed through her, but she didn’t know where she was, only that it was cold and dark and the stench of brimstone was strong enough to make her gag. And somewhere in the darkness, Atalanta lurked.
“I sense your fear, Hora.”
Isadora’s pulse picked up speed as she turned in a slow circle.
“You wonder why I have brought you here,” Atalanta crooned from somewhere close. “I feel the energy vibrating within you.”
Isadora felt it too, thrumming in her veins, battling the malevolence that surrounded her.
Light flared, cutting through the inky darkness in a burst of illumination. Isadora flinched, blocked the glare with her hand. As her eyes adjusted, she realized she was standing in the center of a vast room. Thousands of candles burned, but the maliciousness was still there, hovering over everything as if it could extinguish the flames with one heavy breath.
From the far end of the room, Atalanta moved into the light. “You feel it, don’t you? The power of the darkness? Our gifts are not all that different, Hora. The key is how we choose to use them.”
“Ours are different. You use yours for evil. And I…” Her voice trailed off. How the heck did she use hers? Aside from contacting her sisters, she hadn’t yet. She didn’t even know if she could.
A wicked smile spread across Atalanta’s perfect face. “Your powers are young, but I can teach you. If you join me willingly, I can teach you a great many things. The world is at your fingertips.”
The goddess was scheming. She never did anything without purpose. Was she worried that Demetrius wouldn’t follow her instructions?
Her stomach rolled. “It’s all for naught. Theron will never let Casey leave Argolea. He’ll never allow Demetrius to bring her here. You’re going to lose.”
Atalanta’s vile grin spread. “Do you think I cannot predict the Argonauts’ next move? Even now as we speak, they are preparing to rescue you from the main house. And yet they will fail. They walk into a trap.” She moved closer. “And I need not your sister, Hora. I never did.”
Atalanta moved past her, and Isadora turned to follow the trail of her red robe. “I won’t live long enough to…” She placed her hand over her stomach, barely able to think the words. “To give you what you want.”
“Oh, you will,” Atalanta said over her shoulder. She gestured to the room with a wide sweep of her hand. “My power gathers here, in this chamber, where it’s fed by the darkness I harnessed from Tartarus. And with you here, the temptation will be too great for my son to deny.” She turned to face Isadora again. “Knowing his soul mate is in mortal danger will bring him to this place. This time he’ll come ready to wage war, consumed by hatred. And when that happens, he won’t be able to resist the power of the darkness. When he finally joins me in his rightful place, he’ll be strong enough to use his Medean gifts to keep you alive long enough to bear me the child that was stolen from me by your Argonauts.”
Isadora’s breath caught as the plan Atalanta so easily laid out before her took shape in her mind. She remembered the way Demetrius had healed her broken leg. “How?” she whispered. “How is it even possible…?”
“How is what possible?”
“That you, of all beings, are his mother?”
“I should have been one of the first Argonauts, Hora.” The air stirred, whipping past Isadora’s face with the force of the goddess’s fury. “And you would be wise not to forget that.”
The wind died down and Atalanta added, “You’re honestly curious, aren’t you?”
Isadora didn’t know how to answer. She sensed she was walking a tightrope and that at any moment the string could break, thrusting her into the dark chasm of Atalanta’s rage.
“The story of Demetrius’s birth is actually linked to your existence, Hora.”
Though fear lanced through Isadora’s chest, she asked, “I don’t…How?”
Atalanta moved to stare into the flame of a candle perched on a tall spire of twisted metal. “Three thousand years in Tartarus is not exactly my idea of paradise. But it was a condition of my deal for immortality. In fact, all gods are limited by their immortality. Did you know that?”
She turned to peer at Isadora. “Don’t you think Hades would rather be here, among the humans he so loves to manipulate? Of course he would, as would all the gods, but their time in the human realm is finite. A day here or there, a few hours to meddle where they shouldn’t be meddling. I was tired of Tartarus.”
Isadora thought about the Fate, and how she’d left the temple so soon after arriving.
“Which is how you come in, Hora,” Atalanta said. “You see, I couldn’t allow the Chosen to be united, because it would render me mortal again, but the prospect…of being free of my bonds to Tartarus? Now that was tempting.”
Isadora’s mind twisted with conversations long past. She remembered Demetrius telling her he’d never known his mother. How he’d been abused by a father who should have loved him. She thought about what he’d said—that a female had seduced his father and he’d been the unwanted result. And that he had a brother who’d been raised in the human realm.