She’d just been shuffled off to wait. Again. The Argonauts were doing what they always did, and she was the female who had nothing to offer. The harsh reminder of the way she’d been treated by her father, by Loukas, by every male in her godforsaken life, stabbed deep and twisted hard. “Where is my father?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“Simon’s been put under house arrest by Lucian. I imagine they’re together.”
Callia imagined that as well. Like she even cared what happened to either of them at this point.
Fury filled her thoughts. She wasn’t about to sit back and do nothing. If Zander thought he could push her around…
“You won’t be allowed to cross the portal,” Isadora said when Callia moved for the door again. “The Executive Guard will never let you through. By now Lucian’s already sent word that you’ll be trying to cross. The Argonauts too.”
Callia’s frustration grew to explosive levels. She turned on Isadora. “Damn them. I won’t just sit back and—”
Casey’s hand landed on Callia’s forearm, and warmth spread up her skin at the contact. “No one expects you to.” She glanced at the princess. “There’s always the other way.”
Isadora pursed her lips.
“What other way?” Callia asked.
“The secret portals,” Casey said.
Callia’s gaze jumped from one sister to the other. “You know where they are?”
Isadora didn’t answer. And in the silence, Callia realized the princess wasn’t going to share the information. Callia’s eyes grew wide with disbelief.
That anger intensified to draw every one of her muscles tight and rigid. She and Isadora had never gotten along, and now Callia understood why. Had Isadora known the king was Callia’s father? Was she hoping this would never come out?
“Isadora,” Casey prodded.
Isadora sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know where they are…exactly. But I have a…friend…who does.”
Rage colored Callia’s vision but she forced herself to stay calm. She needed the princess’s help right now, more than she’d ever needed anyone’s help before. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go see your so-called friend.”
Isadora didn’t move, and that dead look Callia had noticed days ago in the king’s study when she’d tried to convince Isadora to stand up to her father came back with a vengeance.
“Your son won’t rule. The Council will never recognize him as an heir, because your mother committed adultery.” She glanced at Casey, then back to Callia, and oh, yeah, the bitterness got through loud and clear. “It doesn’t matter
what any of us want. It doesn’t even matter that you’re Ar-golean. All that matters are the rules. And the traditions.”
It was all Callia could do not to wrap her hands around Isadora’s throat. Was the princess honestly as heartless as she sounded? She was talking about her nephew. Flesh and blood. Even if she didn’t want to recognize Callia’s son, that’s exactly what he was. As Callia fought the rage, faintly she wondered if this was what Zander battled on a daily basis, but the thought dissipated as she narrowed her eyes on her new half-sister.
“I don’t care about any of that right now. I just want my son back.”
“Well, I do care,” Isadora said. “Your son’s father will sire the heir to the throne. There’s no going back on that now. Zander made a commitment to the king. And the king is not going to change his mind simply because the truth of your parentage finally came out. He’ll acknowledge you, but he’ll bury the fact Zander is your son’s father. Mark my words. No one but us and the Argonauts will ever know the truth.”
That was it. As much as Callia could take. She lunged for Isadora.
“Oh, my God!” Casey gasped, grabbing Callia around the middle and tugging her back. “Stop it! Both of you.”
Isadora didn’t flinch. And she didn’t look fazed, even as Callia struggled against Casey’s hold. “Take a close look, Callia. I don’t like this situation any more than you do. If it were up to me, none of this would be an issue. But I don’t have a say in it and neither do you.” She stood rooted in the same place, her eyes hard, unreadable stones. Eyes that said she’d been beaten down more times than Callia could even imagine. Eyes that seemed brutally resigned to her fate as nothing but property. “I’m not trying to piss you off. I’m just telling you the way it is.”
Though she didn’t want to, some part of Callia softened toward Isadora. Just enough so she didn’t tear the princess’s larynx out. She stopped struggling against Casey.
“This situation isn’t going to miraculously fix itself when
you find your son,” Isadora added. “You need to be prepared for that.”
Callia’s chest rose and fell as she tried to regulate her heart rate. And even if she didn’t like it, she heard clearly what Isadora was saying. Even if they got her son back from Atalanta—and that was a big
if
—Zander’s binding to Isadora was still on. Once an agreement was made with the king, it was final. And no matter what she or Isadora or even Zander wanted at this point, it was moot because it was all out of Isadora’s hands. Out of all their hands.
It wasn’t right. It would never be right. But at this moment…Callia didn’t give a flip about politics and what was wrong with their world. “I’ll deal with it. All I want is my son.” She zeroed in on Isadora’s tense face and though it nearly killed her, gentled her voice. “Please. Help me get to the human world so I can find him.”
Isadora sighed. But it wasn’t with relief. It was with resignation. Resignation and indifference. “Fine, then. I’ll take you to the secret portal.”
“Where is she?” Zander twisted the daemon’s arm so far up the monster’s back, bones cracked.
The daemon growled, tried to wriggle out from under Zander’s hold, where he had the motherfucker pinned to the snowy ground. Around them, blood splatters stained what used to be pristine white.
“Zander,” Theron said behind him. “Enough.”
Zander twisted harder, ripping the daemon’s arm clear out of his socket. The beast howled in pain. Beside him on the ground, two decapitated daemons lay steaming in the frigid night, their bodies illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the tall Douglas firs.
Covered in blood and sweat and other revolting viscera, Zander ignored Theron and leaned down so he was right at the daemon’s good ear. The one he hadn’t yet ripped off. “I’m gonna gut you like a pig if you don’t tell me where Atalanta is.”
“Zander,” Theron said again, grabbing his arm. “I said that’s enough. If you keep this up he won’t be able to talk.”
The daemon coughed. Blood sprayed over a fresh patch of powdery snow. He lifted his head inches off the frozen ground. “Go to hell,” he rasped.
Zander’s vision blurred. He shook off Theron’s hand. Reached for his knife. “You go first, asshole.” In one swift move she sliced the Daemon’s jugular. Blood spurted over him and the ground. The daemon gagged and struggled.
“Fuck,” someone whispered behind him.
Zander pushed up from the ground, every muscle in his body vibrating. He looked over what he’d done. Two mutilated daemons and the third choking on his own blood. Not a single one had told him where Atalanta was hiding out. Where his son was now.
He shoved the bloody knife into its holster at his thigh and turned away from the group. Behind him he heard one of the Argonauts decapitating the last daemon.
Pussies. Let the motherfucker bleed for a while.
He pulled out the GPS from his pocket and stalked across the snow. North was his best bet. Nick had mentioned the attacks were stronger father north. He wouldn’t be so gentle with the next daemon he found.
“I said, hold up, Guardian.” Theron stepped into Zander’s path.
Zander halted. Flicked his eyes up. “Move.”
“Where do you think you’re heading?”
“Where do you
think
I’m heading? Get the fuck out of my way.”
Theron squared his shoulders. Cerek and Gryphon took up space next to him.
Slowly, Zander lowered the GPS and looked at his kinsmen. Titus moved up on his right. Phineus on his left. They were boxing him in. “What the hell is this?”
Theron moved forward. “Look at you. You’re covered in shit. Your shoulder’s bleeding like a sieve and you’re on the
edge of an eruption. You didn’t even give that last daemon time to answer before you ripped his ear off.”
Zander looked into the trees.
“You’re going back to the colony,” Theron said. “You’re getting that shoulder patched up, your ass cleaned off and your head cooled out. You’re no use to anyone like this. And we’re never going to find the boy unless you chill it down a notch.”
The rage bubbled up and over. Zander dropped the GPS, had Theron by the front of his jacket and was up close and personal before any of the other Argonauts saw him move. “Try and make me.”
“No!” Theron barked when Titus and Cerek moved to pull Zander back. He didn’t pry Zander’s hands off or move to get out of Zander’s hold, even though they both knew he was ten times stronger than Zander. Instead he focused in on Zander’s eyes and lowered his voice. “I don’t know what you’re going through. None of us do. But this isn’t the way, Zander. I’m trying to help you here. We all are.”
Zander’s jaw ticked. Through a tunnel he heard Theron’s words. But the rage was right there. Thrumming to be released. Coloring his vision and actions and thoughts.
“Do the smart thing, Z,” Theron said. “We need to regroup. Come up with a plan. Nick will have information about where the most recent strikes have been. And you need that shoulder cleaned up before infection sets in. You won’t be able to find your son if you’ve got gangrene.”
Zander breathed deep. Once. Twice. Again until the haze started to clear.
“That’s it,” Theron said.
Slowly he let go of Theron’s jacket and eased back. But his muscles were still coiled tight. And he felt like a rubber band, ready to snap any second.
“Cerek, Gryphon, Phin,” Theron said to the guardians. “Take care of the bodies. Titus?”
“Yo,” Titus said.
“Get Nick on the horn and tell him we’re coming in.”
As Titus moved off to get a signal on one of the satellite phones Nick had given them, Theron put a hand on Zander’s shoulder. “You okay?”
Zander glanced at the hand, then at Theron’s face, and though he still wanted blood, he knew Theron was right. “No.”
“You were smart to leave Callia at home.”
The image of Callia standing up to her father and the entire Council flickered through his mind. “She’ll be pissed.”
“She’ll be alive.” Theron glanced to the side. “And she doesn’t need to see this shit.”
Titus stepped up again, phone at his ear, mouthpiece tipped away. “Nick’s got a scout out this way. He’ll be here in twenty to pick us up.”
Theron nodded. “Good.”
Zander’s jaw flexed and that familiar, all-encompassing rage pushed in again. Twenty minutes to wait. Another thirty back to the colony. Who fucking knew how long until he got stitched up and they put a plan together. The need to annihilate overrode everything. Even common sense.
“Hold it together, Zander,” Theron said. The leader of the Argonauts turned to the others piling the mutilated daemons in a small clearing. “Let’s ignite these motherfuckers.”
Zander stayed where he was. On the edge of the group while they all worked to clean up his mess so no humans accidentally came across the bodies. The heat from the fire singed the hair on his face and arms. A foul stench filled his nose and lungs, but he didn’t move away. He’d done this thousands of times, killed and watched the remains go up in smoke. But then he’d always had a sense of victory. Now he felt nothing but the urge to kill again. And a rage he was only barely keeping bottled inside.
Sooner or later it was going to explode, and he wouldn’t be able to hold it back. He only hoped Atalanta was around when it happened.
“You brought friends, I see. Yum.”
Isadora turned at the sound of Orpheus’s voice. He was decked out all in black—black boots, black pants, black sweater, black trench coat—and his eyes were as black as she’d ever seen them. Standing in the wind, near the base of Mount Parnithia, in the Aegis Mountains, with his long coat flapping behind him, his hair tousled and dark stubble covering his jaw, he looked formidable and menacing. And just a little bit ticked at having to meet her out here in the wild.
“Don’t get any ideas, Orpheus. They’re off limits.”
Orpheus lifted his brow, looked over her head and zoomed in on Casey. “Are you sure? That one looks…tasty.”
“That’s Theron’s bride. I don’t think you want to tangle with him.”
“Your half-sister?” Orpheus’s eyes narrowed. “Now this is interesting. Who’s the redhead?”
Isadora glanced at Callia, talking quietly with Casey near the trees. They were both roughly the same height, both had long hair, though one’s was dark and one’s was auburn, but their build was the same. Their mannerisms similar. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? And wasn’t it just fitting that she was the one out of three that didn’t fit in?
She shook off the thought, pursed her lips. Since she wasn’t ready to call Callia her “sister” yet, she wasn’t entirely sure how to answer his question. Not when she and Callia were obviously still spitting nails at each other. “The king’s healer. She needs to get to the human realm. That’s why we’re here.”
Orpheus’s gaze swung back to Isadora. “How did you get past the castle guards?”
Isadora crossed her arms over her chest. “There was a commotion at the Council meeting today. We slipped out then.”
“We?”
“The three of us.”
His eyes sharpened. “Interesting.”
Isadora tried to read his expression as he studied Callia, but couldn’t. A little of the jealousy she’d always harbored where Callia was concerned trickled in.
He stepped around Isadora toward the other two. “This must be my lucky day. Three pretty females and no Argonauts for miles.”
Callia ignored his comment. “Isadora said you know the location of the secret portal.”
“Portals,” he corrected. “There are several. And you, Healer, don’t mince words, do you?”
“Not anymore. Where are they?”
He glanced toward the hills. “The witches who live out here keep them mobile so the Executive Guard can’t close them down.”