Max didn’t have time to question the hows or whys of that. He sprinted as hard as he could toward the truck, his arms and legs pumping, his heart pounding in his ears.
“Run!” Jeb hollered, motioning with his arms.
Just as Max reached the tail of the semi, something caught his leg. He went down hard, face-first into the gravel. Snow and rocks impaled his hands and face. The daemon growled behind him, grabbed on to his leg and yanked.
Terror clawed its way up Max’s throat as he dug his fingers into the frozen ground, tried to grab something to stop him from being dragged across the parking lot.
And then he heard a roar, only this one wasn’t daemon, it was human. Something warm and fluid squirted across his neck. The daemon let go of his leg.
“Get up!” Jeb screamed.
Max pushed up to his knees, his ears ringing, his hands
and face a mixture of dirt and blood. Whipping around, he saw Jeb holding a hunting knife as long as his forearm. The daemon was on the ground behind him, blood spilling from a wound in his chest.
“Get up!” Jeb screamed again.
Max scrambled to his feet.
“Go! Go!” Jeb got a handful of Max’s jacket and half pulled, half pushed him toward the cab of the truck. As Max skidded to a halt and reached up to grab the handle, he glanced back and saw Jeb standing with the knife in his shaking hand while the daemon pulled himself to his full height and glared down at him.
Max tugged himself up. Inside the cab he spotted the keys Jeb had tossed on the console. Could he drive this thing? He’d watched Jeb all the way down here. Hell yeah, he could drive it. And at the very least he could mow down some daemons while he learned. His hands shook as he found the right key and shoved it into the ignition.
“You made a foolish choice, human,” the daemon outside growled. “Like the half-breed inside. The boy belongs to us.”
Max’s fingers froze on the keys. Maggie was a half-breed?
“I got a knife here that says different.”
“You’re no match for me, human,” the daemon snarled.
“Yeah, prob’ly not,” Jeb answered. “But I’m not about to make this easy for you. That boy’s done nothin’ to nobody.”
Max hesitated. All he had to do was turn the key, stomp on the gas and take off. Never look back. But something stopped him. Something in the center of the chest that ached so bad, it wouldn’t let him leave.
I grow tired of your humanity, Maximus. Kill or be killed. That is the world in which we live.
Never before had Atalanta’s words been so true. If Max left, the daemon would rip Jeb to pieces. If Max joined him, even if he was able to overpower this one, the other two inside would be on top of them in minutes. And there was no telling how many more were out in those woods.
The disk burned hot against his chest. He looked down at the markings on his hands. What good was ruling the world if you lost yourself in the process?
The daemon growled outside. Max let go of the keys, whipped around and searched the storage area behind the seats for Jeb’s toolbox. When he came up with a twelve-inch-long screwdriver, he figured that was as good a weapon as he was going to find, threw the driver’s door open and leapt from the truck.
Jeb had circled around so neither he nor the daemon were looking Max’s way. As Jeb lunged with the knife, Max tightened his grip on the screwdriver and inched closer. Jeb’s knife only nicked the daemon’s arm, didn’t even draw blood. The daemon chuckled and swiped out with his claws, catching Jeb across the chest and abdomen.
Jeb howled and fell back against the ground with a thunk. Blood oozed from his torso, staining his shirt. The knife flew from his hand to land yards away on the cold ground. Jeb tried to crawl backward over the ground to reach his knife, but it was too far away. The daemon leaned down so he and the trucker were face-to-face. “I told you that you made a foolish choice, human. Say hello to Hades for me.”
Jeb’s eyes widened with horror as the daemon lifted his razor-sharp claws.
Max charged. Arm raised high, he shoved the end of the screwdriver deep into the daemon’s neck. Immediately the daemon shot up, wailing in pain. He threw Max off. Max hit the ground hard, the impact stealing his breath, and rolled across the frozen lot. The daemon stumbled backward until he hit the side of the semi, shakily grabbed the handle of the screwdriver and pulled.
Blood spurted from the wound like a fire hose. It was clear the screwdriver had hit the daemon’s jugular. The daemon fell to his knees on the ground, shrieking while his hand covered the wound and blood continued to pour through his fingers.
“The knife,” Jeb croaked, still trying to crawl backward.
Dazed, Max slapped out, searching for the knife himself. Finally, his hand closed around the handle. Snow and gravel filled his palm. Adrenaline pumping, he pushed to his feet and stopped in front of the daemon, still on its knees, writhing in pain.
Kill or be killed.
Yeah, he’d learned that lesson well, hadn’t he? Only it wasn’t the way Atalanta had ever intended.
Adrenaline pulsing, he swung back and through, just like she’d taught him, decapitating the monster before it could regain its strength and kill them both.
He didn’t dwell on what he’d done. Didn’t even look down at the grotesque head severed from the daemon’s body. Max turned and headed for Jeb. He dropped to his knees next to the man, immediately ripped off his coat and pressed it to the human’s wounded chest.
“R-run,” Jeb breathed.
“I’m not leaving you out here.”
Jeb’s hand closed over Max’s wrist. “There are…more.”
Yeah, Max already knew that. Atalanta’s scouts traveled in threes. But that wasn’t all. There would be more coming. Lots more. Especially when this one didn’t check in.
Max stared down at the human, wondered how things had turned so bad so fast. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of it. He wasn’t dumb enough to think Atalanta loved him and wanted him back. No, what she wanted was the disk he’d stolen from her. The key to controlling this world and the next. And she wouldn’t stop until she found him and took it back.
Unless…
He reached down and palmed the disk against his chest. It still burned warm, giving him a strength he hadn’t had before. It had gotten him all the way here when he should have been too tired to move. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but it had power. Like the glass that old lady had given him. And instinctively he knew only bad things would happen if Atalanta got it back.
Remember your humanity, Maximus. Let it be your guide.
The old lady’s words sifted through his mind. Maybe the disk could help Jeb, if only so the man could stay alive long enough to get out of this hellhole.
And if not, well, at least Atalanta wouldn’t get it back.
He squeezed his hand around the disk, then drew the chain over his head with frantic fingers. While Jeb watched him, Max stuffed the disk and chain inside his coat pocket.
“Wh-what are you d-doing?” Jeb asked.
A roar echoed from the doorway of the building. Max’s body stilled. They didn’t have much time.
Quickly Max tucked his coat around Jeb again, pressed it into Jeb’s wounds and placed Jeb’s hand over the top for pressure. “Do me a favor and keep this safe. Do you think you can make it to the truck?”
Eyebrows drawn together in confusion, Jeb turned his head slightly on the gravel, glanced toward the truck. Nodded.
“Good.” Max squeezed Jeb’s hand. “The keys are in the ignition. Get in, lock the doors and go. And don’t look back. You’re right. More will come. But they’re coming for me. Not you. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
“Max?”
Max pushed to his feet and turned toward the daemons.
This was it for him. No way he could outrun two daemons. But maybe…just maybe he could draw them far enough away to give Jeb a fighting chance.
He sucked in a deep breath. The image of his mother—his real mother—passed before his eyes: her red hair, her violet eyes, her sweet and beautiful face. He’d hoped some day to meet her. To ask her why she’d let him go. Now it really didn’t matter anymore. Funny that all that mattered was doing the right thing.
“You bastards!” he yelled. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Go back to hell, you freaks!”
The daemons growled in half warning, half anticipation of a kill yet to come.
His adrenaline surged, and fear raced up his spine. True fear, because he knew what was coming next. He’d seen it up close and personal. But Max didn’t hesitate. He took off running into the trees as fast as his legs would carry him.
The shower did little to chill Zander out. A frenzied storm bubbled beneath the surface of his control, and every second he spent here at the colony wasting time only energized the lightning inside him.
He wrapped a white towel around his waist without bothering to dry himself off. When he stepped into the bedroom Nick had told him to use to get cleaned up, he found Titus leaning against the wall and Lena already setting out scissors, needles and medical crap on the coffee table in the sitting area.
Lovely. Titus was here to make sure Zander didn’t snarl at the half-breed and that the healer, who obviously didn’t give a rat’s ass about Zander, did her job.
He didn’t bother arguing. Instead, he crossed the floor and dropped into the chair the healer nodded toward. The sooner he got stitched up, the sooner he could haul ass back to the hunt and find his son. Fear and dread spread through his chest, condensed into rage. This time he had very definite, very gruesome plans for the next SOB he found.
Titus didn’t speak as Lena went to work, just crossed his arms over his chest and chewed on the toothpick sticking out of his mouth.
Lena pressed all around the edges of the wound with her fingertips. “It’s not too deep. This shouldn’t take long.”
He kept his eyes on the pale yellow wall while she went to work.
She glanced at his face. “Nick mentioned what happened.” When he didn’t answer, she stuck him with a needle—not,
he noticed, gently. “Is it true? Does Atalanta really have your son?”
Just the mention of his son sent the firestorm swirling all over again. He clenched his jaw, worked hard not to let the rage overtake him here, curled his hands into fists and tried to think about…nothing.
Except it didn’t work.
She set the syringe on the table, reached for a needle and threaded it, her focus intent on the instruments in her hands. “Does she…does Callia know?”
He wasn’t in the mood to talk. Especially about Callia. But he also wasn’t in the mood to piss off one more person who could push him over the edge. “Yes.”
“And you’re here looking for him. Where is she?”
“Home.”
“In Argolea. Where she’s safe.”
The disapproval in her words was more than evident. He clenched his jaw to the point of pain so he didn’t let her have it.
She drew the needle into his skin and back up again, never meeting his gaze. “You underestimate her, Argonaut.”
Like he gave a rip what she thought.
She continued stitching. He went back to watching the wall. Silence descended as she worked. Finally, she tied off the ends of the threads, snipped and covered the wound with a clean dressing, then said, “That’s it. I’d tell you to be careful with it, but I have a feeling you’ll just do whatever the hell you want, so I won’t bother.”
She packed up the rest of her things, flicked a look at Titus still leaning against the wall. “I’m done.”
Titus nodded once and Zander had the distinct impression he was being babysat.
Which rankled. Big-time. That fury bubbled and swirled.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Lena stopped with one hand on the door. “Just don’t be surprised if it’s not what you expected.”
Rankled? Shit, forget Titus. The healer knew how to
irritate the fuck out of a person. He needed to get the hell out of here, like
now
, before he blew his lid.
Zander pushed to his feet.
“Hold up, old man.”
Titus ambled toward him, shifting the toothpick to the other side of his mouth and shoving his big hands into his pockets. His shoulders remained relaxed, but the intensity in his eyes was a big ol’ red flag that he had something on his mind.
I don’t have fucking time for this.
“Well, make time,” Titus muttered.
Zander heaved a sigh, because even in his mood he knew taking Titus on right now had
bad news
tattooed all over it. “What?”
“The healer had a point.”
Zander shot his kinsman a bored look.
“Callia has a right to be here.”
Not a fucking chance.
“It’s too dangerous.”
Zander didn’t make it a foot away before Titus stepped in his path. “Too dangerous for whom? Her or you?”
Zander narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you getting at?”
“I’m just saying. It should be her decision, Z, not yours. To hell with how it affects you.”
Zander’s eyes widened. Titus knew Callia was his vulnerability? Fucking fantastic. His mind skipped back over the connection Titus and Callia seemed to share and that rage worked its way in again. He clenched his jaw to tamp it down. “Screw how it affects me. You know it’ll be a thousand times worse if those daemons find her now. I’m not letting them touch her. Not letting anyone touch her. She’s been through enough. You don’t like my methods, don’t agree with my decision? Too fucking bad. She’s not your soul mate, so it’s not your damn call.”
One side of Titus’s lips curled, just a touch. A lame-ass grin that made Zander want to shove his fist through the wall…or through Titus’s face, he didn’t care which.
“Suspicion confirmed,” Titus muttered. Then louder, “Word to the wise, dude. You are officially fucked.”
Zander glared at Titus as the other Argonaut moved toward the door. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“Do yourself a favor, Z. Before you fuck this up any more than you already have. Tell Callia the truth.”
Zander stared after Titus as the guardian left the room, confused by what had just happened here. He’d never understood Titus, and now was no exception, but he had a strange feeling the guardian was trying to help him, not twist the knife. Outside in the hall, voices drifted to his ears, but he couldn’t make out the conversation. All he heard were Titus’s words pinging around in his head.