Entwined

Chapter Twenty-Two

Callia’s heart raced as she cleared the hidden tunnel that led into the caverns of the colony. Frigid air whisked across her cheeks as she pulled on her gloves. The nearly full moon illuminated the clearing and forest beyond with enough light to make her trek toward Silver Hills, where she hoped to find a means of transportation, easy to see.

She’d left Isadora and Casey sleeping. They’d both been exhausted and disappointed after nothing came of their “attempt” with the orb. Callia had been a wired mess until they both dropped off.

She pressed her gloved hand against the sat phone in her pocket. When she got close to town, she’d contact Zander. Have him trace her signal. He’d be pissed, but she was confident he’d be able to track her. And she was 100 percent certain Atalanta wouldn’t kill her. Not if Zander found their son before the demigod decided she didn’t need both her and Maximus.

Maximus. Max. Warmth rushed through her chest. Her son had a name. And now she had a face to go with that name. Renewed determination surged in her veins. She checked her compass once, then moved toward the trees.

She made it ten feet before an arm shot out of nowhere and snagged her by the neck. Callia gasped, tried to scream, but the hand clamped over her mouth prevented any sound from escaping her throat. One strong arm closed tightly across her middle and jerked her back against a warm, solid body.

Fear lurched up her throat. She struggled, but was held firm.

“You kept me waiting, syzygos,” a voice breathed in her ear. A voice she knew all too well. “I warned you not to do that.”

Syzygos. Wife.

Her heart rate shot up. Loukas. Here? Now? What the hell did he think he was doing?

“Did you think you could escape me?” he growled. “You tried once before, but I brought you back. And I’m getting really fucking tired of doing this.”

Callia went still as stone, and for a second her brain flashed blank.

A roar sounded in the trees around them, bringing her mind back online like a power grid juicing up. Callia’s eyes grew wide as a sea of daemons spilled out of the trees and charged the tunnels that ran into the colony.

No…

“They’re going to die,” Loukas breathed in her ear. “Every one of those vile half-breeds you seem to love so much. All because of your indiscretions.”

No, no, no…

Callia struggled but couldn’t break free of Loukas’s grasp. On the far side of the clearing, Atalanta emerged dressed in the same bloodred robes Callia had seen earlier. At her side, she pulled Max along by a rope. When she reached the edge of the trees, the demigod stopped, looked their way and smiled.

Callia’s heart lurched into her throat and she screamed beneath Loukas’s hand.

“Did you really think she’d play by any sane rules?” he whispered in her ear. “She lured you out for me. The princess, the Argonauts, your lover and that stain you call a son will all be annihilated in one fell swoop. But not you. No, you’re going to live. With me. Where you belong. And trust me, syzygos, this time, you will remember.”

Zander stopped midstep on the frozen path. A searing ache lit off in his chest, drawing his focus and shutting down his other senses. Theron and Cerek’s conversation with Nick drifted out of earshot. His vision dimmed until he no longer saw Phineus and Titus in the trees to his right and left scouting the area around them. The frigid air drifted to the back of his mind until all he felt was a condensing panic that told him they were headed in the wrong direction.

Nick had landed the helicopter in a field four miles back and they’d been hoofing it since to avoid alerting any daemons in the area they were coming, but somehow he suddenly knew any daemons lingering here were the least of their worries.

“What’s wrong, Zander?”

Theron had stopped and was now studying him with that intense expression their leader was known for. Nick and Cerek were doing the same.

“I—” His chest squeezed tight, cutting off his words. This sensation was different from the rage he was accustomed to. It was deeper, more personal, and this time, insistent. Telling him…telling him something. But he couldn’t figure out what. He turned a slow circle, looked through the trees but saw none of the forest around him. “Something’s not right.”

“How do you know?” Nick asked with a get-real expression.

“Because I feel it,” he tossed back, still looking out at the trees. “They’re not here. They’re—”

Pain shot up his arm and into his neck, as if someone had hooked him with a half nelson and twisted hard. And in his head he heard Callia’s voice. Calling him.

That rush of insistence morphed to urgency. “Callia’s hurt,” he whispered. Then louder, “There’s trouble at the colony.”

Zander brought his hands together. When his pinky fingers touched, the markings on his forearms and hands glowed a brilliant white just before the portal opened with a pop and sizzle.

“Aw, fuck,” someone muttered. “He’s opening the portal. The daemons know for sure we’re here now.”

Theron took a step toward him. “Zander, wait—”

He didn’t. Because only one thing mattered now: Callia needed him.

Isadora jolted from sleep. Her eyes flew open. She pushed up on her hands just as a roar shook the living room of the lodge.

Beside her on the couch, bleary-eyed and sleepy, Casey did the same. “What…what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Isadora rushed to the window and peeled back the curtains. The sight that met her eyes tore a gasp from her chest.

“What?” Casey said, hurrying over. When she reached the window and saw the daemons below, raiding the colony, her hand flew over her mouth. “Oh, God.”

“We have to get out of here.” Adrenaline pulsing, Isadora whipped around and scanned the room for a weapon. Where the hell was Gryphon?

Her eyes landed on the sofa she and Casey had fallen asleep on, moved to the coffee table where the orb, now nothing but a cold piece of metal, still lay, then to the other couch, where Callia should be. “Sonofabitch, she’s gone.”

“Where would she have gone?” Panic filled Casey’s voice.

“I don’t know. I—”

The door to the living room crashed open. On instinct, Isadora pushed Casey behind her. Gryphon and—holy hell—Demetrius, in all his evil charm, charged into the room. When had Demetrius gotten here? Had Gryphon called him?

“Princess,” Gryphon announced in an I-mean-business tone, “we have to get you back to Argolea. Right now.”

This time Isadora wasn’t about to argue. She wanted out of here too. Except…“Callia’s missing. We can’t go without her.”

Gryphon and Demetrius exchanged glances, and just as Gryphon opened his mouth to answer, loud footsteps pounded down the corridor toward them.

“Get back!” Demetrius yelled, whipping around and drawing his blade.

Isadora’s heart lurched to her throat. She backed Casey against the wall and held on to her sister as her pulse beat like wildfire beneath her skin. A body flashed in front of the door, and two glowing green eyes appeared just as Demetrius shifted to attack. Around Demetrius’s massive shoulders, Isadora caught sight of the rest of the body in the shadows.

She shoved away from Casey and dashed between the Argonauts to put herself between Demetrius and the door. “No!”

“Hades. Princess, move!”

“No, Demetrius. Don’t! It’s Orpheus.”

Orpheus chuckled at her back. “And here I thought you didn’t care, Isa.”

She ignored Orpheus and looked to Gryphon, who held his own blade with a what-the-fuck-is-this? expression on his face.

“How the hell did you—?”

“Uncle Lucian’s here,” Orpheus said, cutting off his brother’s words. “He came to me for help. It seems Loukas has been playing for the wrong team.”

Oh, gods. Callia…

Demetrius motioned to Casey. “We’re getting you both back to Argolea right now.”

Casey rushed forward. “Theron—”

“Is fine.” Demetrius grabbed Casey’s jacket from the couch and thrust it toward her.

“But Callia—” Casey protested as he pushed her toward the door.

Outside, roars and screams echoed up to where they stood on the second floor of the lodge, cutting off her argument. “The Misos,” Casey whispered.

“We’ll come back for the healer and the others after we get you home,” Gryphon said quickly.

Orpheus moved to let the others pass. As Demetrius pushed Isadora out the door, she belatedly remembered the orb.

“Wait.” She whipped back around and tried to push by Demetrius. But he was like a solid steel wall blocking her path. “The disk!”

“I’ll get it,” Orpheus announced.

Orpheus? Oh, holy hell, no. She didn’t trust Orpheus with the Orb of Krónos for even a microsecond. Exigency pushed her against the flow of bodies. “Demetrius, get out of my way!”

“You really are a royal pain in my ass,” Demetrius sneered. “I said we’re leaving now, Princess, and I meant it.” His arms wrapped around her legs, and then all Isadora felt was air as she was tossed over his shoulder.

“Demetrius! Let me go! I command it.”

His only answer was a low, menacing rumble that vibrated through his chest and into her body, warning her the daemons weren’t the only evil she needed to worry about right now.

No.

Callia stared wide-eyed as Atalanta fixed her gaze on their location in the trees. The demigod’s coal black eyes were as soulless as Callia remembered, but she was bigger than Callia had thought. Easily seven feet and more powerful than any being on this planet.

Atalanta tugged on the rope at her side, the one that ran to Max’s hands, then pulled hard. The motion jerked Max off balance, and he stumbled but caught himself at the last second.

Fear was replaced with motherly instinct. Callia drew in a breath and let go of the pain shooting up her arm and into her neck where Loukas held her tight. Her eyes locked on Max.

“Come on, Callie,” Loukas breathed over her ear. “It’s time for our little meeting.”

Loukas’s tight grasp made moving over the snow-covered ground awkward. Soldiers from the colony had spilled out to ward off the attack, and Loukas maneuvered her past the fight and forward, up an embankment toward the knoll of a ridge she could just barely see.

Atalanta and Max were already waiting for them when they reached the crest. Callia’s gaze shot straight to her son. Max’s silver eyes were wide, his blond hair disheveled. Dirt marred his skin and clothing, and his hands were bound in front of him, but there were no cuts across his skin, nothing that indicated he’d been hurt. And staring at him there like that, the knife in Callia’s heart twisted even deeper, because he looked just like a younger version of Zander the first day she’d run into him in the castle, nearly eleven years before.

Breathing heavy through her nose, Callia tried to catch her bearings as sweat slid down her spine. Behind her, Loukas was also huffing from the exertion, but his body remained a solid presence at her back, reminding her who was in charge.

“Hello, Eirene,” Atalanta said in a menacing voice, drawing Callia’s attention. “We’ve been expecting you. Haven’t we, Maximus?”

Callia cut her gaze from Atalanta to Max. He stared at Callia with wide eyes. Did he know who she was? Did he have any idea he was hers and not Atalanta’s?

“Enough with the pleasantries,” Loukas barked at her back. “Let’s do this.”

“An ándras of action,” Atalanta said. “I like that. I trust you brought the orb?”

Loukas shifted his legs wider. “When the youngling is dead, I’ll give it to you. Not before.”

Panic clawed up Callia’s chest. She shrieked beneath the hand clamped hard over her mouth, but the sound that came out was nothing more than a grunt.

Loukas tightened his arms around her until pain shot through her nerve endings, cutting off her voice. Callia gripped Loukas’s arms, tried to pull them free, but he was too strong.

“The Orb of Krónos is quite a treasure, Loukas,” Atalanta drawled. “I never bothered to ask. However did you find it?”

“How I came to have it isn’t important.”

“Oh, but I think it is.”

Loukas tensed at Callia’s back. “My cousin found it. Now the boy—”

A feral smile slid across Atalanta’s perfect face. Far down the hill, the sounds of battle drifted up to them, but Atalanta didn’t seem to hear. “Shall I tell you a story, Loukas?”

“I—”

“Oh, it’s a good one,” she said with a smile. “One I think you’ll like. You see, not long ago, an ándras of your world came across the Orb of Krónos high in the Aegis Mountains. Being one who is always—how shall I say this…looking out for himself?—he decided to see what he could get for it. He posed a riddle to Persephone who, realizing what he had, managed to steal the orb right out from under his nose.”

Sweat slicked Callia’s back, only it wasn’t just hers. It was Loukas’s as well, seeping through the cloth separating them. His heart rate picked up against her skin, and his anxiety sank into her as if it were her own.

“The gods are never to be trusted,” Atalanta went on. “Remember that, Loukas. Now, Persephone took the orb to her husband, Hades, who was, as I’m sure you can guess, more than thrilled with her little find. He kept it close to him for quite some time. Which is how I encountered it.”

Loukas’s pulse skyrocketed. Moisture gathered on his palms where he held Callia.

“It always amazes me how single-minded males can be,” Atalanta said. “Even gods. If you fuck them long enough, you can get them to forget everything. Even what they’ve done with something as precious as the key to the world.”

Loukas swallowed hard. His muscles bunched. Out of the corner of her eye, Callia caught movement in the brush. She looked closer and saw—It couldn’t be. Her father?

Simon placed a finger over his lips, signaling her to be quiet.

Atalanta’s eyes hardened on Loukas. “Did you think you could trick me? You don’t have the orb. You’ve never had it.”

“But I do.”

Callia’s gaze flicked to the side where Orpheus had just poofed into appearance, holding the Orb of Krónos in front of him by its long chain.

Holy…Hades. Where the hell had he come from? Callia’s eyes grew wide all over again. Orpheus could flash on earth like they could in Argolea? That didn’t make sense…

“Let the youngling and the female go, Atalanta,” Orpheus announced. “Or I promise you’ll never see this trinket again.”

“Callia!”

The scream from below registered for all of them at the same time. Callia’s gaze shot down the hill to where Zander was tearing toward them, lashing out with his blade right and left as he struck daemon after daemon on his way to her. A pack of daemons halfway up the hill realized where he was heading and charged.

And then things happened so fast, Callia barely registered the movements. Loukas let go of her and darted toward the trees. Atalanta’s arm shot out toward Loukas and a beam of energy slammed into his body, throwing him forward. He screamed as his body hit hard, bounced, then collapsed and twitched uncontrollably against the cold earth before going deathly still.

Her father charged from the brush, blade held high. Atalanta’s arm swung out and around and she backhanded Simon easily down the hill as if he were nothing but a puppet. Then she shifted and threw her arm past Callia toward where Orpheus stood holding the orb.

“Do you want this?” Orpheus yelled.

Atalanta’s eyes grew wide. He pulled the orb back and swung it forward by the chain, hurling it across the distance between them. She threw a ball of fiery energy his direction, but before it reached him, Orpheus disappeared in a poof of smoke only to reappear at her back where she couldn’t see him.

Atalanta screamed in frustration. The orb had disappeared right along with Orpheus. Chest heaving, Atalanta whipped in Callia’s direction, and her eyes blazed as red as her robe. “You.”

“No!” Max screamed.

Callia’s heart rate jerked. She took a step back and braced herself. Behind Atalanta, Orpheus shot Callia a keep-her-distracted look, then silently stooped to untie Max’s hands.

Oh, gods. This was it. Callia’s gaze darted to Max. He could escape. All she had to do was keep Atalanta focused on her…

“You will pay for what the daemon spawn has done.” Atalanta lifted both arms and thrust her hands forward. But nothing happened. No heat flared from her fingers, no energy whipped from her palms. Eyes wide, the demigod looked down at her hands in shocked stupor.

Then her body jerked hard and was thrust down, much like Loukas’s, and she crashed against the ground with a squeal of pain.

She rolled and stared up at Max who had both hands extended out toward her, as if he’d just thrown her own energy back at her.

“Don’t touch her,” Max said.

Atalanta took one enraged look at Max, at Orpheus by his side, then over at Callia. Then she vanished, right into thin air.

“That’s right,” Orpheus said to the empty ground where Atalanta had just lain. “Tuck tail and run like the lower life form you are.”

Max stared down at his hands as if he couldn’t believe what he’d done.

“Dude,” Orpheus said, glancing at Max. “You’ve got the power of transference.” A victorious smile burst across his face. “That…totally…rocks!”

“Callia!”

Growls and shouts drifted up the hill along with the sounds of metal clanging against metal and flesh and bone. Callia tore her gaze from her son to the edge of the hill where Zander, bloody and dirty, and her father, looking much the same, battled back the ten or so daemons headed straight for them.

Oh, shit. They weren’t out of this yet.

“Orpheus!” Callia screamed.

“I’m on it,” he yelled. He shoved something in his pocket before he drew his blade. “Been a while since I kicked some daemon ass.”

He poofed into nothingness just as Callia saw her father go down.

“No!”

Orpheus reappeared behind the seven-foot monster. His blade arced out and around, severing the daemon’s head, preventing the monster from stabbing his blade into Simon’s chest.

“Dad!” Callia shot a look at Max.

“Go,” Max said. “Go!”

Her healer instincts kicked in. She didn’t think, only ran. Skidded to a stop at her father’s side. Blood poured from a wound near his ribs. Dirt and gore streaked his face and clothes. He wheezed in a breath. Air expelled from the wound as blood pooled around him.

His lung was punctured. He didn’t have much time. She wasn’t strong enough to heal this on her own. She had to get him to her clinic, where she had materials and supplies and could treat his wound. Fast. Now.

She packed her hands against the wounds. Tears burned her eyes as she looked up and around. “Zander!”

Zander’s blade clashed against the sword of the daemon he was fighting. Locked together, neither able to get leverage, his head whipped her way and his eyes widened.

A burst of adrenaline seemed to rocket through him. He broke free and pulled back, then shoved his parazonium deep in the daemon’s chest. It howled and roared, went down to its knees, and Zander jerked his blade free, then swung out and decapitated the beast.

Callia looked down at her father. “Patéras…”

“I…”

She sensed someone drop to the ground next to her. Then small hands came around to join hers over the wounds. Through a blur she looked to the side to see Max on his knees.

“Let me help.”

“You can’t…”

“I can,” he said in a voice that was so sweet, it sounded like bells. “If you help me.”

Emotions choking her, Callia nodded then looked down at the wound and focused her healing powers.

Warmth gathered beneath her hands, beneath Max’s. She felt him aiding her, together the two of them stronger than one. But her father’s hand closing over both of theirs interrupted the process.

“No,” he rasped.

Callia’s eyes shot to her father’s face. “Dad—”

“No, agkelos. Let me go.”

Moisture blurred her vision all over again, especially when he called her angel in the old language like he had when she was a child. Before everything that had happened with Zander had changed their relationship forever. “Patéras…”

“My time is done here, Callia.” His voice was so low, she barely heard him. His breathing strained. “Your mother was right. I want to…tell her. I’m…ready.”

Pain knifed through her heart and into her soul.

Her father looked at Max. “I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m sorry for everything…I did. Take care of her. Love her…the way I should have.”

His eyes slid closed.

Strong arms closed around her from behind just as the tears spilled over her lashes.

“Dad!”

But he didn’t hear her. He was already gone.

Those arms pulled and turned her, and then she felt Zander’s muscular chest against her cheek. “Thea.”

She balled her bloody hands against Zander’s shirt. Cursed every god she could think of. He was her father, and he’d loved her, even if sometimes she hadn’t understood that love. And today, he’d come here to help her. To help save her son.

Her son.

She sniffled at that thought. Pushed back from Zander and looked up at his handsome, familiar, bruised and dirty face. “Max,” she whispered. “His name is Maximus.”

As the rest of the Argonauts fought back the remaining daemons, they both looked at the boy still on his knees beside them.

In death there was life. She thought of the decision her father had made the day her son was born. One life for another. Though she would never agree with his choice, a small part of her understood how a parent could never sit back and watch their child die.

She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and tried to smile, even though she knew it probably did no good. She was filthy, covered in blood, and death surrounded them. But she’d dreamed of this moment for ten long years.

“Do you know who we are?” she asked softly.

Max looked from her to Zander and back again. Caution filled his wary gaze, but slowly, he nodded. “The old lady in white…She showed me. I…” He glanced between them again, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I didn’t think you were real.”

A flood of emotions burst through the dam Callia had erected around her heart. “Oh, we’re real. And we’ve been looking for you.”

“You have?” Max’s eyebrows lifted, and hope rushed across his face.

She nodded, and her smile grew. One—this time—she didn’t have to force.

“Yeah,” Zander said, his own voice choked with emotion. “We have.”