Tempted

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.

What would Demetrius have in common with a human brother?

And then she knew. His father hadn’t just hated Demetrius’s link to Medea. He’d despised Demetrius because he’d been duped by Atalanta in her quest for ultimate power. She’d wanted control of her immortality. She’d been tempted to find a way around Hades’s bargain. She’d thought conceiving her own Chosen—siblings that were the perfect balance of half god, half mortal—would do that. “You tried to get around the prophecy by creating your own Chosen.”

Atalanta turned to face her. “I tried. But I failed. And lucky for me I did, because we wouldn’t be together now.” The goddess turned abruptly toward the dark end of the room before Isadora could answer. “Ah, there you are, yios. I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”

A shadow loomed in the darkness, but it wasn’t friendly. Malice spread from beyond the illuminated circle. Malice and a malevolent threat aimed directly at Isadora.

She swallowed hard. Took a step backward.

“Come into the light, yios.”

Isadora’s gaze shot to the shadows. The air stirred as Demetrius stepped from darkness into light. And one look told Isadora that if she’d held out any hope he was going to save her, she’d been a fool.

His eyes were hard, cold pools of obsidian. No spark, no light, no kindness anywhere in their fathomless depths. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t show even a hint of recognition. The darkness engulfed him fully, and though she knew it was useless she found herself wishing he’d turn into the stone-cold bastard he’d always been whenever she was around. Because this—this soulless being possessed by evil—was a thousand times worse than anything she could have imagined.

Isadora took another step back. Panic and fear settled deep in her throat. Her heart pounded hard against her ribs as she waited and watched and prayed…for what, she didn’t know.

“You please me.” Atalanta cupped his face and kissed each of his cheeks.

He didn’t recoil. Instead he muttered something in a language Isadora didn’t understand, which made Atalanta laugh. And then they both turned and stared at her.

Emptiness brewed in Demetrius’s eyes. It was as if someone else was looking out at her. As if they were strangers. As if they’d never shared a single thing on that island together.

The Horae marking on her leg tingled. Two words swirled in her mind.

Remember me.

Somewhere deep inside she knew it was her only chance. No matter what he’d planned, no matter how he’d schemed with Atalanta, there had been a connection between them. She was his soul mate, damn it.

“We’ll need a strong spell, yios. We need her alive for at least nine months. I don’t care if she’s unconscious all that time, but we need that child. Are your powers strong enough?”

“They’re strong enough.” His cold, soulless eyes didn’t leave Isadora, and the tingle in her leg grew stronger as he took a step her way. “It won’t be pleasant for her, but the child will not perish.”

Oh, gods…

Remember me. Remember me remember me remember me…

She backed up until her spine hit something solid, blocking her path. Her pulse raced like wildfire as he stopped in front of her. His body was the same, his scent so familiar it surrounded her, consumed her, reminded her of every moment alone on that island with him. He lifted his hands and closed his eyes. A chant rose up in the air as his lips moved and that black mist swirled around him, mixing with the Medean powers he drew from somewhere deep in his soul.

Fear pushed her forward. She grasped his hands, threaded her fingers in his, and held on tight. That tingle turned to a full-on vibration that shook her entire body.

Remember me.

Energy—a power she hadn’t known she could control—flowed from her hands into his, a host of memories flashing through her brain, traveling into her limbs and out again. Every cruel word he’d uttered to her in the castle in Tiyrns, the moment in her chamber when he’d accused her of abandoning Theron in the human realm, that wretched day he’d refused to bind himself to her in front of her father and all the Argonauts, the way he’d soothed her burns after rescuing her in Apophis’s castle, the nights he’d slept next to her to keep Hades away, when they’d made love, and afterward when he’d held her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Emotions stirred in her chest. They rushed out her hands along with the memories, flowed into him. And when his chant cut off mid-sentence, when his eyes flew open and he stared down at her with a confused expression, as if he felt the transfer too but didn’t understand how, hope sprang in her soul.

Remember me, remember me, remember me…

“Kardia…”

Yes!

He shook his head as if to clear the haze, then stared down at her with the same blank, malicious expression.

No. Remember me, dammit!

She gripped his hands tighter, focused harder.

“Yios?”

This time he didn’t take his eyes off her as his chant resumed. He squeezed her hands right back, until pain shot up her fingers and into her palms.

She was weak and no match for his strength. His chanting grew louder. She cried out as he squeezed tighter, pushing down so she was forced to the ground.

“Yios?”

Something moved in the shadows behind Demetrius, but Isadora was in so much pain she couldn’t focus. Demetrius let go of her hands and swung around to face Atalanta. His chanting grew stronger; then he thrust out his hands forward. The goddess’s eyes went wide with surprise, and seconds later her body flew backward past the circle of candles to slam into the ground somewhere in the darkness.

The shadow shifted, moved, streaked toward Isadora. “That’s our cue, Princess.”

Zander. Oh, gods, it was Zander.

He wrapped his arms up underneath hers and hauled her to her feet. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Yios!” Atalanta’s bellow from the darkness shook the entire room. The candles went out in one giant breath of air.

Demetrius answered by chanting again and disappearing into the darkness.

“Come on,” Zander said, more frantic this time, hauling Isadora with him toward the other side of the room. “We have to get to the surface. I’m too weak to open a portal down here.”

She found her footing, held onto his arms with fingers that still burned, and tried to move with him. A dark doorway loomed ahead. They took five steps before a series of roars from that direction halted their progress.

“Skata.”

Atalanta screeched. An arc of electricity lit up the darkness. Demetrius’s chanting cut off abruptly and a crash resounded.

The roars—closer this time—brought Isadora’s attention back around. Terror raced down her spine.

Zander pushed her behind him and grasped his parazonium. “Get back!”

Isadora didn’t have a weapon. She couldn’t even see a foot in front of her face. The roars grew to explosive levels. She felt Zander’s adrenaline thrumming in the air in front of her. At her back, Atalanta screeched again and another arc of electricity illuminated the room.

She turned to look back, and in the split second of light saw Demetrius sail through the air and crash into the wall fifteen yards away. She cried out for him, but the roars, the pounding in her ears, drowned out all sound. Her heart lurched in her chest. Instinctively she moved toward him.

She slammed into a massive body, fell back on her butt. Horrified, she looked up and froze when the eyes peering down at her began to glow, casting an eerie green light over the entire area.

Oh shit…

“It seems I’m always rescuing your ass, Princess. Is this three now?”

Orpheus? No way. Orpheus was here?

“Holy shit, O,” Zander exclaimed from mere feet to her left. “We’re about to be overrun.”

“Then might I suggest alternate travel plans?” Orpheus winked down at Isadora. “I’ll add it to your bill.”

He brought his pinky fingers together and opened the portal with a snap and sizzle. The room burst with light. Zander turned and grasped her arm, dragging her to him, but in the chaos she saw the Argonaut markings down Orpheus’s forearms—the markings that hadn’t been there mere days before.

A battle cry erupted just beyond the door.

Zander pushed her forward. “Go, go, go already!”

Isadora took a step toward the open portal. Behind her, another arc of energy lit up the room, followed by another crash of body into stone, and again she watched as Demetrius sailed through the air as if he were a rag doll.

“Demetrius,” she whispered, moving toward him and away from the portal.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Orpheus asked.

“We can’t leave him.”

“I think he’s getting what he deserves.”

“She’s going to kill him.”

“Who the hell cares? Get through the portal, Princess!”

The black door shook with a mighty force. Followed by roars that rocked the room.

“No.” She wasn’t abandoning him. Not here. Not with Atalanta. She turned to Zander. “We can’t just leave him here.”

“You will rue the day you were born!” Atalanta bellowed in the darkness. A groan sounded somewhere across the room.

“Zander!” Isadora cried.

Zander looked to Orpheus. “She’s right. We can’t leave him.”

“What the—?”

“I couldn’t have gotten to her without him. He tried to save her, not kill her. It’s the truth, O. I don’t know what happened with Gryphon, but he didn’t hand her over to Atalanta. Dammit, she’s his soul mate.”

“Motherfucker,” Orpheus muttered. “Talk about screwing up a wet dream. Would you two get through the damn portal already?”

“But—”

“I’ll get him,” Orpheus said loudly, cutting off Isadora’s words.

“Do you promise?”

The glow of his green eyes held hers. But even through the illumination, she saw the truth lurking in their depths. He thought he was such a badass, yet how many times now had he come through for her when she needed him? “Yeah, I’ll get him. Now go!”

The door crashed in. Another series of roars resounded, these louder and closer and a thousand times more frightening. Zander grasped her arm. “Come on!”

From the darkness Atalanta screamed, “Hora!”

“Please,” Isadora pleaded as Zander tugged her toward the portal. “Please bring him back.”

“You so fucking owe me for this,” Orpheus muttered.

She didn’t get a chance to respond. Zander pulled her through the portal with one last yank. And then all sound dispersed as she went flying.