Shit. Shit! Had the kid followed him? How would he even know how to get here?
He scanned the area. The daemons were marching for the front gate of the compound. If Gryphon didn’t do something right now, the kid was toast.
He grasped his blade at his back and stepped out of the trees into the daemons’ line of sight. “Looks like you boys found something that doesn’t belong to you.”
The daemon in front, the one holding something in his gloved hand, drew in a long whiff, then growled, “Argonaut.”
“He’s alone,” another said, sniffing the air, moving up next to the first. “And he’s the one we’ve been looking for.”
The remaining daemons stepped into line with the first two. The fifth hovered at the back of the group with Max in his arms. Max’s eyes grew wide but he didn’t speak. Didn’t even move.
Four—make that five, if the one in the back dropped Max and joined the fight—against one. Not great odds, but Gryphon had faced worse. However, he needed to take these fuckers down quietly and quickly or else they’d have an army of daemons on top of them within seconds.
“Max,” he called, ignoring the growls from the daemons already inching toward him. “Remember how you got away before?”
“Yeah,” Max called back before the daemon could stop him from answering.
“Do it again.”
The daemon in front chuckled. “That boy’s not going anywhere but to Atalanta.”
Gryphon closed his eyes, drew on his forefather Perseus’s power from deep in his core. Energy radiated up from the soles of his feet, through his body, and out his limbs. And when he opened his eyes and fixed them on the daemons in front of him, their gasps of surprise as their muscles stopped working and their bodies stilled was like music to his ears.
A thwack, followed by a grunt, echoed ahead. Gryphon stumbled back a step as his energy waned, then slowly slumped to the ground. He watched through hazy vision as Max scrambled up from the snow where the daemon had dropped him when he stopped midstep, and grasped the beast’s sword. Then he knocked the monster to the ground with his boot and decapitated him.
Minutes later, all that remained were steaming bodies and the kid—looking and acting more like Zander’s son with every passing second—wiping the bloody blade on his pants. He leaned over, picked something up from the ground, then stalked toward Gryphon. “Are you okay?”
Gryphon blinked several times. Tried to get up. Couldn’t. “No…that…drains me. I’ll be…okay. In a while.”
A smile slinked across Max’s face. “That was way cool. I wish I—”
A rumble sounded from inside the walls of the compound.
Max’s smile faded. He shot a look over his shoulder then handed Gryphon the object he’d picked up. “We might not have a while. Here, use this. It’ll help you regain your strength faster.”
Max shoved a metal disk into Gryphon’s hand. And only when power radiated through his chest to warm him from the outside in did Gryphon realize the kid had given him the Orb of Krónos.
Gryphon’s eyes shot to the glowing disk pressed against his chest, then up to Max’s face. “You took it?”
Nervousness crept over Max’s face. “I wasn’t going to give it to Atalanta, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just needed the extra power. So I could open a portal. So I could get here and win.”
“Holy shit,” Gryphon breathed, already feeling better from the Orb’s power. “Your dad’s probably busting a few thousand blood vessels right now wondering where the hell you went. And your mom—”
“My dad doesn’t care. He treats me like a baby. And I’m not. A baby couldn’t kill those daemons.”
Max’s eyes leveled on Gryphon’s. Eyes, Gryphon noticed, that were the exact same shape and color and intensity as his father’s when Zander was angry. And he heard his own thoughts ricochet through his head. Thinking no one cared about him. That no one missed him. He’d been so wrong. Just as Max was wrong.
He knew they needed to move, that they didn’t have time for this powwow, but this was important enough to take a moment for.
“Your dad loves you, Max. It’s just not always easy for us Argonauts to show it. He did everything he could to find you when you were with Atalanta. He’d die for you. He’d do anything for you. If he’s protective, it’s because he wants to make sure nothing happens to you again. And because he can’t stand the thought of losing you again. I know because my brother’s done the same thing to me. We have to cut them some slack.”
Max’s brow furrowed. “Maybe, but he thinks—”
A roar echoed near the main gate.