Max turned to look. Though he still wasn’t back to 100 percent yet, Gryphon struggled to his feet. Looping the Orb’s chain over his head and tucking the medallion under his shirt, he grasped his parazonium from the ground and tugged on Max’s arm. “Come on. We’ll finish this later. Right now we need to hustle.”
As he hobbled into the trees after Max, he fought the shrieking voice calling to him and tried to calculate how far they needed to get before they could open a portal home. If they were too close, they’d—
His feet skidded to a stop when the voice dimmed. He whipped around, looked through the forest around him. Light replaced the darkness hovering inside his soul.
“Maelea,” he whispered.
Max jogged back to him, his small chest rising and falling under his open jacket with his breaths. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Maelea’s here,” Gryphon said louder.
Oh shit, she was here. That was the only reason the voice would be dimmed, the only reason he’d be feeling that light. He scanned the forest again, searching for her. How had she gotten here? How had she—?
There. On the far side of the compound. She was looking for him. She was…
He took off running in that direction, his only thought to get to her before Atalanta did. At his back, Max yelled, “Gryphon? Wait!”
His boots crunched on snow and downed limbs. When he reached a small brook, he ran right through the ankle-deep, freezing water, only barely registering the cold liquid seeping into his boots. Urgency pushed at every side of him. Whatever commotion was happening at the main gate couldn’t be good. He had to get to Maelea. He had to find her…
Blood pounded in his ears. His heart thumped hard against his ribs. He threaded through a cluster of trees only to skid to a stop at the opening of a small meadow.
Atalanta appeared not more than ten feet in front of him, her blood-red robe brushing the ground, her jet-black hair waving in the wind at her back as he remembered from the Underworld. A wicked smile turned her lips as her onyx eyes focused on his. And being this close to her, that darkness resurged deep inside his soul. “Doulas. I felt you close. I knew you’d come to me, eventually.”
Footsteps pounded at Gryphon’s back. And too late he remembered Max had been chasing after him.
Atalanta’s gaze shot past him to the trees, then narrowed and held as Max skidded to a stop too. “Maximus,” she whispered.
Her gaze shot back to Gryphon, and her smile widened. This one a malevolent, victorious grin that curled his insides, even as the darkness inside twisted and urged him to give in. “I knew I could count on you, doulas.”
“Run,” Gryphon whispered to Max as he stepped in front of the boy and lifted his blade, fighting her pull with every bit of strength he had left inside. “You can’t have him,” he said to Atalanta. Then, “Max, run!”
Atalanta chuckled. “You can’t fight me, doulas. I’m your master.” She extended her hand, and an invisible force arced out, ripping the blade from Gryphon’s hand. The metal flew through the air, over her head, to land on the frozen ground at her back. Then she moved forward with all the empty, dead hatred he remembered from his time with her in Tartarus and extended both arms toward him. The darkness inside him surged to life, forcing his feet forward, forcing him toward her, even though he tried to stop it. “Come to me. Come to your destiny.”
It was taking him. The darkness overwhelmed Gryphon. Panic surged again. Atalanta was going to win. And thanks to him she was going to wind up with not only him but with the Orb and with Max, a descendent of the Horae, whom she needed to wield the Orb’s powers.
No, no, no. He fought, struggled, tried to see through the darkening haze, but knew he was slipping. Even with the Orb’s power, the Underworld darkness was too strong. Her lure too great. And because of his weakness, because Maelea had come here trying to save him, he’d led her to her death too.
She had to get away. She had to survive. Why the hell hadn’t he taught her to fight like she’d wanted at the beach hou—
“Gryphon!”
The haze cleared, and the pull inside dimmed. He looked past Atalanta, toward a body rushing close. Toward Maelea at a dead run. And behind her, Theron, Zander, Orpheus, Titus, and Skyla.
Atalanta whipped around, and growled as she extended her hands toward Maelea.
Everything inside Gryphon lurched in fear. “No!”
Chapter Twenty-three
Maelea’s heart jumped into her throat when she saw Atalanta with Gryphon. She’d tried to stay still and hide in the trees, as the Argonauts had told her to, while half of them, along with Nick, had attacked the front gate. But as soon as she felt Gryphon’s darkness rushing toward her, she hadn’t been able to stop her feet.
“Maelea, stop!”
She didn’t know which Argonaut had called out to her. All she could focus on was the goddess whipping her way, narrowing dead eyes, zeroing in right on her.