And Atalanta…
The last thought sent a tremor through Gryphon’s entire body. A tremor that triggered a bitter hatred, turned his vision a blinding, glaring red and amped the need to annihilate exponentially.
“Gryph,” Titus said jovially—way too jovially—“why don’t we hang out up here while Orpheus goes down to see if Nick needs help.”
Nick was the leader of the half-breed colony where Gryphon and Orpheus had been living the last two months. He was already in the village below, looking for survivors of what they suspected was a daemon attack. And he had a tendency to eye Gryphon as if he had three heads too.
Fuck them all. Gryphon was sick and tired of being treated like an invalid. It wouldn’t stop until he showed them that he could hold his own, just as he had before. It wouldn’t stop until he proved he was the same guardian he’d once been.
Before Orpheus could agree, Gryphon stomped down the hill toward the silent village. And felt like screaming, because even he knew he wasn’t that ándras anymore. He twitched, he heard voices, he felt the need to claw himself free of his own skin every second of every day…nothing he did made any of it stop. Not the therapy the Argonauts made him go to, not the time or distance from the Underworld, not even being out here on a damn mission again. And after the things he’d seen and done when he was in the Underworld, he was starting to question whether he’d ever be that ándras again.
Only I understand you, doulas. Only I can ease you. Give in. Come to me.
He swiped at both ears with his hands, scrubbed his fingers through his hair, and pulled hard so he wouldn’t scream as he headed down the hillside. If he started hollering like a psycho, they’d surely lock him in a padded cell. And he wouldn’t go back to being imprisoned. Not even by them. Never again.
A growl echoed to his left just as he reached the bottom of the hill, followed by a frigid burst of air that signaled daemons were in the area.
His adrenaline shot up. He reached back for his parazonium—the ancient Greek sword all the Argonauts carried—just as Nick stepped out of the shadows.
Screw that. This was Gryphon’s kill. His blood grew hotter with the promise of a knock-down, drag-out, blood-letting fight.
The first daemon came around the side of the house, stepping between Gryphon and Nick. The beast lifted his head—a grotesque mix of cat and goat and dog—and narrowed glowing green eyes on Gryphon. Then he drew in a deep whiff and growled, “You.”
“Me, you son of a bitch.” Gryphon lifted his blade. “And I’ve a message for you to take back to your bitch of a leader.”
Nick swore at the beast’s back. Up the hill, Orpheus shouted, “No!” Someone cursed as boots pounded across the earth. But Gryphon didn’t listen. He was already charging, already losing the voice, the pain, even himself, in the fight. As his blade met sword and flesh and bone, he was already proving he was more than the guardian he’d once been.
He was everything he didn’t want to be.
***
Tonight was the night. No more fooling around.
Maelea’s stomach churned with a mixture of apprehension and excitement as she sat at the long rectangular table in the two-story dining hall of the half-breed colony and only vaguely listened to the conversation around her. Part of her felt a pang of sadness that she’d soon be leaving. Another part was eager to get away. Even after two months, she was never going to be one of them.
Though Orpheus claimed she was safe here, Maelea knew she wasn’t. Those around her weren’t safe either. Hades was hunting her. He’d find her sooner or later. He’d do whatever he could to stop her from reaching Olympus.
And Olympus…well, that was something worth running for. Something worth fighting for. Something worth even dying for.
“Maelea?”
Maelea blinked, realized she was zoning out, and refocused. Looking down the table, she eyed the female who’d called to her. Dammit…what was her name? Harriet? Holly? No, Helene, that was it. Her gaze skipped from face to face before faltering on Skyla.
Though Skyla was no longer one of Zeus’s assassins, she had the senses of an elite warrior, and her eyes zeroed in on Maelea as if she were a hawk closing in on its prey.
Maelea glanced quickly away from Skyla’s knowing green eyes and looked to Helene. “What? I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
“We were wondering if you would be willing to help out with the decorations for the festivities. Katia said you have a real eye for color.”
Katia… Maelea glanced back over the table and remembered she’d helped the female decorate a nursery for one of the other colonists. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what festivities they all were talking about. “Um…”