The map blurred. Flames flared in Daphne’s memory, cries for help echoed in her ears. Hot, burning tears threatened, followed by a wave of pain she thought she’d put behind her long ago.
“I...” Pushing away from the desk, she bolted for the door, rushing past him, needing space, needing to think, needing to figure this out before the memories swept her under and devoured her. “Get out of my way.”
*
Ari was cold, wet, and more than a little frustrated. He’d spent the last twelve hours tracking a horde of daemons across two ridges before losing them in the snow. All he wanted was a hot shower, food, and a few good hours of sleep—in that order—so he hadn’t been happy when he’d stumbled into his rooms and found the nymph who was supposed to be long gone invading his space.
Only now, food and sleep were the last things on his mind. Now all he could think about was the way she’d bolted out of this room as if she’d just relived a nightmare.
He looked at the map again, eyed the flags marking the location where that village used to be, then pictured Daphne’s sickened face. And finally put two and two together.
“Skata.”
He turned out of his room before he thought better of it. Was on the stairs before he even realized where he was heading. And pushed her bedroom door open before he could stop himself.
The room was empty.
For a fleeting moment, he thought maybe she’d left, then realized there was nowhere in this wilderness for her to go. He turned out of the bedroom and headed back for the staircase. Halfway down, he caught a flicker of movement through the tall, arching windows across the great room and stopped.
She was out on the deck. He watched her hair blow in the wind for several moments and told himself she wasn’t his concern. He could go back to his rooms. Forget about the nymph. Forget everything but sleep. The sooner the nymph was out of his life the better. But that stupid duty inside him wouldn’t let him walk away like he wanted.
He crossed the great room and pulled open one side of the double glass doors. The nymph stood at the railing looking out over the dark valley, snow already collecting in her thick locks. Her feet were bare, and dressed in nothing but the T-shirt and baggy sweats she had to have gotten from Silas, she was already shivering, though he doubted she even noticed.
“Come inside,” he said.
She didn’t move. Thinking she might not have heard him, he stepped out into the snow, the cold immediately penetrating his own bare feet. “Come inside before you freeze to death.”
For a long moment she didn’t answer. Then softly, so softly he barely heard her, she said, “Were you there?”
She was talking about the village. Her village.
Skata. This is not your concern. You don’t have to answer. “No.”
“It was the middle of June. So hot I could barely breathe. I asked my mother if I could run to the creek to cool off. She didn’t want to let me go, but I persisted. Finally, she agreed, but only if I took Argus with me.”
Dammit, he’d been right. Though he wanted nothing more than to run now as she had then, his feet wouldn’t let him. “Argus was your dog?”
She nodded as she continued to stare out at the darkness. “I lost track of time. When I realized how late it was, we ran back as fast as we could. I knew my mother was going to be so mad that I’d stayed late.” Her eyes drifted closed, and pain etched her features. “I heard the screams first. By the time I cleared the trees, everything was in flames. I was seven.”
Ari knew what it was like to lose everything—your hopes, your dreams, your future. And as much as he wanted to stay indifferent to the nymph, now he couldn’t. “I’m sorry.”
It was a feeble thing to say. His Argonaut brothers had all told him they were sorry when his soul mate had died, and it hadn’t changed a thing. He watched as she stared out at the black swirling storm. Her face was as stony as the rocks in the cliff below them. Except for the tears that slid down her cheeks in silence.
“And you’re sure it was Sirens?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“But you weren’t there. You can’t know for certain.”
Her protest didn’t surprise him. As a nymph, she’d probably been taught that the Sirens kept the gods’ peace. Denial was the hardest hurdle to clear. He knew that better than most. “There was one survivor, besides you. A boy. Eton, I think was his name. He was gathering firewood at the time of the attack. He saw what happened from the ridgeline and ran. After, he sought refuge in a Misos colony in Eastern Europe. He confirmed it was Sirens.”
“I knew him.” Daphne’s eyes slid closed. “He was a few years older than me.”
She stood still several long minutes, the wind whipping her hair, snow collecting on her dark locks, her clothes, her face, her arms and legs. And as much as Ari knew she needed this time to deal with her grief, the inch of snow that had collected near her ankles since she’d come out here told him it was time he got her inside. “Daphne—”