Entwined (12 page)

Zander checked the extra knife he kept strapped to his thigh, and then they set out again, picking up their pace and streaking through the forest. Demetrius led the way, with Zander in the middle and Titus at the rear. It was nearly an hour later when they made the turn at the trail fork and headed back north. In the distance, the sound of rushing water filled the silent void of the forest, which meant they were getting close to the ravine and the lone bridge that crossed it. They pushed on, picking up their speed.

Don’t let us be too late…

A shrill scream sounded through the trees. Demetrius, the fastest of the three, tore off the path and sprinted into the woods. Zander and Titus followed. As they drew near, roars drowned out the crash of waves against rock. Followed by the horror-filled shrieks of females and young alike.

Demetrius was already engaged by the time Zander and Titus reached the edge of the trees. His weapon clashed against flesh and bone. Snarls and snaps and more screams
rose in the late afternoon air as he sliced out with his blade and decapitated one daemon, then moved on to the next.

The forest opened up to a wide bank of sedimentary rock that seemed to tumble off into nowhere. Far below the ledge, a river swirled and twisted. On the opposite side of the ravine, the mountains rose in all their splendid glory, a promised hiding place for the Misos, linked only by a rickety wooden footbridge missing planks and supported by decaying rope.

Zander counted at least eight daemons advancing on the group, not including the two Demetrius had already taken out. Six Misos females shielded at least a dozen young in a semicircle, their backs to the ravine. Their only weapons were rocks and twigs, except for one gun—though even that was useless against monsters like these. And the female holding the gun was shaking so much she was more likely to hit one of her friends than the daemons themselves.

And then there was the fact no one was protecting all those young from the ravine mere steps away at their backs.

“Get back from the edge!” Zander yelled.

“Zander!”

Zander whipped around at the sound of Titus’s urgent voice and realized he was the only one not kicking ass. Adrenaline surging, he yanked his parazonium from the scabbard at his back and ran toward the seething daemon closest to the group.

He sliced, kicked out, swiveled to avoid claws and teeth. Around him snarls and screams filled the air, mixed with the clap of blades striking flesh and bone. But the daemons were relentless. When they fell they got up; when they took a blade they kept going. The only thing that stopped them was decapitation, but it had to be done at just the right angle. And cutting the head off a seven-foot monster with the strength of Heracles wasn’t exactly easy.

The daemon he was fighting swiped at him with razor-sharp claws. Zander twisted out of the way. The daemon
swung again, this time catching the edge of his jacket. A ripping sound echoed, and fire crept across Zander’s back. Zander reached for the knife strapped to his thigh and threw it end over end. It plunged deep into the daemon’s chest. The beast howled. With his blade in the other hand, Zander swung out and around, slicing into the daemon’s side.

The beast stumbled but didn’t go down. With a roar, he backhanded Zander across the face, sending him to the ground. Zander hit the rocks hard. The wind left him on a gasp. Sweat and blood dripped down into his eyes.

Screams echoed behind him. He turned his head just enough to see another daemon advancing on the group. A child, no more than eight or nine, stood shaking, clutching the leg of one of the females, blue eyes wide with fear.

Zander scrambled to his feet. “Titus!” he hollered over the fight. “Get them across that bridge!”

Titus, ten feet away, swung his parazonium from the daemon he’d just decapitated and paused to look toward the group. His eyes grew wide, as if seeing the young for the first time.

“Go! Now!” Zander yelled as he charged the bloody daemon seething in front of him. This one was too close to the children. He couldn’t risk getting them across himself.

The monster’s claws caught Zander’s arm, but he barely noticed. He thrust his parazonium out and around. The blade met soft flesh and sank in deep. When the daemon roared and fell to his knees, Zander popped the unholy with his elbow to knock him back. In the split second the monster swayed, dazed, Zander swung and sliced, sending the beast’s head rolling across the hard ground.

“Everyone across the bridge!” Titus yelled, his boots eating up the distance between the fight and the group’s only path to safety. “Right now. Hustle already!”

Zander swiped at his eyes with his forearm and took one quick look toward the group to make sure they were safe.
The females’ eyes were all wide with fear, but they urged the young toward the bridge. All but the one with the gun. She stood still as stone, the whites of her eyes visible all around her irises, the weapon in her hand shaking as if she were in the middle of a magnitude-ten earthquake.

Skata.
Zander didn’t have time to worry about her. Three more daemons had emerged from the woods and saw their victims’ impending escape. Instead of attacking Demetrius, engaged in battle with another daemon and closest to them, they changed direction and charged.

“Demetrius!” Zander yelled. The Argonauts were outnumbered, outmatched, and there was no way they could protect the Misos unless Titus got them onto the other side of the ravine and cut the bridge’s ropes. Which then left two against one, two, three…
seven
.

Holy fucking Hera.

“Titus! Get them across
now
!” Zander wrapped both hands around his weapon, drew in a deep breath and put himself between the advancing daemons and the bridge. If he made it out of this—
when
he made it out of this—he was never taking life for granted again. He’d seen the future in those eyes a moment ago. A future that wouldn’t exist for any of them unless he and his warrior kin did their job right here and now.

“Go back to hell, you motherfuckers!” He lifted his blade high over his head and coiled to pounce.

A scream echoed behind him, followed by an odd popping sound. Before he could strike, fire rushed through his shoulder and lower back. He had a moment of
What the…?
then the parazonium flew from his hands and clattered on the cold rocks, out of his reach. His hands jerked out to catch it, but they seemed to be moving in slow motion. Then he was falling, falling…going down face-first even as the daemons were closing in.

“Zander!”

“Zander!
No!
”

He wasn’t sure why everyone was suddenly screaming his name, but he didn’t really care. As the ground rushed up toward him at light speed, he had only one last thought.

Just when he’d finally decided he had something to live for, it looked as though the gods had granted his death wish.

Callia paused at the top of the staircase outside the king’s chamber and rubbed her throbbing temple. It wasn’t the king and his failing health that had given her this massive headache. It was what she knew she had to do next.

A true leader sets aside his personal wants for the good of the whole. And he makes sacrifices. Ones that, in the end, justify all that came before.

Maybe if she repeated the king’s words enough, she’d start to believe them.

Shaking off the woe-is-me attitude that wasn’t going to do her any good now, she headed down the stairs, her bag in hand. She checked her watch as she rounded the newel post on the third floor and hit the next flight of stairs. She had roughly thirty minutes before she was due at Loukas’s house. She needed to run home, shower and change. While she wasn’t about to get gussied up for the
ándras
, she wasn’t in the mood to antagonize him either. At least not until they were…bound.

Just the thought sent her stomach swirling, but she ignored that too. She’d spent a long time thinking about her life after her father had left her earlier in the day, and she knew only one thing for certain. If she was serious about instigating change in this country of theirs, then it had to start with her. And she wouldn’t be able to do that until she was Loukas’s…wife.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she almost didn’t see Isadora until it was too late. The princess rounded the newel post on the second floor, heading up. Callia stopped
mere inches from running the
gynaíka
over. Then did a double take.

“Isadora. My gods. What happened to you?”

Isadora reached up warily and rubbed a hand down the back of her pixie-short hair. Her once-long blonde locks now flared out all over her head in a messy but flattering way. The cut made her eyes look bigger, her face more prominent. It drew attention to her high cheekbones and a mole on the left side of her mouth Callia had never really noticed before.

But the hair wasn’t the only change. The princess was not wearing her traditional attire. Instead of a long gown, tonight she was decked out in sleek black pants, a fitted red sweater and sandals that showed off red—bloodred—painted toenails.

Her father was going to shit bricks when he saw her.

“Nothing happened to me,” Isadora said, stiffening her spine. “I’m fine.”

Realizing how admonishing she must sound, Callia gave her head a shake. “I—I didn’t mean it like that. I think you look wonderful, it’s just—”

“Callia!”

Callia and Isadora both peered over the edge of the banister to the lower level below, where Titus was shouting and running across the marble floor at a dead sprint.

He took the stairs four at a time until he was in front of both of them. His rugged face and Argonaut clothing were smeared with blood and dirt and something…green. Locks of long wispy brown curls had pulled free from the leather strap at his nape to brush across his cheeks, and he was breathing like he’d just run a marathon. “I need you to come with me. Right now.”

“What happened?” He’d obviously been fighting. Where and with whom, though, she didn’t know.

“There’s been an accident.”

“Who?” Callia and Isadora asked together.

Titus seemed to suddenly realize they weren’t alone. His
gaze swung to Isadora, but if he noticed a change in her appearance, he didn’t show it. “Zander. It’s bad.”

For a soul-searing second, time stopped for Callia. Her chest squeezed tight until it was hard to get air. She’d just seen him. She’d
just
had her hands on him. He’d been alive and well and
whole
earlier today, just like every day. He was invincible. Immortal. Nothing could hurt him.

“Is he going to be okay?” Isadora said next to her. “Who’s with him now? Titus, how bad is bad?”

But Titus’s attention wasn’t focused on the princess. When Callia finally pulled it together and looked up, she realized he was staring at her with an all-knowing and pitying expression.

“Skata,”
he whispered. “I didn’t know you were the one.”

Callia drew in a breath. Froze. Then whispered, “What are you talking about?” though she had a good feeling she already knew. Too late she remembered that Titus could read minds.

He shook his head slowly. “I knew it was a female who’d hurt him. I just didn’t put two and two together. He was careful never to think about you in my presence.”

Silence settled like a heavy weight in the air around them. At her side, Callia could feel Isadora’s eyes boring into her with a million questions. Her heart pounded in her chest, so loud she was sure the other two could hear it.

Hurt him? Hurt
him
? He’d been the one to walk away from her and their…She swallowed hard, unable to even think the word. Her heart beat faster as she tried to keep herself calm.

“I don’t understand what’s going on here,” Isadora said.

Titus ignored her. “You have to come with me, Callia. Now.”

“I—I can’t go anywhere.” Callia did
not
want to relive the pain of those memories. “I’m supposed to be at Loukas’s in…” She glanced at her watch, seeking something familiar. Normal. Predictable. “…ten minutes.”

“Fuck Loukas!” Titus took a step closer, and Callia’s eyes
grew wide. “Zander is going to die. I can’t save him. If you won’t do it for him, then do it for the king.”

“I…” Her head was in a fog. She was having trouble focusing. “He can’t die. He’s immortal.”

“No, he’s not,” Titus said quickly. “He just thinks he is. Please.” He reached toward her, but stopped short of touching her, instead curling his fingers into a fist before they made contact. “Please.” The pleading in his voice cut through her shock-infested haze. “He needs you.”

He never needed you. Not really.

Her father’s words from earlier in the day echoed through her mind. And for reasons she couldn’t explain, she had a burning urge to prove him wrong. Even if in such a minis-cule way.

She stared into sea green eyes flecked with shades of golds and browns. Eyes that saw way more than she ever wanted them to see. “Where?” she whispered.

“The human realm.”

Slowly, Callia nodded even as a frisson of fear whipped through her. “I’ll need supplies.”

“We’ll run by your clinic before we go back.”

“I’m coming too,” Isadora said quickly.

“No,” Titus stated firmly, his eyes swinging toward the princess. “It’s too dangerous for you. Callia and I will handle it.” He focused on Callia once more, effectively eliminating Isadora from the conversation. “Thank you. I promise this will be over quickly.”

Callia’s stomach knotted. For her, where Zander was concerned, it would never be over.

Zander tried to open his eyes, but there was something sticky keeping them glued together. Something cold and goopy and…wet?

He was lying on his side—that much he knew for sure—but when he tried to roll to his back he couldn’t make his body obey.

Where the hell was he?

He tried again with the eye thing and managed to break the seal. Through hazy, murky vision he saw the tips of his eyelashes, covered in—yep—some kind of sludge. The ground beneath him was cold and hard, but he wasn’t out in the elements. He was inside something—a building, a barn, a cave?