Enslaved (3 page)

“Theron won’t let you take him back to Argolea,” Nick said. “I already talked to him. He’s in the other room with Titus as we speak. And he’s more pissed than I am. Even he knows Gryphon’s become a liability.”

“He’s not a liability,” Orpheus snapped. “He’s just…struggling right now. I’ll get him through it.”

Nick frowned as if he didn’t think there was any hope, but his anger waned as he stepped toward the door. “I don’t know what the hell you’re gonna do for him that you haven’t already done. Some things can’t be saved, O, no matter how much you want them to be.”

Maelea dropped back into the shadows of the hall as Nick rounded the corner. When he caught sight of her, her adrenaline surged, but he didn’t acknowledge her presence, just as he never acknowledged her when he passed her in the halls. Instead he turned and headed out the front of the clinic, his boots echoing down the corridor in his wake.

The door on the far side of the exam room opened, drawing Maelea’s attention back inside. Both Skyla and Orpheus looked toward the massive blond male Maelea recognized as one of the Argonauts. “O? Theron wants you to come in now. Hey, Skyla.”

Skyla offered a weak smile. “Hey, Zander.”

The male disappeared again, and as Skyla reached Orpheus’s side, Orpheus grasped her hand and kissed it, whispering something Maelea couldn’t hear. Skyla brushed her fingers down his cheek. Then the two walked through the door and vanished from sight.

Skyla had obviously forgotten all about Maelea, evidenced by the way she didn’t even glance back, but that was okay with Maelea. As the door clicked closed behind them and silence settled over the room, Maelea told herself that being forgotten was something she’d just have to get used to all over again.

Some
things
can’t be saved, no matter how much you want them to be.

As she turned for the front of the clinic, she couldn’t help but think that a truer statement had never been uttered.

***

He was nothing more than a caged animal.

Gryphon paced his bedroom suite. The pale blue walls were closing in on him. The heavy draperies made him want to scream. And every time he looked out through the cathedral-style window toward the glimmering lake below, he had the uncontrollable urge to take a flying leap off the balcony and hurl himself through air and water to smash into the rocks and tree trunks lining the bottom of the lake.

He’d have done it, too, if he thought death would improve his situation. But he knew it wouldn’t. Even if his first trip to the Underworld had been a result of magic, he’d done enough shit there and since to know that if he died now, he’d wind up right back in Tartarus. This time to be tortured for all eternity. And he wouldn’t go back. The Isles of the Blessed…the resting place of the heroes…it was lost now to him until he found a way to redeem himself. And after what had happened today…

Bile welled in his stomach when he thought of Titus lying on the ground, unconscious from a blow to the head, blood oozing from wounds in his flesh. Even now, Gryphon couldn’t quite remember what had happened during that fight. But he remembered Nick gripping his bleeding shoulder, surrounded by mutilated daemons, screaming that Gryphon was nothing more than a fucking menace who needed to be locked away.

Gryphon closed his eyes. Fought the bile rising in his chest. Titus had to live. The guardian was strong. He couldn’t die. Not because of what Gryphon had done.

Come
to
me,
doulas
. Come home…

“No!” He grasped the ends of his hair and pulled so hard, his scalp burned. “Leave me the hell alone!”

The voice chuckled. And inside, Gryphon fought back the urge to listen. To do what it wanted. To draw him toward darkness for good.

A knock sounded at the door. His adrenaline lurched; he dropped his hands and whipped in that direction. Seconds later, Orpheus stepped into the room, and relief swept through Gryphon. But it was quickly quelled when he noticed Orpheus’s drawn features, his tight muscles, and his messy hair, all signs that said he’d been through hell and back in the last hour.

Considering Orpheus hadn’t looked this bad when he
had
come back from hell, Gryphon knew something was wrong.

No, gods. Not Titus.

“He’s fine,” Orpheus said, closing the door at his back before Gryphon could ask. “He came through the surgery okay. Callia had to do some major reconstructive work, but he’s going to make a full recovery.”

This time, the relief was sweet as wine. Gryphon dropped into a chair and cradled his head in his hands, thanking the Fates for Callia, the Argolean healer and Zander’s mate. But even as relief over Titus’s prognosis rushed through him, the darkness pressed in, telling him this was not good news. That good news would be to see the guardian die. To see them all die.

He pressed his fingers against his eyes, clenched his jaw to the point of pain.
Skata
, he was going nuts. The urge to claw his way out of his own skin consumed him all over again.

“Listen, Gryph,” Orpheus said, his boots scuffing on the floor near the door. “I gotta talk to you. For the time being, I think it’s best if you and I take a little trip.”

Gryphon’s head came up. Orpheus shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and worked to keep his shoulders relaxed, but Gryphon saw the tension coiled beneath the tough exterior. “Just until you’re feeling better.”

Nick wanted him gone. Gryphon had expected as much—after all, the half-breed leader had never been jazzed about his being here in the first place. “I don’t want to go back to Argolea.”

“No,” Orpheus said, lifting one arm and rubbing the back of his neck. “No, we’re not going there.”

They didn’t want him either. Reality settled in, and the ramifications of what had happened earlier today hit full force. Theron, the leader of the Argonauts, had to be here by now. And even he wasn’t willing to give Gryphon the benefit of the doubt anymore.

A space in his chest opened wide as he stared down at his arms, covered in the markings of the Eternal Guardians. Serving with the Argonauts had been his life, his identity, the only thing he’d known since being inducted into the order. He’d bled for them, he’d fought for them, he’d have died for any one of his kin if needed. But even though he still had these markings, he wasn’t one of them anymore. His actions today proved he wouldn’t be one ever again.

Come
to
me,
doulas
.

He closed his eyes. Fought the emptiness creeping over him. And the voice. The wretched, evil, blathering voice.

“Listen, Gryph,” Orpheus said. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t…don’t worry about it. The rest of them…they don’t understand what you’re going through. I do. I’ll help you through this. We’ll get away from all of this and we’ll…we’ll find a way to help you.”

If anyone could help him overcome the voice, it would be his brother. Orpheus had learned to tame the daemon inside him. He’d fought and he’d won. But Gryphon wasn’t possessed by a daemon. What swirled deep in his core was something else. Something not even Orpheus could tame.

“And what about Skyla?” Gryphon managed to say.

Orpheus shoved his hand back in his pocket and studied the ground. “Skyla will be fine. She understands.”

There was no way Orpheus would ever agree to leaving Skyla. The soul mates had only just found each other again. Not unless even he didn’t trust Gryphon. That realization cut sharper than knowing the Argonauts were abandoning him.

Silence stretched over the room. Then finally, Orpheus said, “We’ll leave first thing in the morning.” But there was no excitement in his voice. Only resolve. “Just…try to get some sleep tonight. I’ll be back for you at daybreak.”

As his brother exited the room, Gryphon caught sight of the three armed guards stationed outside his door. And beyond them, Skyla, her green eyes filling with tears as she rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around Orpheus’s shoulders.

The door snapped closed, blocking out the image of the two lovers embracing. And that emptiness swamped Gryphon all over again as he remembered what it had felt like to be trapped in the Underworld.

Helpless. Alone. Forgotten.

He wasn’t forgotten now. He was hated. Feared. The enemy. Orpheus had risked his life to save him, and this was the result. Only one thing was clear to him now: he was done being a burden and a responsibility. Done with the Argonauts. The brother Orpheus so desperately wanted to save was never coming back.

He looked toward the windows and the sun setting low over the lake. Tried to find some kind of joy in the view. Couldn’t. As the same emptiness he’d gotten used to living with the last few months swamped him, all he could think about was what he had to do next.

Come
to
me…

He would. All too soon, he would.

***

The castle was quiet when Maelea slunk out of her room.

Sconces lit the darkened hallway, illuminating the thick carpet runner, the paintings hanging on the walls, and the heavy doors, all closed and likely locked. Twisting her arm around, she pressed the backpack against her spine to keep the contents inside from causing too much noise. Her adrenaline soared as she tiptoed toward the end of the hall, every creaking board sounding like an alarm to her, announcing she was making her escape.

Nothing moved around her. The bedrooms on each side of the hall were silent. She’d been given a room on this floor, made up only of single females, when she’d first come to the colony, and she’d memorized her floor-mates’ sleeping patterns early on. Except for Samara, who liked to stay up to watch Jay Leno, everyone else turned in by ten. And at this hour—just after one a.m.—they were surely all sound asleep.

Under the cover of darkness was her favorite time to roam the castle. When it was quiet, when people were locked away, when she was confident she wouldn’t be stopped. Orpheus had called her a ghoul because of it at first, but she didn’t care. She’d learned a lot about the people and their rituals by sneaking out during the night. And she’d learned just how to escape when the time was right.

She held her breath when she reached the end of the hall, pushed on the door, and waited for the hinges to squeak. To her surprise, they didn’t, and seconds later she was standing in the dimly lit stairwell alone, the door between her and discovery closed at her back.

One
obstacle
down.
She only had about thirty more before she was out of here for good.

She checked her watch, realized she’d wasted too much time waiting for Samara to turn off the TV next door and fall asleep, and picked up her pace. Skipping stairs, she made it to the ground level, then paused to look out the rectangular window in the steel door and scan the courtyard.

This was where it got tricky. She could take the elevator down to the tunnels, but that would create noise that would undoubtedly rouse someone. She could continue down these stairs, but there were guards at the bottom she didn’t want to deal with. Her best option was to cross the courtyard and head for the armory on the far side. Weeks ago she’d found a door from the armory down to the tunnels, one seldom used and blocked off so no one would venture into the tunnels unaccounted for and get injured.

The key was to make it across the courtyard unseen. The moon cast a mere sliver of light. But the guards in the towers weren’t as dismissive as Hawk. Even with a virtual blanket of darkness, they could still spot her.

Maelea checked her watch again. One twenty-nine. In another minute, the guards would change shifts. She looked up, watched the tower to the south, and waited until she saw a shadow pass in front of the light.

Go
time.

She pushed down her nerves, slipped out into the darkness, and darted into shadows as she made her way around the central courtyard. Water gurgled in the fountain to her right. The air was crisp and cool, and her heart pounded in her chest as she eyed the base of the guard’s tower looming ahead like a sleeping giant.

Halfway there, her spine tingled, and she had the distinct impression she was being watched. Dashing into a patch of darkness, she looked up toward the tower and saw nothing but light, indicating the next guard had yet to take position. Glancing back toward the castle, she scanned the darkened windows, pausing when she reached the one she knew belonged to Gryphon.

He’d watched her from that window before. Several times she’d been out here in the courtyard, had felt her back tingle just like this and looked up to see him standing behind the glass, peering down at her with a haunted expression. The way he watched her was unnerving. But now that she knew what he was capable of…now it sent sickness sliding up her throat.

Tonight his window was empty, though. Swallowing hard, telling herself she was just jumpy, she picked her way toward the tower. The pack bounced against her spine. The black pants and boots were sleek and made it easy to move—way easier than the long, full skirts she was used to wearing. Perspiration dotted her spine. When she reached the ten-foot-long patch of moonlight between her and the tower, she hesitated.