Entwined (19 page)

Her adrenaline surged and her airway constricted. She backed up until she hit the rock wall of the cave.

“Callia…” Zander tried to push up on shaky hands and knees but couldn’t make his limbs work. He hit the ground with a thwack.

Holy Hera. What have I done?

Terror closed in around her. She had to leave. She had to get out. She couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t breathe…

She whipped around and frantically searched for her coat. Spotting it ten feet away, she scrambled for it and the boots Titus had convinced her to wear when he brought her here in the first place.

“Callia,” Zander rasped again. “Wait. I didn’t…”

She took off running, heavy coat flapping behind her as she sprinted for the mouth of the cave and the exit toward fresh air.

Tears burned her eyes as she ran. She choked on emotions long buried but kept going, the need to get as far away as possible the only thing she could focus on. Her lungs burned, and her leg muscles screamed in protest, but she ran on.

Finally, when the pain was too much to bear, she skidded to a stop and sucked in a deep breath. Silence met her ears as she tried to slow her racing heart. Adrenaline still surged through her body, but the panic had thankfully subsided. Slowly, as her pulse came down, she became aware of her surroundings and turned a slow circle.

She was in a forest, how far from the cave she didn’t know. It was dark, but enough moonlight filtered through the tall pine trees above to illuminate the frosted boughs, the snow-covered ground and the dense underbrush. Wind whistled past her face, and a shiver ran down her back. Suddenly aware of the sweat from her sprint now chilling her skin, she pulled the thick coat closed at her front and cursed her stupidity.

An owl cried somewhere above. Dried leaves and branches crackled off to her right. Callia whipped around as her heart rate rocketed, and the reality of her situation sank in deep.

She didn’t know where she was. Pulse pounding, she tried to figure out which direction she’d come, but everything looked the same.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Dread bubbled up in her chest. The wind howling through the trees was an ominous reminder she was alone. She shivered again and pulled her coat tighter around her. Every crackle of twigs and brush, every shadow moving over the forest floor from trees swaying above, sent her anxiety spiking.

Relax. Think. It’s just your imagination.

The logical side of her brain took over—the side that had saved her numerous times before. Okay, so she couldn’t
stand out here in the open like this for long. She’d have to wait until morning, when it was light, so she could see which way to go. Titus had mentioned a ravine and a bridge. If she could find those tomorrow, she could find the trail that would lead her back to the half-breed settlement he’d told her about. In the meantime, she’d have to find a place to hunker down out of the elements and out of sight from any predators.

She cringed, knowing she never should have let her emotions get the better of her. She should have stayed in that cave. Even if it meant staying with Zander. Damn, who was the idiot now?

Feeling marginally better, at least with a plan, she squinted through the trees and tried to figure out which way to go. The darkness was so thick, it was virtually impossible to see anything but tree trunks that all looked like gray mirror images of each other. She turned a slow circle as she searched, then swung her gaze back to the left and froze.

Could it be…? Was that…? She thought she’d seen something flash orange. Like a flame or a…campfire.

A campfire? Out here?

There it was again! She looked harder. Or could it possibly be the glow of lights through a cabin window?

Her adrenaline pulsed at either prospect. Both meant humans or half-breeds, but definitely not daemons, as they didn’t need heat or creature comforts to survive. And that was enough to bring a breath of relief into her chest. Because either way it meant she wasn’t alone after all. And, thank Zeus, she’d take her chances with humans over daemons any day of the week, day or night.

She took steps—slowly, because she was still unsteady—toward the light that continued to flicker far off through the trees. And told herself though the last hour had been pure hell, one good thing had come from it. She was done with Zander forever. He’d made it perfectly clear how he felt about her: he didn’t. And that was all she needed to know.
There wasn’t a single thing in the world that could ever draw her back to him.

The lodge was silent as Max pushed out of the gigantic featherbed he’d been given in the west wing of the mansion and landed soundlessly on the hardwood floor.

He half expected someone to come running with a club and beat him, but nothing happened. He was careful as he crept across the floor and pulled the heavy door open. A chill slid down his back from the cool night air, but nothing creaked. For a moment, he imagined some faceless god was on his side for once, then dismissed the thought. No one had ever been on his side. The only person who cared what happened to him was him.

He inched his way out of the room. The hallway was dark, only a smattering of moonlight from a window at the end of the corridor lighting his way. Since he’d been given pajamas for the first time—blue flannel checked pj’s that felt like heaven against his sweat-damp skin—he was warm enough. And he knew he could get used to this kind of life. A warm bed, clean clothes and enough food to fill his belly so nothing hurt. But he was smart enough to realize this wouldn’t last. Atalanta was baiting him. For what, he didn’t know, but there was no way this would end well. At least for him.

Nothing moved around him. No sound met his ears as he rounded the corner and headed up the grand stairs toward Atalanta’s chamber. His heart pounded hard and steady in his chest, but it wasn’t fear shooting adrenaline through his body. It was excitement. And the knowledge the tide was about to shift.

He reached the top level and moved like a ghost across the hardwood. A balcony overlooked the grand staircase and the four floors below. Two massive double doors straight ahead opened to Atalanta’s suite of rooms, which occupied the entire floor.

She never locked the doors. Why would she? No one dared come up here. Pulse pounding with anticipation, Max laid his hand over the doorknob and slowly turned.

No squeak, no groan, not even a whoosh of air as he pushed the door inward. Could luck really, finally, be on his side?

He moved quickly toward the bedroom. As his attic was above this level, he knew the layout of her suite better than anyone. He’d gotten used to her life drifting up to him the last few weeks. To the muffled sounds of her voice, to the rush of water from the bathroom, to the measly heat radiating upward from lamps and the furnace system that ran throughout the lodge.

He stood in the open doorway staring into the room, breathing slowly through his nose so she couldn’t hear him. As a god in the Underworld, she’d never truly slept. Sure, she’d needed rest now and then, but it was nothing compared to what she needed now. Ever since they’d been in the human realm, she’d slept more and more, reinforcing what he’d already figured out: she was like him. Mortal, though somehow she still retained powers like those of the gods.

He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. Focused in on the chain around her neck. Held his breath and waited to see if she sensed him. When she didn’t move a muscle, he took a step forward.

“Think carefully before you act, young Maximus.”

Max’s head whipped to the side, toward the ethereal woman standing silently in the shadows beside him. His mouth dropped open at her sudden presence, and panic filled his chest.

The old woman who’d given him the glass. He’d recognize her anywhere. Tonight she seemed ghostly, almost as if she were an image and not real, her diaphanous robes as sheer as her iridescent skin. But her face was the same. Her flesh still wrinkled from time, her hair as white as snow, and her eyes…just as focused and intense as they’d been the first time he saw her.

“Yes,” she said softly, “I am the same. And this does not concern you.”

He knew no one could hear or see her but him, but it was still weird to hear her voice so clear in this silent room. He chanced a look at Atalanta, afraid maybe her godlike powers would make her aware of the woman, but she slept on silently.

Excitement pulsed all over again at that realization. Didn’t concern him? No, it didn’t concern
her
. Or her useless glass.

He ignored the old woman as he moved to the edge of Atalanta’s bed. The pendant lay exposed above Atalanta’s cleavage. Her head was tipped to the side, one arm up by her face. Her other arm was draped across her belly. The closer he got, the stronger his confidence grew.

“Maximus…”

He reached out a hand.

“Maximus, don’t!”

His fingers grazed the pendant. Heat rushed into his limb at the first contact, and he sucked in a breath, not expecting the metal to be anything other than cold. Atalanta startled, and his gaze rushed to her face, his fingers frozen to the disk. For the first time, fear and the repercussions for being caught became very real in his mind.

An eternity seemed to pass. Sweat broke out on his skin, but he dared not move. Atalanta’s eyelids fluttered but stayed closed. With a soft grunt she shifted her head in the other direction and fell back into rhythmic breaths.

And Max felt like his heart started in that moment.

Wasting no more time, he leaned over and examined the clasp of the chain.

“You do not know that with which you tamper,” the old woman said, now at his side. Her voice vibrated, as if she were restraining her emotions. He continued to ignore her and used his other hand to help push in the heavy clasp. It opened with a soft click. When Atalanta still didn’t move, he slid one side free from her neck and gently tugged.

Atalanta grunted, shifted her head; then the chain was free and he was holding the disk in his hand.

“Maximus, this is not a mere trinket. It never should have been in Atalanta’s care, but it most definitely should not be in yours.”

The hollow disk radiated energy in his hand. It slid through his fingers, into his limbs and down into his chest until it reverberated through every muscle in his body. A sense of power washed through him, and he felt like he grew three times his regular size in the seconds that followed, even though physically nothing changed.

Cool.

A smile slid across his face. Moving past the old woman, he headed back through Atalanta’s sitting room until his hand landed on the outer door.

“Maximus.” The old woman appeared at his side again, almost as if she’d floated through air to join him. He didn’t look at her, his eyes still glued to the pendant. But from the edge of his vision, for the first time he realized she stood no taller than him. “It’s not too late. There’s still time for you to put it back. No one will ever know what happened here.”

“Why aren’t you afraid for her to have it?” he whispered, not looking away from the four empty chambers that were obviously meant to hold some kind of stones. He turned the disk in his hands. Each chamber was slightly different. One was round, one was oval, one diamond shaped. The last was triangular.

“Because she cannot wield its power.”

“But I can.”

The old woman didn’t answer, and in her silence, Max knew the truth. Yeah, this was what Atalanta was afraid of. And he had been smart to come here and take it. His smile widened as his fingers curled around the smooth edges.

“Maximus—”

“What is it?” he asked, finally looking up. Stark fear registered in the old woman’s eyes when his gaze met hers, and wasn’t that interesting? She was some ancient godlike creature,
and she was suddenly afraid of him. A ten-year-old boy no one wanted.

“It is”—her voice lowered—“death and destruction in the wrong hands.”

His smile grew even wider. “Perfect.”

“Maximus—”

Max flew down the stairs as silently as he could and into his room, where he tore off his pajamas and threw on his clothes and boots. A pang of regret zipped through him when he glanced at the warm, soft bed, but he pushed it aside. When the hollow disk was safely hidden inside his shirt, its energy radiating across his skin, he finally turned to grab his coat.

The old woman stood inside the door of his room, but this time her eyes weren’t scared, they were filled with sadness. “She’ll hunt you,” she said quietly.

“It’s better than staying here. We might not be in Tartarus anymore, but this is hell just the same. And you know it.”

She shook her head slowly, that sad look still in her eyes. “You are so much like your father.”

His back tingled. “An asshole?”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, and something like amusement crossed her face. But after everything that had been done to him, shocking some ethereal old lady with blunt language didn’t even register on his I-give-a-rip chart.

“I meant—”

Oh, yeah, he was
so
not going there. “Save it. We both know I don’t have a father.”

“You do,” she sighed. “And regardless of what you think now, there is still hope.”

At her words, hatred for Atalanta’s torture, for the old woman’s meddling, for the parents who’d left him to rot in this hellhole whipped through him and condensed in the center of his chest, right where the pendant lay against his skin. And a rage, the kind he’d always tried to hold back, simmered right beneath the surface of his control. “There’s no such thing as hope. There’s only this.” His hand closed
over the pendant beneath his shirt. “And right now, this is mine.”

He moved past her and out into the hall, almost as if the pendant were leading him, giving him strength and courage he’d never had before. And wasn’t that even more cool?

“Remember your humanity, Maximus,” the old woman called after him.

He nearly laughed as his feet hit the first floor and he headed for the hidden entrance he came and went through when he didn’t want the house servants to see him. His humanity hadn’t ever done shit for him. And it sure as hell wasn’t going to save him now. He didn’t need it. He didn’t need anything or anyone for that matter.