Enslaved

Chapter Twenty-three

Maelea’s heart jumped into her throat when she saw Atalanta with Gryphon. She’d tried to stay still and hide in the trees, as the Argonauts had told her to, while half of them, along with Nick, had attacked the front gate. But as soon as she felt Gryphon’s darkness rushing toward her, she hadn’t been able to stop her feet.

“Maelea, stop!”

She didn’t know which Argonaut had called out to her. All she could focus on was the goddess whipping her way, narrowing dead eyes, zeroing in right on her.

“You,” Atalanta growled as Maelea skidded to a stop. “You kept him from me. You and that disgusting light. Your light will be no more.”

Atalanta lifted her hands, and Maelea braced herself for the fury, but before power arced from the goddess’s fingertips, Gryphon hurled his body at her back, taking her down like a linebacker. She screamed. Energy arced out of her fingers and shot toward the sky. They both landed with a grunt on the hard earth, rolled across the ground. Gryphon reared back and smacked his head into hers. She hollered in pain. In her disorientation, he looked around, spotted his blade on the ground yards away. Climbed off her and moved for it.

A roar erupted from Atalanta. And when she looked up, rage flashed in her eyes. She scrambled to her knees, pulled her hand back. “You will pay for that, doulas!”

No! Fear gripped Maelea’s chest. He’d never reach the weapon in time. It was closer to her than it was to him. She lurched for it on the ground in front of her, and before she realized what was happening, the ground shook. Power—energy—vibrated from her into the earth. An electrical current shot across the clearing, then erupted in a bolt of lightning that speared up from the dirt and charged through Atalanta.

The demigod’s entire body shook. Her eyes rolled back. Smoke erupted from her ears and singed her hair as she landed against the frozen ground.

At Maelea’s side, Orpheus grasped her arm, pulled her to a stop before she could reach the weapon, and muttered, “Holy shit.”

Stunned, Maelea stared across the field. Gryphon whipped around. Shouts echoed at her back. Footsteps pounded the earth. But all Maelea could focus on was what she’d done—the power that had come from her—and on the goddess whose eyes weren’t black anymore, but blood red as she narrowed them on Gryphon and pushed to her feet, seven feet of seething fury.

“Now you will pay, doulas,” she growled.

“Don’t touch him.” From the trees behind Gryphon, a boy stepped out of the darkness, lifted his hands, and sent a steady stream of energy from his fingertips. A stream that hit Atalanta in the chest and knocked her off her feet again.

She screamed, hit the ground, rolled, and pushed herself up. Dark, singed hair stuck out all over her head. This time she fixed her rage on the boy. On the boy and Gryphon, who’d scooted over and put himself between her and the child. “Not a mortal wound, yios. Now, you will both pay!”

“Max!” someone at Maelea’s back screamed.

The ground rumbled again. Power surged within Maelea. She jerked out of Orpheus’s hold. Ignored his cry for her to stop. Swept the blade into her hand from the ground. The weapon was heavy, but instinct guided her now. Instinct and a need to get to Gryphon before it was too late.

Atalanta climbed to her knees. Growled. Lifted her arms.

Gryphon’s eyes grew wide. He pushed up from the ground, stepped fully in front of the boy.

Electricity rushed from Maelea through the ground before Atalanta could hit him with her powers, speared up right beneath Atalanta’s feet. A bolt of lightning pummeled her body from the ground up. Flames ignited on her skin and a scream like a thousand harpies howling echoed through the clearing.

She dropped to her knees. A dazed look passed over her face. Her gaze skipped from Gryphon to Max, then drifted out across the field, past the Argonauts, and seemed to focus on something far off in the distance. “My love,” she whispered. “I tried…for you.”

Adrenaline surging, Maelea ran up behind the goddess, and just as Gryphon had told her to do in that motel room, she swung out with the blade held tight in both hands.

Metal met flesh and bone. And a thump echoed when Atalanta’s severed head hit the ground, followed seconds later by her smoking, burning body.

Footsteps pounded across the ground. Chest heaving, Maelea dropped the blade and stared at what she’d done. The meadow, the snow, the Argonauts…everything seemed to fade away. She stumbled back a step, but strong arms closed around her before her legs gave out. Strong, warm, familiar arms.

“Hold on to me, sotiria,” Gryphon whispered. “Don’t let go.”

She gripped his arms, but her gaze drifted past him, toward the tree line Atalanta had been staring at when she’d dropped to her knees. Toward the lone daemon wearing a trench coat, watching from the shadows. And though she couldn’t be sure, Maelea thought… No, that couldn’t be right. Did he just nod at her? Like he approved of what she’d done?

She blinked, sure she had to be imagining things, but when she opened her eyes the daemon was already turning for the forest. Disappearing into the darkness of the trees as if he’d never been there.

Sound returned slowly. The heat of Gryphon’s body seeped into hers, warmed her from the outside in, drawing her back to what was most important. Gripping his arms, she looked up into dazzling, Caribbean blue eyes she only wanted to stare into forever. “I didn’t take it,” she whispered. “I didn’t take the Orb.”

“I know. Shh.” He tugged her close and buried his face in her hair. “I know.”

She closed her eyes and held on tight, feeling the strong steady beat of his heart against her own, letting his heat chase away the chill inside her.

“I should have trusted you. I should have…” His arms tightened around her back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He swallowed. Then whispered, “It’s gone. The voice, the darkness. It’s all gone because of you.”

It was gone. She couldn’t feel even an ounce of the Underworld inside him anymore. But even as he held her, fear crept in.

Would he want her, now that he didn’t need her light?

She opened her eyes and looked over Gryphon’s shoulder toward Zander, who was crouched on his knees, hugging Max across the clearing in much the same way Gryphon was hugging her, tears in his eyes as he checked to make sure the boy was okay. Then to Theron, Titus, Orpheus, and Skyla, who were all staring down at Atalanta’s smoking body with wide and surprised eyes.

Orpheus looked toward Skyla and smirked. “Now that’s what I call a mortal wound.” Then toward Maelea. “Way to go, Ghoul Girl.”

From the front of the compound, roars erupted, then faded to nothing. The dark energy that had permeated the compound—this whole area—dissipated until only light, blessed peace remained.

Maelea pushed back and looked up. Gryphon’s blue eyes sparkled, and as he stared down at her, one corner of his lips curled in a smile that shot heat straight to her belly. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

She waited for more. Waited for him to tell her he still loved her. Fought back the panic rushing through her veins. Looking down at his chest, she caught sight of the circular outline of something disk-shaped beneath the fabric of his shirt.

The Orb of Krónos. He had the Orb. He really didn’t need her anymore. None from his world did. They had what they’d been seeking.

A burst of light erupted behind her before she could figure out what to say. Gryphon shoved her behind him. She blinked at the burn in her retinas, held up a hand to block the glare. Slowly, the light dimmed until what faced them wasn’t man or creature or monster. It was a god. The King of the Gods. Her father.

A collective curse rumbled from the group.

Stunned, Maelea stepped out from behind Gryphon, shrugged off his hand when he tried to stop her. Three thousand years she’d waited for this moment. To look upon her father with her own eyes. He wasn’t gray and aged, as she’d envisioned over the long years of her life. He was youthful and strong with short, dark hair and a lean body covered in…very human-looking jeans, a T-shirt, and a light jacket.

His eyes softened when they landed on her. And a smile—a real smile—spread across his lips. “My child, this has been a long time coming.”

Light radiating from him drew on something in the center of her chest. She took a step toward him.

“Maelea,” Gryphon said warily at her back.

She stopped in front of her father, still unable to believe any of this was real.

Zeus’s smile widened. “You’ve finally earned your place on Olympus. You found the strength to call upon your gift. And you killed what my brother Hades created with his darkness.” He held out his hand. “Come, child. It’s far past time. Come and secure your place with the gods.”

She looked down at his hand. Everything she’d ever wanted was only inches from her. All she had to do was reach out and take it.

Slowly, she turned to look behind her. At the Argonauts standing with their feet apart, arms at their sides, bodies ready for whatever battle Zeus might throw their way. To Sklya at Orpheus’s side with her hand at her lower back, reaching, Maelea already knew, for her dagger. At Atalanta’s smoldering body at their feet. And finally to Gryphon, at the front of the group, staring at her with wide, light blue, mesmerizing eyes.

I would give up anything for you.

Her heart contracted. And the road home, a home that had nothing to do with Olympus, spread out in front of her like a winding trail of gleaming gold.

She turned back to face her father. And knew as soon as she made this choice, she could never take it back. Even if it turned out Gryphon didn’t want her anymore. “I’m not going with you.”

Zeus’s smile dimmed. “What did you say?”

“I said…I’m not going.” Her chest warmed. Telling her yes. It was the right choice. The only choice. “I don’t want to leave.”

Shock filled Zeus’s eyes, and his gaze shot past her. “You stay because of him?”

Maelea moved fully in front of Gryphon. “I stay because I choose to. My choice has nothing to do with you.”

“So like your mother.” Disbelief morphed to contempt in his eyes, and a chill spread down Maelea’s spine at how quickly her father could go from wanting her to hating her. “Conniving and treacherous. He’ll not give you the Orb, if that’s what you’re after. In fact, in a minute, it will be mine. But you, child, because you turned your back to me, you will be left to dwell in this realm all alone, just as you were cursed by my brother.” His dark eyes narrowed. “I gave you a chance.”

Maelea’s adrenaline shot up, and she felt—and heard—the Argonauts move up around Gryphon, protecting both him and the Orb. “I’m not after the Orb. But you just confirmed to me that you are. And I’m pretty sure you’ll not get it. Not without a fight.”

Zeus chuckled, and his gaze swept over the group, hovering on Skyla to Maelea’s right before swinging back her way. “Do you think the Argonauts and one backstabbing Siren scare me?”

Maelea tensed at the venom in his eyes. Behind her the clink of weapons being drawn drifted to her ears.

Oh gods, what had she done? Even with the Orb the Argonauts were no match for Zeus. Had she just condemned them all as she’d condemned herself? Her pulse soared.

“They might not scare you, Zeus, but I do.”

Zeus cursed, and, shocked by the new voice, Maelea turned toward the left. Toward the frail-looking creature hovering over the frozen ground, her diaphanous robe shimmering in a ray of golden sunlight.

“Lachesis,” Gryphon whispered at Maelea’s back.

A Fate. Maelea’s pulse beat even faster as the female floated toward them and stopped between Maelea and the King of the Gods.

“She’s made her choice,” Lachesis said. “Go back to Olympus.”

Fury erupted in Zeus’s eyes. “This is not over.”

“For now it is,” Lachesis said matter of factly. “The Orb belongs not to you, not to your father, and very definitely not to your brother. It belongs to them. And what they choose to do with it is their choice. Much as Maelea’s future is her own.”

Zeus’s enraged eyes shot over the group again. “If you think you’re safe because Atalanta is dead, you’re sorely mistaken. You do not want to take on the gods. You will lose, I guarantee it. Give me the Orb now and I’ll let you and those who dwell within your realm live.”

Silence echoed through the clearing.

“You’ve been given your answer,” Lachesis said, a smug grin across her face as she extended her arm and closed her fingers into a fist. “Go back to the light once and for all!”

She threw her hand forward, opened her fist, and whatever power had gathered there shot toward Zeus. In a poof of smoke and flames, he disappeared into nothingness.

“Whoa,” someone whispered.

“Holy shit,” another said.

As Lachesis turned to face her, Maelea caught sight of the rest of the Argonauts—Demetrius, Cerek, Phineus—and Nick emerging from the trees at her back, holy shit looks on their faces at the scene they’d just witnessed.

“This is the reason Orpheus’s soul was given a second chance, child,” Lachesis said, drawing Maelea’s attention her way. “So that he could find you, and so that you could fulfill your destiny.” The Fate lifted both hands in front of her and pulled them back as if drawing on two invisible ropes. “I release you from both the light and darkness. Your life is your own. You will remain ageless—I can’t change that—but when you choose to move to the Isles of the Blessed, so it will be.”

Maelea gasped as her links to both the Underworld and Olympus were pulled right out of her body. Her legs sagged, and she would have slumped to the ground, but Gryphon was right there to catch her, his arms sliding around her waist, his body pressing up tight against her back to support her all over again.

Lachesis looked his way and smiled. “Take care of her, Guardian.”

“I will,” Gryphon answered, glancing at Maelea, a smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eye that banished whatever lingering fear remained.

Lachesis’s smile faded, and she moved back, looked over the rest of the group. “The race to find the last remaining elements will intensify. And revenge now burns hot in the gods’ veins. You’ve won the battle, but not the war, my friends. Every moment the remaining elements are hidden, Krónos plots his freedom. Find them, guardians, and end this war once and for all.”

The Fate faded into nothing. And around her, whispered “No way that just happened” and “Holy skata, did you see that?” comments echoed. But she couldn’t focus on any of them, because all she could see was Gryphon looking down at her with all the love and longing she’d searched for her whole life.

“You gave up Olympus.”

She turned in his arms, rested her hands against his strong, familiar chest. “I knew it wouldn’t be half what I’d dreamed without you.”

“Sotiria,” he whispered, framing her face with his hands. “You give up too much for me.”

She gripped his forearms, and her skin warmed at the contact. “Haven’t you figured out by now, Guardian, I would give up anything for you?”

His eyes softened, and as he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her so gently, so thoroughly, she knew the sacrifice she’d made wasn’t a sacrifice at all.

“I will make you happy,” he whispered against her lips. “I promise.”

Someone chuckled. From somewhere close Titus muttered, “Way to go, Gryph.” Then to the rest of the group, “Another one bites the dust.”

A thwack echoed through the clearing, followed by Skyla’s voice saying, “Leave them alone. I think it’s sweet.”

But Maelea didn’t care what Gryphon’s kin thought. All she cared about was spending her life with the man she’d feared and hated and loved and lost. With the man she’d never lose again.

She pulled back from his mouth. “What about your Council? They won’t let me—”

“Don’t worry about them,” Theron said nearby. “We’ll handle the Council. I think it’s the least we can do, after what you did for us.”

Gryphon looked to Theron, smiled his thanks, then glanced back down at her, this time with eyes she knew she would lose herself in forever. “Anything else you need?”

“Just you,” she whispered. “You’re all I ever need.”

“Ditto, sotiria.” His lips curled higher as he leaned down to kiss her again. And as his arms tightened around her waist, she couldn’t tell where he stopped and she began.

Which, after all this time, was exactly the way it should be.