Enslaved

Chapter Seven

Crouched by the side of the river, with water dripping from his body and both hands wrapped around Maelea’s arms to haul her out, Gryphon froze. He didn’t have to turn, because he knew what was behind him. The only question was where. And how many.

Maelea must have read his mind, because her gaze strayed over his right shoulder, and her eyes grew even wider.

Okay, that meant more than one. Their luck was not improving. He squeezed her hand to get her attention. When her fear-filled eyes darted back to his, he glanced down at the rocks, silently telling her not to make any quick moves when he let go.

The tiniest nod of her head was all the confirmation he needed. At his back, another hiss echoed, followed by the clicking of dozens of nails against stone.

He let go of her, grasped the sword, and swiveled, arcing out before the first kobalos could attack. A shriek sounded as he caught one across the chest, followed by another series of hisses and growls as they charged.

He swung out with the blade, kicked and knocked one creature into another. A grunt sounded as they went down. It was darker in here, with very little light coming through from above, and he wasn’t sure how many he took down, but when Maelea screamed at his back, he knew the longer they lingered, the more would arrive.

“Grab on to me!”

She’d climbed all the way out of the water already. Her fingers grasped the back of his shirt. She grunted as he continued to fight and move forward, drawing them closer to the light. Her grip tightened on his shirt, and she nearly lost her balance before righting herself. Bones cracking against rock echoed in the darkness along with more grunts and hisses, and the feel of Maelea slipping. She was fighting too, he realized. Kicking, punching, doing whatever she could to get them through as well.

They reached the incline. He turned, pushed her between him and the rocks. Yelled, “Climb!”

A roar rocked the cavern, the vibration nearly knocking Gryphon off his feet. Maelea gripped his back to steady herself. The kobaloi stopped their attack, their heads swiveling in the direction of the sound. With the sword gripped in two hands, Gryphon looked to the right too, toward a darkened tunnel coming alive with a fiery red glow that seemed to be growing in intensity.

Vibrations shook the floor. Another roar echoed through the cave. The kobaloi shrieked as if in fear, hissed, and jumped back.

“Wh-what is that?” Maelea asked at his back, her fingers shaking against his spine.

“I don’t know.” But whatever it was, it was big. And coming right for them.

They didn’t have time to dick around. And Gryphon wasn’t waiting around to see what the fuck it was. “Go!” he hollered, pushing her up the incline.

Rocks clattered together as she dug her feet into the loose pile and scrambled up the side, heading for the sliver of light only five feet away now. He followed, tried not to twist his ankle on the rocks and slide back down the hill. Three kobaloi close by realized they were about to get away, shrieked, and charged, even as the rest of the creatures scrambled away from the oncoming threat. Gryphon twisted, arced out with the blade, caught one across the throat. The creature went down. Another hissed and charged.

“Maelea!”

“I’m there!” she screamed.

More rocks tumbled down the incline, smacked him in the face as he battled. He kicked out, knocked the closest kobalos down the hill to land with a crack on his back. On the other side of the river, the red glow erupted in flames ten feet high. And then light flooded the cavern, blinding Gryphon with its intensity. He blinked several times, opened his eyes, and saw the twenty-foot-tall fire demon, surrounded by a vortex of swirling black smoke and fiery flames.

Holy shit.

The hundreds of kobaloi along the banks of the river shrieked and rushed away from the demon, crawling like spiders along the walls, rushing for a hole in the ceiling and their only chance for escape. The demon roared, vomiting a steady stream of fire that singed kobaloi, sent screams of agony ringing through the cavern, and kicked the temperature up at least twenty degrees.

“I’m through!” Maelea yelled.

Sword gripped in one hand, the other arm out for balance, Gryphon scrambled up the wall of rock after her.

His lungs burned, but he reached the opening. Squinted into the bright sunlight. Maelea grasped his arm and pulled. Halfway out, something grabbed his leg, then blinding pain shot across his nerve endings as nails or claws or teeth slashed through his calf.

Max knew he wasn’t supposed to be in the tunnels, but he was tired of being told what to do. And the way his mother kept watching him with those eagle eyes of hers was driving him freakin’ nuts.

He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. Scowled as the elevator doors opened at the lowest level of the colony’s castle, the level that led into the tunnels. His mother hovered over him as if she expected him to freak out or something. As if she was just waiting for the moment he was gonna go all “Atalanta” on her.

His mood grew darker with each step. The walls seemed to close in around him. He wasn’t a baby, dammit. He’d killed daemons before. And no one had more reason to see Atalanta dead than he had. He was sick and tired of being told what he could and couldn’t do. Of being treated as if he were a kid. He was an Argonaut, dammit. Didn’t he have the markings?

As he rounded a corner, voices echoed ahead. His high-tops slipped on a wet section of rock, and he reached out to grasp the wall to steady himself. The trickle of water echoed, followed by his dad’s voice.

“Whoa! Hold on,” Zander yelled. “That’s not working. Someone’s gonna slip and fall into that crevice and die.”

“Skata,” Theron’s voice echoed. “The flow’s still too strong. We’re not going to be able to rappel in until we get this water dammed up.”

Other voices murmured in agreement. Max picked out Cerek and Orpheus. He’d seen Demetrius in the castle talking with Queen Isadora, giving her an update on the search for Gryphon, and since Phineus was still helping Max’s mom with Titus in the clinic, it meant the other voices had to be Nick and some of his Misos sentries.

Max pushed forward, hesitated at the bend in the tunnel. Light burned ahead. He could see far enough around the corner to pick out the bodies blocking his view, the water seeping around their boots. But he couldn’t see the crevice they were talking about.

“Theron,” Zander said, “Nick’s gone.”

Silence descended, and Max leaned forward to hear better.

“Skata,” Theron finally said again. “That’s not good. How long’s he been missing?”

“I don’t know. He was here while we were all trying to stem the flow, but as soon as it became manageable, he disappeared.”

“Why do I have a feeling he knows something we don’t?” Theron asked.

Zander didn’t answer, and Max’s interest was piqued in the resulting silence. What was down there in that crevice?

He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear the boots clomping his way until it was too late. He took one step back just as his father rounded the corner and drew to a stop, staring down at him with surprised silver eyes. “What are you doing in here?”

“I—”

“Does your mother know you left the castle?”

“She—”

His dad grasped him by the arm before he could answer and turned him back through the tunnel, pushing him toward the castle. “Skata, Phin is supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”

Max’s feet shuffled to keep up. His dad had a temper, thanks to his link with the legendary hero Achilles, and Max had learned quickly after coming to live with him and his mom not to push the Argonaut. But his curiosity had gotten the better of him this time.

“Dad, I—”

Zander yanked him from the tunnel into the receiving room lined with lockers, then pulled him to a stop at the elevator doors and pushed the call button.

“Take it easy on the kid, Zander,” Theron said at his back.

“Stay out of this.” Zander shot Theron a look, then glared back down at Max with stormy, swirling gray eyes. “It’s not safe for you to be in the tunnels. You’re to remain in the castle with your mother or I’ll send you back to Argolea, you got it?”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“I knew this was a bad freakin’ idea,” Zander muttered, staring at the elevator doors. “I told your mother you wouldn’t stay put.”

Max’s mouth slammed shut. And that anger boiled hot in his veins all over again. But instead of arguing, he stood still and silently fumed as they waited for the elevator.

This was how it was always going to be. Them treating him like a kid, sending him away when all he wanted to do was be included. Why had they even rescued him from Atalanta? They’d all be happier if he just left, like Gryphon.

As his dad pulled him onto the elevator and the door closed behind Theron, Max couldn’t help but wonder where Gryphon was right now.

Lucky bastard. At least he was free.

A roar ripped from Gryphon’s mouth. Maelea pulled harder, fell with a grunt on her butt, but didn’t let go. Gryphon kicked out as hard as he could, and when the kobalos released, scrambled the rest of the way out of the cave.

Heart racing, he crawled on hands and knees as far from the cave as he could get, dropped back on his ass, tried to suck in air. The sword was still in his hands, and he waited for the creatures or that demon to burst from the hole they’d just climbed out of, but nothing happened. From inside the cave, the sounds of hundreds of hissing monsters was drowned out by the roar of a fire demon that shouldn’t be real.

Gryphon pushed to his feet, grasped Maelea by the arm, and yanked her up, the whole time still watching that opening. “Come on. We need to get the hell out of here before they decide to come through.”

“They or it?” she asked with wide eyes.

“Either.”

She kept pace with him as he ran through the woods, dodging trees, trying to avoid twisting an ankle, focusing on putting as much space between them and that cave as they could. Judging from the sunlight shining through the canopy, he guessed it was midafternoon. The air was warm, the scents of pine and moss strong. Out here in the late-spring air, their clothes dried quickly, and before long he grew damp not from the water of that underground river, but from sweat.

He didn’t slow until the trees thinned and opened near the edge of a cliff that looked down over a valley of green. A small river wound through the valley, sparkled in the sunlight, ran through what looked to be a human settlement. The sun had now dropped and was heading for the mountains on the far side.

Maelea huffed and leaned forward, bracing her hands against her knees as she worked to suck back air. Black hair fell over her shoulders, shielded her face from his view, but her features were branded into his brain—those dark eyes, that pale skin, the plump, pink lips he now knew were meant for kissing and a whole lot more. With the danger passed, memories of those lips, of that kiss that had rocked his world, rushed to the forefront of his mind. Followed by a dark desire that seemed to strengthen every second he was near her, pulling him toward her like a magnet.

Who the hell was she?

“Do you think…?” She swallowed, turned to look behind them, drew in another gulp of air. “Do you think we lost them?”

“I don’t think they followed us. I don’t think they see well in sunlight.”

He slid the sword into its scabbard at his back, perched his hands on his hips, studied her as she nodded and regulated her breathing. Tried not to be impressed but failed. She’d held her own back there. She hadn’t had a weapon, but she’d fought against the kobaloi just the same. And she’d saved his ass on the way out. If she hadn’t been pulling him, he’d have slipped back down when that beast bit into his leg. He’d likely be lunch right now.

He looked down at his leg, for the first time taking stock of the damage. His pants were ripped at the calf and five large puncture wounds in the shape of a half circle oozed blood. Pain immediately registered in his leg, but he ground his teeth and ignored it. He’d heal, he didn’t doubt that. Argonauts healed faster than most. His gaze strayed to his arms, and the ancient Greek text that ran across his skin, marking him as a guardian of his race. Disgust rolled through him. Not that he was an Argonaut anymore—or deserved to be. Not after the things he’d done.

Forcing back the memories that threatened to creep in and consume him, he looked out over the valley and realized night was coming fast. They needed to find shelter before that happened. Needed to rest and regroup. And he needed to figure out how he was going to find Atalanta, now that he was free.

“Where do you think we are?”

Her soft voice brought his head around again. Her sleeve was ripped at the shoulder, and her clothes were dirty, but he didn’t see blood anywhere, which was a good thing. Since he’d decided to keep her with him, he didn’t need anything slowing them down.

“No idea.” He scanned the valley again, didn’t recognize it. “A ways from the colony, that’s for sure.”

Thank the Fates for that little blessing. He had no doubt Nick and his men would be looking for them. But if they ventured into those tunnels, the kobaloi would slow them down. It wasn’t as if anyone in the colony wanted Gryphon to stick around. With any luck, Nick and Orpheus and the others would just give up searching for them altogether.

Orpheus.

Thoughts of his brother spiraled in. Of the sacrifice Orpheus had made going into the Underworld to rescue him. Of the sacrifice Orpheus had been willing to make to leave the colony with him after the mess yesterday. Gryphon’s chest pinched tight as he pictured Orpheus and Skyla together, and he rubbed a hand over the spot, wondering what the hell was causing the pain. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but Gryphon had been dead inside so long, he couldn’t imagine it was an emotion. He didn’t have emotions anymore. Likely it was nothing more than a muscle spasm from running. Like before.

Maelea pushed up to her full height, and the movement dragged at his attention, pulled his mind away from Orpheus and back to her. In the sunlight she looked taller than she had in the tunnels.

She wasn’t Misos. He couldn’t sense even a drop of hero blood running through her veins. What had she been doing at the colony these last few months? Residents of the colony could come and go as they pleased—they weren’t prisoners, not like him. So long as they took measures to make sure they weren’t followed, they were free to do as they pleased. But she’d clearly been escaping. What was the female hiding? Or what had she been hiding from?

“Well,” she said, looking out over the valley herself. “I guess that’s it then. Good luck wherever you’re heading.”

He grasped her by the sleeve before she made it a step away, and tugged her back to face him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“You said if I cooperated and helped you get out of the tunnels, I’d be free to go. I did that.”

“That was before.”

Her eyes narrowed with distrust. “Before what?”

“Before I realized I need you.” He didn’t miss the flash of fear in her eyes at his words, followed by the quick burst of anger. Anger that told him keeping her with him might not be the smartest idea he’d ever had, but it didn’t do a thing to change his mind.

“But you said—”

“Forget what I said before, female.” His hand tightened around her upper arm. “Focus on what I’m saying now. You’re not going anywhere. Not without me.”