Enraptured

Chapter 20

Skyla’s boots crunched over rocks as they made their way down the passageway. The flashlights illuminated the stone walls around them, the boulders and stalactites hanging from the low ceiling. Twice they had to maneuver around small pools of murky water as the tunnel continued its downward trek. The skeletal remains Orpheus flashed his light over were the third they’d passed since entering the corridor.

“Human?” he asked.

Skyla pushed up from her knees, where she’d been crouched. A leather satchel, work boots, a miner’s cap with a burned-out light. “That’d be my guess. Archaeologist probably.”

“Dumb shit,” Orpheus muttered. “Had no idea what he’d found.”

“Like the others.”

He took the lead again. They walked a good fifteen minutes, the sounds of their boots tapping rocks and their steady breaths the only noises in the eerie tunnel. Just when she was sure they were going to continue into darkness forever, the tunnel opened up and the sound of water running echoed from ahead.

Neither spoke as they approached the water. Skyla shined her light up and around. The tunnel spilled out into a massive cavern, the ceiling so high it couldn’t be seen. Black rocks edged a river of red, which twisted and turned and disappeared into darkness. Far off in the distance a dim light shone.

Orpheus slid the pack from his shoulder, opened the zippered pouch, and pulled out two coins. He handed one to Skyla. She looked down at the ancient obolos. Again surprised by the daemon at her side. “I hope you have a few more of these so we can get back across when we’re done.”

He hefted the pack over his shoulder. “No, but I’ve got a plan for that.”

As the light grew closer and the ferry boat approached, Skyla’s pulse picked up speed.

She was a Siren. When a Siren died, they were supposed to go to the Isles of the Blessed, not Tartarus. But what guarantee did she have that actually happened?

You’ve been doing Zeus’s dirty work all these years. Why wouldn’t you end up here too?

She nixed the thought as the ferry drew close and bumped into the blackened rocks that made up the shore. Charon, the mysterious ferryman, stood at the back of the small boat with his hands on a long wooden pole. Behind him, a lantern hung from a hook. He wasn’t aged, as Skyla had expected. Dark hair with just a touch of gray, a lean body, long face and bright, knowing blue-gray eyes. Without a word he held out his left hand. Orpheus dropped his coin into Charon’s palm. Skyla followed suit. Charon motioned for them to step on board.

Skyla drew in a breath. As Orpheus gripped her arm and helped her on board, a shot of warmth rushed over her skin. Charon said nothing as he dropped the coins into a pile on the boat’s floorboards behind him, then used the long wooden pole to push them away from the shore. They began floating downstream in silence.

Darkness seemed to ebb and flow, and on the horizon a strange gray light grew. Skyla’s spine tingled as she looked over her shoulder to find Charon staring at them with his intense eyes. She faced forward again, leaned close to Orpheus. “Friendly, isn’t he?”

He eased down toward her so they couldn’t be heard, and the musky scent of his skin filled her senses. “Something tells me it’s better for us if he doesn’t get chatty.”

Skyla nodded, refocused ahead. The gray sky grew lighter until their surroundings were awash in the eerie, colorless light pushing out the darkness. Black rocks fanned out on both sides of the river, a desolate barren wasteland as far as the eye could see. Ahead, a dock fifty yards away beckoned.

The ferry bumped the end of the dock and came to a stop. Orpheus helped Skyla out of the boat again, and without another word Charon pushed off, turned the boat against the current, and headed back the way they’d come.

“So what was the plan about the extra coins?” Skyla asked as she watched the boat grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

“Hold this.” Orpheus handed her his pack. And before she could ask why, he disappeared.

Startled, Skyla looked around, wondered where he’d gone. Then she saw him reappear on the ferry just behind Charon. He scooped up a handful of coins then disappeared again as if he’d never been there. Seconds later, he was standing next to Skyla.

He reached for her hand. “Put a couple in your pocket, just in case.”

In case of what? she wanted to ask, but didn’t. He stuffed a few coins in his pocket then dumped the rest in his pack.

“You don’t think he’ll miss them?”

“Let’s hope not. Come on.” He turned toward land, tugged on her sleeve. She followed him off the dock and up the slight rise of blackened rocks. At the top of the ridge, they both paused and took in the view.

“Holy gods,” Skyla muttered.

Miles and miles of gray, billowing fields. Souls wandering as if they were lost. A feeling of desolation floating on the wind. And far off in the distance, black jagged mountains that rose out of nothing and melded with an orange-red sky.

“The Fields of Asphodel,” Orpheus said. “Better than I expected, really.”

“What were you expecting?”

“A lot more trouble before we reached this point.”

So had she.

They headed down. A snarl to their left stopped Skyla’s feet. She turned to look just as an enormous doglike beast with three heads emerged from behind a cluster of blackened rocks.

“Now this is more like what I was expecting,” Orpheus muttered, reaching for the blade he’d strapped to his back.

Skyla placed a hand on his forearm before he could draw the weapon. “Just wait.”

“Wait? Are you mad? That thing looks hungry. And not docile like Charon.”

“If you kill Cerberus, you’re going to draw all kinds of trouble we don’t need.” Skyla handed him her pack. “Trust me. This is why you brought me along.”

She took a step toward the beast. Knew Orpheus was watching her with a what the hell do you think you’re doing? look on his face. All three of Cerberus’s heads growled an ominous warning.

“Skyla,” Orpheus warned. “Wait.”

She stopped three feet from the beast. His rancid breath washed over her. His fangs dripped something vile she didn’t want to think about. When he growled again and bared those rows of sharp teeth, she opened her mouth and began to sing.

A couple of bars of the Brahms lullaby and the monster closed its massive mouths, curled up on the ground, and went to sleep. In the silence that followed, Skyla turned to Orpheus and grinned.

“What the hell was that?”

“Shh,” she whispered, taking the pack from him and slinging it over her shoulders. “We don’t want to wake him.” She led Orpheus down the hill away from the sleeping beast. When they were far enough away she said, “That, daemon, was music.”

“I know what music is,” he snapped. “Where did it come from?”

“Come on, Orpheus. You know the stories. I’m a Siren.” She drew the word out for effect. “Before we worked for Zeus we came from somewhere, right? Hot body, pretty voice, used to lure sailors in to meet their doom. Ring any bells?”

“Hits a little close to home,” he muttered with a frown as he followed her down the incline. “All you Sirens can sing?”

She gripped both straps of her backpack as she stepped from stone to waist-high gray wheat. “Yep.”

“So why didn’t you use that little charm on those hellhounds back in Montana?”

“Works better one-on-one. If things had gotten dire, I would have tried it though.”

His scowl deepened. And for reasons she didn’t understand, the expression made her laugh. “You’re mad because I charmed our way out of trouble?”

“I’m not mad. I just don’t like surprises. Next time tell me what you have up your sleeve before you go walking up to some monster who looks like he hasn’t eaten in three months.”

And that’s when it hit her. He wasn’t upset she’d gotten them past Cerberus. He’d been worried she’d get hurt.

Her feet came to a stop. He moved past her. She watched the way the muscles in his shoulders and legs flexed as he moved. And warmth spread through her belly and up into her chest to encircle her heart.

He glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

Her heart picked up speed. A soft thump that quickly grew until it was pounding against her ribs. Pounding with the knowledge that she’d fallen for this daemon. Fallen hard, regardless of her job and his goal and the thousands of years of history separating his two lives.

“Skyla? Are you okay?”

His voice snapped her back to reality. The reality that they were in the Fields of Asphodel. In the Underworld. Marching for Tartarus.

“I’m fine,” she said, picking up her pace and reaching his side. “Let’s keep going.”

But she wasn’t fine. Not really. She was in love. She knew that now without a doubt. And judging by who and what she was, something told her this love would be the end of her.

They’d walked through drab wheat fields for hours, nothing but gray in every direction. Souls had floated beside them as they crossed the plains, sad, depressed souls with long faces and haunted eyes. At first, being surrounded by the souls of the dead had unnerved Orpheus, but he’d quickly gotten used to it. These souls weren’t malevolent. They were simply curious. And something about the entire place left Orpheus with a bad case of déjà vu.

It’d be a whole lot easier if he could just flash to Tartarus and look for Gryphon, but he didn’t know where he was going, so that wouldn’t help. Skyla could flash in the human realm, but she couldn’t here, and though he hated to admit it, part of him was glad to have her company.

They crossed from wheat to black rock when they reached the mountains on the far side. The souls stopped, stared after them. Some kind of unseen boundary kept them trapped. Happy to be away from them, Orpheus followed Skyla through the maze of razor-sharp rocks as they began their climb over the jagged mountains toward Tartarus. The gray sky gave way to swirling black clouds and a fire red sky. And the farther they walked, the hotter the air grew until sweat broke out all over his body. Unable to stand it anymore, Orpheus stripped off his shirt and stuffed it into his pack.

Skyla tied her hair on the top of her head. Sweat slicked every part of her skin, casting a sheen that sparkled in the light. Tendrils of damp hair stuck to her neck and the soft skin behind her ear. He tried to keep his eyes on the path so he didn’t fall and slice open his knee on the razor-sharp rocks, but his gaze kept straying back to her. To her compact body in that form-fitting tank and slim pants that molded her ass. To the way she walked. To her soft, soft lips that even now were moving in his mind, singing the tune she’d sung to Cerberus earlier in the day.

Okay, forget the fact that was a stupid move and she could have been eaten. What kept sticking in his mind was that he’d heard her sing before. He didn’t know how or when, but he was sure of it. And that knowledge, coupled with the strange sense that he’d been here as well, left him edgy. Left him wishing they were in Tartarus already so he could stop thinking of her. Stop worrying about her. Stop wanting her.

They passed through a series of rocks that formed a ceilingless tunnel. On the far side, Skyla stopped and pointed down the hillside below. “Look.”

From their vantage point, they could see the five rivers of the Underworld where they converged in a great swamp in the center of the massive valley. Volcanoes rose out of the ground, spewing molten lava, ash, and debris. More jagged mountains rose around the periphery, and everywhere souls screaming for mercy could be heard echoing on the wind.

Skyla dropped her pack at her feet, extracted her water bottle, and tipped her head back. Orpheus watched her lips against the plastic bottle, the muscles working in her throat. Remembered how it had felt when she’d all but swallowed him whole.

Heat coursed through every cell in his body.

She lowered the water. “We should rest here.”

She was right. He knew she was right. But suddenly being alone with her in a confined space didn’t sound like a good idea. Or it sounded way too good—that was the problem. He couldn’t be distracted by her now. Not when he was so close to finding Gryphon.

They found an overhang to sit under. Skyla pulled the blanket from her pack and a bag of freeze-dried food they’d picked up in Crete before entering the Underworld. She plopped down and munched on a handful of trail mix. “Are you okay?” she asked between bites. “You look restless.”

He dropped his pack, braced his hands on his hips, and paced the small ledge. “I’m fine,” he lied. Then to keep her from figuring out what was really on his mind, he brought up the other thought nagging at his gray matter. “Don’t you think it’s weird Hades hasn’t sent anything after us?”

Skyla crossed her legs. “Maybe he doesn’t know we’re here.”

He pinned her with a look. “I have a feeling he sees everything in his realm. Besides that, Charon knew we weren’t souls.”

“What are you thinking?”

He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m thinking, every step along the way Hades has sent his hellhounds to kill us, but now when we’re in his realm? Nothing? Something’s up.”

“Maybe he’s waiting to see what we’ll do.”

“Or he’s springing a trap.”

She didn’t answer, and in the silence he knew she was contemplating that possibility. Fights he could handle. An ambush he could deal with. It was the waiting and wondering that drove him mad.

He kicked a pebble over the ledge. It smacked against rock and dirt and dead tree limbs on its way down to the swirling rivers below. The plastic bag crinkled as Skyla slid it back into her pack. “Stressing over the unknown isn’t going to do you any good right now.” She patted the blanket beside her. “Come over here and sit down.”

His pulse kicked up speed.

“Come on, daemon,” she teased. “I don’t bite.” When he glared over his shoulder, she grinned and added, “Much.”

“No, thanks. I don’t feel like being toyed with right now.” Besides, he didn’t like the way she’d been looking at the element against his chest all day.

“I could sing to you.”

He cut her another glare. “I don’t think so.”

She laughed. “Okay, if I promise not to touch you or sing to you, will you come over here? You need rest. There’s no telling what we’ll find down there tomorrow, and if you’re right, if Hades has something in store for us, I’ll need you at your best.” She held up her hands. “I promise I’ll be good.”

Her eyes glittered with mischief, but the concern in her voice drew him over. He eased down on the blanket next to her, rested his back against the rocks behind him. Even though they weren’t close enough to touch, he could feel the heat radiating from her body. Could smell the honeysuckle scent of her skin.

“Better?” she asked.

No, not better. Just being close to her made him hard. And when he got hard, he thought of what sex with her had been like. Hot and consuming in that apartment in Washington. Mind-blowingly erotic in that tower at the colony.

They sat in silence for several minutes. In the hot, humid air, he was aware of every breath she took, of the way her breasts rose and fell under her shirt, of the droplet of perspiration running down her neck to disappear beneath her collar.

Man, this wasn’t going to work. He should be plotting strategy for tomorrow. Mapping their route. Not sitting here lusting after the Siren who’d been sent to kill him.

Gods, he was a fool for bringing her here. Why the hell couldn’t he think straight when she was around?

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said, her tempting voice cutting through the quiet.

Will you have sex with me again?

Why yes, yes I will. Where do you want me?

His skin grew hot, the air around him stifling.

“What?” he snapped.

“How is it you’re Argonaut, Medean, and daemon? Those three don’t seem to go together.”

Relief rippled over him. As long as the topic steered clear of sex, he was good. “My father was an Argonaut. My mother a Medean witch. They met because he’d heard she and her coven knew where the Orb was hidden in the Aegis Mountains.”

Her gaze strayed to the earth element at his chest. “She’s the one who found it?”

“No. But her coven had found evidence of it. There were stories. He went to investigate.”

“Did they fall in love?”

Orpheus wasn’t sure he knew what love meant. Let alone what it felt like. “I don’t know. They hooked up. I was the result. But he didn’t bind himself to her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Because she was a witch?”

“Most likely. Witches aren’t popular in the human realm, but they’re even less popular in Argolea.”

“So what happened?”

“She raised me in the coven until I was five. Then she died. The other witches didn’t like the idea of an Argonaut’s offspring left to their care, so they sent me to him. But since I didn’t have the Argonaut markings…”

A lump formed in his throat. The same damn lump that always formed when he thought of his relationship with his father.

Except…relationship was too strong a word. They’d been strangers. Two people living in the same big house because of some warped sense of duty, barely speaking. Until the day his father had died.

“That must have been hard.”

Yeah, hard. He nearly scoffed. He was the son his father had never wanted. Gryphon was the son he’d been meant to sire. Orpheus had sure learned about rejection early on. Something that had saved him.

“And the daemon part of you?” she asked.

He shrugged again. “I was born with it. I figure my mother must have been part daemon. I don’t know, as I barely remember her.”

Except for her face. Smooth skin, chocolate eyes, silky brown hair he’d loved to play with. Even now he could conjure up her image if he tried. He couldn’t remember her voice or even the times he knew he’d spent with her, but he remembered her face.

Skyla tucked her legs under her, turned to face him, and eased her head against the rocks. “Daemon hybrids are rare, but they do exist and have for some time. But most we’ve come across have been the result of a human female and a male archdaemon mating. Regular daemons are impotent.”

Yeah, he’d heard that too. Still didn’t explain how or why he’d ended up part daemon. Unless you went with the “cursed” theory, which was the only one that made sense to him.

“Did your father know?” she asked. “About your daemon?”

He stared off into the distance. “No. After the backlash I got for my Medean gifts, I learned to keep that one secret. Gryphon doesn’t even know.”

“And how does Gryphon fit into all this? Is he Medean as well?”

Orpheus stretched his legs out, crossed his arms over his chest. “No. His mother was Argolean. Our father bound himself to her long after I’d moved out of the house. Gryphon’s quite a bit younger than me.”

“The chosen son,” she said softly. “And yet you still love him.”

He frowned at her. “You conjure things that aren’t there. Are you sure you’re not a witch?”

She smiled. “I hear the truth you work hard to keep hidden. No man ventures into the Underworld for a brother he doesn’t love. Why didn’t you ever tell him about your daemon?”

Orpheus’s chest tightened. The Siren was mistaken. It wasn’t love that had brought him here. It was guilt. A hell of a lot of guilt. Guilt for thinking he could play hero. Guilt for getting Gryphon hurt in that warlock’s castle. Guilt for never telling his only sibling he was sorry for being such a shitty brother.

Guilt shifted to emptiness, opened that hole inside him all over again. Then was replaced with an anger he’d learned was the only emotion that could fill the void. “Because he’s an Argonaut, and for a daemon, a witch-daemon, that means enemy. And in case you haven’t figured it out yet, Siren, that damn hero gene in Gryphon is a major conflict to my interests. Look around you. We wouldn’t be here now if Gryphon hadn’t tried to save my fucking soul. Something I don’t even have.”

His frustration with the entire situation welled inside him, threatened to bubble over. His dumbass brother would never listen, not to the truth, even when it all but smacked him in the face. Because Gryphon was the real deal. A hero to the core. One who instinctively overlooked the bad and zeroed in on the good.

Except in Orpheus’s case, Gryphon had been wrong. There was no good in him, no matter how much Gryphon wanted to believe there was.

“What makes you think you don’t have a soul?” Skyla asked quietly.

Reality. That emptiness widened in the center of Orpheus’s chest, dousing the anger with pain. A black hole of nothingness waiting to suck him in. “The energy that sent Gryphon’s soul here should have done the same to me. We were both hit by the same power source that day. Except I survived and he didn’t.”

Because I don’t have a soul to destroy.

“Maybe your daemon strength stopped it.”

“Maybe you’re naïve.”

She smiled. “You have a soul, Orpheus.”

He tipped his head her way. “I have a daemon, Siren, as you oh so eloquently like to remind me.”

“Your daemon hasn’t been very reliable lately.”

No, it hadn’t. Which pissed Orpheus off more than this entire conversation. Down here, the beast could be a real asset, but Orpheus knew it wasn’t about to come out and play. Even now he could feel his daemon simmering beneath his skin, but it made no effort to unleash itself. Aside from a tremor now and then, it was as if the daemon barely existed.

“Whatever.” He didn’t have time to worry about what was happening to him. He had to figure out how to find Gryphon. “Doesn’t change the facts. And facts don’t lie. As a Siren you know that better than most.”

She didn’t answer, and silence settled between them. A silence that left him more edgy than before. To distract himself, he focused on the red-orange glow in the distance that was dimming but didn’t completely go away, as if not even night could blanket the pain and suffering with comfort.

Skyla yawned, eased down to her side, tucked her hands under her face. Even though he fought it, Orpheus’s gaze drifted her way and he watched the tendrils of damp hair blow gently against her skin.

“We’ll find him, you know,” she whispered.

His chest filled all over again as he watched her eyes drift close. She had a way of taming that emptiness inside him as no one had done before. Not even his brother. He wanted to chalk up her concern to the Orb, but the longer they were together, the harder that was to do. Logic told him she should have taken the Orb as soon as they’d immobilized that warlock. Or she could have let him venture into the Underworld alone and then stolen it when he wasn’t looking.

But she hadn’t done either of those things. She was here with him now, where she didn’t need to be. Risking her life for someone she didn’t even know.

Risking her life for him.

He leaned down until he was close to her ear, until her scent filled his senses and tempted him to take one simple taste. “Why do you care, Siren?”

She yawned. But instead of opening her eyes and looking up as he expected, she reached out and wrapped her fingers his. Fingers that were warm and soft and oh,so comforting in a way nothing else had ever comforted him before.

“The question isn’t why I care, daemon,” she murmured as she drifted to sleep. “The question is how long have I cared?”