Entwined

Chapter Twenty-One

Callia crossed her arms over her chest and paced the length of the main living room in the lodge of the colony. Rustic tables and leather couches filled the space, making the room seem homey and inviting, but right now the last thing she could do was sit and relax. Every second that ticked by on the clock sent her anxiety into the out-of-this-world range and thoughts of murder spiraling through her mind.

It was close to ten P.M. Zander and the others had been gone almost thirty minutes. Only Gryphon remained, standing guard outside. Nick had insisted his soldiers could handle the babysitting detail, but Theron had been adamant the guardian remain. And Callia was still more pissed than pleased with the way she and the other “females” had been shuffled off to wait. Again.

“You’re going to wear a path in the floor,” Casey said from her seat on one of the couches. “Come over here and sit down.”

“I can’t.” Callia chewed on her thumbnail. “Where do you think they are right now? If I had a map maybe I could—”

“Woe is the forgotten female,” Isadora said on a sigh from the window where she was gazing out at the waterfall that spilled into a massive pool in the middle of the cavern. She looked over her shoulder at Callia and Casey. “Story of our lives, isn’t it?”

“It’s not like that,” Casey said. “Theron does have a point, whether you two want to admit it or not.”

Callia glanced at Isadora. “She really is a sappy newly-wed, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Isadora said, rubbing her forehead. “Disgusting, isn’t it? Makes my head pound worse than being in the same room with the two of you.”

Casey crossed her arms again and leaned against the back of the couch with a huff. “I’m all for women’s lib, you know, just not when it involves being stupid. And that’s what going out there would be. Stupid.” Her gaze shot to the orb resting on the coffee table in front of her. “If you two stopped moping long enough, maybe we could put our heads together and come up with a way to help.”

“Like what?” Callia asked, exasperated.

Casey picked up a book she’d set next to her on the couch. “Do you both know the history of the Horae?”

“No,” Callia answered. “Reading hasn’t exactly been high on my priority list lately.”

At her snarky remark, Isadora smirked.

Casey rolled her eyes. “Before Nick took off with the guys he gave me this.” She gestured to the encyclopedia-like tome. “There were three. Sometimes called the Hours, or the Seasons. But mostly they were the wardens of the sky and Olympus. Eunomia was responsible for order in society. Dike maintained justice. And then there was Eirene—the peace and balance between the other two. And they all bore a mark: a winged omega.”

“Eirene,” Callia breathed, easing down to sit next to Casey on the couch. “That’s what Atalanta called me in the cabin.”

Isadora moved to sit opposite them on the other couch. “Our specific powers relate well to the Horae. My foresight, Casey’s hindsight, your balance. It doesn’t surprise me that Atalanta recognized you as Eirene.”

“But I’m a healer. I don’t—”

“What is a healer?” Casey asked. “Someone who restores balance to the body. Callia, you’re the balance to us.” She nodded at Isadora. “To the Chosen.”

Callia glanced between them with the distinct feeling these two were tag-teaming her for something she wasn’t sure she was ready for. She’d yet to adjust to the fact she was the king’s daughter, and here they were throwing mythological bonds at her. “You know, that sounds all cool on the surface, but why do I get the impression there’s more to this than nifty names and historic links?”

“Orpheus mentioned a weapon,” Isadora said. “He told me that the three of us had something we wouldn’t yet understand. I didn’t believe him before, but…I know you both felt that electric shock when the orb was brought out.” She held her hands over the orb resting on the coffee table between them.

“Um…what are you doing?” Callia asked. Sure, she’d felt the jolt Isadora described, but she still had no idea what it meant.

“Orpheus has been teaching me how to focus my abilities,” Isadora answered.

“Wait,” Casey said, holding up a hand. “What the hell do you mean, Orpheus has been ‘teaching’ you? And I thought you lost your power of foresight. Did it come back?”

Isadora’s forehead wrinkled. “No, not yet. But this is different. This isn’t looking into the future or the past. It’s looking at the present. I’m curious…If we all focus on the same thing, maybe we can see an image. Or a location.”

Callia’s nerves hummed as realization dawned. She swallowed hard. “You want us each to focus on the guardians. See where they’re going.”

“No.” Isadora’s brow lifted. “Screw the Argonauts. I want us to focus on Atalanta.”

Casey and Callia darted worried looks at each other.

“It makes sense,” Casey said after a lingering moment. “We know a ten-year-old couldn’t have outrun a daemon. Atalanta won’t kill him. But she will hide him. If we can figure out where she’s holding him, we could radio the Argonauts and tell them his location.”

Hope, the first hope she’d felt since the guardians left, filled Callia’s soul. Her palms grew damp. She rubbed them across her thighs. “What if she can see us? I mean, is it safe? If we can look at her, is it possible she can look back?”

“It could be, I suppose,” Isadora said. “But what would that matter? She won’t know where we are.”

Callia looked from Isadora to Casey and back again. No one spoke. It made sense, but indecision roared within Callia. What if they were wrong? What if Atalanta’s powers were strong enough so she could see them, what they were planning, read their thoughts or some—

Casey scooted forward. “So how do we do this?”

“Touch and focus is how I was always able to see the future,” Isadora said.

“And I the past,” Casey added.

Isadora looked to Callia. “Ready?”

No, Callia wasn’t ready. But Casey was right. At least they were doing something, and the odds things could go wrong from simply looking were slim to none.

Tentatively, she lowered her hand onto the orb. The metal was cold beneath her fingers. Casey and Isadora lowered their fingers to touch the curved disk. As soon as all three made contact, heat flared up from the metal and shot through Callia’s arm.

Callia sucked in a breath. The glow grew in intensity, changing from a soft pink to a bright red radiance that arced out all around their hands.

“That’s it,” Isadora whispered. “Now focus. Remember the goal.”

Callia closed her eyes and pictured Atalanta. What she knew of Atalanta. Not so much the image of a deity, but the essence of her soul. Colors flashed behind her eyes. White, gold, blue, black. It was the black that stayed, like a stain, like the evil Callia imagined coursed through the demigod’s veins. A picture flickered. Fuzzy at first, but growing steadily clearer the longer she concentrated. Green rolling hills, a great river, cliffs, a winding road and domed building with three tiers that looked completely out of place perched high on a cliff overlooking the gorge below. And Atalanta, seated on a throne inside the building, dressed in bloodred robes, looking up at the circular balcony above and the twenty or so daemons from her army peering down, awaiting instructions.

This was not the mountaintop truck stop Zander and the Argonauts were heading for. This was somewhere else. Somewhere green and damp, not snow covered and cold. Voices rumbled but she couldn’t make out the words. The daemons scattered until Atalanta was alone in the octagonal shaped room. She lowered her face and peered straight ahead. And seemed to be gazing…right at Callia.

I see you, Horae.

Callia gasped. Her eyes shot open. She looked from Casey to Isadora, neither of whom seemed startled at all. Their eyes were closed, their faces calm. They each breathed slowly, their hands resting gently on the glowing orb.

Yes, you, Eirene.

When Callia looked back, she didn’t see the comfortable living room around her; she saw Atalanta once more, the throne she was seated on and the stone walls at her back.

I see into your mind. I know what it is you want. We are not that different, you and me. The ones left behind. The ones shunned by the mighty heroes. You know why he refused you.

Callia’s heart picked up speed. She tried to pull her hand back from the orb but couldn’t. It was cemented in place.

Because you are female. And to him that means weak. Do you honestly think he forbids you to fight because he wants to protect you? Because he loves you? She sneered. An Argonaut does not know love. He is a product of the egotistical god from which he was spawned.

“You lie.”

He represses you because he can, Atalanta went on as if Callia hadn’t even spoken. Because his kind has been doing it since ancient times. And because you, Eirene, are his vulnerability. His weakness. His Achilles’ heel. Do you think he cares if you live or die? He cares only for himself.

“No,” Callia whispered.

Ask him, female. And learn the truth. No male, especially an Argonaut, has honor in his heart. Not when his existence is on the line.

Thoughts of Zander ran through Callia’s mind. Of their time together in the past. Of his admissions earlier today, here, in this very colony. Of his immortality. Of the fact he’d told her she was his life.

A feral smile crossed Atalanta’s face. One that challenged and mocked. Yes, Eirene. You know I speak the truth. He needs you only to live. And he and the others will go on repressing you for as long as they possibly can.

No, it couldn’t be true…

Your heroes walk into a trap. My daemons are waiting for them. Her voice dropped to a hiss. And they will be slaughtered. Every one of them.

Callia swallowed hard. “Zander can’t be killed.”

But he can be hurt. And my daemons will take great pleasure in torturing him until you die of old age.

Fear knifed into Callia’s heart.

Of course, I may be willing to make a trade…

Atalanta gestured to her right, and that’s when Callia saw the boy. Leaning against the wall, his head tipped to the side in sleep, his hands bound behind him and his legs stretched out on the floor. And that heart she thought had broken so long ago roared to life in her chest. He was a miniature version of Zander. With blond hair and bronzed skin and a face that looked like it had been kissed by angels.

I’m willing to spare young Maximus’s life. For something of even greater value.

At the anticipation in Atalanta’s voice, Callia’s gaze shifted back to the demigod. And understanding dawned. “You want the orb.”

Not just the orb, Eirene. I want you as well.

A voice in Callia’s head screamed No! but the one in her heart told her this was her only option. She would do anything for her son. Even sacrifice her life to save his. And Zander…

She couldn’t let Zander and the others walk into a trap. Not when she could do something to save them. Not when she knew in her heart Zander did love her. He hadn’t left her here because she was his vulnerability, as Atalanta claimed. He’d left her to keep her safe.

“How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

Because I give it to you as a hero. As a female. As a mother. Come now, Eirene. You must know once I have you and the Orb of Krónos, I won’t need the others anymore.

Yeah, right. Callia wasn’t stupid enough to buy that one. “And what about my sisters?”

I care not for the Chosen. This is between you and me. They cannot hear our conversation. Atalanta tipped her head. Tell me, Eirene…just what are you willing to sacrifice for balance in this world and the next?

Callia glanced at Casey and Isadora, both oblivious to what was happening right under their noses. All her life she’d sat back and done nothing while others made decisions for her. And in the end…what had happened? The ones she loved were hurt because of who and what she was. Now she understood why. And now she had the chance to change things.

She didn’t believe Atalanta would keep her word, not for a second. And she wasn’t stupid enough to take the demigod the orb. But if she could get away from the colony, if she could figure out where Atalanta was holding her son…Maybe she could alert Zander, and he and the others could reach the boy before it was too late. Atalanta only needed one blood relative of the Horae. Callia would gladly trade herself for her son. And she knew Atalanta wouldn’t kill her if she truly needed her, which meant Zander would be safe as well.

She glanced at the satellite phone just out of her reach. At the one Nick had left for them in case there was an emergency. And before the half-breed leader’s directions even passed through her mind, she had her answer. If she did nothing, Zander and the others were lost. If she took the deal, only her life was forfeit.

And that was fitting, wasn’t it? Considering her life had brought them all to this point to begin with.

She refocused on Atalanta. “Tell me how to find you.”

Simon sat in a high-backed chair in the formal living room of the home he shared with his daughter. On his lap he held a scrapbook his wife had put together before her death. On the table in front of him, the untouched glass of brandy reflected the low lights in the room.

He flipped the page and looked at a picture of Callia as a young girl, digging in the dirt behind their house. Another showed her with jam all over her smiling face. Yet another was of her opening gifts on her sixth birthday. Page after page of pictures of her life filled the book. Pictures of her with her mother. Of her with him. Of her alone.

She was alone now, wasn’t she? And it was all his fault. Tears burned the backs of his eyes. Tears he had no right shedding. Because of his desire to make her his daughter by virtue, if not by blood, he’d taken away everything she’d ever cared about. A true father wouldn’t do that. A loving father would have put her needs first.

A knock at the door brought his head up. But he didn’t rise. He had no desire to move. The knocking turned to a rapid pounding.

“Simon, open this goddamn door!”

Lucian. Simon exhaled and closed his eyes. He had no interest in dealing with the Council right now. Didn’t care what their punishment for his lies was going to be. Did it even matter anymore? He’d already lost the only thing that had ever meant anything to him. Every time he thought of the look of utter betrayal on Callia’s face when she realized what he’d done…

“Have you gone deaf?” Lucian asked from the doorway.

Too late Simon realized Lucian was already standing in his living room. The blasted servants had left the door unlocked.

“You look like you’ve gone a round with Hades,” Lucian said. Still dressed in the traditional chison, he moved around the couch toward Simon. “Get up.”

Simon leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. “Go away. Whatever the Council has decided, I’ll face it tomorrow. Right now…right now I just want to be alone.”

Lucian’s footsteps stopped in front of Simon’s chair. “Lou-kas is missing.”

“He’s a grown ándras. I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

“No, Simon. You don’t understand. Loukas disappeared after the confrontation in the Council chambers. A sentry with the Executive Guard told me he crossed through the portal shortly after the Argonauts. And he used the same coordinates.”

Slowly, Simon’s eyes came open and he stared up at the leader of the Council. “Why would he go to the human realm now?”

Lucian locked his jaw.

An odd sense of unease washed through Simon. He pushed up from his chair to stand before Lucian. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Lucian was roughly the same height and age as Simon, but he’d always been more confident. A true leader who knew what their people needed. Tonight he seemed rattled. His thin lips pressed into a tight line. Finally, he said, “Ten years ago he passed through the portal much the same way. Only that time he followed you and not the Argonauts.”

Little links clicked into place in Simon’s mind. Questions he’d always wondered about but hadn’t wanted to find answers to. “He followed me to find Callia.”

Lucian nodded. “She was betrothed to him. He didn’t believe your story about her being sick in the human realm.”

Suddenly, everything made sense. “When he found out she was pregnant, he went to Atalanta. He brought her to that village in Greece.”

“Yes. You have to understand that Callia’s affair and pregnancy, with an Argonaut no less, when she was betrothed to my son and the future leader of the Council would have been an embarrassment none of us would have recovered from easily.”

Fury filled Simon’s veins. “You knew.”

Lucian’s spine stiffened. “Oh, get real, Simon. You’re not blameless in this. You made the deal with Atalanta. You traded your daughter’s life for that child’s. No one forced you to do that. Don’t pretend to be all high-and-mighty now.”

“There never would have been a deal to make had Lou-kas not gone to Atalanta in the first place.”

“That doesn’t change the past. Nothing does. We can only worry about the present. I’m here because I think Lou-kas might have gone into the human realm again to find Atalanta.”

Simon’s eyes grew wide. “Why?”

“Because he didn’t realize the child could possibly still be alive. So long as it lives, Callia will not bind herself to him. And that, I’m afraid, is the only thing my son wants.” Lucian’s shoulders seem to drop. “He believes it’s what he deserves. He believes she’s his by right.”

Four hundred years. For most of his life Simon had gone along with the status quo. He hadn’t questioned the customs and laws the Council said were beneficial to their world, because they hadn’t pertained to him. And when he’d joined the Council, he’d turned a blind eye to right and wrong in favor of politics. His wife had challenged him on the laws more than once. Had told him progress and life would bloom from the gynaíkes in their land and not its leaders. But he hadn’t listened. He’d scoffed at her ideas—at ideas he’d known she’d picked up from her time serving the king. They’d argued about it. And eventually the distance between them had driven her into the arms of another.

He’d been hurt and betrayed but—after her cleansing ceremony—had taken her back. Though their relationship had never been the same, the child she’d borne had become his whole life. The child he’d raised and molded and sheltered and repressed. The child he’d deserved. The child who had been his, by right.

Sweat beaded on his neck and slid down his spine. “You think he’ll go to Atalanta and make her another deal? To kill the child? What could he possibly offer her in return?”

Unease crept over Lucian’s face. “The Argonauts. And the half-breeds. If the Argonauts went to the colony, if Loukas followed them…”

“Dear gods…”

“Exactly.”

Simon’s eyes shot to Lucian’s. “Why do you care? You worry not for the half-breeds, for the Argonauts.”

“No, I don’t care for either. But death is not the answer. My nephew, you remember, is an Argonaut. While I don’t agree with what the Eternal Guardians do, I’ll not have Gryphon’s blood or the blood of the others on my hands.”

Urgency pulsed through Simon’s veins. Urgency and, he hoped in some small way, redemption. “We need to find Loukas and stop him.”

“Orpheus is waiting for us at the portal. He knows where the half-breed colony is located. If we go now, we might get there before it’s too late.”