Marked (22 page)

Mourners. The burning of the flesh was said to release
the soul to the afterlife, but it only worked if the heart remained in the body.

Let there be a heart.

“Oh, my God,” Acacia whispered at his side.

Theron eased Marissa to the ground, and a woman came racing their way. He recognized her from the day they’d arrived in the colony.

“Marissa!” the woman screamed.

The girl was swept up into her mother’s arms. The woman muttered incoherent words of comfort as tears streaked down her face and she clung fiercely to the small child. She mouthed a thank-you to Acacia and Theron before turning back to the group of mourners.

Nick turned slowly to look their way, and Theron saw what the man held. A jacket. Bright red. Leather, with shiny silver grommets running up and down the sleeves.

Acacia saw it too. Her hand went to her mouth as the blood rushed from her cheeks. “Dana. Oh, God, Dana. No.”

She swayed on her feet. Theron caught her before she went down. And cursed himself and those bloody daemons. He glanced up to Nick for help, not understanding Acacia’s link to the woman, but knowing instinctively that they’d been friends.

Nick shook his head, and though there was murder in his eyes at what had been done, there was also heartfelt regret. He turned back to the fire.

“Meli,”
Theron said gently, putting his body between her and the fire. “Don’t look.”

“No.” She gripped his forearms. Tears streamed down her face. The anguish he saw in her eyes nearly broke him. “It can’t be Dana. It just can’t. She was talking about leaving town. She was at the store. With me. Just before you showed up. Just before those things…” She closed her eyes tight and curled her hands into fists against his shirt. “You don’t think they found her”—her eyes popped open—“because of me, do you? Theron. You don’t think—?”

He gathered her close against his chest, cutting off her question. She struggled, but he held her tight. How could he tell her that was exactly what had happened? His sense of smell was strong, and even amidst the flames, he hadn’t detected the scent of her heart. Which meant the daemons had cut it out of the Misos in payment to Hades before they’d killed her, as was their pattern. No way he could tell Acacia any of that. Or where he suspected her friend’s soul was right now.

Voice thick with emotions he’d never felt before, all because of the woman in his arms, he said, “Come on. There’s nothing we can do here.”

Her anguish was palpable, but she turned and walked with him toward the trees. “I don’t understand this world you live in,” she mumbled as she swiped at her eyes.

No. Of course, she wouldn’t. Sometimes he didn’t either. He drew her closer to his side.

“I’m so tired, Theron,” she whispered.

He lifted her into his arms. When she didn’t protest, he knew she was more fatigued than she was letting on.

His heart pinched. She was fading quickly. And the events of the last two days weren’t helping.

They made it ten yards into the trees when he sensed the air change. Acacia sensed it too, because she stiffened in his arms. “I have a bad feeling,” she whispered against his neck.

So did he. He set her slowly to her feet.

The first scream erupted at their backs before either of them turned.

One thing Isadora could say about Orpheus. The
ándras
knew things no one else did. Like where the gods hung out and how to breach their inner sanctum.

“I can’t go in with you,” Orpheus said as he pulled the hood of his black cape over his head to hide his face. “The cloak only works for one, and no way in hell I’m getting trapped on Olympus. Zeus has called one of his blitheringly boring summit meetings, so the gods will all be congregated in his temple, no doubt falling over themselves in an attempt to impress the pompous POS. You know the difference between a brownnoser and a shit-head, right, Isa?”

Isadora frowned.

“Depth perception.” Orpheus chuckled at his own joke.

“What about Persephone?” Isadora asked, trying to refocus him.

His cocky grin faded. “She’ll be where I told you.”

“How can you know for certain? Maybe she—”

“Trust me. She’ll be there. Any time she can get away from her mother, she heads for the trees. There’s more to destroy there.”

Trusting Orpheus went against everything in Isadora’s gut. But she didn’t have another choice. She was out of options, and if this didn’t work…

She ignored the sickness brewing in her belly and lifted her chin. “Where will you be?”

“Hiding out here, like the lower life-form I am.” He glared at her from beneath the hood. “You screw this up, Isa, and we’re both fucked.”

She nodded once. “I won’t.”

On one more deep breath, which didn’t do a thing for her tummy, she pulled the hood over her head and turned for the gates that granted access to Mount Olympus. For the love of all things holy, she was about to walk on hallowed ground.

Okay, correction. For her sake, she sure hoped good ol’ Zeus didn’t catch wind she was here. The god was not known for understanding, and his temper was worse than all seven of the Argonauts put together, on a bad day.

She held her breath as she walked cautiously up to the gates. When neither sentry looked in her direction, she realized they couldn’t see her. Orpheus’s invisibility cloak was working. Confidence growing, she slipped past the guards without even a glance and paused at the base of the winding road toward the temples.

Please let Orpheus be telling the truth…

She turned left instead of heading up the road and followed a low stone fence past wheat fields and olive orchards, until she came to the forest. Large trees she didn’t know how to name towered above, blocking out the sunlight. Low brush and trailing vines littered the ground.

She walked a quarter mile in the dim light before she noticed the shrubs and plants around her looked sickly and wilted. As she delved deeper into the forest, the ground became black, looked almost burned, and what little plant life was left was withered and dry.

Humming from ahead brought her feet to a halt, and she peered through the blackened tree trunks toward a small pond. Around the edge, the grass was brown and brittle. Even the tree branches protruding over the once-green oasis were drooped and void of leaves. A great sadness radiated from the space. And in the center of the pond, hovering inches above the surface, lay Persephone, floating on her back. But the only parts of her body touching
the water were her fingers as they splayed over the surface of the pond.

Even reclined and in a state of miserable relaxation, she looked like a regal queen. The Queen of the Underworld. The queen of death and destruction. Which was exactly what she was.

Isadora’s nerves kicked up. She glanced back the way she’d come as worry and self-doubt raced down her spine. She had the goddess alone. Just like she’d wanted. But suddenly her tongue was thick and her throat was bone-dry.

Persephone’s hair was dark, her body lithe and graceful. She looked like a siren, but a thousand times stronger and a million time more dangerous. And she was way more intimidating than Isadora had expected.

“I wondered how long it would take you to get here.”

Isadora froze. Glanced around again. The goddess couldn’t possibly be speaking to her, could she?

“Of course I’m talking to you,” Persephone said, turning her head and pinning Isadora with deep green eyes the color of an Irish field. “Do you think I don’t know what you and your half-daemon friend are up to? You were only permitted to pass the gates of Olympus because I figure anyone as desperate as you deserves to be heard. And because your anxiety amuses me.” She heaved out a long sigh. “I do so get bored here.”

Isadora opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Not so desperate now, I see.” Persephone looked back up to the sky. “And here I thought this was going to be interesting. Apparently you lack the panache of your father.”

“M-My father?”
Oh, good one, Isa. Way to get right to the point.

“It’s been twenty-seven years since King Leonidas stood where you stand now. Asking very nearly the same thing.”

Suddenly, getting to the point didn’t seem so important after all. “Wait. My father came to you?”

Persephone’s irritated eyes darted to Isadora. “Did I not just say that? Keep up, girl.”

As far as Isadora knew, her father hated the interventions of the gods. In fact, he’d do just about anything to keep them from meddling in Argolean affairs. “Why did my father come here?”

Persephone huffed and lifted a hand to let water drip off her long, elegant fingers. “To ask me to use my influence on Hades. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Wow. News flash.

“Yes,” Isadora said, stunned. “But I still don’t understand why my father would intervene.”

Persephone rolled her eyes and recited in a dull monotone: “There shall be two in every era, born of god and earth and men. One of strength and one of courage, two separate halves to bring the end. And they shall be known by the markings they bear, united in the twenty-seventh year. Only joined will the strong survive, to dissolve the pact and bring the end to life.”

A ghostly smile curled Persephone’s lips. “Morbid, isn’t it? But that’s my husband for you. Although that wasn’t the original text. Originally it said, ‘…united in the coming year.’ King Leonidas came here to ask me to barter for the addition of those twenty-seven years.”

At what Isadora knew was her perplexed expression, Persephone huffed and added, “In the past, Atalanta’s daemons were always able to locate the human half of that equation, thereby keeping the prophecy from coming true.”

Isadora’s stomach rolled. “He bartered to keep her alive just so she could die later?”

“All for the greater good.” Persephone’s brow wrinkled. “Don’t tell me you’re a bleeding heart for humans. They’re so…lower class.”

“She’s not just a human. She’s…my sister.”

“That’s just biology.”

At that moment, Isadora knew this goddess wasn’t going to help her. She forgot about strategy and spoke from her heart. “No, I don’t believe in sacrificing one for the good of many. Unlike you and the other gods up here in never-never land, I don’t view them as chess pieces to be placed at my whim. My father is a coward and a liar, and my coming here was very obviously a mistake.” She turned on her heel.

“Very good, Princess.” The laughter in Persephone’s words stopped Isadora’s feet. “You may just make an adequate queen, after all.”

Isadora glared over her shoulder at the goddess, who was now standing upright but still hovering over the water. “I’m so glad you approve.”
Not.

She was just about to leave again when Persephone suddenly appeared in her path, looking—now—very much the queen she was. “I said, ‘may.’ Not ‘will.’ A lot depends on what you do next.” She tipped her head. “I believe I will grant you audience with Hades. I’ll even take you there.”

Persephone’s eyes sparkled at the excuse to see her husband again. Around them, the pond and forest burst to life, the colors and fragrances overwhelming the senses. And Isadora caught her breath at what was being offered to her for reasons she didn’t quite understand. “But of course, nothing is free, and we haven’t discussed the issue of payment yet.”

“I don’t have anything—”

“I want your gift of foresight.”

“But I—”

“Don’t have it? Not right now you don’t, but it will return. And when it does, I want it. For one month.”

Isadora’s eyebrows drew together. “But you’re a goddess. Certainly you don’t need something as simple as my power.”

Persephone shrugged in a nonchalant way, but Isadora
could tell this meant a great deal to her. “Curse of the gods. Supreme cosmic power but no way to look into the future. None of the gods can. Free will and all that crap. But to be able to see ahead, whatever I choose?” Her eyes shone with a devious light. “That would elevate me to the plane of Zeus.”

A chill slid down Isadora’s spine. “But my powers don’t work that way. I can’t choose which events I see. And though I have glimpses of the future, I don’t know when the events will happen.”

Persephone’s eyes flared to a glowing jade, and malicious intent slid across her perfect features. “Don’t bother yourself with that, Princess. Your powers in my hands will be quite different. I guarantee it.”

Dread welled in Isadora’s stomach. Would it be wise to grant the Queen of the Underworld such power? Just what did the goddess plan to do with it anyway?

“Choose now. Your sister’s life for one month. I grow bored with this conversation.”

One month. Nothing bad could happen in one month, could it? Isadora hoped not, but in the end what the gods did was of little concern to her. Her world was far removed. And her sister’s life and the lives of many Argoleans hung in the balance.

She lifted her chin and pushed the fear at what she was about to do out of her head. “Take me to Hades.”

“No sweeter words were ever spoken.” A wicked smile slid across Persephone’s face as she held out her hand. “As you wish, my dying little queen-to-be.”

“Do you still have the weapon I gave you?”

Casey’s adrenaline spiked. She watched a horde of daemons rush out of the trees on the far side of the clearing and charge the circle of mourners.

“Acacia!” Theron pulled his dagger with the thick blade from his back and glanced up at the canopy.

Fear clogged Casey’s throat as screams and fighting
erupted in the clearing, but somehow she had the presence of mind to nod. She made sure the blade was still strapped to her calf where she’d put it this morning.

“Can you climb?”

“Climb? What—?”

He looked up again. “I’ll boost you up. Get as high in the trees as you can. Anything comes up after you, scream. Loud.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?” He was developing a sense of humor
now
?

He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and forced her to grab the first branch in the old-growth Douglas fir. “As high as you can, Acacia. Only use the weapon if you have to, and scream as loud as you can. I’ll be right here.”

He was leaving her?

“Wait.” Frantic, she grasped his arm even as he pushed her higher into the tree, and she had no choice but to grab on or fall. “Theron—”

He clasped her hand and locked his eyes with hers until it felt as if he was seeing the darkest place of her soul. Her breath caught at the intensity of his gaze. “I won’t let anything happen to you,
meli
. Marissa was wrong. I will never let anything happen to you. Tell me you believe me.”

She nodded slowly and whispered, “I believe you.”

His eyes searched hers one last second before he nodded upward. “Go. Now.”

Casey hesitated only a moment to watch Theron charge into the battle happening in the clearing. He was all hulking muscle and deadly intent, joining Nick, who, along with a few other men from the colony, was beating back the dozen or so daemons who’d converged on what she could tell was a funeral.

God, Dana.

Weapons clashed with fangs and claws. Shouts and cries mixed with snarled grunts as fists met bone. When Theron was tossed to his back and a daemon charged for
him, Casey slammed her eyes shut and shifted to look away.

Heart in her throat, she reached up and grabbed the next branch. Her hands shook as she climbed, the knife Theron had given her a solid weight pressed against her leg.

Please God, don’t let it slip and fall out.

She wasn’t fond of heights and she felt like a fool hiding out in this tree when people were possibly dying below, but if those monsters were here for her, she wasn’t stupid enough to hang out in the open.

Her hands burned as bark scraped her palms raw. She groaned at the ache in her arms as she climbed higher and told herself if she came through this alive—and Dr. Jill found a cure for whatever was wrong with her—she was definitely starting that workout program she’d been putting off for far too long. The sounds of the battle drifted up to her, but she blocked them out, tried not to listen for Theron’s voice. One thing, however, got through. A feral growling coming from the base of the tree.

She froze. Hoped she blended into the limbs. And prayed she was imagining things.

The growling grew louder. And then the entire tree began to shake.

Casey shrieked. Her fingers closed around a branch just as she lost her footing.

“There’s nowhere for you to go, half-breed,” the daemon below snarled. “Come down.”

Casey flailed out with her feet and finally found a thin branch that bent slightly under her weight. She pushed herself higher as her adrenaline spiked. A few more feet to that thicker branch above and she could let go with one hand and grab the knife.

“Come down!” the beast thundered.

“Fuck you!”

With a ferocious roar the daemon grabbed the trunk of
the tree and shook violently. Casey screeched as the branch she’d been standing on snapped. Bark abraded her palms. Her fingernails dug into wood, sending slivers deep into her skin as she hung on with all her strength. Her body was thrown right and left as the tree bowed under the great force jerking it back and forth.

And then the unthinkable happened. The knife slipped out of its holster. Frantic, she tried to catch it with her shoe, but it was too late. Her only weapon fell free just as her hands slipped a fraction of an inch on the branch above.