Enraptured (29 page)

“Damn sonofabitch fucking conscience,” Orpheus muttered, glancing up at the sky. “I didn’t ask for this!”

“What are you doing?” Skyla’s eyes grew wide as he pulled the Orb from beneath his shirt and shoved the air element into place.

“Trying to give us all a fucking chance. Stand back.”

She stepped in front of him, blocking him from the battle, lifted her bow, and took aim at a charging hellhound. Orpheus closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, focusing his energy on both the Orb and the mother of all protection spells, pulling on the two elements as much as he could. Against his shirt, the Orb grew hot.

The ground rumbled. The wind picked up, tossing his hair away from his face. The chant grew in his mind and spilled from his lips, and as it did he imagined a protective barrier all around the meadow. It wouldn’t save them from the hellhounds already in the circle, but if it held, it would shield them from Hades and the next wave the evil god had planned.

“Orpheus!”

He heard his name called just before the barrier was in place. Felt some sort of energy siphon through, like water through cheesecloth. But then the barrier solidified, holding a tight, careful perimeter.

He opened his eyes. Caught Hades’s furious glare on the other side of the barrier. Around him the battle between Argonauts and hellhounds and Sirens waged on.

A scream echoed from ahead. He looked that direction just as Skyla’s body jerked as if she’d just been hit with a bolt of lightning.

“Skyla?”

A gurgling sound echoed. She dropped to the ground at his feet with a thud. From her chest, the long curved blade and black wooden handle of a scythe protruded, surrounded by blood already welling around the blade to seep through her clothing and spill into the ground.

“No. Oh, shit
. No.
Skyla?” Panic beat a drum line to his heart as he fell to his knees. He reached for the handle of the scythe marked with the image of a three-headed dog.

“No,” Skyla rasped, her shaking hand lifting to try to stop him from pulling it out. “No, don’t…”

He jerked the blade free and dropped it on the wet grass at his side. She groaned in pain, her eyes rolled back in her head, but all he could see was the blood gushing out of the wound in her chest. So much blood.

Oh, gods…He had to stop the bleeding. He needed a healing spell. Couldn’t think. Frantic, he tore the Orb from around his neck and pressed it to her chest, knowing it had some kind of healing element to it. “Demetrius!”

“Don’t,” Skyla rasped again. “It’s…too late.”

He looked down at her pale face and his heart clenched. Tight. So tight he felt as if he’d been stabbed with that blade. Reality, and a future, one that didn’t include her, ran out like a carpet of red before him.

“It’s too late,” she rasped. “Let me—”

Her hand closed over his bloody one atop the Orb. But her eyes never left his. Amethyst eyes that were even now glazing over.

“Orpheus…” A ghost of a smile tugged on her mouth. “I think of you as Orpheus now. Not as Cyn—”

She coughed. Her body shook. Blood pooled at the corners of her mouth. Gushed from her chest.

No, no, no, no, no.
This wasn’t happening. Not when he’d just realized she was the only thing that mattered.

Tears blurred his vision as he leaned over her. The battle continued around them. Shouts and clashes of blades and teeth and arrows winging through the air. “Listen to me, Siren. Don’t give up. Do you hear me? You hold on. I’m going to get you out of here. Just…just don’t let go. Skyla?”

Her eyes slid closed and she drew a deep, shuddering breath. A breath he felt all the way in his soul. “Don’t let Zeus have it. Or Hades. Don’t let…any of the gods have it. P-promise.”

“They won’t. I promise.” He flipped his hand over and squeezed her bloody fingers. Rain ran down his face. Why wasn’t the Orb working? And where the fuck was Demetrius? “Stupid, stupid Siren.” Tears lodged in his throat. “What were you thinking, stepping in front of that scythe? I don’t need you protecting me, damn it. I need you alive. I need—”

“Was thinking…of…you…” Her voice grew weak. “You were…meant for something…greater. Be greater, Orpheus.”

Her hand softened against his.

No, gods, no
. He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her into his lap, pressed one hand against the wound. Her head lolled against his arm. The Orb pressed between them, covered in her blood and his tears. “
Skyla?
Stay with me. Stay with me, damn it.”

Please, Dimiourgos.
Don’t take her from me. Don’t…

He looked up again, searching through watery vision for Demetrius, the pain in his chest so sharp he could barely breathe.

A figure moved toward him. A figure that looked like Demetrius at a dead run. Screaming…his name.

“I—” she started.

“Shh…” Hope leaped in his chest. He pressed his lips against the wet hair plastered to her forehead. “Help is coming. Just hold on a little longer, okay, baby? Don’t let go.”

“Never…did.” Her hand slid down his chest to clasp his again. And through his tears he looked at their bloody fingers, entwined over her heart. Over his heart. And he knew in that moment that was exactly what she was. What she’d always been: his heart. Only he’d been so consumed with anger and jealousy and vengeance, he hadn’t seen it. Not the first time. Not the second. Not until now, when it was too late.

“Never forgot…you,” she whispered. “Not…once.”

Demetrius skidded to a stop at his side. “
Skata.
O?”

Her breathing slowed, and even before Demetrius dropped to his knees to help him, alarm raced through Orpheus’s body. He grasped her chin with his bloody hand, tipped her face up. “Skyla?”

She didn’t move.

“No.” He gripped both sides of her face, willed her to open her eyes. “Skyla? Dammit,
Skyla
?”

“O,” Demetrius said, “let me…”

Demetrius took her from his arms, laid her out on the ground, and leaned over to listen for her breath, then felt for her pulse. His body went still, then his gaze roamed over the gaping wound in her chest. And before he could stop it, every muscle in Orpheus’s body went rigid with disbelief.

“No!” He knocked Demetrius back and away from her. Demetrius hit the ground on his ass. Orpheus leaned over Skyla and grasped both of her shoulders. “Wake up,
damn it!
It’s not time for you to go! Do you hear me? It’s not time…”

Hands landed on his shoulders, pulling him back. Around him he saw boots—heavy, rugged ones worn by the Argonauts and platform kick-ass, knee-high ones worn by Sirens. Silence descended, seemed so out of place all of a sudden. No more battle sounds. No more roaring monsters. Just the empty, gut-wrenching silence that told him it was already too late.

He thought he’d known pain before. He was wrong. Two thousand years of torture in the Underworld hadn’t prepared him for the agony that ripped through his heart and soul.

He watched through blurry vision as Sappheire dropped to one knee next to Skyla, her face drawn and somber as she ran her hand over Skyla’s brow, muttering in a language Orpheus didn’t understand.

Skyla’s lifeless body jerked. And for a second, hope resurged. Then she dissolved into nothing right before his eyes. The Orb landed with a soft thud against the wet ground.

“What the fuck did you do?” Orpheus cried.

Sappheire pushed to stand. “I sent her home.” She turned to Theron. “We need to talk.”

Home.

Thoughts, plans, options raced through Orpheus’s mind as the Sirens and Argonauts came to some understanding. An understanding Orpheus couldn’t care less about. There was only one chance now. One bargain left to make. He eyed the Orb on the ground and, before he could change his mind, picked it up.

“Orpheus?”

Voices echoed around him. But he ignored them. Instead he closed his eyes and pictured what once had been Skyla’s home.

And prayed he wasn’t too late.

“Let me get this straight,” the King of the Gods said, turning from the window where he’d been gazing out at Olympus. “You want to make a deal. The Siren’s life for the Orb.”

“And the air element.” Orpheus stood rigid in the center of Zeus’s temple, legs apart, arms at his sides, gaze fixed on Zeus while his heart pounded hard against his chest. A heart he now knew he
did
have. Because of Skyla.

The King of the Gods didn’t look all that intimidating from his vantage point. Close-cut dark hair, a youthful face with only a handful of lines around his deep-set blue eyes, clean-shaven skin, and the body of an athlete. Definitely not the white-haired, white-bearded grand-fatherly figure humans pictured him as.

The King of the Gods eyed Orpheus suspiciously. He wanted what Orpheus had too much to jeopardize getting it now. And since he couldn’t take the Orb outright—no god could take something without it being offered—that meant Zeus had to deal.

Take
the
deal. Take the fucking deal.

“The air element already belongs to me, son,” Zeus pointed out.

“Grandson,” Orpheus corrected. “And you can cut the familial term of endearment. We both know it means nothing. The way I see it, possession trumps ownership ties every time.”

Zeus’s jaw tightened. He turned and placed a hand on his throne, decked out in ostentatious gold. “You have surprised me. Not many do. When I branded you a troublemaker all those years ago, I had no idea I’d still be dealing with you now.”

“I’m thrilled I’ve amused you. Now do we have a deal or not?”

Zeus considered for a moment. “Not quite. I have an addendum.”

Orpheus’s chest deflated. An addendum meant only one thing. “You can’t bring her back.”

“Oh, I can bring her back. She’ll just be…different.”

“Define different.”

“Same body…different soul.”

Orpheus’s eyes narrowed. “What about Skyla’s soul?”

“That belongs to the Fates.”

The Fates. He needed to find Lachesis. Deal with her. Forget Zeus and this stupid addendum. Her soul was what he loved about her. Not that Barbie-doll body Zeus had given her.

“Won’t work,” Zeus said, interrupting his thoughts. “The Fates don’t deal. Not with mortals. And the Siren was mortal. Death is part of every mortal’s life, regardless of the service.”

Orpheus glared across the room. “I was mortal too, and they brought me back.”

Zeus barked out a laugh. “You weren’t brought back because you were deserving. You were brought back because of guilt. Lachesis foresaw that you would be important to the Argolean’s war against Atalanta. And when the Sirens killed you the first time—justifiably, I might add—she stepped in and made a deal with Hades to bring you back. But don’t fool yourself into thinking she did so because you
deserved
a second chance. She did it because she felt guilty over Atalanta’s creation in the first place. You see, Lachesis encouraged the first heroes not to include Atalanta in the order of the Argonauts. From there…Atalanta chose her own path, made her own deals, and became the pain-in-the-ass goddess she is today. But make no mistake. The Fates are using you to right a wrong they are responsible for. Nothing more,
grandson
.”

Orpheus thought back to his run-in with Lachesis in the mountains.
You
were
destined
for
something
greater
than
this, Orpheus. Greater than thievery and vengeance, and much greater than ignorance.

He had no idea what he was meant for. He only knew what he needed. Panic swamped his chest. How was he going to get her back?

He turned for the temple doors, his mind spinning.

“If you leave here without giving me what’s mine,” Zeus announced, “you cut all ties with me. And the courtesy I have shown you as one of my own will cease to exist. I didn’t have to tell you about her soul, Orpheus. I could have made the deal and deceived you. I didn’t out of compassion.”

Orpheus turned to face Zeus. “What compassion? You had me killed.”

“That was never my first choice. You brought that justice on yourself. But know this. If you repeat history, my retribution will be swift. So think long and hard about this move. Your decision here could bring war or peace to the Argolean realm.”

War was already upon the Argolean realm. War with Atalanta’s daemons and now with Hades, who had made it perfectly clear in that forest that he wasn’t backing down.

No god could have the Orb. Not if the world was meant to go on.

Be
greater, Orpheus.

He felt Skyla’s hand against his chest, warm and solid and real, encouraging him. And his life—both lives—spun out before him, twisting and intersecting and finally condensing into this one moment. To choosing what he wanted to be versus what he was meant to be.

He looked down at the Argonaut markings on his arms. The markings that he’d acquired when Gryphon’s soul had been sent to Tartarus. The markings that were still there, even though Gryphon was home.

Be
greater.

Maybe he really was meant for something greater than himself. Maybe…after all his long, lonely years of searching…this was it.

He looked up and knew even if there was no way to bring Skyla back, he was doing the right thing.

Finally.

“Someone advised me not to give it to you.” He reached for the door handle. “And this time,
gramps
, I’m listening.”

***

For the second time in only a matter of hours, Orpheus was standing before royalty. This royalty wasn’t nearly as intimidating as the last, though.

Isadora stared down at the Orb in her hands, with the two elements nestled in their chambers, her face awash with awe and surprise. Behind her, Theron and Demetrius looked on with
no
way
in
hell
expressions. Orpheus ignored the Argonauts and focused on the queen. And when her brown eyes lifted to his, he saw…relief.

Man, he’d been such a bastard to her. He doubted a smart-ass, scheming personality like his could totally change. From what he remembered of his years as Cynurus, he’d been a sonofabitch then too. But at least his heart had changed. And his intentions.

“I knew you’d bring the earth element back,” she said. “I didn’t expect the rest.”

“Figured they belonged together.” He frowned as he stuffed his hands into the clean jeans he’d changed into when he’d come back to Argolea and made this decision. “Besides, I’ve lost my taste for power.”

A warm smile cut across her face. She turned and handed the Orb to Theron, who stared at the thing as if it might jump out and bite him, then shifted back. “Thank you.”

“I only have one requirement.”

“Anything.”

“The Orb can’t be destroyed until all four elements are in place. I know it’s tempting to keep it, but once we find the other two elements…I want you to promise me we’ll destroy the damn thing.”

Isadora’s smile widened. “We?”

Orpheus clenched his jaw, because, yeah, being a son-ofabitch was easy. Being heroic…that was a hell of a lot of work. “Yeah, ‘we.’ I’ll take Gryphon’s place with the Argonauts. Until,” he added, cutting off Isadora’s burst of excitement, “Gryphon’s ready to come back.”

Isadora stepped away from the desk in her father’s old office in the castle at Tiyrns. “Orpheus, you are welcome to stay on with the Argonauts for however long you want.” She placed her hand on his forearm. Right over the ancient Greek text. “You don’t need the markings of the gods to do that.”

“These markings don’t come from the gods,” he said, looking down at her. Still stunned that she’d been able to see the good in him before anyone else.

She squeezed his arm. “I think you might be right.”

He nodded toward the Orb in Theron’s hands. “What about that?”

“That,” Isadora answered, “will be locked up safe and sound. And when we have the other two elements, it will be destroyed. Just like you want. It won’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Orpheus nodded. Glanced from Theron to Demetrius. Neither said anything, but the fatherly grin on Theron’s face and the humor in Demetrius’s eyes told him they were both relieved. And thankful.

And
skata
…he needed to get gone before they did something stupid. Like congratulate him or try to hug him or some shit like that. He definitely couldn’t handle any male bonding right now.

He turned for the door, then stopped. “There’s one more thing. I’ll serve with the Argonauts whenever they need me. But I won’t live here in Argolea.”

Isadora’s sad smile said she could still see right through him. “I think it’s smart you stay at the colony with Gryphon. Your brother needs you there.”

Orpheus wasn’t so sure of that. He’d gone to see Gryphon first, before coming back to Argolea, and though his brother had awoken from the sedatives Callia had given him and seemed calm, he was but a shell of what Orpheus remembered. Gone was the easygoing, strong, and confident Argonaut who’d forever been trying to set Orpheus on the right path. In his place lurked a haunted and broken man who did nothing but stare out the window with vacant eyes, shake his head as if he was hearing voices, and twitch.

Gryphon’s time in the Underworld was too fresh. Orpheus had to hold on to hope that time and distance would bring back the brother he remembered.

He nodded once more and left the room, heading down the hall for the front of the castle. There were a few things he wanted to pick up from his store on the other side of town. A few things he hoped might cheer his brother up.

“Orpheus, wait.”

His feet stilled and he looked back to see Isadora rushing after him. “What now, Isa?”

“I just…” She took a breath, and when she looked up it wasn’t gratitude in her eyes, nor surprise. It was worry. “Are you okay?”

He thought of Skyla—as he had every minute since she’d left him—and his attempt to bring her back. The Fates weren’t listening though, and while he could access just about any realm with his magic, the land of the Fates was closed to him. They made contact when they wanted, not when others summoned them.

A thrumming pain radiated outward from his chest. Knowing she was gone and never coming back was something he was just going to have to get used to. But it hurt. More than he’d ever thought possible. The only thing that kept him going was the thought that one day, if he cleaned up his act enough, he just might see her again.

Be
greater.

He was working on it. But damn, it was hard.

“Yeah,” he said, drawing a deep breath that eased the ache just a touch. “I’m okay. For the first time in a long time, Isa, I’m exactly what I’m supposed to be.”

***

“You hesitate, child. Is there a problem?”

Skyla paused at the steps of the white ship. The one with big billowing green sails that would take her to the Isles of the Blessed, where the souls of the heroes and those who had proven themselves in life dwelt in harmony.

A bright light shone far off in the distance, casting a sparkle over the water like a million tiny diamonds. She wanted to go. Felt the pull all the way to her toes. But something held her back.

She faced the Fate standing at her side—Atropos, she’d heard her called—the one with salt-and-pepper hair and a long, flowing white robe. “I—I feel like I’m forgetting something. Something I’m not supposed to forget.”

Atropos frowned and looked at her sister. The white-haired Lachesis. “This is your fault, hag.”

“Not mine.” Lachesis grinned. “Blame Hera. She’s responsible for the soul-mate curse.”

Skyla had no idea what they were talking about. She looked from weathered face to weathered face and knew only one thing: The hole in her heart hurt. A pain she shouldn’t have. Not when she was about to sail off to paradise.

“If you do this,” Atropos said with a scowl, “you do so without my blessing.”

“Now, sister hag.” Lachesis cut her a look. “Have I ever needed your blessing before?”

Atropos harrumphed. “It is because of you this problem exists.”

“And I will set it right.” Lachesis turned to Skyla. “What if you could go back?”

“Go back?” Skyla’s brow dropped. “I don’t under—”

“To the human realm.”

The human realm. Skyla’s mind spun. Yes. She’d been human, hadn’t she?

“Not everyone gets this choice—”

“
No
one
gets this choice,” Atropos mumbled, arms crossed over her chest.

“—but you are special.” Lachesis darted a glare at her sister before refocusing on Skyla. “You sacrificed your life for another.”

“I did?” Skyla couldn’t remember. “Who?”

“That you can’t tell her,” Atropos snapped. “If she goes back, she has to make the choice not knowing what she’s going back to.”

Lachesis sighed. “She’s right. There are rules. Rules even I can’t break. You have to make the decision not knowing the life you led before.”

“Or what’s waiting for you,” Atropos added. “Could be a child molester or a rapist you’re missing.”

Lachesis frowned at her sister again. “Or it could be a king.”

Atropos harrumphed. “Kings are useless.”

“Regardless,” Lachesis said, looking at Skyla again, “you have to make the decision based on what’s before you.” She held out her arm. “The Isles of the Blessed, or what you are afraid to forget.”

The sparkling light on the horizon called to Skyla. But the Fates’ options…How could she make that decision? She tried to rationalize it and came up with only one scenario that made sense. “If I’m here, then it means I led a good life.”

“Not necessarily,” Lachesis answered. “But one can redeem herself in her last moment and counteract all the wrong she did before.”

“Stupid loophole,” Atropos muttered.

“By saving a life.” The emptiness in Skyla’s chest grew larger. Until she was afraid it would swallow her whole. “If I go on the ship…”

“Then the pain you feel will disappear,” Atropos said. “And you’ll be free—mind, body, and soul. No more suffering, no more loneliness, no more hurting. The Isles of the Blessed are Elysium. Heaven.”