She braced herself for his fury, for the first time not afraid of what might happen to her. Energy rippled through her limbs, into the rocks beneath her feet. But before he could reach out and grasp her again, a rumble echoed through the tunnel.
Gryphon stopped. Looked up and around. Voices echoed through the cramped space. And Maelea took the opportunity to strike.
She thrust her arms out full force. “No, you son of a bitch.”
Her palms connected with his chest. Energy shot from her into him, from her legs into the floor. He stumbled back a step, lost his footing, started to go down. Then an ear-shattering crack echoed through the cave.
As Gryphon hit the ground with a grunt, dim voices grew stronger. Boots clomped over rock. And Orpheus’s voice rang out strong. Calling…her name.
She turned toward the sound. Screamed, “I’m here!”
But her voice was drowned out by the roar of rushing water. Rushing fast.
“Maelea!”
She looked back over her shoulder where Gryphon was pushing up from the ground, trying to come after her. Her eyes flew wide. Another burst of energy rippled through her body. Followed by an earth-shaking roar just as the ceiling opened up and a wave of water poured into the tunnel.
The force knocked him off his feet. He slammed into her, kicked her legs out from under her. She hit his chest hard, gasped as water sprayed her face, filled her lungs. Gryphon’s fingers dug into her biceps, dragging her with him down the slippery cave floor, rushing in a river of water right for Orpheus and the others racing in their direction.
She tried to catch her breath, tried to twist away from Gryphon. Through blurry vision, she saw lights ahead. People coming their way. Orpheus’s face.
“Hang on to me!” Gryphon yelled over the thunder of water.
No. Never. She fought against him. Lashed out with her arms, tried to kick away with her feet.
Another crack resounded. Her eyes grew wide. Locked on Orpheus and Nick skidding to a stop. Then the rocks gave out beneath them.
She managed one bleating scream. And felt nothing but air.
Atalanta was in a time crunch.
She glanced at the calendar mounted to the wall as her frustration grew exponentially. “Galto!”
The clacking of nails against stone echoed through the room, followed by a raspy voice at her back. “Yes, my queen.”
She turned to glare down at the three-foot-tall, scaly, goblinlike creature she’d dragged back from the Underworld when she escaped after following Gryphon and the daemon spawn out. “What news of my doulas?”
Galto rubbed his gnarled hands together, his forked tongue licking his dry lips. One pointed ear turned back as if to listen for movement behind him. “Nothing, my queen. It’s as if he’s vanished from the human realm.”
“Imbeciles.” Atalanta brushed her long red robe behind her and moved to the window to look out at the sea of snow. She craved the cold. Even her realm in the Underworld—when she’d resided there and had been building her army of daemons—had been a frigid wasteland, so different from the fiery chasm of Tartarus. But as a goddess, she’d had the power to turn her little corner of hell into whatever she wanted. Here in the human realm, she had to resort to locating her base where cold weather persisted. And though she’d have preferred to be somewhere isolated, like Antarctica, her daemons couldn’t flash from place to place on earth as she could. They were limited by the same laws of physics as humans—and Argoleans. Which meant she had to set up camp someplace convenient for them and cold enough for her. Since her fortress in northern British Columbia had been destroyed by those bastard Argonauts, she’d been forced here. To sunny, sinfully cold Scandinavia.
Revenge whipped through her. She would not rest until she saw Argolea in ruins and those pompous Argonauts in chains. They’d shunned her. Cast her out because she’d dared question their order. Banished not only her, but her love.
Thoughts of Meleager—the only person who’d ever understood her and who’d died standing up for her—drifted through her mind. So many years alone. So many disappointments. But it all ended now.
I’ll make them pay, my love. I promise you they’ll burn for what they did to you.
“Perhaps…” Galto started.
She glared over her shoulder at the disgusting creature.
“Perhaps he’s in Argolea?”
Atalanta looked back over the snow. And sent out feelers. Searching. Scanning. Drawing on the darkness of the Underworld that had been bestowed on her doulas. “No, he’s out there somewhere. I can feel him. The pull is too strong for him to be in Argolea. Besides, after what was done to him in the Underworld”—a wicked smile twisted her lips—“he’d never have the nerve to face his fellow warriors in Argolea. His honor would be too strong for that. He’s out there, Galto. But he’s fighting the darkness.”
“He will eventually give in. He can’t resist much longer. We just have to wait for that to happen.”
Atalanta looked back to the calendar on the wall. Six months. Krónos, the king of the Titans, had given her six months to get the Orb, and more than two had already passed. Even though Krónos was locked in the depths of Tartarus, he still commanded a power like no other. Atalanta didn’t doubt for a minute that if the six-month mark hit and she didn’t live up to their bargain, he’d drag her back to the Underworld and make good on his threat to turn her into his slave.
“We don’t have time to wait,” she said, angling back to Galto. “Send a group of daemons to the Pacific Northwest. The half-breeds are likely hiding him.”
She’d wasted too much time rounding up her daemons and rebuilding the army those blasted Argonauts had scattered after she’d been sent to the Underworld. But that was rectified now, and her army was growing in strength and number, thanks to her new breed of daemons—hybrids who looked human but could shift into daemon form at any time.
“But, my queen. We haven’t been able to locate the half-breed colony yet.”
“Then step up attacks in the area. That’ll draw those bloody Argonauts out. Torture humans, half-breeds…I don’t care which. Just find out where that half-breed colony is located. I guarantee my doulas is hiding there.”
Her doulas was the key to everything. As an Argonaut, he could infiltrate Argolea. He could gain the other Argonauts’ trust, slip into the Argolean castle, take the Orb their queen had hidden there. And then he could bring it—and one of the Horae, the descendants of the ancient goddesses of balance and justice, whom Atalanta needed to control the Orb—to her. Gryphon was tied to Atalanta now, thanks to Krónos’s help. When he finally gave in and came to her, he’d be bound to do her will. And once she had the Orb, she could negotiate more time with Krónos. Without all four sacred elements—earth, air, water, and fire—the Orb couldn’t be used to its full power. And Krónos needed the Orb at maximum power to be able to escape the Underworld. Once she had the Orb in her possession, Krónos would be cornered into giving her more time to find the remaining elements. And when she did…
When she did, well, he’d bow to her. Not the other way around.
“Yes, my queen,” Galto said, backing out of the room, his long, clawlike nails clicking against the stone-cold floor as he moved.
Alone, Atalanta looked back out the window. A storm was moving in. Dark gray clouds on the edge of the horizon waited to unleash their frigid fury. Being back in the human realm was both a blessing and a curse. Here she once more commanded her army, but she was mortal. If it weren’t for that one limitation, she’d be out hunting Gryphon herself. But even with her goddess powers, she couldn’t take the risk. However, once she had the Orb…