Maelea dropped back into the shadows of the hall as Nick rounded the corner. When he caught sight of her, her adrenaline surged, but he didn’t acknowledge her presence, just as he never acknowledged her when he passed her in the halls. Instead he turned and headed out the front of the clinic, his boots echoing down the corridor in his wake.
The door on the far side of the exam room opened, drawing Maelea’s attention back inside. Both Skyla and Orpheus looked toward the massive blond male Maelea recognized as one of the Argonauts. “O? Theron wants you to come in now. Hey, Skyla.”
Skyla offered a weak smile. “Hey, Zander.”
The male disappeared again, and as Skyla reached Orpheus’s side, Orpheus grasped her hand and kissed it, whispering something Maelea couldn’t hear. Skyla brushed her fingers down his cheek. Then the two walked through the door and vanished from sight.
Skyla had obviously forgotten all about Maelea, evidenced by the way she didn’t even glance back, but that was okay with Maelea. As the door clicked closed behind them and silence settled over the room, Maelea told herself that being forgotten was something she’d just have to get used to all over again.
Some things can’t be saved, no matter how much you want them to be.
As she turned for the front of the clinic, she couldn’t help but think that a truer statement had never been uttered.
He was nothing more than a caged animal.
Gryphon paced his bedroom suite. The pale blue walls were closing in on him. The heavy draperies made him want to scream. And every time he looked out through the cathedral-style window toward the glimmering lake below, he had the uncontrollable urge to take a flying leap off the balcony and hurl himself through air and water to smash into the rocks and tree trunks lining the bottom of the lake.
He’d have done it, too, if he thought death would improve his situation. But he knew it wouldn’t. Even if his first trip to the Underworld had been a result of magic, he’d done enough shit there and since to know that if he died now, he’d wind up right back in Tartarus. This time to be tortured for all eternity. And he wouldn’t go back. The Isles of the Blessed…the resting place of the heroes…it was lost now to him until he found a way to redeem himself. And after what had happened today…
Bile welled in his stomach when he thought of Titus lying on the ground, unconscious from a blow to the head, blood oozing from wounds in his flesh. Even now, Gryphon couldn’t quite remember what had happened during that fight. But he remembered Nick gripping his bleeding shoulder, surrounded by mutilated daemons, screaming that Gryphon was nothing more than a fucking menace who needed to be locked away.
Gryphon closed his eyes. Fought the bile rising in his chest. Titus had to live. The guardian was strong. He couldn’t die. Not because of what Gryphon had done.
Come to me, doulas. Come home…
“No!” He grasped the ends of his hair and pulled so hard, his scalp burned. “Leave me the hell alone!”
The voice chuckled. And inside, Gryphon fought back the urge to listen. To do what it wanted. To draw him toward darkness for good.
A knock sounded at the door. His adrenaline lurched; he dropped his hands and whipped in that direction. Seconds later, Orpheus stepped into the room, and relief swept through Gryphon. But it was quickly quelled when he noticed Orpheus’s drawn features, his tight muscles, and his messy hair, all signs that said he’d been through hell and back in the last hour.
Considering Orpheus hadn’t looked this bad when he had come back from hell, Gryphon knew something was wrong.
No, gods. Not Titus.
“He’s fine,” Orpheus said, closing the door at his back before Gryphon could ask. “He came through the surgery okay. Callia had to do some major reconstructive work, but he’s going to make a full recovery.”
This time, the relief was sweet as wine. Gryphon dropped into a chair and cradled his head in his hands, thanking the Fates for Callia, the Argolean healer and Zander’s mate. But even as relief over Titus’s prognosis rushed through him, the darkness pressed in, telling him this was not good news. That good news would be to see the guardian die. To see them all die.
He pressed his fingers against his eyes, clenched his jaw to the point of pain. Skata, he was going nuts. The urge to claw his way out of his own skin consumed him all over again.
“Listen, Gryph,” Orpheus said, his boots scuffing on the floor near the door. “I gotta talk to you. For the time being, I think it’s best if you and I take a little trip.”
Gryphon’s head came up. Orpheus shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and worked to keep his shoulders relaxed, but Gryphon saw the tension coiled beneath the tough exterior. “Just until you’re feeling better.”
Nick wanted him gone. Gryphon had expected as much—after all, the half-breed leader had never been jazzed about his being here in the first place. “I don’t want to go back to Argolea.”
“No,” Orpheus said, lifting one arm and rubbing the back of his neck. “No, we’re not going there.”
They didn’t want him either. Reality settled in, and the ramifications of what had happened earlier today hit full force. Theron, the leader of the Argonauts, had to be here by now. And even he wasn’t willing to give Gryphon the benefit of the doubt anymore.
A space in his chest opened wide as he stared down at his arms, covered in the markings of the Eternal Guardians. Serving with the Argonauts had been his life, his identity, the only thing he’d known since being inducted into the order. He’d bled for them, he’d fought for them, he’d have died for any one of his kin if needed. But even though he still had these markings, he wasn’t one of them anymore. His actions today proved he wouldn’t be one ever again.
Come to me, doulas.
He closed his eyes. Fought the emptiness creeping over him. And the voice. The wretched, evil, blathering voice.
“Listen, Gryph,” Orpheus said. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t…don’t worry about it. The rest of them…they don’t understand what you’re going through. I do. I’ll help you through this. We’ll get away from all of this and we’ll…we’ll find a way to help you.”
If anyone could help him overcome the voice, it would be his brother. Orpheus had learned to tame the daemon inside him. He’d fought and he’d won. But Gryphon wasn’t possessed by a daemon. What swirled deep in his core was something else. Something not even Orpheus could tame.
“And what about Skyla?” Gryphon managed to say.
Orpheus shoved his hand back in his pocket and studied the ground. “Skyla will be fine. She understands.”
There was no way Orpheus would ever agree to leaving Skyla. The soul mates had only just found each other again. Not unless even he didn’t trust Gryphon. That realization cut sharper than knowing the Argonauts were abandoning him.
Silence stretched over the room. Then finally, Orpheus said, “We’ll leave first thing in the morning.” But there was no excitement in his voice. Only resolve. “Just…try to get some sleep tonight. I’ll be back for you at daybreak.”
As his brother exited the room, Gryphon caught sight of the three armed guards stationed outside his door. And beyond them, Skyla, her green eyes filling with tears as she rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around Orpheus’s shoulders.
The door snapped closed, blocking out the image of the two lovers embracing. And that emptiness swamped Gryphon all over again as he remembered what it had felt like to be trapped in the Underworld.
Helpless. Alone. Forgotten.