Terror closed in around her. She had to leave. She had to get out. She couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t breathe…
She whipped around and frantically searched for her coat. Spotting it ten feet away, she scrambled for it and the boots Titus had convinced her to wear when he brought her here in the first place.
“Callia,” Zander rasped again. “Wait. I didn’t…”
She took off running, heavy coat flapping behind her as she sprinted for the mouth of the cave and the exit toward fresh air.
Tears burned her eyes as she ran. She choked on emotions long buried but kept going, the need to get as far away as possible the only thing she could focus on. Her lungs burned, and her leg muscles screamed in protest, but she ran on.
Finally, when the pain was too much to bear, she skidded to a stop and sucked in a deep breath. Silence met her ears as she tried to slow her racing heart. Adrenaline still surged through her body, but the panic had thankfully subsided. Slowly, as her pulse came down, she became aware of her surroundings and turned a slow circle.
She was in a forest, how far from the cave she didn’t know. It was dark, but enough moonlight filtered through the tall pine trees above to illuminate the frosted boughs, the snow-covered ground and the dense underbrush. Wind whistled past her face, and a shiver ran down her back. Suddenly aware of the sweat from her sprint now chilling her skin, she pulled the thick coat closed at her front and cursed her stupidity.
An owl cried somewhere above. Dried leaves and branches crackled off to her right. Callia whipped around as her heart rate rocketed, and the reality of her situation sank in deep.
She didn’t know where she was. Pulse pounding, she tried to figure out which direction she’d come, but everything looked the same.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
Dread bubbled up in her chest. The wind howling through the trees was an ominous reminder she was alone. She shivered again and pulled her coat tighter around her. Every crackle of twigs and brush, every shadow moving over the forest floor from trees swaying above, sent her anxiety spiking.
Relax. Think. It’s just your imagination.
The logical side of her brain took over—the side that had saved her numerous times before. Okay, so she couldn’t stand out here in the open like this for long. She’d have to wait until morning, when it was light, so she could see which way to go. Titus had mentioned a ravine and a bridge. If she could find those tomorrow, she could find the trail that would lead her back to the half-breed settlement he’d told her about. In the meantime, she’d have to find a place to hunker down out of the elements and out of sight from any predators.
She cringed, knowing she never should have let her emotions get the better of her. She should have stayed in that cave. Even if it meant staying with Zander. Damn, who was the idiot now?
Feeling marginally better, at least with a plan, she squinted through the trees and tried to figure out which way to go. The darkness was so thick, it was virtually impossible to see anything but tree trunks that all looked like gray mirror images of each other. She turned a slow circle as she searched, then swung her gaze back to the left and froze.
Could it be…? Was that…? She thought she’d seen something flash orange. Like a flame or a…campfire.
A campfire? Out here?
There it was again! She looked harder. Or could it possibly be the glow of lights through a cabin window?
Her adrenaline pulsed at either prospect. Both meant humans or half-breeds, but definitely not daemons, as they didn’t need heat or creature comforts to survive. And that was enough to bring a breath of relief into her chest. Because either way it meant she wasn’t alone after all. And, thank Zeus, she’d take her chances with humans over daemons any day of the week, day or night.
She took steps—slowly, because she was still unsteady—toward the light that continued to flicker far off through the trees. And told herself though the last hour had been pure hell, one good thing had come from it. She was done with Zander forever. He’d made it perfectly clear how he felt about her: he didn’t. And that was all she needed to know. There wasn’t a single thing in the world that could ever draw her back to him.
The lodge was silent as Max pushed out of the gigantic featherbed he’d been given in the west wing of the mansion and landed soundlessly on the hardwood floor.
He half expected someone to come running with a club and beat him, but nothing happened. He was careful as he crept across the floor and pulled the heavy door open. A chill slid down his back from the cool night air, but nothing creaked. For a moment, he imagined some faceless god was on his side for once, then dismissed the thought. No one had ever been on his side. The only person who cared what happened to him was him.
He inched his way out of the room. The hallway was dark, only a smattering of moonlight from a window at the end of the corridor lighting his way. Since he’d been given pajamas for the first time—blue flannel checked pj’s that felt like heaven against his sweat-damp skin—he was warm enough. And he knew he could get used to this kind of life. A warm bed, clean clothes and enough food to fill his belly so nothing hurt. But he was smart enough to realize this wouldn’t last. Atalanta was baiting him. For what, he didn’t know, but there was no way this would end well. At least for him.
Nothing moved around him. No sound met his ears as he rounded the corner and headed up the grand stairs toward Atalanta’s chamber. His heart pounded hard and steady in his chest, but it wasn’t fear shooting adrenaline through his body. It was excitement. And the knowledge the tide was about to shift.
He reached the top level and moved like a ghost across the hardwood. A balcony overlooked the grand staircase and the four floors below. Two massive double doors straight ahead opened to Atalanta’s suite of rooms, which occupied the entire floor.
She never locked the doors. Why would she? No one dared come up here. Pulse pounding with anticipation, Max laid his hand over the doorknob and slowly turned.
No squeak, no groan, not even a whoosh of air as he pushed the door inward. Could luck really, finally, be on his side?
He moved quickly toward the bedroom. As his attic was above this level, he knew the layout of her suite better than anyone. He’d gotten used to her life drifting up to him the last few weeks. To the muffled sounds of her voice, to the rush of water from the bathroom, to the measly heat radiating upward from lamps and the furnace system that ran throughout the lodge.
He stood in the open doorway staring into the room, breathing slowly through his nose so she couldn’t hear him. As a god in the Underworld, she’d never truly slept. Sure, she’d needed rest now and then, but it was nothing compared to what she needed now. Ever since they’d been in the human realm, she’d slept more and more, reinforcing what he’d already figured out: she was like him. Mortal, though somehow she still retained powers like those of the gods.
He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest. Focused in on the chain around her neck. Held his breath and waited to see if she sensed him. When she didn’t move a muscle, he took a step forward.
“Think carefully before you act, young Maximus.”
Max’s head whipped to the side, toward the ethereal woman standing silently in the shadows beside him. His mouth dropped open at her sudden presence, and panic filled his chest.
The old woman who’d given him the glass. He’d recognize her anywhere. Tonight she seemed ghostly, almost as if she were an image and not real, her diaphanous robes as sheer as her iridescent skin. But her face was the same. Her flesh still wrinkled from time, her hair as white as snow, and her eyes…just as focused and intense as they’d been the first time he saw her.