“I…” She swallowed hard, dropped her hand. Barely believed what she was about to say. But somehow, in some way, it felt like the truth. “I think my father lied to us about everything. Zander, I think our son might still be alive.”
Max knew Fort Nelson was the first place Atalanta would send her monsters to look for him, so he stayed in the woods and crossed the river well downstream. It had snowed recently, but the Fort Nelson fork wasn’t yet frozen, though the water was colder than Atalanta’s bitter wasteland.
The metal disk warmed his chest as he moved, and though he couldn’t be sure, it almost felt like that warmth was trickling down into his limbs as well.
Super cool.
He climbed out of the river on the other side, shivered and ducked into the trees. He couldn’t wait too long—he had to keep moving—but he needed a minute to catch his breath. Sitting near the base of a tree, he pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs and tried to warm himself. A water droplet dripped down from the top of his head. He watched it splash on his forearm, then evaporate into the air.
He looked closer. Watched the next droplet hit and disappear as well.
Freaky.
Easing back, he glanced at his arms. They were already dry. Then at his legs, where his jeans were nearly dry as well. Against his chest the disk burned hot but didn’t sear his skin. His sweatshirt was now only slightly damp and his coat was wet just at the sleeves. He reached up and touched the disk with his fingers, smiled and knew then it really did have magic inside.
He scrambled to his feet with a burst of energy he’d lacked before. Then he hiked another mile to the Alaska Highway and hid out in the brush until he saw the headlights of a semitruck far off in the distance.
Confidence breathed new life into him, and he stepped out onto the side of the road, waving his arms.
The lights barreled closer. With the layer of ice covering the road he wasn’t even sure the truck could stop. But then the whine of gears shifting down met his ears, and the truck slowed to stop twenty feet in front of him.
He ran toward the cab, around to the driver’s side. Slowly, the window lowered. Max squinted to look up at the human face peering back.
“You lost, boy?”
“Um…” Now what? “No. Not exactly.”
The man perched his arm on the window ledge and leaned over to get a good look at Max. “That coat won’t keep you very warm out here. Temps are droppin’ like twenties in a strip club. Where you come from, boy?”
“Uh…” He couldn’t say Fort Nelson. He thought about what little he knew of this area. “Alaska.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Alaska, huh? How’d you get all the way out here?”
“I walked.”
The man looked him over again, seemed to focus on his face. And the hair on the back of Max’s neck stood straight under that scrutinizing gaze. “You runnin’ away from some-thin’?”
Sweat broke out on Max’s brow. “No.”
“Uh-huh,” the man said, unconvincingly. “How’d you get that bruise?”
Max ran his fingers over his left cheekbone. The only thing he could think of was when he’d attacked Zelus earlier. “I…I don’t know.”
The man harrumphed. Then finally nodded toward the passenger side of the truck. “Get in.”
Max’s eyebrows shot up. He stood frozen for a split second before racing around the front of the truck and climbing up the tall steps. Once inside, the heat of the cab instantly warmed his last cold spots.
The trucker stared over at him. The man was probably in his fifties, with thinning hair on top, a round belly and cal-lused hands that had seen a lot of work. “Name’s Jeb. I run the West Coast route for a small company in Vancouver. Where you headed, boy?”
Max twisted his hands in his lap. He hadn’t thought too far ahead. Where could he go? He’d heard Atalanta and Thanatos talk about a half-breed colony down south. “Oregon.”
“What’s in Oregon?”
Max knew not to be too secretive. But he wasn’t about to give anything away. “I have relatives there.”
Jeb studied Max closely again, then finally said, “I’m on my way to my base in Vancouver. Have to pick up a load, then I’m heading to Las Vegas. You don’t cause too much trouble, you can ride along.”
“Th-thanks.” Max leaned back in his seat. But he didn’t relax. Something warned him to be on guard. This guy might just be human, but Max had learned long ago not to trust anyone.
Jeb shifted. The gears whined and echoed as metal scraped metal and the big rig picked up speed. “Yeah, I never liked my old man much either. Mean cuss. I sure the hell hope you’re runnin’ somewhere better than that, boy.”
So did Max.
Callia bolted as soon as they came through the portal in the Gatehouse.
Zander reached for her, but she slithered out of his grip and sprinted for the door. “Dammit, Callia. Wait!”
The two Executive Guards stationed at the portal exchanged bewildered glances. Zander searched for the Argonaut on duty training the newest recruits. None of the Argonauts were thrilled with the Council’s decision to turn monitoring of the portal over to their guards, but babysitting rankled even more, and Gryphon—the lucky guardian this time—looked ready to beat his head against a wall.
“Zander—what the hell?”
Zander ignored the question and moved toward the door. “Get Theron and the others and get to the Argolion,” he shouted.
Gryphon’s light eyebrows drew together as he pushed up from his chair. “Why in Hades would you be going to see the Council?”
“Just do it!”
He raced out the door of the Gatehouse and stopped on the sidewalk outside the building. The city of Tiyrns sparkled in the fall sunlight. A crisp breeze brushed past his face. He searched the busy street for Callia but didn’t see her. Closing his eyes, he envisioned the Argolion—the ancient building that housed the Council gatherings and the council members’ offices. In seconds he flashed to the steps outside the massive building and darted inside.
Rows of columns lined the inner corridor. Not seeing Callia anywhere in the great lobby, he headed toward the Council chambers and prayed they weren’t in session. The marble floor gleamed before him as he moved. He cursed himself for not planning this better.
He rounded the corner and spotted her ahead, about to open the double doors into the Council chambers. “Callia! Wait!”
She turned, looked at him, and the torment in her eyes all but killed him. “I have to see my father.”
He grasped her arm and gently turned her toward him. “He may be in session. Wait until Theron gets here and we’ll question him then. He—”
“I don’t care, Zander. Ten years. It’s been ten years!”
She pushed the door open before he could stop her, ducked under his arm and disappeared inside. He moved to grab her but drew up short when he stepped inside and all sound ground to a halt.
Twelve Council members sat in high-backed chairs in a circle around the Great Alpha Seal carved in marble in the middle of the floor. Behind the circle, on a raised platform, Isadora, the royal representative for the meeting, sat in a regal chair, overseeing the proceedings. To her right, Casey stood watching, and standing on both sides of the sisters, alert and armed, were two members of the Executive Guard.
All eyes turned their way. Tension permeated the air. Zander cast a quick glance around the room and found two, three…five more guards stationed at the exits to the circular chamber.
Skata, they should have waited for Theron and the others.
“What is the meaning of this disruption,” Lucian, the leader of the Council, said, brow furrowed as he rose to stand in front of his chair. The rompa, or ancient red robe each Council member wore during proceedings, draped around to pool at his feet.