Jeb’s eyes widened with horror as the daemon lifted his razor-sharp claws.
Max charged. Arm raised high, he shoved the end of the screwdriver deep into the daemon’s neck. Immediately the daemon shot up, wailing in pain. He threw Max off. Max hit the ground hard, the impact stealing his breath, and rolled across the frozen lot. The daemon stumbled backward until he hit the side of the semi, shakily grabbed the handle of the screwdriver and pulled.
Blood spurted from the wound like a fire hose. It was clear the screwdriver had hit the daemon’s jugular. The daemon fell to his knees on the ground, shrieking while his hand covered the wound and blood continued to pour through his fingers.
“The knife,” Jeb croaked, still trying to crawl backward.
Dazed, Max slapped out, searching for the knife himself. Finally, his hand closed around the handle. Snow and gravel filled his palm. Adrenaline pumping, he pushed to his feet and stopped in front of the daemon, still on its knees, writhing in pain.
Kill or be killed.
Yeah, he’d learned that lesson well, hadn’t he? Only it wasn’t the way Atalanta had ever intended.
Adrenaline pulsing, he swung back and through, just like she’d taught him, decapitating the monster before it could regain its strength and kill them both.
He didn’t dwell on what he’d done. Didn’t even look down at the grotesque head severed from the daemon’s body. Max turned and headed for Jeb. He dropped to his knees next to the man, immediately ripped off his coat and pressed it to the human’s wounded chest.
“R-run,” Jeb breathed.
“I’m not leaving you out here.”
Jeb’s hand closed over Max’s wrist. “There are…more.”
Yeah, Max already knew that. Atalanta’s scouts traveled in threes. But that wasn’t all. There would be more coming. Lots more. Especially when this one didn’t check in.
Max stared down at the human, wondered how things had turned so bad so fast. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of it. He wasn’t dumb enough to think Atalanta loved him and wanted him back. No, what she wanted was the disk he’d stolen from her. The key to controlling this world and the next. And she wouldn’t stop until she found him and took it back.
Unless…
He reached down and palmed the disk against his chest. It still burned warm, giving him a strength he hadn’t had before. It had gotten him all the way here when he should have been too tired to move. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but it had power. Like the glass that old lady had given him. And instinctively he knew only bad things would happen if Atalanta got it back.
Remember your humanity, Maximus. Let it be your guide.
The old lady’s words sifted through his mind. Maybe the disk could help Jeb, if only so the man could stay alive long enough to get out of this hellhole.
And if not, well, at least Atalanta wouldn’t get it back.
He squeezed his hand around the disk, then drew the chain over his head with frantic fingers. While Jeb watched him, Max stuffed the disk and chain inside his coat pocket.
“Wh-what are you d-doing?” Jeb asked.
A roar echoed from the doorway of the building. Max’s body stilled. They didn’t have much time.
Quickly Max tucked his coat around Jeb again, pressed it into Jeb’s wounds and placed Jeb’s hand over the top for pressure. “Do me a favor and keep this safe. Do you think you can make it to the truck?”
Eyebrows drawn together in confusion, Jeb turned his head slightly on the gravel, glanced toward the truck. Nodded.
“Good.” Max squeezed Jeb’s hand. “The keys are in the ignition. Get in, lock the doors and go. And don’t look back. You’re right. More will come. But they’re coming for me. Not you. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
“Max?”
Max pushed to his feet and turned toward the daemons.
This was it for him. No way he could outrun two daemons. But maybe…just maybe he could draw them far enough away to give Jeb a fighting chance.
He sucked in a deep breath. The image of his mother—his real mother—passed before his eyes: her red hair, her violet eyes, her sweet and beautiful face. He’d hoped some day to meet her. To ask her why she’d let him go. Now it really didn’t matter anymore. Funny that all that mattered was doing the right thing.
“You bastards!” he yelled. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Go back to hell, you freaks!”
The daemons growled in half warning, half anticipation of a kill yet to come.
His adrenaline surged, and fear raced up his spine. True fear, because he knew what was coming next. He’d seen it up close and personal. But Max didn’t hesitate. He took off running into the trees as fast as his legs would carry him.
Chapter Nineteen
The shower did little to chill Zander out. A frenzied storm bubbled beneath the surface of his control, and every second he spent here at the colony wasting time only energized the lightning inside him.
He wrapped a white towel around his waist without bothering to dry himself off. When he stepped into the bedroom Nick had told him to use to get cleaned up, he found Titus leaning against the wall and Lena already setting out scissors, needles and medical crap on the coffee table in the sitting area.
Lovely. Titus was here to make sure Zander didn’t snarl at the half-breed and that the healer, who obviously didn’t give a rat’s ass about Zander, did her job.
He didn’t bother arguing. Instead, he crossed the floor and dropped into the chair the healer nodded toward. The sooner he got stitched up, the sooner he could haul ass back to the hunt and find his son. Fear and dread spread through his chest, condensed into rage. This time he had very definite, very gruesome plans for the next SOB he found.
Titus didn’t speak as Lena went to work, just crossed his arms over his chest and chewed on the toothpick sticking out of his mouth.
Lena pressed all around the edges of the wound with her fingertips. “It’s not too deep. This shouldn’t take long.”
He kept his eyes on the pale yellow wall while she went to work.
She glanced at his face. “Nick mentioned what happened.” When he didn’t answer, she stuck him with a needle—not, he noticed, gently. “Is it true? Does Atalanta really have your son?”
Just the mention of his son sent the firestorm swirling all over again. He clenched his jaw, worked hard not to let the rage overtake him here, curled his hands into fists and tried to think about…nothing.
Except it didn’t work.
She set the syringe on the table, reached for a needle and threaded it, her focus intent on the instruments in her hands. “Does she…does Callia know?”
He wasn’t in the mood to talk. Especially about Callia. But he also wasn’t in the mood to piss off one more person who could push him over the edge. “Yes.”
“And you’re here looking for him. Where is she?”
“Home.”
“In Argolea. Where she’s safe.”
The disapproval in her words was more than evident. He clenched his jaw to the point of pain so he didn’t let her have it.
She drew the needle into his skin and back up again, never meeting his gaze. “You underestimate her, Argonaut.”
Like he gave a rip what she thought.
She continued stitching. He went back to watching the wall. Silence descended as she worked. Finally, she tied off the ends of the threads, snipped and covered the wound with a clean dressing, then said, “That’s it. I’d tell you to be careful with it, but I have a feeling you’ll just do whatever the hell you want, so I won’t bother.”
She packed up the rest of her things, flicked a look at Titus still leaning against the wall. “I’m done.”