Lena flicked Nick a withering look. Then glanced at Callia. “He’s stable. For now. But I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to talk to him. He just dropped off, and the drugs have hit him hard. Even if he could talk, nothing he has to say would be any help to you now.”
Frustration washed over Callia’s features. “What did he say happened? What about the boy?”
Pity crept into Nick’s amber eyes. “He picked the kid up somewhere in British Columbia. They parked it at a truck stop just over the summit of Mount Hood.” He glanced Zander’s way. “There’s a small Misos settlement there, so we patrol the region. Somehow it looks like they walked in on an attack.”
“What happened to the boy?” Callia asked. “Was the boy with him?”
The panic in her voice clawed at Zander. He stepped up behind her, placed his hands on her upper arms.
“From what my soldiers got out of him,” Nick said, “the kid told him the monsters were there for him.”
Callia turned and shot Zander a look, and in her eyes he saw the same thing he felt. Fear. Urgency. The last threads of hope. Except he had a dark feeling he knew where this was going.
“So he got away,” Callia said, twisting back to Nick. “The boy got free?”
“No,” Zander answered before Nick could, his heart dropping. The feeling that Nick was more closely linked to the Argonauts than anyone understood washed through Zander as he read the truth on the scarred half-breed’s face.
“You can’t know for sure,” Callia protested. “It’s possible he escaped while the daemons went after this man.”
“No,” Zander said again, hating to hurt her more but needing—now—to be honest with her. “If it was him, Callia, if it was our son, he wouldn’t have run. He wouldn’t have left this human vulnerable.”
She glared up at him. “How do you know? He’s just a boy. He’s just—”
“He’s an Argonaut. It’s bred into him.” Zander glanced toward Theron and Titus, who had followed them into the room. Toward the doorway where Gryphon, Phineus and Cerek had gathered to see what was going on. And he thought of his own SOB father. To the way he himself had been as a child. To how he’d been raised. Trained. To that instinct he’d never been able to get away from.
“We were all more advanced than the average youngling. You can teach an Argonaut to be a warrior. You can beat out his emotions, take away his dreams and train him to be a killer. And if this was our son, if he was really with Ata-lanta, then I’m guessing that’s exactly what she did. But she wouldn’t have been able to alter his instinct. It’s as much a part of him as his hair and eyes and skin. If he somehow got free from her, if he was with this human when the daemons attacked, he’d have fought. And he would have protected.”
Tears gathered in Callia’s eyes. She turned and looked at the human lying motionless on the bed. And the grief radiating from her filled Zander’s head and heart and soul.
No one spoke as she looked around the room, as if in a daze. The only sounds were the beeps and whirs of the machines. Slowly she eased out of Zander’s grip, moved across the floor and stopped at a chair where a small jacket was tossed over an arm.
“Is this…was this his?”
“The human was holding that when they brought him in,” Lena said softly. “Whatever personal items we took off him are there.”
Callia lifted the jacket to her face, drew in a deep breath. The jacket was ripped and shredded, covered in blood and grime and streaked with green, but she didn’t seem to care. She closed her eyes, lowered it and clutched it to her chest. And that was all Zander could take. Because his heart was breaking too. Minutes ago they’d been so hopeful, and now…
He moved around the bed, turned her so he could cradle her against his chest while she cried. Whispered voices sounded behind him but he didn’t care what the others were saying. Sobs racked her body as he pulled her close, the jacket pressed between them. He didn’t even have the strength to pray this wasn’t exactly what he thought. Because he knew. Some sixth sense inside him said this coat belonged to his son. And his son had somehow saved this human.
“Thea…”
Tear tracks stained her cheeks as she lifted her head. She opened her mouth to say something, moved the jacket between them. Then froze. Slowly, her brow furrowed.
“What?” he asked.
She pulled her hand from inside the coat. The fluorescent lights above reflected off a circular silver disk in her hand that looked tarnished from time and weather. A heavy chain attached to one side slipped through her fingers. Four empty chambers composed most of the body, but in the center was a small circle stamped with the seal of the Titans.
“Holy Hera,” he whispered.
Her eyes widened. “That looks like—”
“The Orb of Krónos,” Theron said in wonder from across the room.
Zander and Callia both glanced toward Theron, who was staring at the disk with wide eyes himself. Next to him, Casey and Isadora both stood silently, also transfixed by the medallion in Callia’s hand.
Zander hadn’t heard either of the females step into the room, but as he took in Isadora’s new appearance—the short hair, the new clothes, the questions on her face as her gaze bounced between him and Callia—guilt snaked through him. He needed to talk to the princess, explain to her what had happened. Tell her he couldn’t go through with the binding ceremony after all. And just where that would leave the monarchy, he wasn’t sure. But if this—he glanced back at the disk in Callia’s hand—if this was what he thought it was, then even that didn’t much matter right now.
“Okay,” Casey said cautiously. “You’re all looking at that thing like it’s the Antichrist. Could someone please fill in this clueless Misos?”
Theron pulled Casey to his side, shaken out of his trance by her voice. “Krónos was the father of Zeus, Hades and Poseidon. A Titan. The Titans were—”
“The ruling deities before the Olympian gods took over,” Casey finished for him. “Yeah, I know my mythology. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
“It’s just another myth,” Nick said.
Theron shot the half-breed a look. “Myths are usually rooted in reality. And this—don’t you think, warrior?—proves the point.”
Nick frowned, shifted his legs wider in a defensive stance. Sensing the tension in the room, Zander said to Casey, “According to the legend, when Krónos realized Zeus and his brothers were going to overthrow them, he created the orb.” He nodded toward the disk. “He poured into it the Chthonic powers, those of this world, and the four classic elements—air, water, fire, earth. Before the last battle of the Titanomachy, the war between the Titans and Olympians, he gave the orb to Prometheus for safe keeping. And he instructed him to use it only if the situation turned dire.”
Casey’s eyebrows pulled together. “But Prometheus was a Titan, wasn’t he?”
“He was,” Isadora said, speaking up. “But he didn’t participate in the war, and he and a few others weren’t condemned to Tartarus with the other Titans. When the war was over, Zeus had the losing Titans locked in the lower levels of Tartarus where they would be tortured for all eternity.”
“And Prometheus didn’t use the orb to unlock them,” Casey guessed.
“No,” Theron said to her. “Prometheus was a champion for humankind. He didn’t want to see any of the gods with the orb. He scattered the four elements over the earth, and according to the legend, he hid the empty orb someplace where Zeus and his brothers could never find it.”
“Something of great value,” Callia muttered, looking at the disk in her hand. “He hid it in the Aegis Mountains. In Argolea.”