If anyone could find Alex, it was this man.
He tried to lift a large branch out of his way, but his hands ghosted through it. As she watched, her eyes widened. She turned toward the wall and ran her own hand over the jagged surface. Shockingly her fingers disappeared inside the rock. "We're ghosts," she croaked out, spinning to face Darius.
"Only while we are here," he assured her.
Knowing she was not a permanent phantom eased her worry, and she relaxed. She was used to new experiences. Most times she went out of her way to have them. But with Darius, things just sort of happened-weird things she could not possibly prepare for. He was excitement personified.
"Are you looking for the medallion?" she asked when he continued his search.
A long silence fell between them. Obviously he didn't want to answer.
"Well?" she persisted.
"I must find it."
What was it about that chain? Even she had fought to possess it, had felt its strange, unquestionable draw. "You want it, Alex wanted it and someone once tried to steal it from him. Other than unlocking your bedroom door, what makes that thing so valuable?"
"Dragon medallions are handcrafted by Hephaestus, the blacksmith of the gods, and each one holds a special power for its owner, like time travel or invisibility. What's more, it unlocks doors to every room in every dragon palace-as you saw for yourself," he added dryly.
"If I'd known it offered special powers, I might have held on to it more tightly," she said. Time travel. How cool was that? "My favorite novels are time travels, and I've always thought it would be cool to visit the Middle Ages."
"If you had known of the medallion's powers, you would not have lived long enough to travel through time."
Well, that certainly put things in perspective, didn't it? "I guess that means I shouldn't ask what yours can do."
"No, you should not. You and other surface dwellers should not even know the medallions exist."
She sighed. "Alex found an ancient text, the Book of Ra-Dracus . That's how he knew about them. That's how he knew about the portal into Atlantis."
Darius's chin whipped up and he faced her; his eyes narrowed. "I have never heard of this book. What else did it say?"
"He didn't mention much, but did say the book told of ways to defeat the creatures inside. Alex gave no mention of specifics, though. I'm sorry."
"I must see that book." I must destroy it , echoed unsaid.
"Shortly after he found it," she said, lifting her arms in a helpless gesture, "someone stole it from him."
Darius rubbed his neck as he knelt before a muddy mound. "Atlanteans are dangerous beings, stronger than your people and far more deadly. Why those on the surface continually try to invade our land is beyond me. Those who do always die. Every time."
"I didn't," she reminded him softly.
His head snapped in her direction for a second time. Silence. Then, "No," he finally said, "you didn't." He continued to stare at her, and she shifted uncomfortably. His attention wavered between her mouth and her curves. If his eyes became any more heated, her clothing would be incinerated, panties and all. "Where did your brother find the book?"
"Greece. The temple of Erinys," she said, snapping her fingers as the name popped into place.
"Erinys, the punisher of the unfaithful." His brow furrowed. "A minor goddess. I do not understand why she or her followers would possess such a book, a book that tells of ways to defeat us."
"Maybe she wanted to punish those in Atlantis," Grace offered.
His nostrils flared. "We are not, nor have we ever been, unfaithful to anyone."
O-kay. Sore topic. And one she wouldn't bring up again. "I'm sure you weren't, big guy," she said, hoping to placate him.
"We do not attempt to conquer the surface. We serve our gods faithfully. We do nothing to earn ourselves punishment."
"Well, now, that's not exactly true." Even though she'd just promised herself she wouldn't bring this up again, she found herself saying, "You obviously did something . Your entire city was cast into the sea."
"We existed. That is why we were hidden in the sea. The way I understand it is we were never meant to be created, yet Zeus cut off his father's-" he paused "-manhood, causing Cronus's blood to splatter upon the earth. Thus, we were formed. Though he was-is-our brother, Zeus feared what we could do, so he banished us from the land he viewed as his playground. We were not unfaithful."
"You were created by the blood of a god?" she asked, beyond curious about him.
"No," he answered. "My parents conceived me through the more traditional manner. My ancestors were the ones created by a god's blood." His lips pressed together firmly, stubbornly, and she knew he'd say no more on the subject.
His parents were dead, she remembered from her vision, and she ached for him. Ached because he'd been the one to find them. Ached because they'd been murdered in ways so cruel she cringed from the thoughts. She knew how devastating losing a loved one was. He'd lost everyone close to him in one fatal swoop.
"Your brother," Darius said, effectively changing the subject. "You said he's been missing for several weeks."
The mention of Alex served as a cold reminder of why she was here. "He hasn't been home, hasn't called, and that isn't like him."
"And there were men chasing him through the jungle, trying to obtain the medallion from him?"
"Correct."
"Perhaps you should tell me everything that happened before and after you escaped me."
She told him what she knew, leaving out no detail.
"These men," he said, "the Argonauts who found you in the jungle. Would they harm your brother if they knew of the medallion?"
"Of course not."
Darius pursed his lips as he wondered just how many were involved in this tangled web of mystery-which was becoming more complicated every time Grace opened her mouth. "I still wish to find and speak with them." He pushed to his feet. "The medallion is not here," he growled. "I have searched every inch of the cave."
"I didn't lie to you," she assured him. "I lost it in the mist."
He jerked a hand through his hair. Once again he was left unsure whether to believe Grace. Her motives seemed pure, the protection of her brother; yet her claim of losing the medallion seemed a lie. Had she stolen it, only to lose it?
As he stood there, warring within himself, his heated tattoos illuminated a dark object, glinting in the corner of his eye. He'd seen the object during his search, but had ignored it. Now he bent down and studied it. Grace's weapon, he realized. The same sort of weapon the human guards carried at Javar's palace.
"Why did you carry this?" he asked her. His fingers drifted through the metal.
"The gun?" She closed the distance between them and knelt beside him. Her heady essence wrapped around him.
"A gun," he echoed. "Why did you carry this?" he asked again.
"To protect myself. I bought it from a peddler in Manaus."
"What does it do?" His voice was solemn, deep. "As I recall, you tried to wound me with it, but nothing happened."
"The cylinder wasn't loaded. If the cylinder had been loaded, bullets would have shot out when I pulled the trigger and slammed into you, causing injury. Maybe even death."
Intrigued, he eyed the gun with new expectations. A complicated piece of weaponry, to be sure. The coil, the thin shaft. "I would like to see this in action."
"I just bet you would," she muttered.
He flicked her a glance. "If I make it so that you can hold this weapon, will you show me how to work it?"
"I don't have any bullets," she said.
"Get some."
"Where? We're not exactly in the bustling heart of a city, with eager merchants hawking their wares."