Enraptured

by Elisabeth Naughton

  He swiped a hand across his sweaty brow as he followed her through the hills outside the city of Heraklion. It was midmorning. The sun was already baking his skin. They’d taken a boat from Corinth to Crete, landing in the northern city, then rented a car and driven to Psychro, where they’d left Demetrius with the warlock in an abandoned shack they found on the outskirts of town. Skyla had then dragged Orpheus to tourist shops in the village. All morning, as she’d been browsing shelves in one store then another, searching for gods only knew what, he hadn’t been able to look away from those long shapely legs in the tight black leggings she’d bought, the flex of muscle in her shoulders against the sleeveless top she’d paired with them. And every time she smiled his way or he caught the mischievous twinkle in her eye, he was reminded of what she’d said in the woods outside Corinth.

  I have a feeling you’re going to have a helluva time forgetting just how horny you’ve made me.

  Skata. Even without the arousal spell in place, she was teasing him to within a degree of boiling. He couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d felt that night at the colony, how she’d looked in the moonlight of the tower, how she’d knocked him on his ass with just one taste. He was stupid to think he could torment her with a measly spell. Dumb to have agreed to let her tag along to the Underworld, when she had this screwy effect on him. Idiotic if he thought she was anything but the seductive Siren she’d been trained to be.

  And yet…

  Since they’d captured the warlock, she hadn’t once tried to take the Orb. She didn’t even act as if she cared that they had it. She seemed only concerned with getting to the Underworld and finding Gryphon.

  Though he tried, he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from her. She stood in the sunlight at the top of the path, looking right and left, more gorgeous than she’d been the moment he met her. Every time he thought he had the female pegged, she went and did something completely unexpected. Like joining him on this trip to the Underworld, even though she didn’t have to, or knocking him to the ground so the warlock’s energy blast didn’t hurt him.

  Warmth spread through his chest. A warmth that was only going to distract him if he wasn’t careful.

  He tore his eyes from her, turned, and looked around the hillside. Told himself to pull it together before he forgot what he was doing here.

  “Okay, Siren,” he said, wishing he’d tossed a drum of water into his pack rather than a few measly water bottles. He needed to douse his frickin’ head. Preferably a few times. “I’ll bite. Are you trying to get me killed by sunstroke or exhaustion? Why the hell didn’t we just flash here?”

  She moved back toward him, her boots kicking up dust in her wake. When she reached his side, she handed him the water bottle. “Flashing would cause an energy shift that would signal we’re on our way. You don’t want that, do you? Besides, we’re almost there. It’s just on the other side of this ridge.”

  “The entrance to the Underworld,” he said, lifting the bottle to his lips.

  “Yes.”

  “Here on Crete. On Mount Ida.”

  “Yes.”

  “Where Zeus was born.”

  Mischief lit her eyes. “You didn’t think Hades wouldn’t have a sense of humor about this, did you?” She took the water bottle from him, replaced it in the side pocket of her pack. Heat and life zinged across his skin when her fingers brushed his, then was gone too fast.

  As she headed back up the path, he eyed the sexy sway of her ass. “Focus,” he muttered, kicking his feet into gear to follow. “I’d think Zeus’d put a stop to that. It’s gotta piss off the super king, doesn’t it?”

  “More than you know.” They moved down the other side of the ridge. A variety of cacti littered the landscape, along with indigenous herbs and cypress and olive trees. “But he can’t stop it, because Hades controls the Underworld and its entrance.”

  “This seems like an obvious place for the opening.”

  “Obvious only if you understand the depth of Hades’s jealous mind.”

  “Right. How is it no one’s found the entrance before? Zeus’s birthplace has been excavated by human archaeologists.”

  “You’ve done your research.” She flicked a look over her shoulder. One that was way too damn sexy for his taste.

  “When it comes to the gods, I do all my research.”

  “Location is only one part of the puzzle, daemon. You can’t get to the Underworld without this.” She patted her pack.

  “That book you bought? The fifteen-euro piece of crap souvenir?”

  “Trust me. It was fifteen euros well spent.”

  The path leveled out. Tall oak to their right indicated water was somewhere close. They picked their way around shrubs and trees in need of trimming and approached what looked to be the opening of a great cave.

  A handful of tourists milled about, complete with cameras at the ready and sunburns on their pasty white skin. To their left a guide stood on a rock, reciting facts about the King of the Gods. Skyla nodded toward the entrance. “The Cave of Psychro.”

  “You mean the cave of psycho,” Orpheus muttered. “Okay, smart-ass, what now?”

  “Come on.” She grasped the front of his shirt just beneath the element resting against his skin and tugged. Little tendrils of heat spread out from the spot where her fingers grazed, then cooled the second she let go.

  She led them past the tourists and into the mouth of the cave, which opened to form a massive room. “The first hall,” she told him, continuing past tourists who were snapping pictures and chatting about the cave’s history. They passed through a narrow archway and headed for a series of switchback steps that descended into an even larger room.

  Lanterns illuminated the darkness. The air grew cooler. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like ominous teeth ready to bite down, and voices echoed off the walls—whispers, laughter, even a scream now and then.

  They headed down with the other tourists, careful not to do anything to draw attention, not that Skyla didn’t draw her own attention. She was so hot, every guy in the area was checking her out, which sent a frisson of jealousy through Orpheus. Near the bottom, Skyla pointed to the right. “The Mantle of Zeus is through there. A huge stalactite that looks totally out of place. I won’t even bother to tell you what it represents.”

  “If you tell me you know from experience, I may be sick.”

  She chuckled. “No, that’s one thing this Siren has no experience with. You’re spared.” She nodded toward another opening. “There’s also a pool in that room where offerings are often made.”

  “I take it we’re not going that way?”

  “Nope.” She veered to the left, away from the crowds, and picked her way around rocks and stalagmites until they entered a smaller chamber, this one only big enough to hold a handful of people.

  She pulled off her pack, dropped it to the ground, gestured to the doorway. “Make sure no one comes through.”

  Orpheus did as she asked. He blocked the doorway with his body so no one could come in or see what she was doing, and watched Skyla pull the book she’d bought this morning from her pack.

  “There it is,” she said, running her finger along the text. “Gates of Hades, Realm of the Dead, open thy doors so that we may pass from life to death.” Her voice lowered, and she read words in ancient Greek Orpheus couldn’t decipher. When she was finished, she stood still, waiting.

  Nothing changed in the small room. Voices echoed from elsewhere in the cave. He was just about to tell Skyla this plan was bogus when rock scraped rock and a vibration echoed through the floor.

  No way.

  A large stone shifted sideways, opening up a tunnel that disappeared into the dark.

  Skyla reached for her bag and stuffed the book inside. Before she swung the pack onto her back again, she pulled out a flashlight and turned his way. “You ready?”

  He eyed the darkness. An ominous wind whipped past his face, laced with a howling cry that could only come from torment and pain. Shiv
ers ran down his spine, but the earth element burned hot against his chest. Hotter than before, urging him on. “Yeah, but I think you should stay here. I appreciate you getting me this far and all, but I don’t need—”

  “Daemon…”

  He frowned back at her. “Siren.”

  But instead of the bullheaded response he expected, her face softened. “I’m going with you. End of story. And you’re going to need me, regardless of what you think. I can charm a lot more than just silly men. Now stop arguing and hurry up. This thing won’t stay open for long and we’ve only got one shot at it.”

  He wasn’t sure what she meant by charming more than just men, but he knew from the determined look in her amethyst eyes she wasn’t about to back down. They’d already been through this argument a dozen times and she hadn’t once budged, even though there was a strong chance she—both of them—might never make it out of this alive.

  She stepped past him into the tunnel. Chest tight, the connection he’d felt to her from the first flaring hot beneath his skin, he followed. He paused and looked back when the rocks scraped again behind them, then slammed shut with a clank, sealing them inside.

  Skyla’s surprised gaze shot to his face. “Guess there’s no turning back now.”

  No, there wasn’t, was there?

  Dread pooled in his stomach as he flipped on his light to shine down the corridor. Nothing but ragged stone walls, a dirt floor, and darkness beckoned.

  That and doom. A hell of a lot of doom.

  Chapter 20

  Skyla’s boots crunched over rocks as they made their way down the passageway. The flashlights illuminated the stone walls around them, the boulders and stalactites hanging from the low ceiling. Twice they had to maneuver around small pools of murky water as the tunnel continued its downward trek. The skeletal remains Orpheus flashed his light over were the third they’d passed since entering the corridor.

  “Human?” he asked.

  Skyla pushed up from her knees, where she’d been crouched. A leather satchel, work boots, a miner’s cap with a burned-out light. “That’d be my guess. Archaeologist probably.”

  “Dumb shit,” Orpheus muttered. “Had no idea what he’d found.”

  “Like the others.”

  He took the lead again. They walked a good fifteen minutes, the sounds of their boots tapping rocks and their steady breaths the only noises in the eerie tunnel. Just when she was sure they were going to continue into darkness forever, the tunnel opened up and the sound of water running echoed from ahead.

  Neither spoke as they approached the water. Skyla shined her light up and around. The tunnel spilled out into a massive cavern, the ceiling so high it couldn’t be seen. Black rocks edged a river of red, which twisted and turned and disappeared into darkness. Far off in the distance a dim light shone.

  Orpheus slid the pack from his shoulder, opened the zippered pouch, and pulled out two coins. He handed one to Skyla. She looked down at the ancient obolos. Again surprised by the daemon at her side. “I hope you have a few more of these so we can get back across when we’re done.”

  He hefted the pack over his shoulder. “No, but I’ve got a plan for that.”

  As the light grew closer and the ferry boat approached, Skyla’s pulse picked up speed.

  She was a Siren. When a Siren died, they were supposed to go to the Isles of the Blessed, not Tartarus. But what guarantee did she have that actually happened?

  You’ve been doing Zeus’s dirty work all these years. Why wouldn’t you end up here too?

  She nixed the thought as the ferry drew close and bumped into the blackened rocks that made up the shore. Charon, the mysterious ferryman, stood at the back of the small boat with his hands on a long wooden pole. Behind him, a lantern hung from a hook. He wasn’t aged, as Skyla had expected. Dark hair with just a touch of gray, a lean body, long face and bright, knowing blue-gray eyes. Without a word he held out his left hand. Orpheus dropped his coin into Charon’s palm. Skyla followed suit. Charon motioned for them to step on board.

  Skyla drew in a breath. As Orpheus gripped her arm and helped her on board, a shot of warmth rushed over her skin. Charon said nothing as he dropped the coins into a pile on the boat’s floorboards behind him, then used the long wooden pole to push them away from the shore. They began floating downstream in silence.

  Darkness seemed to ebb and flow, and on the horizon a strange gray light grew. Skyla’s spine tingled as she looked over her shoulder to find Charon staring at them with his intense eyes. She faced forward again, leaned close to Orpheus. “Friendly, isn’t he?”

  He eased down toward her so they couldn’t be heard, and the musky scent of his skin filled her senses. “Something tells me it’s better for us if he doesn’t get chatty.”

  Skyla nodded, refocused ahead. The gray sky grew lighter until their surroundings were awash in the eerie, colorless light pushing out the darkness. Black rocks fanned out on both sides of the river, a desolate barren wasteland as far as the eye could see. Ahead, a dock fifty yards away beckoned.

  The ferry bumped the end of the dock and came to a stop. Orpheus helped Skyla out of the boat again, and without another word Charon pushed off, turned the boat against the current, and headed back the way they’d come.

  “So what was the plan about the extra coins?” Skyla asked as she watched the boat grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

  “Hold this.” Orpheus handed her his pack. And before she could ask why, he disappeared.

  Startled, Skyla looked around, wondered where he’d gone. Then she saw him reappear on the ferry just behind Charon. He scooped up a handful of coins then disappeared again as if he’d never been there. Seconds later, he was standing next to Skyla.

  He reached for her hand. “Put a couple in your pocket, just in case.”

  In case of what? she wanted to ask, but didn’t. He stuffed a few coins in his pocket then dumped the rest in his pack.

  “You don’t think he’ll miss them?”

  “Let’s hope not. Come on.” He turned toward land, tugged on her sleeve. She followed him off the dock and up the slight rise of blackened rocks. At the top of the ridge, they both paused and took in the view.

  “Holy gods,” Skyla muttered.

  Miles and miles of gray, billowing fields. Souls wandering as if they were lost. A feeling of desolation floating on the wind. And far off in the distance, black jagged mountains that rose out of nothing and melded with an orange-red sky.

  “The Fields of Asphodel,” Orpheus said. “Better than I expected, really.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “A lot more trouble before we reached this point.”

  So had she.

  They headed down. A snarl to their left stopped Skyla’s feet. She turned to look just as an enormous doglike beast with three heads emerged from behind a cluster of blackened rocks.

  “Now this is more like what I was expecting,” Orpheus muttered, reaching for the blade he’d strapped to his back.

  Skyla placed a hand on his forearm before he could draw the weapon. “Just wait.”

  “Wait? Are you mad? That thing looks hungry. And not docile like Charon.”

  “If you kill Cerberus, you’re going to draw all kinds of trouble we don’t need.” Skyla handed him her pack. “Trust me. This is why you brought me along.”

  She took a step toward the beast. Knew Orpheus was watching her with a what the hell do you think you’re doing? look on his face. All three of Cerberus’s heads growled an ominous warning.

  “Skyla,” Orpheus warned. “Wait.”

  She stopped three feet from the beast. His rancid breath washed over her. His fangs dripped something vile she didn’t want to think about. When he growled again and bared those rows of sharp teeth, she opened her mouth and began to sing.

  A couple of bars of the Brahms lullaby and the monster closed its massive mouths, curled up on the ground, and went to sleep. In the silence that followed, Skyla turned to Orpheus
and grinned.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “Shh,” she whispered, taking the pack from him and slinging it over her shoulders. “We don’t want to wake him.” She led Orpheus down the hill away from the sleeping beast. When they were far enough away she said, “That, daemon, was music.”

  “I know what music is,” he snapped. “Where did it come from?”

  “Come on, Orpheus. You know the stories. I’m a Siren.” She drew the word out for effect. “Before we worked for Zeus we came from somewhere, right? Hot body, pretty voice, used to lure sailors in to meet their doom. Ring any bells?”

  “Hits a little close to home,” he muttered with a frown as he followed her down the incline. “All you Sirens can sing?”

  She gripped both straps of her backpack as she stepped from stone to waist-high gray wheat. “Yep.”

  “So why didn’t you use that little charm on those hellhounds back in Montana?”

  “Works better one-on-one. If things had gotten dire, I would have tried it though.”

  His scowl deepened. And for reasons she didn’t understand, the expression made her laugh. “You’re mad because I charmed our way out of trouble?”

  “I’m not mad. I just don’t like surprises. Next time tell me what you have up your sleeve before you go walking up to some monster who looks like he hasn’t eaten in three months.”

  And that’s when it hit her. He wasn’t upset she’d gotten them past Cerberus. He’d been worried she’d get hurt.

  Her feet came to a stop. He moved past her. She watched the way the muscles in his shoulders and legs flexed as he moved. And warmth spread through her belly and up into her chest to encircle her heart.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

  Her heart picked up speed. A soft thump that quickly grew until it was pounding against her ribs. Pounding with the knowledge that she’d fallen for this daemon. Fallen hard, regardless of her job and his goal and the thousands of years of history separating his two lives.

  “Skyla? Are you okay?”