by Sable Grace
Biting back a cry of pain, she searched for another safe place to grab. Her gaze dropped. Nothing but a mist of sea foam and jagged rocks lay beneath her. Even as a goddess, she’d never survive the fall.
“Make your circle . . .” As Haven spoke to Ryker, she knelt in front of Kyana and gripped her throat. Her long nails bit into the flesh sending tiny rivers of blood snaking down Kyana’s neck. “. . . or I will kill her.”
Her bloodied hands made finding a secure grip difficult, but Kyana held on for dear life, thorns puncturing her palms and poking at her bones. She visualized snatching Haven by the hair and tossing her over her shoulder and down the cliff. But if she acted on that impulse, she’d go down too, and while she wasn’t afraid to die, she knew her responsibilities wouldn’t allow for direct suicide.
The stone on the charm around Ryker’s neck pulsed bloodred. If he didn’t get it off soon, it would kill him. She stared at him, blocking out all thoughts of fears and pain until it was just the two of them on that rocky cliff.
The only thing keeping Kyana from careening down the mountain now was Haven’s vicious hold on her throat.
“Don’t do . . . it,” she managed to squeak out. “Don’t . . . port her.”
She could read the determination in his eyes. He’d rather die than risk Haven completing the ceremony that would bring pure evil down on them all, but he was struggling with the sight of her life in jeopardy.
She caught his gaze, pleaded with him silently as Haven swung Kyana’s body up and over the ledge, throwing her with a hard thud onto the dirt beside Ryker.
“You didn’t kill me,” Kyana sputtered in surprise, her throat aching and raw.
“If I kill you, he definitely won’t port us, will he? Now”—Haven turned her attention to Ryker—“port me, you dumb prick.”
Kyana made a big ordeal about struggling to her feet so Haven wouldn’t hear her whispered plea to Ryker as she rose. “Don’t do it. I’ll figure something out, I just need time.”
There was so much doubt in his eyes, she worried he wasn’t going to listen.
His gaze locked with hers, then shifted frantically; the hint of a nod at something to her left had her tossing a glance over her shoulder. No one was there.
She turned back to face Haven. “I will stop you.”
“You had your chance and you blew it. All this is on your head, Huntress. The next time we meet, you’ll die.”
“You’d better hope she can’t raise you, Cronos, because once you’re corporeal again, there’s nothing stopping me from ripping your fucking head off.”
Ryker was drawing a circle in the sand, his mouth moving as the inaudible words were said that would take them from here. “No, stop!”
But he’d finished his circle. Haven stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. A vortex slowly formed in front of him. He held out his hands as if offering prayer to the swirling light that gradually consumed them.
Just as Kyana sprung off her toes and leaped through the air toward them, a hand grabbed hers. But rather than hold her back, the body propelled her forward. Her hand contacted Ryker’s thigh and she had only a second to turn her head and see who her uninvited guest was before she was being yanked through the painfully bright wormhole.
Ares.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The instant they dropped out of the vortex and onto the sandy beach, Ares laced his fingers with Kyana’s and pulled her to her feet. Her blindness only increased the panic crushing her ribs, but until Ryker spoke the words to release her, she’d see no light. The need to stay with him, to protect him, warred with the need to throttle him. What had he been thinking?
He’d just condemned them to Hell on Earth—if they even survived to see another sunrise. The Vampyre here were deadly to gods, and while Ryker hadn’t changed into Zeus completely yet and Kyana hadn’t yet fully become Artemis, Ryker was still a demigod, and Ares was still Ares. The monsters who resided here were the firstborn Vampyre—created when Cronos shared his blood with the other exiled, and with them bore the first Vampyric children. That pure evil was deadly near the pure auras of the gods. It drained them, sucked the life right out of them just by being too close—with the exception, it seemed, of Cronos.
She had to get Ryker and Ares off this island before sunset and those sons of bitches came out to hunt.
Hindered by her blindness, she felt herself being carried away from the crashing waves of the beach while Ryker and Haven were still recovering.
“Hush,” Ares demanded, releasing her. “She doesn’t know we’ve come with them yet.”
She craned her neck skyward and wished with desperation that she could see how low the sun was. Sunset would be upon them shortly. They had to get moving.
“Why the hell did you let him port?”
Ares crouched behind her and covered her mouth with his hand, stifling the curse she wanted to scream.
He pressed his mouth close to her ear. “To save his life. I can port us off now. We just needed time—”
“Libero.” Ryker’s voice sounded weak, like he was a million miles away, but he was close enough to return her sight, and with it, her determination to reach his side. She fought against Ares, but he held her tight.
“If you want to save my son, you have to trust me. This is the only way.”
Ares’s whispered breath was hot against her ear, but it calmed her momentarily—or at least, it gave her back her ability to reason. She didn’t want to put her faith in someone who hated her and despised his own son, but her choices were limited.
The second he released her, she scrambled to her knees to peer through the underbrush at the empty beach. “Where are they?”
Ares pointed toward a path about a dozen yards away before grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go. We have to get my son . . . before I’m unable to port us out of here.”
The weakness in his voice, the way he grabbed his chest as though he was having a heart attack, frightened her. Wherever the Vampyre were sleeping, they were near enough to taint Ares already. This was going to be very, very bad.
She couldn’t stand the prick, but she needed his port to get the hell out of here. There was no way they’d survive twenty-four hours for Ryker’s ability to return. Even Kyana, unaffected by the Vampyre thus far, wouldn’t be able to last once . . . Oh gods, she was doomed to change at sunset. They really had no time to waste.
She couldn’t afford to tote a huge, hulking god with her in his current state. Moving as quickly as she could, she dragged Ares back to the beach, hoping the salty air would help ease his pain. Thankfully, the closer to the water they got, the easier Ares seemed to breathe.
He dropped to his knees. “Thank you,” he mumbled.
“I’m going to find Ryker. Bring him back here.” She pointed her finger at him. “Stay put and don’t die,” she ordered.
He looked like he was going to argue, but suddenly gripped his chest again and peered up at her with a panicked expression. “Hurry.”
She left him and sprinted down the path toward the center of the island. It didn’t take her long to reach the clearing they’d used as base camp when they’d first found this place a week ago. Crouching, she scanned the clearing.
She listened for any sounds of Ryker or Haven, but only deafening silence greeted her. Raising her head, she sniffed the air, almost crying out with relief when she detected the faint hint of Ryker on the breeze.
Watchful of each step, she worked her way toward the far side of the camp. When she reached the overgrown trail leading to the cave that had become Cronos’s grave, she heard the faint sound of a twig snapping. Spinning, she prepared to lunge at Haven, only to find herself staring into Ryker’s icy blue eyes. He was bound to a large palm tree, his head immobile, his chin lifted upward at an uncomfortable-looking angle from where Haven had secured him in place with the Binding Charm. His face was pale, his eyes glassy and empty. But he was breathing.
“Thank the g
ods,” she whispered, rushing to his side.
His forehead was bloody. A deep wound gushed from below his hairline like a crack in a perfect foundation. She snatched at the chain around his neck and slipped her dagger from her boot.
The weapon passed straight through the strands, but before the rope could fall away, they reentwined, holding him in place. Kyana knelt in front of him and shook his shoulders.
“Ryker? Ryker, I don’t know what to do.”
His eyes fluttered closed and partially opened again. He tried to lift his head from the trunk of the tree, but the combination of the beating he’d taken, the binding spells, and the creatures on the island were taking their toll. His head jerked back toward the tree trunk and she thought his eyes were rolling back in his head, but as she leaned closer to shake him awake, she saw he wasn’t losing consciousness.
He was staring at something overhead.
Her gaze followed his to the object dangling above him. Tied to a thick branch swung a cracked vial of ambrosia. She watched in horror as one undiluted pink droplet oozed out of the crack and plopped on Ryker’s head. He let out a muffled roar as steam escaped the bloody wound on his brow and spread it open even further.
“That sadistic bastard!”
She struggled not to panic as she tried to yank the vial down, but like the bonds holding Ryker, it wouldn’t tear free with physical strength alone. “Tell me how to get you out of here!”
His horribly swollen lips moved, but all she heard was the rush of his exhale. She leaned forward, placing her ear as close to his battered face as she dared.
“Damn it, Ryker. You say it! If you know the words that will release you, then say them!”
“Can’t . . . be . . . me . . .”
She understood. He couldn’t set himself free of a spell that was cast on him. Someone else had to do it. She had to do it.
He began whispering a little more clearly, but it still took three tries before Kyana could piece the garbled sounds together to form a coherent word.
Before she could repeat it, another pink drop fell, splattered on his head, and Ryker convulsed. This time his eyes really were rolling back in his head, and if she didn’t hurry he wouldn’t be awake to help her.
“Slacciare?” she whispered, silently praying she pronounced it correctly.
Much to her relief, the golden strands fell away from his chest to rest loosely at his waist, and the vial of ambrosia clattered to the ground, shattering at their feet. Kyana hopped out of the way, dodging the splatter and pulling Ryker with her.
When the liquid settled, she grabbed hold of the chains hanging from him and tossed them aside. Without the pressure of the binds, Ryker began to sway on his feet. She barely managed to catch him before his face crashed brutally into the ground.
“I’m going to get you back to the beach. I need you to try not to make any noise.”
She slipped his arm around her shoulder with one hand, grabbed the waistband of his pants in the other, and hoisted him to his feet. Every muscle in his body stiffened in protest, but he didn’t make a sound.
“We have to hurry,” she panted, walking as fast as she could back the way she’d come.
She didn’t know how he stayed on his feet, with them tripping their way through the jungle like a drunken pair of elephants, but thankfully, he managed. She considered carrying him, but if he could get to safety on his own, she wouldn’t have to use the strength she needed to reserve for confronting Haven.
As they approached the sand, Ares rushed to her side. Effortlessly, he lifted Ryker and carried him to the water’s edge, setting him gently in the sand just out of reach of the surf. He paused long enough to brush Ryker’s hair from his bloodied face before shifting to draw his circle in the sand.
“We have to get out of here,” he said. “Now.”
Kyana stepped out of reach of his porting circle. She couldn’t leave. Not yet. She wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead and pulled in huge gulps of air. “I know where Haven’s going. Take care of him. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
He looked at Ryker, then back to Kyana. “There’s no time.”
Darkness was less than an hour away, but if she hurried, she still had time before the creatures came out of their hole in the ground.
And if she was damned lucky, time to stop Haven from completing the ceremony that would raise Cronos.
“I have to stop her.”
Ares looked at Ryker, then back to Kyana. “If it means leaving you here to die in order to save his life, I will.”
“Give me an hour. If you can.” Not caring that Ares watched her, she brushed her lips lightly across Ryker’s. “If I’m not back by sunset, leave without me.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The deeper Kyana traveled into the forest, the harder it was to tell the time through the thick canopy of branches overhead. Haven had bought her a watch years ago, but it lay dusty on her dresser at home, even the soft tick-tick too much technology for Kyana to handle. Now, a little pain would’ve been worth knowing exactly how much time she had before darkness fell, exactly how much time until the pure Vampyre were released upon them all.
Exactly how much time before Artemis’s blood finally overtook her own and she no longer knew how to work her own body.
Normally, her Vampyric senses told her such things, but it seemed she didn’t have much Vampyre in her blood anymore.
She summoned Artemis’s powers now, one of the few she’d managed to tap into: speed. Like the wind, she flew through the trees—branches and leaves nothing more than a blur as she wound around their trunks and over rocky obstacles in her path. Like the last time she’d been here, the eerie silence chilled her bones.
No birds. No ants. Nothing.
All life on this island had been exterminated long ago, leaving the pure Vampyre trapped with nothing to feed upon. They too were in danger of extinction, and the minute they smelled their living, breathing, uninvited guests, their hunger would make them unstoppable.
When the ground became a muddied quagmire, she leaped skyward, grabbed hold of a branch, and began swinging her way in monkey-bar fashion across the trail, deeper and deeper into the woods.
Farther and farther from her port out of here.
She had to push her fear to the back of her mind, lest it consume her fully. One second’s panic could cause one second’s hesitation. She didn’t have that kind of time to waste.
The cave she was looking for sat smack in the middle of a deep copse of trees. There was enough darkness here to allow the Vampyre to come out and play if they dared, but the tunnel system where they dwelled was a good distance away. Chances were, they’d stay put until any threat of sun exposure was over.
At least she hoped.
She swung herself onto the top of the cave, her body pumping with adrenaline, and took a moment to survey her surroundings. Face tilted, she sniffed the air. She caught Haven’s scent and scanned the ground where footprints had flattened the grass outside the cave. Stooping, she slid her dagger from her boot once again, and took a deep breath.
Pressing her palms to the hot rock under her feet, she pushed, throwing herself to the ground, where she landed directly in front of the entrance.
It was scarier going inside this time—now that she knew what lived on this island. Being oblivious had its perks that way. But at least this time, she was prepared. All senses on high alert.
As she ducked her head and stepped inside, she told herself it was all going to be okay. They’d all get off this island alive and Cronos would no longer be a threat.
She was such a damned liar.
The rancid air of the cave cloaked her, encasing her as if it was a physical force trying to keep her from entering. She took shallow breaths and wished she still held on to the Vampyric side of herself that didn’t require air. The choking weight of evil caused her steps to falter in the darkness, but she pushed on to the farthest corner of the cave where Cronos’s bones had lain for th
ousands of years.
Determined not to alert Haven to her presence, Kyana carefully stepped over pebbles and loose dirt. A strange warmth spread over her, like giant hands grabbing her around the waist and lifting her over the rubble.
She was almost positive if she looked down at the moist earth, not even her footprints would be visible. Another trait of Artie’s, perhaps?
As she approached the final bend, she paused. Listening. Waiting. Trying to determine where Haven was and if she had completed the ceremony she’d come here to perform. Soft whimpers whispered over the rocky, muddy walls to settle around her ears. She craned her neck to listen, heard a sob, then pressed herself deeper into the shadows when she saw movement at the end of the tunnel.
Why would Haven be crying? Was she fighting against Cronos? Refusing to do his bidding anymore? Coherent enough to fight him?
Kyana stepped into the open and was immediately punched in the face with enough force to send her flying backward several feet before landing harshly on her ass.
“Hello, Kyana.”
Though Haven’s lips moved, the voice wasn’t her own. But this was good news. He was still inside Haven, which meant he hadn’t yet returned to his own body. There was still time to stop the resurrection.
Not bothering to wipe the blood from her mouth, Kyana sprang to her feet. “This ends. Right now.”
“Oh, you’re right about that.” Haven closed the distance, slowly circling, testing her. Waiting for the moment to strike.
She had an infinitesimal wave of doubt settle over her. Cronos, through Haven, might be able to kill her. But, if she was meant to die, then she’d make damned sure her last act was to take Haven with her and leave Cronos to rot for the rest of eternity.
“Haven, please,” she whispered. “Don’t make me do this.”
Haven bared her fangs and hissed.
She wanted to reach out to her best friend, to make one last attempt to get her to stop this madness. But deep inside, she knew it would do no good. Cronos was buried so deeply within Haven’s body and mind, she’d never be able to claw her way free. Not now, when Cronos’s body was so close and his dream of resurrection so near to realization. He’d never let loose his hold on her.