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  Which meant her increasing temperature wasn’t from infection after all. It was from the fire element.

  I’m unstable. In a lot of ways…

  He swallowed hard. “Can I see her?”

  “We were hoping you would. Marc and the others who brought you here told me her temperature seemed to lower when you were touching her. Maybe you’ll be able to have an effect on her my healing skills can’t.”

  That didn’t make any logical sense to Titus, but he nodded and followed Lena into the hall.

  Sconces lit the corridor. The medical clinic was located in the lower levels of the Misos Colony, which was really just an old castle built on an island in the middle of a glacial lake.

  Lena stopped outside a heavy wood door. “We’ll check on her in a bit. If you need anything, let us know.”

  He muttered his thanks. On a deep breath, he pushed the door open, then stepped into the dimly lit room and looked toward the bed.

  The scent of institutional cleaners met his nose. Medical equipment filled the perimeter of the white room, and a small window high on the far wall looked out over the lake. But it was Natasa, lying with her head on the pillow and her body covered by a thin blue blanket, who drew Titus’s attention.

  His heart bumped. Someone had brushed her hair. Shimmering coppery-red curls surrounded her face, looking like swirling fingers of flames against the white pillow, which seemed so fitting now. He let the door close behind him and moved quietly toward the bed. An IV was hooked to her hand, but there were no other machines attached to her body. Her skin was still pale but thankfully had more color than when he’d been holding her in that helicopter.

  Something in his chest contracted hard as he stared at her. A feeling he wasn’t prepared for. Yeah, she was his soul mate—he knew that now—but there was another connection between them. Something more. Something he sensed on the edge of his mind that he couldn’t access.

  Slowly, he stepped around the bed and touched her forehead with the back of his hand. Warmth immediately flowed from her into him, but she sighed, leaned into him, seeming to need his touch as much as he needed hers.

  His chest vibrated with a thousand emotions. He grasped the shirt he’d just put on, tugged it over his head, and dropped it on a chair. The bed was standard hospital fare—single and barely wide enough for one, let alone two—but her temperature had cooled when he’d held her before. He hoped now that the infection was gone, whatever connection they had would somehow cool her even more.

  He climbed into the bed, rolled to his side, and tugged the blanket over them both. She didn’t open her eyes, but she shifted his direction and curled into him. And when he wrapped his arms around her, the sigh that escaped her lips was like the sweetest, softest, most beautiful music he’d ever heard.

  In that moment, everything made sense. She wasn’t just the second half of his soul. She was so much more. Their fates were tangled together, and he knew somewhere deep inside that she was destined for more than just being used as a pawn by the gods. She was destined for greatness.

  An odd tingle started in his chest. His whole life centered around duty, around his service to the Argonauts, but she was changing his priorities. And he had an ominous feeling if she asked him, he’d go to the ends of the earth for her.

  Even if it meant forsaking his Argonaut brothers to do so.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zagreus paced the living room of Epimetheus’s home in the wilds of Arizona and looked out at the early morning orange-and-pink sky swirling behind angry red mountains.

  This place was in the middle of freakin’ nowhere. He had no idea how the elder god lived way out here in the sticks with no one around for miles and didn’t lose his fucking mind.

  “Here, here.” Epimetheus rushed into the room, holding a silver tray set with a delicate china teapot, two cups, and saucers. He set it on the coffee table. “I brewed it fresh.”

  Stringy silver hair pulled free from the tie at Epimetheus’s nape, falling forward over his wrinkled face. He wore a tan garment that looked like a muumuu over black pants. Bare feet with brittle, too-long, yellowish toenails peeked out from the cuffs. He pushed the wire-rimmed glasses back up his nose, poured steaming liquid into one dainty cup, and handed it to Zagreus. Zagreus lifted one brow as he gazed down at the pale green liquid.

  Epimetheus poured his own cup, smiled, then took a sip. When Zagreus only stared at him, he gestured with his hand. “Drink, drink. Sweet nectar from the gods.” Then, under his breath, “and the local goat.”

  Forget what he’d thought. Epimetheus had already lost his fucking mind.

  Zagreus set the cup down untouched and waited until the god situated his frail body on the plastic-covered couch. “I want to know about a redhead. Otherworldly. Great power. A mark in the shape of a triangle on the back of her neck.”

  Epimetheus swirled the liquid in his cup. “A female, did you say? Don’t you have enough females?”

  “How many I have and what I do with them are my business, not yours.”

  “It is, it is.” Epimetheus eased back his seat. “I meant no disrespect.”

  Zagreus ground his teeth. Epimetheus might be an elder god, but he was as docile as a flower, and as dumb. He was, however, one of the oldest beings on the planet, which was the only reason Zagreus was here now.

  “A triangle, you say? Did you see it up close?”

  “No. From a distance. When she turned, her hair flew over her shoulder. Do any of the gods bear that symbol?”

  Epimetheus chewed on his lip. Abruptly, he set his tea on the coffee table and jumped to his feet. Then he rushed out of the room without a word.

  Just like a cat.

  Zagreus brushed his duster back and perched his hands on his hips. The sounds of papers crinkling and books clapping echoed from the next room.

  He didn’t have time for this. He should be back at his compound, showing those nymphs just what happened to those who tried to leave him. As it was, he’d left Lykon in charge. And though he’d told the satyr the nymphs were not to be touched in his absence, he knew Lykon’s control would snap before long.

  However, that girl—the marking—had been too alluring to ignore. And the power he’d felt from her…

  He’d made a deal with his father, but this might turn out to be way more lucrative.

  He tapped his hand against his thigh. Ran his fingers down the soul patch under his lip. From the direction of the hall, Epimetheus called, “Was the triangle skewed? Upside down? Did it have any other markings through or around it?”

  Where the hell was the old fart? “No,” he called. “Point up. No other markings, lines or shapes.”

  Several minutes went by in silence. Zagreus stepped toward the door, wondering if the elder god had gotten a hair up his ass and split.

  Epimetheus appeared as if from nowhere and thrust a book into Zagreus’s face. “I found it!”

  “Holy Hera, old man.” Zagreus lurched back. “Don’t do that.”

  “Sorry. Sorry.” Epimetheus brushed past and set the open book on the coffee table, then pointed at the page. “Like this?”

  Zagreus crossed the floor and looked down. The simple triangle was in the center of a page filled with other ordinary geometric shapes. “Yes.”

  “The triangle has many connotations. In Western society, it represents the Trinity. The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. It’s often drawn to show the number three. It can be linked to time—past, present, and future. To the metaphysical world—spirit, mind and body. Occultists use the triangle as a summoning symbol. It’s often contained in a circle in these cases. Point up can also indicate strength and stability. Or the presence of male energy. Point down—”

  Zagreus clenched his jaw. “What about in our world?”

  “Oh, well. In our world, there are many indications for the triangle. But point up”—He flipped the page. Four triangles filled the empty space. Two up, two down. One point-up triangle was empty. The other had a line draw
n through it perpendicular to the base—“indicates either water or fire.”

  Zagreus stepped closer to the book. All four triangles were marked. One for each symbol of the four main elements—earth, air, water, and fire.

  A tickle started in his belly, grew with strength and infused him with excitement. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  Epimetheus stared over his glasses with a blank expression. “Saying what? Am I saying something?”

  Holy shit. The elder god didn’t even realize what they’d found. The female was—

  A knock sounded. Epimetheus jerked that direction, his beady eyes growing wide. A grin split his face. “More visitors! I don’t know what to do with myself!”

  Zagreus could think of a thing or two, but he held his tongue. Picking up the book, he studied the symbols and ancient Greek text in the sidebar. “Get rid of them.”

  Epimetheus waved his arms and shuffled toward the hall. “I’ll have to make more tea. Oh, but this is turning out the be quite the morning!”

  Zagreus moved through the archway and into the dining room where he wouldn’t be seen. Voices echoed from the front of the rustic house. Several. Male. Epimetheus’s excitement echoed off the walls.

  Dumb shit. Couldn’t follow a simple order. Luckily, though, he was harmless. Which was the only reason Zeus let him wander out here in the sticks and didn’t bother much with him.

  Grinding his teeth, Zagreus looked down at the book. “Fire is the strongest and most powerful element, but it is also the one with the least endurance. One of the four classic elements, it can be separated into two types—Aidêlon (destructive fire), and Aidês (benevolent fire). The most fundamental of all the elements, fire can give rise to the other elements if manipulated correctly.”

  The last words echoed in Zagreus’s head, followed by the memory of his father’s recent visit and the revelation that the balance of power within the world would likely soon change. Was it possible this girl was both Prometheus’s daughter and fire?

  An ambition he’d never had ignited deep inside him. Fuck his parents and what they wanted. Things could change his way if he played his cards right.

  Footsteps echoed from the other room. Zagreus slid back into the shadows, closed the book, and listened.

  “Yes, yes,” Epimetheus said, shuffling through the hall. “Come this way. I’ve made tea.”

  Voices muttered words Zagreus couldn’t make out. He shifted closer to the open door.

  “No thanks,” a deep voice said. “We’re not staying long. We just have a few questions.”

  “Argonauts.” Epimetheus’s voice rose with excitement. “This is a treat. It’s been quite a morning so far. Quite a morning.”

  Zagreus shifted so he could see around the corner. Two males stood in the room, towering over Epimetheus, one bigger and taller than the other, with a tree-trunk legs and a menacing look. The second…light brown hair, muscular body… There was something vaguely familiar about the way he held himself.

  “What do you know about Odysseus?” the familiar Argonaut asked. “Specifically his time with Calypso.”

  “The nymph?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hm.” Epimetheus chewed on his lip and lowered himself to the kitchen chair. “Calypso is a Nereid. The daughter of Atlas. She captured Odysseus during his voyage and imprisoned him on her island for seven years. Wanted to make him her eternal husband. She enchanted him with her singing. Oh, she has a lovely voice. They became lovers.” His hand landed on the table, and he looked up. “Penelope threw a tizzy-fit when she found out. It was all the rage in the heavens. Odysseus, he was quite the scoundrel, you know, even before he’d been a soldier in Ithaca.”

  The Argonauts exchanged frustrated glances. And Zagreus rolled his eyes. You don’t know how much I feel your fucking pain.

  “What do you know about their relationship?” the big Argonaut asked. “Did Calypso give Odysseus anything?”

  The way he said the word “give” perked Zagreus’s ears.

  Epimetheus gnawed on the inside of his cheek and furrowed his brow. “A boat. Wine. Bread.” He looked up again. “Some say a loom.”

  “Nothing else?” the familiar Argonaut asked. “Nothing…hidden?”

  Epimetheus bit his thumb, then looked back down at the surface of the table. “Well, I once heard someone say she gave him knowledge. But it wasn’t more than a myth, so I didn’t listen very closely.”

  The Argonauts exchanged looks again, only this time, hope sprang to life in their eyes. Zagreus’s gaze narrowed. What the hell were they up to?

  The big Argonaut rested his hand on his hip. “Did this person—whomever he was—say how to unlock that knowledge?”

  Epimetheus blinked at them. “With a key.”

  The Argonauts shifted their feet. One raked a hand through his hair. The other blew out a breath. Frustration floated like thick smoke in the air around them.

  “Any idea what kind of key?” the familiar Argonaut asked.

  “Of course I know what kind of key,” Epimetheus responded, his brow wrinkled with irritation. “What do you think I am, a moron?”

  No, we know you’re a shitacular moron. Zagreus was ready to toss the elder god out the window. Getting anything useful out of him was more painful than pulling pubic hairs.

  “The key is the Orb of Krónos.”

  The Argonauts both looked up sharply. “How?” the big one asked.

  “Calypso is my niece,” Epimetheus said matter-of-factly. “And Prometheus is my brother. Links, Argonauts. Everything in our world is linked to everything else. In order for Calypso’s knowledge to be unlocked from Odysseus’s mind, he has to be near the Orb, which in turn must contain or be near all four elements. Unless, of course, one believes in the turnings of fire.”

  “The turnings of…” The familiar Argonaut shook his head. “Run that by me again?”

  “The turnings of fire,” Epimetheus repeated. “First into sea, half of the sea into earth, half of the earth into rarified air. The turnings or transmutation of the four elements into one another.”

  “Wait.” The big Argonaut held up his hand. “You’re saying one element can be mutated into another?”

  “For the sake of the hidden knowledge? Yes. So long as you have fire. Fire is everything, Guardian. Of course, you also need Odysseus, and I’m afraid the hero is long dead.”

  The Argonauts looked at each other. They didn’t seem fazed by that last revelation.

  “Thank you,” the familiar Argonaut said, turning Epimetheus’s way again. “We appreciate your time.”

  “Wait.” Epimetheus rose from his seat. “There’s no reason to rush right off. Don’t you want some tea? I made it from scratch.”

  The familiar Argonaut patted Epimetheus on the shoulder as if he were a child, which wasn’t far off the mark, since the ass-hat gave up information like one. “No. But thanks. We gotta run. Next time.”

  Epimetheus walked them both to the door. When Zagreus moved out of the shadows and looked around the corner, he clenched his jaw. The fucker was waving at them as if they were long-lost friends.

  “Come back soon,” the elder god called. He shut the door, sighed, and walked back toward the kitchen with a shit-eating grin on his wrinkled, old face.

  The Argonauts had acted like they knew where Prometheus’s daughter might be. Otherwise they wouldn’t have been so excited and eager to leave. She’d been with an Argonaut on that cliff beyond the Amazon city. Who, in the human realm, had the Argonauts aligned themselves with?

  And then he knew.

  “Where’s the Misos colony?”

  Epimetheus gasped and jumped back a foot as if he didn’t realize Zagreus was still there.

  Zagreus’s jaw tightened. He was done playing games. “Don’t give me shit about not knowing. I know you know.

  “H-how?”

  The darkness inside him—his link to the Underworld—swirled like a hurricane. “You’re not as isolated as you t
hink, old man. I know a lot of things.” He glanced toward the mantel in the living room and the small wooden box sitting innocently on its surface, then back to the elder god. “Even about your box.”

  Epimetheus’s jaw dropped open, and fear paled his face. Skirting the table, he sidestepped into the living room and grasped the box, then pulled it against his chest in a protective move. “You can’t take it. Please don’t take it. It’s all I have left of her. All that matters in the world. Please, please.”

  Tears dampened the pathetic god’s eyes, and victory welled inside Zagreus. That wasn’t all of Epimetheus’s wife Pandora that was left, but he’d save that nugget of information for a better time.

  He leaned forward, enjoying the panic in Epimetheus’s features. “Then tell me exactly where the half-breed colony is located. And don’t even think about trying to lie. We both know you’re too dumb to pull it off.”

  * * *

  Natasa was floating. Her body felt light, cool, refreshed.

  She groaned, stretched her arms over her head, and sighed. Something cool pressed against her spine. Something muscular and smooth at the same time. Something that felt so incredibly good, she instinctively wiggled back against it.

  She opened her eyes, blinking into the dim light, then looked slowly around.

  This wasn’t her tent in the Amazon tree city. She was in some kind of fancy room. Intricate moldings framed a darkened window across from her. Heavy velvet curtains hung on each side. She was in a bed, a soft mattress beneath her body, a thin sheet covering her skin. And across her hip, lay a cool, solid weight that sent tingles up and down her torso.

  An arm. She looked down. An arm marked in ancient Greek text.

  She shifted slowly to her back and looked into Titus’s sleeping face. His eyes were closed, his wavy, dark hair falling over his bare, muscular shoulder. His head resting on the same plump, heavenly pillow she’d been sleeping on.

  She didn’t know where they were, didn’t know how they’d gotten here after running from Zagreus’s army and jumping into that ocean. But suddenly, she didn’t care. She was alive. He was alive. The fever was no longer baking her brain, and the reasons she’d convinced herself she couldn’t have him seemed to fade into the background.