Authors: Deidre Knight
Tags: #Man-woman relationships, #Goddesses, #Gods, #Paranormal, #Delphian oracle, #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal romance stories, #Immortalism, #Daphne (Greek deity), #General, #Leonidas, #Contemporary
Red Mortal (27 page)
Nik’s pained, screeching hawk’s song returned to him, followed by a second shriek, a shrill sound that ricocheted into the night. The sound of Nikos in anguish.
They had Nik, too. That was when a cool sheen of sweat broke out on Aristos’s forehead. He and Nikos had sprung the trap, exactly as had been planned. Not only that . . .
Sable had set them up.
Chapter 20
D
aphne directed Leonidas along the rocky incline toward where she
thought
Apollo’s palace might be. She’d never met any Daughters of Delphi or priestesses who knew the site’s exact location, and even with her particular status as a demigoddess, she remained as clueless as the rest of her fellow Daughters.
aphne directed Leonidas along the rocky incline toward where she
thought
Apollo’s palace might be. She’d never met any Daughters of Delphi or priestesses who knew the site’s exact location, and even with her particular status as a demigoddess, she remained as clueless as the rest of her fellow Daughters.
The palace, it seemed, was as much of an enigma as the god she’d once served. She could remember the first time she’d glimpsed Apollo as if it were only days ago. The whispers had begun among the temple priestesses at breakfast that morning, murmurs that they’d be graced by a visit from their god. For months, she’d hoped and waited to meet the one she served. What should she expect? Would he look like all the fine statues of him in the temple’s portico?
As she waited eagerly all morning, so eager to meet him, she’d expected someone like Ares, all golden blond and luminously beautiful—just like their father was. Nothing could have prepared her for just how wrong she’d be. When Apollo finally did appear much later that day, he emerged from a glowing mist. All at once, he stood there in the temple, lyre in hand—the very antithesis to her pretty brother’s goldenness.
He wore
black
hair, cut short as a cap, and his sun-darkened skin was swarthy as any Greek man’s ever got. His eyes were black as well, like gleaming pools of ebony peering out from his dusky face. But the contrast to Ares didn’t end there: of all the things she’d never imagined Apollo to be it was . . . burly. A broad barrel chest surged forth from beneath his open cloak, and he clutched the lyre with big, beefy hands. Yet despite his hefty size, there was a shocking gentleness to him, as he met them each, one by one, in a long receiving line.
black
hair, cut short as a cap, and his sun-darkened skin was swarthy as any Greek man’s ever got. His eyes were black as well, like gleaming pools of ebony peering out from his dusky face. But the contrast to Ares didn’t end there: of all the things she’d never imagined Apollo to be it was . . . burly. A broad barrel chest surged forth from beneath his open cloak, and he clutched the lyre with big, beefy hands. Yet despite his hefty size, there was a shocking gentleness to him, as he met them each, one by one, in a long receiving line.
He was nothing like she’d dreamed . . . and perhaps that was why, when it came her turn for an introduction, she could only gape and blush until he laughed, patting her on the cheek. “Daphne, I have nothing in common with your brother,” he told her kindly, perceiving her thoughts in his godlike way.
And she hadn’t had a single word to offer in return, nothing but mute acknowledgment for the only Olympian god, other than Eros, who’d ever mattered to her. But by the time she’d finally stolen her nerve to speak, he’d already turned to move down the line.
She only prayed that today would go differently, that she wouldn’t be so stupidly tongue-tied if, indeed, they found Apollo. That she could speak plainly, and plainly make a case for Leo’s salvation. Because if she could not, it might be the end of the line; where else did she have to turn at this point?
She stared at Leo’s broad back as they climbed now, praying that Apollo would have mercy on him. It struck her as odd that, in some ways, they bore a physical resemblance to each other, with their brawny builds and darkly handsome good looks. Maybe that similarity would cause Apollo to identify with Leo, here on this mountain of blond gods and goddesses and golden light.
Leo stepped up onto a rocky, uneven surface and immediately came to a jerking halt, catching himself against the base of a tree. He stood, back to her, breathing heavily for a moment, and she rushed to him. “Leo, what is it? Your knee again?”
He nodded mutely, barely managing to mask the obvious pain he felt in the joint.
Oh, gods, the climb had to be killing him, drawing out even more suffering from the old injury.
He bent over and rubbed the knee, not even bothering to hide his agonized grimace. He drew in several harsh breaths. “I . . . will be okay. Just give me a moment,” he gasped, his expression drawing tight.
“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” She knelt in front of him, tenderly placing her palms against the joint. Even through his combat pants she could feel how swollen it had become, thick and knotty, heated, too. “Oh, darling, no. I will teleport us, you can’t do this. It makes no sense for you to climb, not when I have the power to take us to the general vicinity of Apollo’s palace. None at all.”
He cut a pointed glance at her. “I am a Spartan. I’ve borne up under far worse conditions and injuries than this one.”
Oh, the blessed male ego, a dangerous path into stupidity and stubbornness. But she was smart enough not to say that.
“It’s not a good strategy,” Leo insisted, obviously seeing her doubt. “Isn’t your brother’s palace also near the top of the peak . . . not far from Apollo’s?”
She nodded. “Not the very top, some feet below, but yes.”
“Then if you transported us, it would undoubtedly place us dangerously near Ares’s camp. It’s far better to cling to these side trails and make our way stealthily. We can keep out of your brother’s crosshairs that way. It’s our best chance of arriving at Apollo’s undetected.”
“So long as Ares doesn’t observe our approach.” She glanced up the mountain, squinting at the bright light. “You do realize he’s going to try to head off any plan to save you. Any thought we’ve had, he’s already had it. He must’ve known Eros couldn’t help us—or he’d have been there waiting. But he’s bound to guess that I’ll appeal to Apollo as a Daughter of Delphi.”
Leo considered her words. “I still think teleporting puts us . . .
you
. . . in too much danger because we can’t be sure of Apollo’s location. At least this way we can proceed with our eyes wide open. I’d prefer to wait for nightfall, but since that won’t ever come . . .” He hesitated, touching the top of her head. “I will do what I must to protect you.”
you
. . . in too much danger because we can’t be sure of Apollo’s location. At least this way we can proceed with our eyes wide open. I’d prefer to wait for nightfall, but since that won’t ever come . . .” He hesitated, touching the top of her head. “I will do what I must to protect you.”
“You should think more of yourself, Leo. Your knee is brutally swollen.”
“I am still strong,” he said simply.
She sighed at his obstinacy and kept her hand against the joint, praying silently for some reprieve for him. “When we do get to Apollo’s, I’ll ask him to heal this. He can, you know . . . and I believe he will.”
Leo nodded, slowly standing upright again. “Let’s keep hiking.” He shielded his eyes as he stared up at the sunlit peak, covered in mists and clouds. The angle of the light indicated it was morning again on Olympus. “We don’t have much farther to go.”
Huge, tremendous understatement, but she didn’t say that, either.
Leo took one formidable step forward on the path, hesitated slightly, and then took another. Soon he’d resumed his former pace—but not quite.
She wanted to argue against the pointless absurdity of his making the full climb—she could snap her fingers and they’d be almost to their destination. But right now, she knew he was feeling far less capable than he by every right should; she also saw his logic about steering clear of Ares’s sights.
Praying that they were literally on the right path—and figuratively, too—she followed in Leo’s careful footsteps, trying to ignore the unevenness of his gait, and the way he favored that blasted knee.
Ares began to laugh, and not just a light giggle, or a girlish chuckle—a heart-deep snicker. The sight that greeted him, far up in the treetops, was one of the most wickedly amusing things he’d witnessed in years. Well, there’d also been Leonidas rolling around in that field the other day, weighed down by a mere cloak. Ares had wanted to roll around, too—in fits of uproarious laughter. That moment probably trumped this one, but not by much.
He grinned in pride; he was such the comedian of late, so very droll in the punishments he meted out. And this high-wire act up in the treetops was particularly delicious.
He planted hands on both his hips, surveying the beautiful carnage overhead. Two hawk men caught in nets like plump, overgrown moths. Wasn’t it just a perfect day when you orchestrated something so flawlessly horrid? With a lifted eyebrow, he studied the way Aristos’s net spun and swayed with the warrior’s struggling, kicking efforts.
“There’s no way out, dear boy,” he murmured under his breath. “I’ve got you where I need you for the next few days.”
A shrieking sound pierced the darkness some twenty yards south and Ares beamed.
So he’d caught the other one, too! Nikos, so big and smart and strong, with natural tracking abilities to boot, and yet he’d flown into that net like a mind-numbed pigeon. Well, he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, not even to return to that human marine he was so moonstruck by.
The two Spartans were irrevocably fastened in those nets, at least until Ares deigned to free them. The meshing had been formed from silk, a rare type that only came from bees living along the banks of the River Styx. Native to the underworld, the fiber was indestructible. There was no way for either trapped warrior to claw, cut, or gnaw their way out. Prayer wouldn’t help a whit either, not with Ares’s dark magic involved.
These Spartans were indefinitely contained, period—and right where Ares wanted to leave them for the coming days. The thing of it was, he could have hauled them down and tortured them fully, played with their minds, ended their immortality. But that wouldn’t have been interesting. He already had plenty to occupy him right now, what with ending Leonidas’s pathetic life. These two winged dunderheads, well, he’d savor their demise later . . . and it wouldn’t be long, because the feeble Spartan king was almost out of time.
And now, where was that centaur of his, and why wasn’t the beast here, at the scene of the crime, as he should be? Ares frowned; he didn’t like the scent of rebellion he detected on the night winds. He held his head high, sniffing, and the acrid odor grew stronger.
Sable had led them here, not realizing—of course—what Ares had planned. And the demon had not liked it at all, once the nets were sprung and the Spartans captured.
The demon’s dull thoughts began to come clear in Ares’s own mind.
Sable had signed on only to keep Sophie away from the king . . . this was more than the centaur had ever intended—and it wasn’t a plot he planned to see through to the end. He was done, unwilling to go this far into the darkness again.
“You are not light!” Ares hissed, a flash of furious fire shooting out of his fingertips.
With another snap of his power, he instantly held his riding whip in hand, the one with the barbed spurs, always useful with his team of fire-breathing horses, probably just as good for taming wayward centaurs.
It was apparently time to show a certain horse-demon exactly who was the glorious god . . . and who was the demon slave.
Leo’s breathing came in tight gasps, and he hoped to Hades that Daphne couldn’t tell, not from her position behind him. When had he ever been so winded during a simple climb? Not a time that he could recall. He kept forging ahead, thankful when the steep incline leveled out a bit. Yes, Daphne could’ve teleported them, but he didn’t like that idea because it left them vulnerable. The last thing he wanted was for her to come to any harm because of his weakness; he’d die here and now before seeing that bastard brother of hers hurt her, not in even the smallest way.
And he wasn’t kidding himself that they were in safe or even neutral territory here on Olympus. Ares was undoubtedly lurking about, as were his minions. The god might even have a sneak attack planned, anticipating that they might seek Apollo’s help. Well, at least by approaching the mountain’s peak via this overgrown trail, with their advance semiconcealed, they had a shot at getting past Ares’s invasive gaze.
And they had to be getting close by now, based on their position along the trail. Pausing, he looked out through the dense foliage at the far side of the mountain. Every palace was unique, gleaming like a gemstone in the dappled sunlight. But where would Apollo’s citadel be?
Daphne joined him, wrapping her arms about him from behind. “I think we are close enough now.”
He turned curious eyes on her. “The peak is still a bit farther.”
She nodded, pointing out past the trail. “But see that absurdly large palace? The one with the ostentatious, solid gold pediment? That’s Ares’s home. So that means”—she reached into Leo’s new quiver of arrows—“it is time for your good captain to go to work.”
“What if Eros wasn’t correct . . . what if this fine weapon can’t part the mists?” Leo rolled the arrow within his palm. “Perhaps Karanos lacks that particular skill.”
Daphne laughed. “Eros commanded him for centuries, don’t you suppose he’d know what the captain can and cannot do?”
Leo smiled, and by answer, the arrow itself hummed in his palm. “Fair enough, Spartan,” he said with a grin. “Fair enough. This is quite the first run together, my friend.”
Leo hoisted the bow upward, sliding the arrow into position, and was about to release the arrow when a thought occurred to him. However, would he be able to bring the captain home?
Their curse is one of compliance. . . .
He practically heard Eros’s words in his head.
He practically heard Eros’s words in his head.
“Captain Karanos, go thee forth and part the mists,” he commanded, “revealing the palace of Apollo. And when you are done, good warrior, return to me!”
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