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 think, 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.