Her pulse raced. She knew of only one way to get his ass moving. The same way she’d gotten him moving in that fight.
“Okay, listen to me.” She reached for his battered face, cupped his scraped jaw, and lifted his head from her shoulder where it was slumped. “I’m not leaving you out here. We’re going back to the castle together. You can either help me get there, or you can continue to slow me down. If you choose to slow me down, those satyrs are going to come back and probably kill me. Is that what you want? Do you want me to die? Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen if you don’t get your ass in gear right this second.”
His eyelids fluttered. His gaze was glossy, unfocused, but something in the way he looked down at her told her he’d heard what she’d said.
His weight shifted. He stumbled.
Tightening her arm around his waist so he wouldn’t fall, she stepped with him. He grasped her shoulder and held on, moving toward the archway.
Relief pulsed inside her. She gripped his forearm at her shoulder where it was draped and kept her other arm tight around his waist to hold him up as they moved beneath the arch and along the moonlit pool, trying not to dig her fingers into any of his wounds, but it was difficult. He was scraped and cut and bloody just about everywhere.
Their movements were slow. Their steps, small. But every inch closer to the castle was an inch away from those satyrs.
They made it to the path behind the waterfall. Several times they had to stop so he could lean against the rocks and catch his breath. So she could catch hers as well. They didn’t have a torch, so after they left the moonlight behind and turned into the tunnel, Talisa had to rely on her memory and touch as a guide.
“Watch your head,” she said as they walked. “The ceiling is low in places.”
He grumbled something about not caring about his head. And several times she heard a thwack that told her he’d hit it on the rocks. But whenever she asked if he was all right, he muttered she should just leave him. That she should go on alone. Even though he never stopped helping her make it up the path.
He was sweating profusely by the time they finally came to a stop in front of the steel door. She helped him lean carefully back against the rocks then slowly lower to the floor so he could sit. Once his breaths evened out in the small dark space and she knew he wasn’t going to fall over, she swiped her sweaty palms on her ripped skirt and reached for the handle.
Locked. Dammit, she’d forgotten that.
She shoved her shoulder into the door and tried to use her strength to muscle it open, but it didn’t even budge.
Shit. Ana had the key.
Panic pressed down on her chest. There had been no one in the lower level when she and Ana had come through earlier. It was still the middle of the night. For all she knew, it had been years since anyone had been down in that dungeon.
She turned toward Zagreus, his slow breaths echoing at her feet. “I need a spell to open this door.”
He didn’t respond.
“Zagreus?” She lowered to her knees and reached for his face, feeling in the dark until her hands connected with his scruffy jaw.
She tipped his head upright. Her fingers moved over his skin to find his eyes closed again. “We’re almost there. I need you to focus. You can sleep when we get upstairs.”
He still didn’t answer.
Keeping one hand cupped around his jaw to hold his head up, she used the other to grasp his shoulder so she could shake him awake. “Zagreus?”
Nothing. He didn’t move a single muscle.
That panic inched up her chest, tightening her throat. Still holding his face, she used her other hand to frantically feel around his neck for a pulse.
There.
Her fingers stilled. The steady rush of blood in his veins pulsed beneath her fingertips. But it was slow. Way too slow for a mortal let alone a god.
Oh shit. She looked down. Couldn’t see anything in the dark. “Zagreus?”
Still nothing.
Her heart raced. The blood pounded in her head like a doomed drumbeat as the seconds ticked by with no response. As his pulse grew even slower beneath her fingertips.
Gods couldn’t die. They lived forever. They were immortal. Her mother’s best friend Nick was a god. He couldn’t die unless—
Every thought came to a whirring stop when she remembered what her mother had once said about Nick.
He was Krónos’s son. Zeus and Hades’s brother. And Zagreus’s uncle. When he’d come into his god-powers, the Fates had told him the choice to stay with the living or move to the afterlife rested with him.
No. No, no, no, no…
“You’re bailing now?” A burst of anger surged through her. She gripped Zagreus’s jaw in both hands and lifted his face toward hers even though she couldn’t see him in the dark. “That’s bullshit, and I’m not going to let you do that. Are you listening to me? You are not going to die on me down here.”
Just as quickly as the anger hit, it rushed out, leaving her chest tight and her muscles weak.
Her head fell forward, her forehead grazing his. “Dammit, Zagreus. I need you to wake up. Too many people up there need you. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To help them? I didn’t believe it before, but I believe it now. If you die, those satyrs will come back. They’ll come back and kill everyone in this kingdom. And it’ll be my fault. You don’t want that, do you?”
Tears she didn’t understand stung her eyes. She lifted her head. Tried to see him in the dark. Still couldn’t. “They need you. I need you. Stay with me. Help me. Don’t give up. Please. I can’t do this by myself.”
He still didn’t answer, didn’t even move.
Carefully, she pressed her forehead back to his and drew in a slow breath. She could already feel her Argonaut genes healing her wounds from that battle, but something deep in her heart—something that was connected to him in a way she didn’t understand—told her she would never be the same after this night.
“U-use… the… amulet.” Zagreus’s raspy voice echoed in the dark space.
She lifted her head. Looked down at him. Still couldn’t see anything in the utter blackness. But she could hear him. Which meant he wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead yet.
She sniffled. “Amulet?”
His fingertips grazed her chest, sending a burst of heat all along her flesh. She sucked in a breath and held still. Then his fingers found the chain he’d slipped over her head, and his touch traveled the length of the necklace before stopping on the fat amber-colored gem hanging between her breasts.
“I-it will give you… extra strength. Just… Just focus.”
Her breasts tingled. Heat exploded in the marking on her hip. Images from that dream flashed in her mind, making her ache for more of his touch anywhere—everywhere. Even though this wasn’t even close to the right time for that.
She blinked several times. Tried to stay focused on what she needed to do right now. Not on her stupid fantasies.
There were all kinds of magical amulets in the world. Charmed by gods and witches and mages of every race. She’d barely seen this one before he’d slipped it over her head—had no idea why he had it or what made it special—but if he was telling her to use it, he had to know how it worked.