A shuffling sounded to his left. His head jerked in that direction. His first thought was mouse. Or rat. Both of which he could eat, though the thought disgusted him. Still, rat meat was better than dying of starvation.
A light flared, burning his retinas. He lifted a hand to block the glare and blinked several times. Then tensed, realizing the shuffling wasn’t a rat after all. Realizing also that he wasn’t alone down here as he’d thought.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
The voice was female, not male. And it was sweet, almost like music to his sound-starved ears.
Max slowly lowered his hand, squinting to focus on the voice. All he could see was a gold halo of light. But slowly, a shape formed in the light. A female shape, barefoot and wearing a torn white slip dress that showcased her curves in all the right places.
His gaze lifted to the mass of curly dark hair falling past her shoulders, to her smooth features coming into focus, her small nose, full lips, and the lightest blue eyes he’d ever seen.
He blinked, sure he was hallucinating. But nope, she was still there. Still standing in the middle of his hell, still holding a lantern, still gazing down at him with an almost—expectant—look on her beautiful face.
“Who—” Holy shit, his voice was raspy. He’d been down here a lot longer than he’d thought. “Who are you?”
“Ana.”
She moved closer. He tensed as she knelt at his side and set the lantern on the ground.
An easy smile curled her perfect mouth. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.” She set a satchel beside the lantern. “They sent me down to help you.”
“They?” he asked cautiously as she rummaged through her bag.
“The satyrs. Ah, here.” She pulled out a canteen, twisted the cap free, then lifted it toward his lips. “Sip slowly. You’re dehydrated.”
He sniffed as the canteen came near his face. Couldn’t smell anything.
She smiled in the dim light. “It’s just water, I promise.”
He had no idea who she was or why she was here, but he was suddenly parched. He lifted a shaky hand to the canteen and took it from her, swallowing as soon as the cool liquid reached his throat.
“Easy. Not too much at first.”
He wanted to guzzle down the whole damn thing, was suddenly thirstier than he’d ever been, but knew she was right. The last thing he needed was to get sick.
Forcing himself to lower the canteen, he swiped a hand across his lips and looked back at her. Her head was down. She was rummaging through her bag again. Dark curls fell across her cheek, hiding her eyes from his view, but some instinct told him she wasn’t a threat.
Her thin dress was dirty and torn in several places. He spotted several streaks of mud on her bare arms, her legs, even on her left cheek. And he was almost certain there was a twig stuck in the back of her hair.
“There it is.” She pulled a small vial from her bag and held it up. Some kind of blue-green liquid sloshed inside the glass. “Not exactly a steak dinner, but it should be enough for now.” She popped the stopper and held the vial out to him.
He eyed her warily. “What is that?”
“Liquid energy.” She smiled when he only stared at her. “I’m a healer, not Atropos come to snip the thread of your life.”
No, she definitely wasn’t a Fate. He’d met Lachesis—the Fate who spun the thread of life—and she’d been old. White-hair, wrinkly-skin-old, which this female definitely was not. As all three Fates were the same age, there was no way she was Atropos, the Fate known as the Angel of Death.
Still…
His smile faded as he eyed the vial. There were plenty of otherworldly creatures in the human realm who employed witches to conjure all kinds of spells.
“I’m not one of those, either,” she said.
“One of what?”
“A witch.”
“How did you—?”
“Know what you were thinking? I didn’t. I guessed. Wasn’t much of a stretch, considering the skeptical look on your face. I’m a nymph.”
A nymph? His gaze skipped over her again. She was stunning, even in the low light, even with the filthy dress and smear of dirt across her cheek. But his senses told him to be careful. He was definitely weaker than he’d thought because he couldn’t tell if she was lying. In fact, he couldn’t pick up any signals from her.
“If you’re really a nymph, then what’s in the vial?”
“Electrolytes and vitamins. A special mixture I came up with. Your body’s having trouble replenishing itself because of the energy hit you took. This will help you rebalance.”
“How do you know about the energy I was hit with?”
“Because I’ve treated several of Zagreus’s victims. His tactics are well-known in these parts.” She held the vial out to him again. “Trust me. You’ll feel better in a few minutes.”
He wasn’t willing to trust her yet, but he was quickly running out of options. Carefully, he took the vial from her fingers and lifted it to his lips.
The liquid was slightly bitter, but not horrible. He swallowed, half-expecting something cataclysmic to happen. All he felt was a warmth that spread down his chest, into his belly, then slowly out through each limb.
“Good.” She took the vial from his hands and slipped it back into her satchel. “We’ll give that a few minutes to work, then I have some food for you.”
At just the mention of food, his stomach growled.
She smiled. “I see my concoction is already working.”
It was working. The fogginess was already clearing from his head, and he felt suddenly stronger, more alert. He sat up against the wall, his gaze studying her closer as she reached in her bag again. A lock of hair fell across her cheek.
Something about her was familiar, but he was sure he’d never met her before. “You’re a nymph, yet you work for the satyrs?”
“I came across the satyrs by accident. Once they found out I was a healer, my choices were either to be thrown down here like you or cooperate. Ah, there it is.”
She pulled something wrapped in cloth from her satchel and handed it to him. Warmth met his palms, and the scent of fresh-baked bread hit his nostrils.
His stomach growled all over again as he sat forward, tore the wrapping free, then ripped off a chunk of bread and bit into it. He groaned at the sublime taste.
She chuckled. “My concoction is definitely working.”
He swallowed another bite. She didn’t interrupt him, just sat back on her heels and watched, handing him the canteen when he looked around for it.
The bread was the best thing he’d ever eaten, and by the time he finished, he was sure he could eat ten more loaves. But she didn’t pull anything else from her magick satchel, and he had a sudden thought that maybe instead of scarfing it down, he should have rationed it, in case it was all he was going to get.
She tipped her head as he leaned back against the wall. “You’re an Argonaut.”
He didn’t answer. Wasn’t sure he should. Instead, he lifted the canteen to his lips again and swallowed a mouthful of water.
“I’ve never met an Argonaut before.” Her hand drifted toward the markings on his forearm, then she hesitated with her fingers mere inches above his skin and flicked a look up to his eyes. “Do you mind?”