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He climbed out of the hole and stuffed his gloves in his back pocket, then worked a little more magic with the steel pipe, using it and a branch to create a pair of tongs. Back inside, he managed to scoop up one of the rocks. The branch caught fire on the way up, but he made it to level ground before the end turned to ash and the rock dropped.
Victorious, he sat down beside it.
The Terrible Trio gaped at him.
“Here,” Winter said, speaking up for the first time. She strolled to him with a feminine swagger he’d seen many try to emulate but only a rare few ever perfect, and eased between his legs.
He should have responded to that, but there was zip, zilch, nada happening down below, and tendrils of annoyance wafted through him. Why Keeley and not her?
Winter reached for him, saying, “Let me help you.”
Torin scooted away from her, snapping, “This is your final warning. Come this close again, and you’ll lose a hand. Make a play for the rock, and you’ll lose even more.”
Cameron snorted. “Something you should know about my sister. She always wants what other people have.”
Her eyes glittered with determination and, granted, even that was a lovely sight. She was lovely.
Zip. Zilch. Nada.
He didn’t like the thought of Keeley, and only Keeley, being able to affect him.
His reaction to her would make a great porn title, though. The Lonesome Chub.
Dude. Enough!
“Save yourself a battle,” she said, waving her fingers at him. “Give me the brimstone.”
“Do it,” Irish said. “I don’t want to have to take sides.”
Like he hadn’t already. He might be the keeper of Indifference, but some part of him valued the girl. The longing gazes he cast her hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“You should have helped me dig,” Torin said.
“And dirty these nails?” She shook her head. “Never.”
“Tell you what,” Torin said. “I won’t give you the brimstone, and in return for your understanding, I won’t kill you. How’s that?”
Slowly, as if every step was agony, she walked away from him. “Fair enough.”
Pretty words. But she was already planning that battle she’d promised him, guaranteed.
Oddly enough, he wasn’t excited by the prospect of another worthy opponent.
Done with distractions, Torin rubbed his arm against the rock. Once on the front, once on the back. That’s all it took. There was an immediate burn, his flesh and muscle cooking. He almost bellowed. Fine. No almost about it. He bellowed and he cursed, then fell to his back panting. The scent in the air...enough to gag. Bits of brimstone bonded to tissue, scarring him, never allowing total regeneration.
Winter dove for the rock.
Uh, uh, uh. He kicked it down the hole before she could snatch it and hurried to cover it with dirt.
“Like I said,” he announced when he finished. “You didn’t help me dig.”
“Like I said,” Winter echoed. “Battle.”
“Mistake, my man.” Irish tsked.
“Sharing is caring,” Cameron said. “Greediness gets you killed.”
“I’m your only ally out here,” Torin reminded them. “Dial down the threats or leave my camp.”
Winter scowled. The other two shrugged. They might not like him, but they needed him.
And I need to find my Curator. Where are you, Keeley?
He’d engaged in countless blood feuds throughout his long life, but this just might be the first one he’d ever actually considered...fun. He didn’t deserve to have fun, and it was certainly wrong of him, given the nature and gravity of the situation—but it’s too late to turn back.
This time he would be ready for whatever Keeley dished.
* * *
A ROPE SNAGGED around Keeley’s ankle. In a single heartbeat, she was whisked into the air and hung upside down.
Seriously? This again? She flashed to the ground.
One more mark on the ledger of Torin’s crimes.
Only forty-six hours into her hunt, and she was already on edge. He was alive, yes, but he’d evaded her. His traps had annoyed her.
Thunder boomed overhead. The sound bothered her, reminding her that another rain was due any day. One that would have nothing to do with her emotions. Have to be gone by then.
And where were Hades’s minions? She’d abandoned her plan to feed them bits and pieces of Torin. She just wanted them dead so she could concentrate fully on the warrior.
She stalked forward, pushing out streams of power to fell the trees in her path. I will find him.
How many times had she tracked an enemy with Hades? Countless. She was good. The best. A little rusty, perhaps, but she’d take determination over skill any day.
Whoosh!
An array of arrows flew at her. She easily dodged, spotting the manticore leaping from the branches of a still-standing tree. He had the head of a man, the body of a lion and a crossbow for a tail. She caught him with a stream of power, holding him in place. Then, with only a thought, she ripped off his skin, leaving it in one piece, and stuffed his bloody carcass back inside it—inside out. When he hit the ground, he stayed there, writhing.
Word of the Unspoken One’s death had spread, and creatures were out in droves, apparently ready for a five star dine and dash.
They must not have realized she was the infamous Red Queen.
A loud click clack captured her attention, her ears twitching. A laelap appeared around the corner, gunning for her. A metal dog that would never give up once it had spotted prey. It could be blinded, its legs cut off, blood pouring from the wounds, but still it would try to find a way to reach its intended victim.
