Chapter 40
Stefan saw the men surge toward Nicki and rage exploded inside him, so thick and hot he thought he'd choke on it. Forgetting everything but the fact that Nicki was in danger, he surged up toward the guard and cracked his head into the man's forehead, forcing him back. The man tripped and Stefan followed him down to the floor, knocking the guard senseless with a few short, powerful strikes. Then he grabbed the ring of keys at the man's belt and wrenched it free
The outer gate wouldn't have opened—it had been padlocked before, padlocked! Which meant that even if Nicki had gotten free of the warehouse, she'd have remained trapped between the gate and the men. She'd know the way out, but that was a long way to travel around the large building with a dozen men on her heels. Had she reached the gate in time to climb over? Had the men abandoned her and tried the ascent themselves?
Some would, he was sure, but others?—
Another burst of rage crackled through him as he raced out onto the catwalk, then boosted himself over the railing to drop to the floor below. He landed in a crouch and launched forward again, running fast, his eyes pinned on the door.
He'd almost made it out when another roar shook the entire building—louder now, clearer, and sounding almost like…lions?
"What in the gods—!" Stefan whipped around as a flood of creatures spilled out of a hallway onto the warehouse floor, hooting and crying, talons and hooves scrabbling for purchase on the smooth concrete. The lions took the lead, easily recognizable by their golden fur and clattering, razor-sharp claws as descendants of the Nemean beast Hercules had killed so many centuries ago.
But these lions were far smaller than the way most myths presented their illustrious forebears. In fact, all the mythological creatures pouring into the room looked like they were sized too small. The rooster-headed basilisks, their serpent tails thrashing furiously, were no bigger than pigs. The harpies rushed forward like a cluster of furious flamingos, their wings pinned close to their body, their hair streaming out behind them, and their faces contorted into snarling screams. Even the mighty griffin that galloped forward on its muscular leonine body was only about the size of a pony. Beneath its imperious eagle head, its wings were strapped tight to its body as well.
Stefan realized with a bolt of horror that not only were the winged creatures bound to keep them from flying, all the creatures were banded at the neck with electrical collars. Those collars were clearly working overtime to restrain the creatures…and causing them incredible pain. The crackle of singed flesh and crazed howls filled the air, and Stefan wanted more than anything in the world to capture these creatures, to sort out who'd taken them and why. But he didn't have time for any of that.
He could only take them home.
"Fly!" He swept his hands up as the first creatures neared him, and the combination of his own status as a demigod of the traveling god Hermes and the creatures' inherent magical natures was all that was necessary to pierce the veil between Earth and Olympus. In a blink, the walls of the warehouse fell away, and the entire lot of thirty-odd creatures were surrounded by a lush, rolling field—with blue skies above, and mountains far to the west.
The creatures still screamed and roared, but Stefan stepped back, raising his hands to his mouth to add weight to his own shout above the din. "Hephaestus!"
A moment later, a new figure appeared. Hephaestus, god of every made thing, still held a hammer and smelled of fire, his sturdy body clad in a leather vest and workman's clothes, and his bearded face alight with curiosity.
"What's this?" Hephaestus rumbled, his voice loud enough to break through the creatures' wails.
"Someone took them, held them prisoner with those." Stefan pointed to the band on the nearest basilisk as Hermes appeared just beyond Hephaestus. The tawny-haired god snapped his fingers and all sound dropped away from the animals—they still howled and stamped, but they were silent.
"Gods' teeth, you could hear them all the way to the Underworld." Hermes huffed, then he peered closer to the milling creatures. "Why are they constrained like that?"
"Exactly my question. I expect the answer will be instructive."
"Well, you can't just leave them here," Hermes countered. "It's against protocol."
"Who created these?" Hephaestus demanded, overriding Hermes's protest. He reached the nearest creature in three strides—one of the lions, now cowering in pain and fear. He reached out and grabbed the collar cutting into the lion's neck. It popped open at his touch, and the lion sprang away.
"I don't know who created them, but you can bet they're tied to Typhon. I need your help figuring out how." Stefan turned to Hermes. "And you need to figure out who the hell is smuggling toy monsters out of Olympus."
"Toy…" Hermes's eyes widened as he swiveled around to stare at the frightened, milling creatures. "Gods' teeth! They are toy-sized. Who would have…how…"
The messenger god practically glowed as his nimble mind went to work on the issue, parsing the possibilities. Hephaestus moved swiftly through the silently screeching creatures, freeing them from their bonds, while Hermes's winged sandals buzzed with energy, whipping the tall grass as he levitated up several inches. "Ohhhh, this could be deliciously bad?—"
"Figure it out," snapped Stefan. "I'll report in later."
Without another word, he spun away and launched himself forward. In another three strides, he soared through the portal and hit the concrete floor of the warehouse at a dead run. A quick glance at his watch confirmed that only thirty seconds and change had passed since he'd left the warehouse—but thirty seconds could be an eternity in the wrong circumstances.
Stefan burst through the garage doors, his brain churning as fast as his legs as he raced into the open courtyard. Where was Nicki?
Quickly scanning past a group of prisoners banging ineffectually at the still-closed gate, Stefan blanched as he picked out Nicki. She'd fallen only a few yards from the gate, and was now curled into a crumpled heap on the ground next to a melee of seven fighting men.
Well…six of the men were fighting to reach her, and one was keeping them at bay.
Stefan raced into the fray, plowing into the men from behind. In their impaired states, he shook them off quickly and those who wanted to fight were easily dissuaded with a few roundhouse punches, most of the prisoners willing to give up the fight now that a new champion had arrived on the scene. Still—there were too many of them, and who knew how many more were lurking in the shadows, waiting to join the fight?
Shoving the nearest man out of his way, Stefan took a few precious seconds to sprint over to the enclosure, using every ounce of his gods-given speed. He unlocked the gate in the chain-link fence with the guard's keys and raced back as it swung open, banking on the fact that the men would choose escape over the fallen woman at their feet.
He was right for most of them.
And those that weren't—he swung around and faced off against three men, all of them reeking. One had picked up a length of pipe from the drive and lunged at him, swinging hard. Stefan neatly sidestepped the attack but not before the man who'd been defending Nicki lunged forward as well, blocking the pipe with his arm and stumbling back, shaking his head. Their attacker lunged again. Stefan decked him, hard, dropping him to the ground. Then Stefan picked up the pipe and swung it against the second and third men, who suddenly no longer seemed as interested in Nicki. Instead, they turned on their heels and ran from him, as he turned back to Nicki.
Only she wasn't alone.
A wild-haired, darkly tanned man leaned over her, pawing at her body, speaking to her in raw, guttural gasps. Stefan's gaze turned white with rage. He rushed forward, knocking the man back off Nicki.
"Hurt—!" the man said in English, though his accent was thick with a Middle Eastern inflection. "She's—hurt!"
The garbled voice suddenly became clearer, and Stefan stayed the fist that had been poised to smash into the man's face.
He blinked and stared, too stunned at what he was seeing to process it.
But his fog was cleared away as the man reached forward, grabbing his arm to pull him forward.
"Hurt!" Prince Aristotle Andris cried again, still in English, his voice barely a rasp as he pointed to the crumpled Nicki. "She passed out I think."
Stefan spun to Nicki. While he'd been sure she'd been moving before, now she lay silent on the ground, her face slack. He pulled her up into his lap and growled to Ari. "Help me."