Persephone's Orchard (The Chrysomelia Stories) Read Free

guess you’re not eighteen, either.”
    “All right, you’ve got me there.”
    She looked around again, seeking any sign of the campus. Nothing. Just nature, and a lot of it. Something that sounded like the trumpet of an elephant echoed from far off.
    Nikolaos let go of her for a moment to tap something on his cell phone. She seized her chance and bolted across the meadow. Her feet hit unsteady lumps and dips of ground, but she made decent speed. Thank goodness she was wearing her jogging sneakers rather than impractical sandals.
    “Bad idea,” called Nikolaos from behind her.
    She slowed to reach into her pocket for her cell, thinking now might be a good time to try 911. But the phone wasn’t there. Crap . She suspected she’d dropped it in the meadow, and good luck finding it in this tall grass if she had. Forget it. Escaping was more important. She put on a burst of speed.
    As she reached a large oak tree, a growl brought her skidding to a halt. From the grass a lion emerged, staring at her with amber eyes. It was a huge lion, as tall as Sophie even when down on its four giant paws, its shoulder muscles piled high behind its short ears. Its fur was browner than any lion’s she had seen in a zoo, and its mane was shorter.
    She’d been scared already, but now pure primal terror chilled her from head to feet.
    Though she might indeed have just stepped through some kind of magic wardrobe, this was not Aslan she was dealing with. From the predatory gaze and the saliva dripping from those fangs (which looked at least six inches long), she was sure this animal regarded her as lunch.
    Oh, please, let this be a dream or a coma , she prayed. Otherwise I’m about to die.
    Were you supposed to climb a tree when faced with a lion, or run in a zigzag pattern, or punch it in the face, or what? She couldn’t recall.
    Then a young man and a medium-sized dog darted in between her and the lion. The guy had curly black hair, tamer than Nikolaos’, and wore all black: untucked long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and boots with laces. She couldn’t see his face yet; he was staring down the lion, as was his dog. The dog’s hackles bristled beneath its golden fur.
    “Off you go, mate,” the guy told the lion.
    As if to back him up, his dog growled, and barked.
    The threat worked. The lion hissed, turned tail, and bounded away into the grass.
    Sophie’s knees shook as her adrenaline subsided, leaving her weak.
    The young man turned around to look at her. “You okay?”
    He was rather lovely. Probably a couple of years older than Sophie, with olive skin, shapely mouth, and large dark eyes with black lashes and brows.
    She parted her lips, found she was too upset to answer, and merely nodded.
    “Please don’t run,” he added. “We’re not going to hurt you. But the lions won’t give you that guarantee. It’s not safe out here.”
    Sophie detected a different accent in the slant of his words, Australian perhaps. She answered with another nod, more guarded this time.
    Footsteps rustled up behind her, and she spun about.
    But it was only Nikolaos. “Told you running off was a bad idea. But now you’ve met…Wat-son.” He separated the syllables playfully, as if this wasn’t the guy’s real name.
    Watson glared at Nikolaos. “Why are you dressed like that? What is wrong with you? Did you need to wear the most conspicuous clothes on the planet?”
    “It worked, obviously,” Nikolaos said. “So, I shall leave you two dears alone.” He sauntered to Watson, and slipped something into his palm while murmuring a few words in a foreign language, maybe Greek again.
    Watson nodded and tucked the item into his jeans pocket. His dog, meanwhile, sat and gazed calmly at each human in turn. It looked like a golden retriever crossbred with something darker, perhaps some kind of shepherd dog. It also looked gentle, not the type of animal who would rip out her throat upon command. She tried to take comfort in the gaze of the friendly dog.
    The