From what he knew about Charonte, no. They weren’t exactly into sharing.
She made him sit on the floor in front of the TV. Then she opened her purse and pulled out two surprisingly large bags of potato chips. “Red meat? White meat?”
“Pardon?”
She cocked her head. “Red meat?” She wagged the bag of barbecue chips in front of his face. “Or white meat?” She rattled a bag of sour cream and onion chips.
“I’ve never eaten either.”
Simi sucked her breath in as if that were the worst thing she’d ever heard. “That’s right. You eats the blood! Except you don’t no more.” Fanning her face, she danced around excitedly, then handed him both bags. “Open them! Open them!”
He obliged her.
“Now eats!”
Urian wasn’t sure about this. Cringing, he held one up to his nose.
Simi made a rude noise and popped his hand. “Would you stop! You done been eating on the people! Stop being all finicky. Eat the dang chip! Unlike the people, which don’t be getting the Simi wrong, ’cause they’s mighty tasty, them’s chips is good! Eat it!”
He laughed at the demonic tone that somehow managed to be childlike. “Yes, ma’am.” He bit into it and gasped. “Holy shit, that’s good.”
“Told you! Eat more!” She held up the bag for him. Then she made an adorable noise and dropped it so that she could run to another room.
After a few minutes, she came back with several drinks. “Fruitsie juicies! You gots so much catching up, akri-Daimon!”
Simi scooted in beside him and started pulling more snacks out of that tiny purse, then turned the TV on to something called QVC, where she educated him on modern shopping.
“Why are you doing this, Simi?”
She lay beside him on the floor with her feet up on the couch—he didn’t know why, but most Charonte slept and relaxed like that. Cocking her head, she scowled at him. “Don’t you know, akri-Daimon?”
“No idea.”
She reached up and touched his chest where his mark used to be. “You gots the heart sadness. Friends don’t leave friends alone when they heart-sad.”
“I didn’t know we were friends.”
She snorted at him again. “Of course we are. That’s how you make friends. You see somebody when they heart-sad and you walk over and say, it’ll be okies and you hug them and share your chips. Then you’re friends.”
She took his hand into hers and held it. “See. Friends. The Simi don’t bite you. You don’t bite the Simi. We friends.”
“I guess it is that simple, huh?”
Nodding, she tilted her head back to watch more TV.
She was still there a few hours later when Acheron came to see him. Only Simi was asleep, which was easy to tell as the little demon came with a giant snore.
Cocking his head, Acheron actually lifted his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head as he studied his sleeping demon. “I wondered where she’d gone off to. This was the last place I’d have looked for her.”
“She’s quite the chatterbox.”
Acheron laughed. “You’ve no idea.”
“Oh, you would be wrong there. Got a pretty good earful tonight.”
Still laughing, he nodded. “I can imagine.” Clearing his throat, he sobered. “How are you doing?”
“Been better.” Urian tucked the blanket he’d draped over Simi higher around her chin. “But she helped a lot.”
“Yeah, she has a way of doing that.” Acheron jerked his chin toward the door. “You got a minute?”
“Why?”
“There’s something I think you want to see.”
“Unless it’s my father’s head on a platter, not really.”
Acheron lowered his sunglasses to cover those screwed-up eyes. “I wouldn’t take that bet. C’mon.”
Taking care to not disturb Simi, he got up to follow Acheron toward the back door. Acheron used his powers to open it so that Urian could see the dawn that was breaking over the water.
Out of habit, he hissed and headed for the shadows.
Acheron caught his arm. “It won’t hurt you. I swear.”
His breathing ragged, Urian looked up at him in disbelief. “Really?”
“I swear,” he repeated. “I know you want to see it.” He manifested a pair of sunglasses for Urian and held them out to him. “You’ll need these.”
Urian put them on and then slowly, carefully made his way to the door and then to the deck outside. It was a chilly morning. Biting, in fact. But he didn’t care.
His gaze was held captive by the amber rays breaking through the darkness, setting the landscape aglow.
In all honesty, he had no idea how long he stood there. A million thoughts spun through his head. A billion memories. But the one that kept playing loudest was the one of him and Paris. Tears choked him as he looked over to Acheron. “I wish my brother could have seen it.”
“I know.”
He shook his head. “You don’t know what it’s like to be born with a twin, Acheron. To come into the world with someone.”
“Actually, I do.”
He gaped at that. “Pardon?”
“Not something I share. With anyone. Unlike you and Paris, my brother and I were enemies. He was a selfish bastard who conspired against me. But life takes us to places we don’t always want to go, and in directions we never think it will.”
Urian laughed bitterly as he considered the understatement of that, given that he was a Daimon currently living in the guesthouse of a Dark-Hunter.
“But,” Acheron continued, “we all have a choice. Toss the oar and let the current take us wherever. Or grab the oar with both hands and fight the current with everything we have. In the end, we all determine what fate we embrace. For we are either pawns or players. The final decision is always ours.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve no intention of being a pawn. There’s too much piss and vinegar in me for that. You may have taken my fangs from me, Acheron, but at my core, I remain a demon. Forever. Venom was the milk I drank from my mother’s breast, and I won’t rest until I bathe in the blood of my father.”
His father hadn’t quelled him with his actions.
He’d fueled him.
October 1, 2008
Urian was aghast at what he found in the temple housed next to Acheron’s in Katateros. When he’d heard a noise, he’d expected one of the souls to have escaped out of one of the other areas. But this was no Shade.
This was a man.
Swimming in the wrong place. At the wrong time.
“Who are you?”
Yet as he turned around in the pool, Urian felt as if someone had slapped him. Hard. For there was no doubt who he had to be.
Acheron’s despised twin brother. Holy shit … They were identical. Same height. Same build. Sculpted features. Virtually indistinguishable, except where Acheron had those freaky swirling silver eyes, Styxx had a pair of vibrant blue ones. Eyes that were the closest shade to Urian’s he’d ever seen on another person.
Weird.
And while Ash preferred to keep his hair long and dyed black, the evil anti-Ash held to their natural blond shade and wore his cut short. He was also scarred abysmally.
And still the defiant bastard had yet to speak.
“I asked you a question,” Urian snarled. “Do you not understand me?”
“I heard you.”
“And?”
With a slowness Urian was sure was just to piss him off, he climbed out of the pool and reached for a towel. He dried himself off, then wrapped it around his hips before he closed the distance between them. “Ask me when you find a new tone. One with respect in it.”
Oh yeah, this guy was a douche on steroids. Now all the stories he’d heard about the infamous brother made total sense. “You must be Styxx.”
“So you’re not as stupid as you look.”
Urian would have made an equally nasty comeback, but he couldn’t get over how many scars Styxx had on his body.
Apparently, Styxx pissed off everyone he’d ever come into contact with.
Urian grimaced at that road map of pain. “Damn, you’re scarred up.”
“Aren’t we all?”
He didn’t comment on that, especially not with his past. “I was told you’d been put on one of the other islands.”
“I was.”
“Then why are you here?”
Styxx picked up another towel to dry his hair. “I liked this one better.”
Wow, his arrogance was quite a special thing. “Are you always this big an asshole?”
“Are you?”
That was a loaded question and then some. Urian flashed a grin. “Basically, yes. However, I thought I’d tempered it for you. Guess I’m an even bigger ass than I knew.”
Styxx laughed. “Then I’d hate to see you on a bad day if this is a good one.”
“Yeah, well, according to Ash I pretty much get on his nerves every ten minutes.”
“It takes you an entire ten minutes? I’m impressed. All I have to do is enter his line of sight to wreck his whole year.”
Urian smiled. It wasn’t often he met someone who could match his sarcasm. He’d love to put this guy in a match with Shadow.
He indicated Styxx’s scars with a tilt of his head. “You must have been a soldier who saw a lot of combat for those.”
“I was … and I did.”
“Cavalry?”
“Protostratelates.”
Urian’s eyes bugged at such a prestigious role. Especially for someone so young, that was almost unheard of. In fact he only knew of one who’d done that. “At your …? Oh wait, wait a minute. Styxx … Styxx of Didymos, Styxx?”
He nodded.
No! No! What were the odds? Seriously? Urian sputtered at something that was too surreal to be reality. “How stupid do I feel? I never put the two names together before. Mostly because I assumed the protostratelates who damn near defeated Atlantis was an old man. Oh wow …” he breathed. “You were a legend. When I was a kid, I extensively studied your surviving war notes, and reports, and everything written about you. Your tactics fascinated me, but there was so much you left out.”
“I didn’t want someone to use my strategies against me.”
“As I said, brilliant, and if you knew me, you’d know I gush over no one.” Stunned and thrilled to meet his hero, Urian held his arm out. “This is really an honor.”
Styxx hesitated, then shook it. “So how old are you … really?”
“I was born a few weeks before you and Acheron died. And before you condemn me, I mostly lived on people who deserved to die.”
“Mostly?”
Urian shrugged. “Sometimes you can’t be picky. But I never fed from a human woman or a child. Or anyone who couldn’t fight back.”
Styxx held his hands up. “I’m in no position to judge anyone for how they survive.”
A deep scowl furrowed Urian’s brow. “It’s strange, though.”
“What is?”
“How much you and Acheron favor each other not to be related at all.”
Sighing, Styxx dropped his second towel, then finger-combed his short blond hair. “Trick of his mother’s to throw off the gods looking for him.”
Urian snorted. “She did well. I had a fraternal twin brother myself.”
“Had?”
“He was killed a long time ago by a Dark-Hunter.”
“Oh, I’m very sorry.”
Urian inclined his head to him as that old wound opened and bled. “Thanks. Me, too. It’s hard to lose a brother, and twice as hard when you’re born together. Kind of like losing a limb.”
Styxx snorted. “In my case, more like losing a sphincter.”
Laughing, Urian shook his head. “What happened between you? I mean, damn, Acheron forgave me, and I definitely didn’t deserve a second chance. You don’t seem like an outright bastard, and you definitely didn’t battle like one. Things you did … you protected your enemy against your own troops. And you were barbecued for it by Greek historians and commanders.”
“I was barbecued for it by many people.”
Now that he knew who he really was, Urian followed him from the pool into the bedroom. He had so many questions to ask. Things he’d always wondered about that no one had documented. Really, how often did someone get to interview their hero? “So how old were you when you first went into battle? Five?”
“Sixteen.” Styxx picked his clothes up and went behind a screen to dress.
“Damn, that was harsh. My father refused to let us near battle until we were past our majority.” For Apollites anyway. “He waited so long, it was actually embarrassing.” Urian didn’t want to think about the times his father literally picked them up and threw them down to keep them from battle.
He took a step back and gestured toward the door. “Would you like to come up to the main hall with me? Dinner should be about ready.”
Styxx shook his head as he came around the screen. “I’m not welcome there. Acheron would have a fit to find me in his temple.”
Urian had forgotten about that small fact. It would be the same as inviting his father to dinner. Yeah … real bad idea. Acheron hated his twin with a special kind of vim. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the bossman you’re here. Stay as long as you want.”
“Thanks, Urian.” Styxx went to hang his towels up to dry.
“Hey,” Urian called. “Would you like me to bring you some dinner?”
“Gods, yes, I’d kill for some.” Embarrassed by the emotion he’d betrayed, he cleared his throat. “Yes, please. I’d appreciate it.”
Urian suppressed a smile at Styxx’s enthusiasm. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Though to be honest, Urian hated leaving him there. Alone. If there was one thing he understood, it was loneliness. Isolation. And Styxx had had more than his fair share of it.
Before, when he’d assumed him to be Acheron’s villain brother with no conscience, Urian hadn’t cared what happened to him.
Now he had a face and a history.
It made a lot of difference. Perspective. Life was all about perspective. If anyone should appreciate that, a former Daimon should. After all, his people had been misjudged by everyone.
And they still were. It was why Spawn was one of his few friends among the Dark-Hunters. He was a former Daimon, and one who’d served under his command; they understood each other. And both were ostracized by the rest of Acheron’s army.
They were the brotherhood of misfits.
Styxx was their newest recruit.
Welcome to my madness.
And that was what it was. That raw, biting loneliness that never left him. The bitter gut punch that ached through and through. He’d lost both the women he’d loved most.
Xyn and Phoebe.
Life was so bitterly unfair.
Why couldn’t it have taken him instead?
Trying not to think about it, Urian snuck into Acheron’s temple where he lived and did his best to act nonchalant. He shared the temple with Acheron, Simi, and Acheron’s steward Alexion, who was one of the first Dark-Hunters ever created, and sadly the first to have been killed. And Alexion’s wife, another Dark-Hunter who’d died in the line of duty, Danger. And of course, Alexion’s own Charonte, Simi’s sister, Xirena.
They, and a few peculiar pets, made up Acheron’s happy home. Aside from the collection of statues in the basement no one ever talked about.
And Urian meant no one. As that topic quickly sent his boss into a fit of anger.
“You okay, Uri?” Danger asked as soon as she saw him skulking about.
Urian dropped the banana he’d been trying to smuggle out. “Um. Yeah. You?”
“Always.”
“Good.” Crap … why did she have to be so nosy?
Hours went by before Urian was able to head back to where he’d left Styxx. Though what the man was doing, Urian didn’t want to know, as it appeared he was pulling out some kind of nasty seafood grossness to eat. Pushing that aside, Urian set his backpack on the table beside Styxx.
He frowned at Styxx’s dinner. “What is that?”
Styxx shrugged, then returned the unidentifiable ick to the urn on the table.
Urian’s scowl deepened as he tipped the chipped clay cup to see the coconut milk in it. “Ew! Really? You were really going to drink this shit?”
“Anánkai d’oudè theoì mákhontai,” Styxx said simply.
Urian laughed. “ ‘Not even the gods fight necessity’ … nice. You said that to your men right before the battle for Ena.”
“Did I?”
“You don’t remember? I used to use that for my own men to motivate them. It got me stabbed once. Apparently, what works for Greeks doesn’t work for Spathi Daimons.”
“Honestly, no, I don’t remember. And it got me stabbed a time or two, too. Besides, I can’t really take credit for it. It was something my mentor used to say to me all the time.”
“And what would he say about this?” Urian held up a bottle of wine.
“Brôma theôn.” Food of the gods.
Urian handed it to him, then dug out the opener and two glasses. “I’m going to hazard a wild guess that you’re a little short on supplies. Would you like me to bring you something?”
“I can make do, but some fresh water would be nice. It doesn’t rain here, and it doesn’t get quite hot enough to make a lot of condensation. It’s been difficult to desalinate the river water, which I can’t figure out why it’s salty …”
Urian scowled at something he hadn’t known about the island. Or Styxx, for that matter. “Why didn’t you stay where your supplies were?”
Styxx dug a fork out of the backpack and sat down to eat. “I haven’t received any.”
Urian was aghast at the last thing he expected to come out of Styxx’s mouth. “What have you been living on?”
Closing his eyes, Styxx savored the unfamiliar taste. He swallowed and wiped his mouth before he answered. “Clams mostly … whenever I can find them. Coconuts. Some greens I found out back.” He took a drink of wine, then sighed in appreciation. “What?”
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