Stygian

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  And it knocked Urian to his knees.

  Except for Stryker. He hovered above the ground in a dragon’s form, snarling and flapping. Bellowing in rage, Stryker spewed fire at Acheron.

  Acheron lifted his arm, barely in time to keep it from burning him. He shot another god-bolt at Stryker, who dodged it.

  “This isn’t over, Acheron. Next time you won’t be able to use your powers.”

  With another blast of fire, Stryker vanished.

  Urian rushed to Styxx’s side at the same time Ash did.

  Opening his eyes, Styxx panted in sheer agony. “You know, brother, you’re never supposed to close your eyes in battle.”

  Ash laughed. “I wasn’t the one training to be a general.”

  Styxx sighed. “Perhaps. But you do a much better job of leading than I ever did. I definitely think Father trained the wrong one of us.”

  Without a word, Acheron placed his hand over Styxx’s wound. Styxx hissed. “Fine, then, you’re a stupid fucking asshole. Get your hands off me,” he snarled through gritted teeth.

  Still Acheron held him down until Styxx was ready to whimper. Only then did Acheron pull away.

  Urian held his hand to give him comfort.

  “Am I dead yet?” Styxx asked sarcastically.

  “Not yet. You still have a few years left to seriously piss me off.”

  Styxx snorted. “I look forward to it.”

  He inclined his head to Styxx. “You did a good job for me. Thank you.”

  “Yeah, well, next time you need someone to descend into a Daimon sanctuary, pick one of your other assholes to do it. I don’t have the powers of a god when they come at me, and it puts me at a definite disadvantage.”

  Then Acheron left him and went to be with his men.

  Urian helped him to his feet. “You want me to take you home?”

  Styxx nodded at Urian. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Feeling horrible for what he’d gotten him into, Urian teleported him home. Styxx started for the couch, and then his knees buckled.

  Urian caught him against his side and helped him to his bed. “Are you still wounded?”

  “It’s the poison from the dagger. Acheron healed the wound, but he didn’t draw the poison out.”

  “How do you get it out?”

  “You draw it out before you stitch the wound closed.” Styxx looked down at the sealed scar. “Oops, too late.” He started shaking again as sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “Do you want me to call Ash?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Not like I can die. I just need to rest.” Styxx had barely slurred those words before he passed out.

  December 1, 2008

  Urian watched as Ash checked the blades in his boots to make sure they were working. Suddenly, he turned his head as if he knew Urian was there.

  Furious, he glared at his boss. “You’re helping my father?”

  “We have to stop War.” That dry, flat tone did nothing to improve Urian’s mood or need to beat Ash’s ass.

  “Stryker murdered my wife,” Urian snarled.

  “I know.”

  Oh well, he was so glad they got that cleared up. “How could you help something like him?”

  Ash growled at him. “Get off the cross, brother. Someone needs the wood. You helped your father for centuries. Need I remind you of how many lives you took under his command? Lives of people who were related to you—you killed Phoebe’s mother and her sister.”

  He flinched at a truth he didn’t want to hear. Ash was right. He should have stopped their deaths. It was all his fault. He’d been the one who tracked them down. Stryker would never have known where they were had he not found them. He led the assassins straight to their location. “I loved my wife. I never meant to hurt her.”

  “Changes nothing. You took your wife from the very people she loved more than her life. For too many centuries, you and your brothers were a tool Stryker used most effectively.”

  “Times change.”

  “Yes, they do … And you should know that you have another sister.”

  Stunned, Urian stared at him as he tried to digest the impossible. “What?”

  Ash met his gaze levelly and kept his expression completely stoic. “It’s the life of your other sister we’re going to protect. Not your father’s.”

  No … not possible. “My sister died eleven thousand years ago.”

  “Medea is a half sister.”

  Medea? How was that possible?

  But in the end, it didn’t matter. “And I should care, why?”

  Ash held his hands up in surrender. “You’re right. You shouldn’t care at all. She’s nothing to you, which is why I haven’t invited you to join us.” Ash started past him.

  Urian pulled him to a stop as the need to beat him flared to an all-time high. “How would you feel if my father had killed Tory?”

  Ash answered without hesitation. “I would feel soulless. Lost and hurt beyond repair.”

  Urian looked away. “Then you understand me. And why I want him dead.”

  Ash pulled Urian’s hand off his arm. “He knows that, too. But have you ever considered that he might regret what he did to you?”

  Yeah, right. “My father? Get real. The bastard has never regretted a single thing in his entire life.”

  “We all have regrets, Urian. Nothing that lives is immune from that nasty emotion.”

  The problem was, his father was dead. “So what? You want me to go kiss and make up?”

  “Hardly. But I want you to set aside your own hurt and anger to see clearly for a minute. This isn’t about you and your father any more than it’s about me and Nick hating each other over something we can’t change. This is about saving the lives of a million innocent people. People like Phoebe who don’t deserve to be hunted and killed. If I can stand at the side of my enemies for the greater good, so can you.”

  Urian scoffed. “Well I guess I’m just not as special as you are.”

  “No one knows their true mettle until it’s been tested. This is yours. Whether you pass or fail at being human or a hero is entirely up to you. I can’t tell you what to do, but I know where I’ll be tonight … fighting beside my enemies to save the lives of those who can’t fight what we have to.” He hesitated before he asked the most important question. “So what do you choose?”

  “Gory death.”

  Ash shook his head. “You stubborn bastard. Take it from someone who knows firsthand, there’s a lot to be said for forgiveness. Grudges seldom hurt anyone except the one bearing them.”

  “And there’s a lot to be said for knocking enemies upside their heads and cracking their skulls wide open.”

  Ash felt a tic start in his jaw over Urian’s obdurate nature. “To everything there is a season, and tonight ours is to stand together or lose everything. I’m not fighting for Stryker or to save your sister. I’m fighting to protect the ones I love. The ones who will suffer most if war isn’t stopped … children like Erik, Tyr, little Phoebe, and—”

  “Low fucking blows,” he snapped at the mention of his nephews and niece.

  “Do you?”

  Urian’s gaze hardened. “I will be there, but once our enemies are put down—”

  “We fight each other again. Understood.”

  Urian nodded. “I want the honest truth about something. Could you really fight with someone who did as much damage to you as my father has done to me?”

  Ash met his gaze without blinking. “I subjugated myself to the goddess who drugged me to the point where I couldn’t protect my sister and nephew the night they were brutally slaughtered, and they were the only two people in the universe who’d ever given two shits about me. Later that same day, she stood back and let her twin brother butcher me on the floor like an animal to protect humanity, yet within hours after that I sold myself to her to protect mankind. For the sake of the Dark-Hunters, I subjected myself to her cruel whims for eleven thousand years. So yeah, Urian, I think I c

ould manage to suck it up for an hour to protect the rest of the world.”

  Urian let out a slow breath as Ash put his own pettiness in brutal perspective. He was being a spoiled brat and Ash was right. “You know you’re the only man alive I’d ever follow after what I’ve been through. You’re also the only one I respect, and who could talk to me the way you do and not get slapped for it.”

  “And you’re one of the extremely few I trust.”

  Urian held his hand up to him. “Brothers?”

  “Brothers to the end,” Ash said, taking his hand and clutching it tight. “Now before we break into tears, get your ass upstairs and prepare for what’s coming.”

  “Don’t worry. I always have your back.”

  “Yeah, but this time, we’re up against the god of war.”

  Which meant all the backup in the world might not be enough.

  January 19, 2009

  Urian ground his teeth as he led Savitar into Styxx’s bedroom in New York where he’d been holding a silent vigil on and off since they got back from Kalosis with Tory and Acheron, and Styxx had collapsed on the floor.

  He was terrified about Styxx’s condition. And he was at a loss about who else to call. Who else would know how to fix a sick immortal, other than Apollymi, and given their current relationship, he figured it was best not to try that venue, as the goddess was likely to splinter him into pieces.

  “He’s been like that.”

  Savitar gave Urian an arch stare.

  “I know, right? It’s like his whole body has shut down. He hasn’t eaten or drunk or even moved. Every now and again, he whispers in ancient Greek, Arabic, or ancient Egyptian, but I can’t make it out.”

  Frowning, Savitar pulled the blanket back to examine the wound Acheron had sealed. But the moment he saw Styxx’s extensive scarring he gaped in horror. “What the hell?”

  Urian more than understood his reaction. He’d had the same one himself the first time he’d seen it. “Aside from being a war hero who fought in dozens of battles, he spent a year as a POW in Atlantis. He never really says much about it other than it sucked, but from the scars I’d say they tortured him the whole time he was there.”

  Savitar expelled a heavy breath. “I had no idea. Does Acheron know about this?”

  If he did, he didn’t care. Obviously. Nor had he bothered to check on them or even ask. While Urian had cut him a lot of slack because of Tory being threatened, he was getting a little pissed about it at this point.

  “I don’t know. From his hatred of Styxx, though, I’d say he doesn’t care. He’d probably say Styxx deserved it.”

  Savitar felt Styxx’s forehead. “How long has his fever been this high?”

  “Since the fight with Stryker. He had it when I brought him home and it hasn’t broken or gone down at all.”

  Savitar placed his hand to Styxx’s throat. “He barely has a pulse.”

  No shit, Sherlock.

  Savitar gave him a pissed look that said he might have heard that.

  Clearing his throat, Urian reminded himself to rein his thoughts in around the omniscient, irritable one. “Yeah. I didn’t know what to do. Not like I can call a doctor. When I tried to call Ash, he said Styxx was probably faking it for attention. He told me Styxx couldn’t die and would be fine. Not to concern myself with it. But he doesn’t look fine. He looks like a corpse.”

  And since Ash had sounded distracted and hung up without saying good-bye, Urian had taken the hint.

  Whatever had gone down between him and Styxx had left them as strangers. Ash didn’t want anything to do with his brother.

  Period.

  Damn, Styxx, What’d you do? Piss on his favorite toy and make him eat it?

  “All right. Stand back. I’m going to shock him out of this.”

  Urian moved to stand in the doorway as Savitar placed his hand over Styxx’s chest. A slight hum filled his ears a few seconds before what appeared to be a sledgehammer-like bolt shot from Savitar’s hand into Styxx’s chest.

  Styxx’s eyes flew open. Panting, he frowned at Savitar and then Urian as if he didn’t recognize them at first. As soon as he did, his eyes filled with panic and tears.

  “No!” Styxx breathed raggedly, sweeping the room with his gaze. “Beth! Galen!”

  Well, that wasn’t the reaction Urian had expected. Nor was the next one, where he flung himself out of bed and frantically searched his condo room to room. Stunned, he exchanged a wide-eyed stare with Savitar that turned into a gape when Styxx fell to his knees and bellowed. “Why did you bring me back here? Why? I was with them and we were happy! I was with them.…”

  Styxx curled up into a ball and wept as if his entire world had shattered. “Beth, don’t leave me again … please … please come back to me … I can’t live without you anymore.”

  Urian choked at the sight of a profound agony he knew better than anyone. For a long time, he’d hated Ash for bringing him back to life. Even now, every day he lived without Phoebe was a day he despised with fury.

  Why didn’t I leave him alone?

  Had he known Styxx was in a coma with his family, he’d have left him there forever.

  What the fuck have I done? How selfish could I be?

  His heart breaking for his newfound friend, Urian knelt down by Styxx’s head and gathered him into his arms. “I’m sorry, Styxx. We didn’t know.”

  Savitar came up to them and placed his hand on Styxx’s shoulder, knocking him out again. “Unfortunately, he won’t stay that way.”

  “Help me put him back in bed.”

  Instead of helping, Savitar picked Styxx up as if he weighed nothing and carried him to the bedroom. There was something weird about how Savitar was acting now. But Urian didn’t know him well enough to even hazard a guess about his thoughts.

  “It’s disturbing, isn’t it?” Savitar asked him as Urian entered the bedroom.

  “What?”

  “How much he favors Ash.”

  Urian shrugged. “They’re identical twins. I had two sets of brothers who were, too. But while they may share looks and some tendencies, they are usually very different people.”

  Savitar swept his gaze around the room, then opened the closet where Styxx had two pairs of jeans folded neatly on the top shelf. One sweater, a jacket, two long-sleeved button-downs, and three short-sleeved shirts. One pair of shoes. Frowning, Savitar continued searching all six rooms of the condo.

  Curious, Urian followed him around. “What are you looking for?”

  “What’s your impression of this place?”

  Urian answered with the first word that popped into his head. “Spartan.”

  Savitar nodded. “Not exactly the kind of place a spoiled prince would be happy in, is it?” He handed a bankbook to Urian. “Acheron gave him plenty of money. And you can tell by the lack of dishes, he doesn’t do much, if any, entertaining. The only thing he appears to have splurged on is the computer.”

  “Only because I ordered it for him. He didn’t know anything about them and asked my advice.” He’d even come up here and set it up for him.

  Savitar picked up Styxx’s phone, looked at it, then handed it to Urian. “Yours is the only number he has, and it’s the only one he’s called.”

  And not that often, and even then not for very long. Their longest conversation had been about the computer and that had probably been no more than twenty minutes, tops.

  Urian sighed. “I was hoping he had other people he hung out with.”

  “Has he said anything to you about being alone?”

  “He really doesn’t talk much. Mostly asks questions about modern things he can’t figure out. Or customs and phrases he’s unfamiliar with.”

  Savitar scowled. “Does he ever mention Ash or their sister?”

  “Only if I bring them up, and then he quickly deflects the conversation to another topic. Tonight notwithstanding, or when he and Ash went at each other, he’s usually quiet and reserved. Unassuming. But he does have a wicked sense of humor.”

  “How so?”

  Urian smiled at the memories of their brief conversations. “One of my personal faves … he made a snarky comment on something, and then apologized by saying that he was so allergic to stupidity that it caused him to break out into rampant sarcasm. Another time, he made the comment that he was a leader and not a follower. Unless it was a dark place with loud growls, then fuck that shit, he’d gladly follow me in to investigate it.”

  Savitar laughed.

  Urian continued, “He also wanted to know why sour cream, buttermilk, and blue cheese have expiration dates. Why boxing rings are always square. Why buildings burn up as they’re burning down.” He paused to laugh. “And my two favorites, he asked why we have doctors now and not physicians.”

  Savitar screwed his face up. “They’re the same.”

  “That’s what I said, but then he pointed out to me that back in the so-called barbarian days, we didn’t have doctors who practiced medicine, but rather physicians who healed you … or killed you, just like now. He asked me how modern man could trust someone with so little knowledge of their field that they told you right up front that they were still in the learning process.”

  Savitar snorted. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “Yeah, and a few months ago, he was in a grocery store and wanted to know why lemon juice was artificially flavored, but dishwashing soap contained real lemons. And what did modern people have against turkeys? He could find turkey masquerading as bacon, steak, and burgers, but no plain turkeys. Needless to say, I never thought about any of that, either. Probably because the only time I was ever in a grocery store, I was shopping for humans.”

  Savitar ignored those last comments. “It must be hard for him to adjust.”

  “He doesn’t complain. He just tries to understand modern mind-sets, such as how can he be a chauvinist pig if he opens a door for a woman and then he’s an insensitive pig if he doesn’t.”

  “The day he figures that one out, tell him to write a book and we’ll all be rich.”

  “He already has. He stays back until she goes in and then he runs for it before another one comes along.”

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