Stygian

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  “How is it the sharoc can’t detect you?” Varian had a hard enough time eluding their detection whenever he ventured here on his missions. He’d never understood how Shadow managed it.

  “You want secrets I’m unwilling to give.” He passed a gimlet stare to Kaziel, who was being unusually quiet. “The two of you aren’t the only ones with pasts you don’t want disclosed.” And with that, he vanished.

  Kaziel crossed his arms over his chest. “You trust him?”

  “I don’t trust anyone, other than my wife and children, but he’s never given me a specific reason not to. Why?”

  “Just thinking of something Aeron always says. I’d sooner trust my enemy than a friend, as I can afford to lose an enemy. But killing a friend over betrayal burns twice as deep and thrice as long.”

  “Your point?”

  “No point, really. Just something about that demon makes my hackles rise.”

  Varian couldn’t agree more. “Don’t worry. Like you, my bite is much worse than my bark.” And he’d taken enough lives to prove it. If Shadow betrayed them, Varian would have no compunctions about laying open his throat.

  Still, there was an evil presence here and for once it wasn’t his mother.

  No, this was something far more insidious. Like a blackness trying to devour the world. Like Níthöggur gnawing at the roots of Yggdrasill as he sought to free himself from his prison.

  For now it was contained, but his gut said it wouldn’t stay that way.

  Kaziel scowled at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just a bad premonition.”

  “Of?”

  “What the world would be like if we fail to stop Apollo.”

  Morgen watched as Apollo left her bed to dress. Exceptionally tall and golden fair from the top of his blond head all the way to his toes, he was exactly what one would expect of a god.

  In and out of bed.

  She pouted at him. “Why are you leaving?”

  “It’s taking too long to round up the dragon. I don’t like this delay. We have to take care of this before Helios overthrows me and takes all my powers.”

  She scoffed at his concerns. “My men will handle it. They know better than to fail me.”

  He rinsed his mouth out and spat before he turned toward her, patting his chin dry. “And I know my son. He was ever resourceful. Not to mention, that bitch he serves. Apollymi hates me with a passion. As do her two sons. It took me too long to escape her after that bastard Styxx gift-wrapped me and handed me over. I have a staggering debt to repay them all.”

  “Two sons? I thought her one and only son was dead.”

  “I wish.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Nay, my evil fey queen. Not dead. Acheron is hers by birth and conception. Brought back to life by my idiot of a twin sister who wanted to fuck him, and instead screwed the rest of us by her insatiable appetite for an ex-human whore. As for Styxx, he belongs to Apollymi by adoption. To that end, you can count my son as well. Indeed, she oft mothers Stryker more than she does her own.”

  “Really … Any other brats I need know about?”

  He dropped the towel and reached for his pants to pull them on. “You could almost count the Malachai. He is a direct descendent of her firstborn. Granted, a thousand times removed. And Urian. She pampers and protects him as well.”

  Five sons for Apollymi …

  Morgen rose up to lean against him. “Does she consider the current Malachai as one of hers?”

  “Not as far as I know. Her loyalty to that end seems to have died with her original son, Monakribos.”

  “And what of his father? Was Kissare not supposed to be reborn so that he could return to her?”

  Apollo froze in the middle of buttoning his shirt. He blinked slowly before he answered. “He was, indeed.” A slow, evil grin spread across his face. “Why, Morgen, dearest evil bitchtress, I do believe you’ve found something.”

  “So he was reborn?”

  Laughing, Apollo pulled her naked body against his. “I don’t know. But I know who will.”

  The Fates.

  He didn’t say it, but Morgen knew the answer as well as he did. Those three whores knew everything about everyone. They were the greatest gossiping bitches ever born!

  “And if he does live,” Apollo whispered against her lips, “we will find him and gut him at her feet!”

  “I don’t follow. Wouldn’t that be a bit anticlimactic? What’s the point?”

  He kissed her lips. “The point is that the goddess of all destruction and darkness has only had three weaknesses in the whole of her life. Kissare, Monakribos, and Acheron.” He nipped at her lips. “Given how frigid a bitch she is, I’m willing to bet that they had more in common than just their mother.”

  Morgen’s eyes widened as she finally understood. “You’re thinking that Acheron’s father is Kissare reincarnated?”

  He actually drew blood from her bottom lip with his fangs as he pulled back and nodded. “It would explain so much.… Archon swore he would never father a child with her, and he went to his nebulous state claiming Acheron wasn’t his son. Had Apollymi truly loved him, she would never have allowed Styxx to end him. God knows, she suffered much to protect Kissare and their offspring.”

  “Then who’s Acheron’s real father?”

  “Only Apollymi knows.”

  Morgen smiled at this newfound knowledge and what it signified. “And the Fates.”

  “If they don’t, they will learn it.” He gave her one last kiss, then stepped away.

  She frowned at his actions. “Where are you off to?”

  “To find my demon. I have another errand for him.”

  Shake that moneymaker, baby! You go! Make that barrier pay! Kick it! Show us more biceps! Spank it till it bleeds! C’mon, you can do it. Pound it harder!”

  Urian growled at Medea and her sexual harassment.

  Falcyn turned around to glare at Medea as she sat on the ground beside Brogan and catcalled to them while he, Urian, Blaise, and Brandor sought some way to break through the barrier. Hands on hips, he narrowed his gaze at her. “Not helpful.”

  Medea put her hand up to her lips before she leaned closer to Brogan to whisper rather loudly. “Neither are their attempts, but notice it doesn’t stop them from trying.”

  Brogan laughed.

  Falcyn arched a brow at their misplaced humor. “Instead of heckling, woman, you could try helping.”

  She flashed a grin to expose a hint of fang. “I am helping. I’m giving you encouragement, dragonfly.”

  His jaw out of joint, he turned toward Urian. “Would you consider this encouraging?”

  “Coming from my sister? Yeah. She’s not throwing things at you or directly insulting us and our parentage. Hell of an improvement, you ask me. Makes me wonder what you’ve done to her that she actually located some semblance of humor.”

  Medea shot a blast at Urian, who deftly dodged it.

  Laughing, he returned it with one of his own, knowing she wouldn’t let it hit her.

  “Hey!” Falcyn snapped, shoving Urian aside. “Play nice! You hurt your sister and I’ll fry your ass. Ash or no Ash.”

  Medea righted herself from where she’d dove to miss Urian’s blast. “You tell him, sweet cheeks.”

  Urian scowled. “Is she drunk?” He glanced back at Blaise and Brandor. “What did you throw on her again?”

  “Water.” Brandor wiped at his brow.

  Yeah, that wasn’t the way she was acting. Urian was beginning to think a pod person had kidnapped her.

  Medea scoffed. “I’m fine. We’re just enjoying the sight of male stubbornness at its prime best, and wondering at what point the lot of you will cede defeat.” She glanced over to Brogan. “How long have they been pounding this poor defenseless shell now?”

  “At least an hour.” Brogan wrinkled her nose.

  Blaise shot a sudden blast at it that recoiled and hit Brandor squarely in the chest. The blast knocked him back fifteen feet and sent him head over h

eels until he landed on his side in a smoking heap.

  Medea burst out laughing again.

  With a groan, he pushed himself into a seated position to glare at Blaise. “Really, mandrake? Really?”

  Squeaking in fear for her brother, Brogan scrambled to her feet to check on Brandor and to make sure he didn’t attack Blaise out of anger over his indignity.

  “You know, Falcyn,” Medea taunted. “I think that puts the wall over for bonus points on all your sorry hides.”

  “At least we’re doing something. You could try your hand at it, you know?”

  “Why? It’s obviously not budging. If sheer force of will could open it, I’d give it to you and it would have surrendered ten hours ago.”

  “One hour ago.”

  “Tomayto, tomahto.” Leaning on her side, she propped her head on her hand. “I should go ahead and take a nap while the lot of you waste your time.”

  Urian was ignoring their sniping banter. At least until a sharp light almost blinded him.

  Summoning a god-bolt, he was about to release it when the shadow took the form of a man he knew well. And one he trusted not at all.

  The moment he saw the glow engulfing their hands, Shadow drew up short and set fire to his own hands as if to retaliate. “Whoa! Down, boy!”

  “What are you doing here?”

  After allowing the fire in his hands to go out, Shadow tugged one of the three amulets he wore about his neck over his head. “I have a present for you.”

  “It’s a portal key,” Blaise said instantly. “I can feel it on him.”

  “The mandrake would be correct. Varian sent me to escort the lot of you out of here.”

  “We need to get back to Sanctuary,” Medea rose to her feet. “We’ve wasted enough time.”

  “First we have to free the dragons at Camelot,” Blaise reminded her. Yeah, Urian was definitely on Blaise’s side with this one.

  Medea rolled her eyes. “They’re statues, right? Been that way for centuries. What’s a few more days? Meanwhile my people are dying even as we speak. We need to save them!”

  Blaise approached her with angry strides. He stopped right in front of her so that he could speak in sharp staccato beats. “If they free the dragons, they’ll tear through your Daimons. They’ll die anyway.”

  Brandor growled at her. “And Falcyn’s sister is among those being held. She’ll be the first slaughtered should she wake her. Would you condemn her, too?”

  Urian’s heart stopped at those words.

  Shit. He was being asked to choose between Davyn and Xyn. He couldn’t make that call.

  If either died because of him, he’d never be able to live with himself.

  Shadow frowned as he listened to them arguing. After a second round of their escalating pitches, he whistled. “While this argument is really un-amusing and unproductive, and I couldn’t care less about the outcome, I feel obligated to mention something you might find interesting.” He waited until all of them were facing him before he spoke again. “Why would Maddor be summoned for this? Seems a massive waste of his talents, if you ask me.”

  The color faded from Falcyn’s face. “What delusions are you suffering?”

  “No delusions, friend. Right before I left, they sent a guard after him and I’m sure it wasn’t for coffee or tea, or for an afternoon snack. They usually only call him out for war.”

  Medea cursed under her breath and turned to face Falcyn. “They’re planning to use him to lure you, aren’t they?”

  Falcyn nodded. “So it’s a trap.”

  “Urian?” She pulled the ring from her pinkie and held it out to him. “Go to Davyn and make sure he’s all right. Tell him I’ll be there with the dragonstone as soon as I can. Please keep him safe for me.”

  Yeah, right. And leave Xyn alone? Was she insane?

  No chance in hell.

  Falcyn gave her a puzzled stare. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m not about to let you walk into that nightmare without someone at your back. God or whatever you are, you’ll still need some support.”

  “What about your people?”

  “They’re not my son. But Maddor is yours.” Tears blurred her vision. “For that, we march to hell itself.” Urian suddenly realized just how deep Medea’s feelings were for Falcyn, and he honestly didn’t know how to feel at that moment.

  Falcyn stepped around her. “Shadow, get Urian back to Sanctuary. We’ll—”

  “Ah, no,” Urian said, interrupting him. “We stay together.” He wasn’t going any place until he knew Xyn was safe.

  Shadow grimaced. “Oh yeah, ’cause a large, unfamiliar motley group sneaking through a castle would never get noticed. By anyone. Or get reported. Sounds like a great suicide plan to me. So glad Varian volunteered me for this happy venture into torture and hell. Bastard fey rat that he is!”

  Falcyn draped his arm over Medea. “You sure about this? Shadow’s right. Heading in there with us isn’t the sanest bet.”

  She nodded.

  “All right then, demon, off to see what trouble we can find.”

  Shadow let out a fierce groan. “Why do I always end up with the crazy ones?”

  Urian smirked. “Birds of a feather?”

  Shadow didn’t appear the least bit amused. “Now I remember why I don’t like you.” He swept his gaze to Blaise and Falcyn. “Any of you, as far as that goes.”

  With a deep breath, Shadow cracked his knuckles. “All right, kids. Last chance. Those who want a ticket to Sanity, raise your hand and we go out the portal to your home realm.”

  He waited a full minute before he let out an exaggerated groan. “Okay then, suicide it is. Buckle up, buttercups. Keep your hands inside the cart at all times and try not to get your heads chopped off. Thank you for choosing to ride the Grand Stupidity today, and for dragging me into this when I’d much rather be at home, sorting my dirty underwear and watching the grass grow.”

  “Oh, stop whining.” Blaise clapped him on the arm. “You love the excitement.”

  “Yeah, you keep believing those lies, mandrake, and inhaling those fumes.” Shadow manifested a long rope.

  Medea frowned as he stepped toward Brogan with it. “What are you doing?”

  He paused to give her an irritated grimace. “Well, punkin, if we march in through the front doors, your enemies will descend on us like vultures on nummy roadkill. And while I do have more stupidity than the average man and a certain flair for theatrics, I can really do without a thorough gutting. Fact is, I’m doing my best to avoid the experience for the entirety of my exceptionally long life.” He knotted the rope around Brogan’s waist.

  “You plan to take us through the Shadows.” Brogan’s voice was scarcely more than a whisper.

  He nodded. “If we teleport in, Morgen will know instantly. Only safe way in or out is through my realm.”

  Medea was even more confused as Shadow moved to loop and tie Brogan to Brandor. “And so I ask again … why the rope?”

  “Keeps you from getting lost in the dark, princess.” Shadow moved next to Blaise.

  Her heart stopped beating as she finally understood. “The thread between the worlds?”

  Shadow nodded. “Home sweet fucking home. The rope is to keep anything from snatching one of you away from me while we move through it.”

  Because to get lost there was to never be seen again. The darkness was ever hungry and sought any nourishment it could find.

  Life being its number one sustenance.

  Shadow roped everyone together and then double-checked the knots to make sure everyone was linked together.

  He then lifted his arm and drew a series of symbols, reminiscent of an orchestra conductor directing a band only he could hear, and began a melancholic humming from deep inside his chest, haunting and thrumming. He picked up the crescendo and as he did so, the air around them stirred.

  One moment they were standing outside, and in the next they were in a blurry, swirling world of dark sepia. It was like being trapped inside an old nickelodeon machine. Everything had a jerky, surreal feel to it, leaving them disoriented and a bit queasy.

  “It’ll take a few minutes to get your bearings.” Shadow’s voice sounded as distorted as the scenery.

  “Why is everything so weird here?” Brogan asked.

  “You’re in the lining of the worlds. Think of it like a hollow realm.” Shadow held his left hand up and a small porthole appeared to show them a bright sunny park where children played a game of chase. “From here, you can venture anywhere. Past. Present. Future. In all the worlds.” He closed the porthole and opened one on his right that showed a storming sea.

  It was both beautiful and terrifying.

  Shadow walked forward, leading them through his eerie domain.

  Time truly had no meaning here, and they couldn’t tell if they had been walking for minutes or days when Shadow suddenly stopped and let out a foul curse as the sound of a howling came through the air.

  They all turned and could suddenly now make out the sounds of the Crom’s horse as he rushed toward them.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  What appeared to be a hundred shadow dogs followed in his wake, with their yellow eyes glowing.

  Urian curled his lip at the sight of them.

  Shadow handed the rope to Falcyn. “Stay on the road. Move forward and I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

  “What are you—”

  “Go!” he roared at Falcyn. “Forward. Don’t stop! If the barking dogs get to you, you’re finished.”

  Falcyn rushed forward, dragging them in his wake. They ran up a small hill and turned back just in time to see Shadow overrun by the demonic dogs he’d sought to hold back from their heels.

  Medea’s eyes widened at the horrific sight. “We’re dead.”

  Urian, Blaise, Falcyn, and Brandor took positions between Medea and Brogan as the rabid dogs approached them.

  There was nothing left of where Shadow had been overrun by them.

  Not even a drop of blood. It appeared as if he’d been completely devoured. Every last bit. Body and soul.

  Louder and louder, the barking and snarling grew. Brogan reached out and took her hand. Then, just as the twisted demonic dogs reached them, the shadowed earth shot up at a right angle, forming a wall between them and the demonic beasts. They slammed into it and howled out in agony. Swirling and twisting like smoke, the ground formed a giant hand that sent the animals scattering and running off into the dark.

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