Stygian (The Dark-Hunter World Book 28)

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  “Who leads the Were-Hunters?”

  “You mean the Omegrion?”

  “Not that. Who are the founders of it? The first blood children?”

  “The Kattalakis princes. Dragons and wolves.”

  That still didn’t seem to pacify her.

  She cut a gimlet stare toward his father and then him. “I leave it up to you, Strykerius, if you want to allow the Were-Hunters a haven here. They are cousins to you, after all. Their blood … and souls should feed you, being that they are hybrids.”

  There was something Urian hadn’t thought about. But the goddess was right. They were chimeras and since she’d pointed it out, he could detect the soul within them.

  That baby was ripe for the plucking, and he wasn’t the only one to know it. Several of his men around him were now salivating.

  But his father quickly put a stop to that. “So long as they hold to Eirini Law, so will we.”

  Damn those peace laws.

  Nicander inclined his head respectfully. “Thank you. And know that my people are setting up limanis with Savitar’s approval and his oversight. Not even a Dark-Hunter can breach their sanctity without suffering his wrath. It’s a place where Daimon, Apollite, and Were-Hunter can gather in the human realm in peace.”

  “And if the humans attack?”

  A slow smile spread across Nicander’s face at Urian’s question. “Come in peace or leave in pieces.” He turned back toward Apollymi. “We’re slowly learning to live among humans. Although a lot of Apollites have done what you have. They’ve moved to underground communes. We’re setting up networks, with signs that will subtly alert our kind without the humans knowing.”

  “About time,” Archie growled.

  Paris rubbed his back, but he shrugged off his sympathetic touch. Not that Urian blamed him. He’d now lost all of his children and his wife to Dark-Hunters, and three grandchildren. They were sick of their predators.

  Right now, they were losing this war. Not even their aunt Satara was able to help them with the information she gleaned from spying on Artemis and Apollo while she attended Artemis as one of her handmaidens in her temple on Olympus.

  There had to be more they could do.

  And Urian was done with this. He motioned for his team and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” his father asked.

  He smirked. “Same as what I always do, Solren. Going out and getting even.”

  “What does he mean by that?” Nicander asked as they stepped through the portal and vanished.

  Apollymi laughed. “Those are my Stygian Thánati. They hunt and slay the Dark-Hunters who prey on Daimons.”

  Stryker smiled as he pointed to the ornate display of weapons on the far wall. “Those are their trophies, taken from every Hunter they’ve slain.”

  “Are they rewarded for it?”

  Stryker’s eyes flashed red at the stupidity of that question. “Of course they are. Satisfaction in the destruction of your enemy is its own reward. No one understands that better than their commander.”

  “And who is their leader?”

  “My son, Urian.”

  Urian froze as they came up against a familiar power.

  Eleni was the first to step toward it, but he caught her arm and shook his head. “You need to return. Every one of you.”

  All six members of his guard turned in unison to gape at him, as those were never the orders he gave.

  His second-in-command, Spawn, in particular, had rebellion in his eyes.

  Urian tightened his grip on his shield. “I mean it. Spawn, take my son and the others and lead them back.”

  He saw that same rebellion in his son’s eyes, but he knew better than to question him.

  As did Spawn. They’d fought together too many times for him to start questioning him now. “Aye, kyrios.”

  Urian stayed behind to cover their retreat. They had barely vanished when he was hit with a blast so hard it staggered him, but somehow he managed to remain standing.

  “Why do you carry the shield of Styxx of Didymos?”

  “I don’t.”

  Another blast almost tore his arm off. “You think I don’t recognize that symbol!” The fury in that tone almost shattered his eardrums.

  Urian sent his own blast toward his attacker. Though he couldn’t see him, he hoped he was close to the mark.

  It was then he saw Acheron. He planted his staff in the ground and used it as leverage so that he could kick him back with both of his feet.

  Urian stumbled back and landed on his ass. He scrambled to rise and used his powers to gather his kopis back into his hand.

  “Who are you?”

  He lifted his chin with pride. “Urian Strykeros.”

  That took the anger out of him. “The one they call Thánatago.”

  “You’ve heard of me?”

  Before he could blink, Acheron was in front of him. No longer human in appearance, he was in a full Charonte form. Horns, wings, and mottled blue skin.

  Stunned, Urian couldn’t breathe. He’d always been told that no Charonte existed outside those that served Apollymi. What the hell was this bastard?

  “You insult me with that shield and by killing my soldiers,” Acheron growled.

  “Your Dark-Hunters insult me by murdering my family.”

  “Boy, you don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

  He laughed at Acheron’s threat. “We were born enemies the minute you set your soldiers after my people.”

  Growling, Acheron blasted him.

  Urian caught it with his glowing arm and returned the blast. The shock on Acheron’s face was priceless. With a battle cry, Urian charged his sword with his powers and went in to attack. Just as he would have struck, a portal opened and grabbed him, sucking him back to Kalosis.

  He was slammed unceremoniously to the ground at his father’s feet so hard that for a full minute he thought he’d shattered every bone in his body.

  Gaping, his father stood, then rushed to his side. He pulled Urian’s helmet from his head and quickly checked him for injuries as Apollymi appeared in one of her finer rages.

  Typhoon winds whipped through the hall, tearing at the Apollites and Daimons gathered there and sending anything not tied down flying. Her white hair spiraled around her body as she glared at the two of them.

  “You. Don’t. Ever. Attack. The. Elekti!” Those short, clipped words reverberated through the hall.

  Since his father hadn’t been there, he had no idea what she was talking about. “What?”

  She pointed out Urian. “He attacked that which is never to be touched. If you ever dare strike the Elekti again, I will have you flayed until there is nothing left of you but the marrow of your bones. Understood?”

  Given the amount of pain he was in? “Understood, akra.” Urian panted, trying to get his lungs to work again.

  Still in a huff, she vanished.

  His father cupped his cheek. “What happened?”

  Urian cradled his arm to his chest. It was definitely broken. “I don’t know. He’s the leader of the Dark-Hunters. Acheron. I think he’s part Charonte, or part god. He had powers unlike any I’ve ever seen or felt.”

  Hugging him, his father kissed his forehead. “All right. Let’s see you tended. And make sure you cut him a wide berth. In the future, I want you and the others to stay low and out of Acheron’s sight. Nothing is worth losing one of you.”

  Urian agreed out loud, but inside, he was seething. There was something wrong about this. All the way around.

  And he wanted to know what.

  February 18, 1650 BC

  Urian scowled as he heard a woman crying. That was not something he was expecting. Grimacing, he got up slowly from his bed and forced himself to stand in spite of his wounds and headed for where she seemed to be.

  From the opening of Xyn’s old cave in Kalosis, he saw Katra sitting alone near the falls, weeping.

  At first, he started to return to bed and leave her th
ere. It wasn’t his business. She definitely didn’t concern him.

  But those sobs were gut-wrenching. Sighing, he headed for her even while he called himself all kinds of stupid for it.

  “Here.”

  Kat looked up with a sharp gasp.

  Urian wiggled the handkerchief in front of her face.

  She took it and wiped her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Any time. Are you all right?”

  She blew her nose loudly, then skimmed his half-naked body, which was bruised and covered with healing injuries. “Better than you, obviously.”

  He wouldn’t argue that. He’d almost been gutted by a Dark-Hunter who’d been working with demons for helpers. Bastards. The worst was a massive cut across his chest. Half an inch closer and they would have had his mark and killed him.

  By the expression on Kat’s face, she realized it, too. She wiped her nose.

  “What happened to you?” he asked.

  With a ragged sigh, she shook her head. “Ever done something you’re really ashamed of?”

  A number of times, but one stood out above the others. “Broke my mother’s favorite dish when I was a boy and blamed my twin brother. Then let him take the beating for it.”

  “You’re such an asshole.”

  Urian shrugged. “That’s what my brothers tell me.” He’d have felt worse had Paris not done his own share of blaming him for things Paris had done. “Anyway, you were saying?”

  Katra pressed her hand to her forehead. “I did something … a favor for my mother. Now … it was wrong and I feel terrible and I think I really screwed up and I-I have no one to talk to about it.”

  Carefully, he sat down by her side. “Yeah, we’ve all been there. Well, maybe not there”—he gestured to where she was sitting—“but you get the idea.”

  She snorted. “I just don’t know how to fix this.”

  “What exactly did you do?”

  “I stole the powers of a god.”

  His eyebrows shot north as he fought the urge to step away from her. “You can do that?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, I’m not going to lie. That was pretty harsh.”

  “I know!” She started sobbing again.

  Urian felt terrible. “There, there.” He patted her awkwardly.

  She threw herself against his chest, which only made it all the more awkward since the only bit of clothing he had on was a shendyt.

  After a few minutes, she finally got hold of herself and pulled away. “Thank you, Urian.”

  “Not sure I did anything.”

  “You listened.” She wiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “It’s more than most people do. And where I come from, there wasn’t anyone who would do that much. So thank you.”

  “No problem.” He pushed himself up and groaned as pain cut through him.

  Kat frowned. “Why are you here by yourself?”

  Shrugging, Urian didn’t want to tell her the truth. He didn’t feel comfortable with his own family. He never really had. Paris had Davyn. His father was shacked up with three women he could barely tolerate. Archie had gone psychotic after the deaths of his family and stayed in an orgy most of the time. The rest just pitied him for being alone.

  And the one woman he wanted lived in the human realm and was banned from here. So he tended to stay as close to Xyn as he could. Which meant sleeping in her bed if he couldn’t sleep with her.

  At least here, he didn’t have to worry about waking up with one of his father’s leftover meals groping on him.

  Kat scowled as she studied his unbound hair. “Gah, it freaks me out to look at you.”

  “Gee, thanks,” he said sarcastically. “Way to bolster my ego.”

  “Sorry. You just remind me a lot of someone else.”

  Whatever. Urian started back for his cave. But he didn’t get far before Katra called out to him.

  “Hey, Uri?”

  He paused to look back at her.

  “The Dark-Hunters have one more weakness you don’t know about.”

  “And that is?”

  “If you put two of them together to fight, they weaken each other.”

  Stunned, he stared at her. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because they were created as pawns to manipulate and control someone very dear to me. And I don’t think it’s fair that he has to suffer because of them. While I don’t want to see the Dark-Hunters killed, I hate the fact that he’s been hurt over them even more. As much as I want to stop it, I can’t. But if you do …”

  Urian frowned at her words. There was more to it than that. He knew it with every instinct he had. Why would she tell him that now.

  Unless …

  Unless it had something to do with her guilt. “You’re the reason, aren’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Urian was incredulous as he put the pieces together in his mind. “Those powers that allowed you to drain a god … somehow they’re the same ones that created the Dark-Hunters, aren’t they?”

  She didn’t have to answer. The horrified expression on her face confirmed it. The guilt in her eyes.

  “You didn’t mean to do that either.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “We all make mistakes, Urian. Can you imagine what an incredible world this would be if we didn’t have to spend the rest of our lives paying for them?”

  Those words bit to the core of his soul and struck the mark she wanted them to. “Welcome to adulthood, princess. The time in our lives when we no longer have parents to scare the monsters out from under our beds. Rather, we realize that we’re the monsters who live under everyone else’s.”

  June 1, AD 780

  “Xyn!” Urian was nearly hysterical as he searched for his dragon.

  There was no sign of her. He’d waited all night at their rendezvous, and she’d never shown. So he’d done what he wasn’t supposed to …

  Come to her bower.

  By the looks of it, she hadn’t been here in a long, long time. A thick layer of dust covered everything. Even the bed. And that wasn’t like her. She was a meticulous housekeeper.

  This time, there were no notes. No gifts.

  Nothing.

  She was gone without a trace.

  Without a word.

  It was as if she’d never existed.

  Tears blurred his vision. Sarraxyn wouldn’t do this to him. She wouldn’t.

  Of all the creatures in the universe, she knew how much he needed her. That she was the one thing he relied on. His only tenderness. And if she wasn’t here and this place was in this condition, it could mean only one thing.

  She was dead.

  His knees buckled. Urian hit the floor as he choked on a sob. Of all the deaths, and there had been so many in his lifetime, this one was the hardest to bear. He pressed his fist to his mouth and sank his fangs into it. How could she be gone?

  In that moment, he wanted to join her. Truly, he couldn’t think of a single reason not to. What was he fighting for at this point?

  They had no hope of breaking this curse. Of seeing daylight. His father was a fool for even thinking it. Damned and cursed. Forever banished to darkness.

  Closing his eyes, he tried not to think of the night he’d watched Geras die by the hands of a Dark-Hunter. The pain-filled look on his son’s face when he’d been unable to reach him in time. That panic and fear an instant before he’d shattered into dust.

  Or Nephele, who’d gone too long without a soul.

  She’d been sitting right beside him when she’d just burst apart. To this day, Urian didn’t know if she’d simply been inattentive to the signs that she needed to replenish, or if it’d been a form of suicide. If it had, she wasn’t the only Daimon to do so. It was so common, they even had a name for it—suntribó.

  That moment when they just became too tired to continue. When the voices wore them down and the deaths of those around them were more than they could contend with.

  When they felt just like he did
right now. Life was too harsh and they just gave up.

  Lifting his knees, Urian cradled his head with his arms and wept. Not for himself, but for those he loved. Gods, it hurt so much. So deep.

  And he was so tired of it.

  How could he hope now? The last bit of his kindness and goodness was gone.

  Without her, he had nothing. He was nothing.

  His body shaking, he stared with blurry vision at the dakruon that were tattooed along his hand and forearm in an intricate pattern. Black teardrops to mark the deaths of everyone he loved. There were so goddamn many.

  Now there would be one more.

  He drew a ragged breath as his gaze went to the phoenix on his shield. He bore that same mark on his biceps.

  His totem animal. From this too, I will rise. Though he didn’t know how. He couldn’t imagine how. But he would. Xyn would be the first to kick his ass.

  We are warriors.

  And his dragon wouldn’t have given her heart to anything but the strongest of the strong. “You cannot break me,” he whispered. “I’m already shattered.”

  October 3, AD 801

  Spawn, Paris, and Davyn sat across from Urian as they watched the intriguing crowd around them. The Varangians in particular held their interest, as they were known to have some of the strongest souls of the bunch.

  “I thought the Rus were supposed to rape and pillage,” Spawn muttered irritably as he watched them carouse and revel in friendly comradery.

  Paris snorted. “You can always go Kassandrian. I won’t tell.” Kassandrians were the branch of Daimons who lacked all semblance of decency or ethics. They didn’t care who or what they preyed upon. Even children and pregnant women were fair game. And they were a pariah to all the rest of them.

  Which meant Paris was joking.

  No one could stand a Kassandrian. To prey on a pregnant woman or child was forbidden to them. They were exiled and turned out immediately. Much like a trelos. The only difference being that a trelos couldn’t control their behavior. A Kassandrian knew exactly what they were doing. They just didn’t care. Nothing mattered except their own petty selfishness.

  Truly, they were disgusting creatures.