Acheron ignored them. “What time?”
They both exchanged an exaggerated gape at his unorthodox question.
“Say what?” Urian asked.
“I’ll be there.” Acheron hung up, started to slide the phone into his pocket, and then pulled it out again and dialed it. “I just realized I don’t have your address.”
Now, Urian really was floored. He turned back to Alexion. “Oh yeah, total Armageddon coming. We better duck and cover.”
“I shall see you later then.” Acheron hung up and glared at both of them. “Mind your own business.” Then he vanished.
Alexion let out a nervous laugh. “You know, I would say that Acheron has a girlfriend, but that makes my sphincter clinch.”
“Hey, anything’s possible.”
He laughed nervously. “No, Urian. It’s not. And this definitely isn’t. Trust me. No one wants Acheron dating.”
Maybe, but if Acheron was happy, then maybe he could reconcile him with Styxx and get Acheron to stop paying attention long enough for him to kill his father. Because a morose Ash was a focused Ash. If Urian had learned anything over the last few years, it was that he couldn’t get anything past that bastard. Acheron seemed to be everywhere.
And he watched Urian like a hawk.
But love made men and gods stupid.
It was what had gotten Urian’s entire race cursed. If Ash had a girlfriend, then Urian had a chance for vengeance.
November 1, 2008
Urian woke up to the most glorious smell of bacon. Now that alone almost made living worthwhile. At least it made the fact he was no longer a Daimon worthwhile.
Getting up, he quickly dressed and headed for the kitchen, where Danger and Alexion were in the middle of some heated discussion over something.
“What are we talking about?” Urian asked as he joined them. “Do I smell bacon?”
She sighed irritably. “Teach a Daimon to eat real food and he’s impossible.” She went to make more for him. “We were talking about your houseguest you didn’t mention feeding.”
Urian’s eyes widened as he realized he’d been caught. “Um …”
“Don’t worry. You’re not in trouble. I was just telling Alexion that I think there’s a lot more to him than we’ve been told.”
Grateful that she was being reasonable where Styxx was concerned, Urian nodded. “No shit, right? You know who he is?” he asked Alexion.
He gave Urian a droll stare. “Acheron’s brother.”
Urian returned the stare full force. “You ever heard of the Stygian Omada?”
“I’m Groesian. Of course I’ve heard of them. Who hasn’t?”
Danger looked up from the frying bacon. “Well, I’m French and confused. What’s the Stygian Armada—”
“Stygian Omada,” Urian repeated.
“They were a legendary army that waged war against Atlantis,” Alexion explained. “In all of Greek history, it was the only army that ever fought on Atlantean soil and won. They were practically on the main steps of the palace when they were called back to Greece for peace talks.”
“Yeah.” Urian jerked his chin in the direction of the temple where Styxx was staying. “And brother Styxx was their general the army was named for.”
“Bullshit!” Alexion roared in denial.
“No. Real. I saw the battle scars on him myself. Ash has always said he was from Atlantis. He’s never mentioned the Greek city-state he was born in so I didn’t know.… But Styxx is Styxx of Didymos.”
Alexion gaped. “You’re shitting me.”
Urian shook his head sarcastically.
“Again, French Revolution here. Les Mis, I get. This …” She wagged the spatula. “My extent of Greek history is Troy with Brad Pitt and”—she looked over at Alexion—“Mr. Luscious in his armor.”
Alexion went bug-eyed. “Please don’t call me that in front of Urian.”
Urian laughed, then sobered and explained it to her. “Didymos was the Athens of its day, and Athens was not much more than a big village back then. The largest and strongest of the Greek city-states, Didymos was two border islands that buffered the rest of Greece from Atlantis. And Styxx was the greatest, most successful general in their long and prestigious military history. His battle tactics and the way he ran his army were studied extensively by the soldiers of my time. We all wanted to grow up and be him. In fact, the way he trained and the principles his mentor taught him were the foundation of the Spartans and their military ethics. That’s how good he was. But in all my readings about Didymos and Styxx, I never saw more than one prince mentioned.… Him. And nothing of a princess in anything, not that that was unusual.” He held his hand up to Danger to stop her before she spoke. “And don’t lecture me on ancient stupidity and their treatment of women.… I am not personally responsible for misogynistic ancient writers just because I happen to be male.”
He looked back at Alexion and resumed their discussion. “Because of that, and the fact that he and Ash were babies when they died, I never made the connection that Acheron’s brother Styxx was the leader of the famed Stygian League.” But now that he thought about it, he should have realized that Styxx’s sister was Ryssa. That had been really dense on his part not to put that together.
Alexion snorted. “That explains his arrogance.”
“But he’s not arrogant,” Urian and Danger said simultaneously.
“Yeah,” Urian said, grabbing a slice of bacon, “what she said.”
She put more bacon on a plate for Urian. “He’s sweet, Alexion. Really sweet.”
Swallowing his bacon, Urian laughed. “I would not use that word myself for him. He’s lethal and you can’t miss it, but I’ll be honest. I’d call Ash arrogant before I would Styxx.”
Alexion sucked his breath in sharply. “Don’t let Acheron hear you say that.”
“I know. Believe me.” Urian sighed heavily. “Man, I don’t know what happened between them, but it’s a damn shame. Can you imagine having Styxx of Didymos train you to fight?”
“Be like taking lessons from Achilles or Alexander the Great.”
“That settles it then,” Danger said as she put the uncooked bacon back in the refrigerator.
“What?” Urian asked.
“We’ve got to reconcile them.”
Alexion burst out laughing. “That is a pipe dream, honey. I’ve known Acheron for over nine thousand years. And it will be freezing on the equator before Acheron forgives Styxx for what he did.”
She shrugged. “Well, you know what they say—”
Urian passed a knowing stare to Alexion. “We who are about to die salute you?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. Over, under, around, or through, there’s always a way.”
Urian snorted at her optimism. “Unless the rock falls on you while you’re trying to go under it. Then you’re toast.”
Alexion laughed. “Well, she is French.”
Urian brushed his hands off as he left them to plot. Personally, he didn’t want to know. Last time he’d been embroiled in something like this …
He’d lost Phoebe in the worst sort of way. And in the back of his mind, he kept seeing the huge sun emblem on Styxx’s back. Given how much that man hated Apollo, he couldn’t imagine he’d put it there.
A mark like that reminded him of the Dark-Hunter bow that Artemis placed on all of her Dark-Hunters. Or the Spathi marks that he and his brethren had from Apollymi. Ownership brands from the gods.
Marks those bastards had worn when they’d attacked Sheba’s tribe.
For thousands of years, they’d been fighting this war with the gods. Against Apollo and Helios. Artemis and Apollymi. While they all wanted to pretend they were something more than pawns, Urian was beginning to doubt if they were anything but.
Was there ever such a thing as free will?
His mind went back to what he’d told his father about Oedipus. He was no longer sure if he had the right answer. Did they bring about their own downfall?
Or were the god
s just that damn determined to ruin them that even if they hadn’t taken the steps necessary for their own destruction, the gods would have found some other means to wreak their havoc upon them?
It certainly felt that way right now. That none of them had control of anything. Not even the gods.
And in the middle of their petty feuds stood mankind and the Apollites, both of whom were getting their asses kicked.
Urian sighed.
November 4, 2008
“Who the fuck let him out?”
Urian snorted at Acheron’s unwarranted hostile tone over his casual mention that Styxx was outside the throne room, waiting to see him. In fact, the poor man had been out there for hours, waiting.
Yeah, Ash was definitely Apollymi’s son. He saw the resemblance right now in this little tantrum over something trivial. All they needed was a herd of angry Charonte spiraling about, devouring Daimons, and the picture would be perfect.
Bitterly amused, Urian smirked. “The girl ghost who wants the two of you to kiss and make up.”
“I’d rather be hit in the head with the tack hammer Tory threw at me.”
“Tory?” Urian asked.
“Long story.” Acheron let out a tired sigh. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll go deal with him.”
Deal with him … yeah. Nice. Urian shook his head at his irritable boss, as he felt really sorry for his friend. But at least he now had a name to go with the woman Ash had been seeing.
And an explanation for Acheron’s fluctuating moods.
The doors behind Urian flew open in a staunch show of power that Ash only used whenever he was in an Apollymi-style mood. Dressed in an Atlantean formesta that bore Acheron’s sun symbol and a pair of black leather pants, he walked toward Styxx like a predator.
Urian was so glad he wasn’t the one that bitter scowl was directed toward, but he hated the fact that Styxx had the unfortunate luck.
“I’m really not in the mood to deal with you, Styxx. What little patience I have was eaten alive about two minutes ago.”
To Styxx’s credit, he didn’t flinch at all. Nor did he get angry. He stood there calm and strangely tranquil. “I know. I can sense your moods … it was a gift—” Yeah, okay, Urian detected a bit of sarcasm in those words. “From Artemis when she threw me into Tartarus. I’m only here to ask you one favor.”
Acheron sneered at him. “You would dare ask another favor of me?”
Styxx’s countenance broke to say that he was baffled by Ash’s accusation. Apparently he didn’t remember ever asking anything from his brother.
Urian wisely chose to stay out of this. He’d been thrown into enough walls in his lifetime already.
A tic started in Styxx’s cheek before he took a deep breath and then spoke in a well-measured tone. “I ask as your brother and as a supplicant to a god.”
“As a supplicant, what sacrifice do you offer for this favor?”
Urian gaped. While Ash, like anyone else, could have moments of irritability, he’d never once seen him be a total asshole to anyone before.
Not even to his father, and Stryker had deserved it.
Wow, this was a side of Ash he hadn’t known existed. But then again, Archie and Theo had often brought out the worst beast in him, too. So he wouldn’t judge Ash.
Family was hard. No one could bleed you more or cut you deeper than blood relatives.
And the rigidity of Styxx’s body language and the fact that he didn’t pop Ash one said it all. Whatever was between them was bad.
When Styxx finally spoke, his words confirmed it. “My heart.”
Acheron scowled. “I don’t understand.”
Styxx took a deep, ragged breath. “I offered you my loyalty and it wasn’t enough. So in this, I offer my heart to you. If I lie or betray you, you can rip it out over and over again. Chain me next to Prometheus on his rock.”
Damn. Yeah, it must really be bad and then some.
“And what favor do you ask?”
“Let me go.” Styxx’s voice broke slightly on those words, and they brought a lump to Urian’s throat. “I can’t live here anymore, isolated from people. I just want to have some kind of peace that neither of us ever had a chance to experience.” He looked past Ash to Urian.
I feel you, brother. And he did. Better than anyone. But unlike Styxx, Urian had never really lived in the world of man. He didn’t feel at home there. It was too wide. Too open. Too effing bright.
He’d tried to live in the boathouse and it hadn’t lasted six months. Lucky for him, Acheron had taken mercy and allowed him to live here with Alexion. Otherwise, Urian would have gone insane.
Finally Ash answered Styxx’s request. “Fine. You’ll have everything you need to start over.”
Before Styxx could finish expelling a relieved breath, he was sucked out of the throne room.
Acheron turned around to glare at him.
“Where did you send him?”
“None of your business,” he growled.
“Okay then. Love our chats, boss.”
Ash didn’t say a word.
Alexion shook his head. “You know, Urian, I can’t decide if you’re the bravest person I know or the dumbest to taunt him the way you do.”
Urian snorted. “Neither, Lex. The answer to that puzzle is a lot simpler. I’m suicidal. Just don’t give a shit if he kills me or not. In the immortal words of Janis Joplin, ‘Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.’ ”
And the one thing that Urian never talked about to anyone, not even Acheron, was the fact that his father hadn’t killed him mercifully.
He thought about that a lot. His father prided himself on the fact that he didn’t like to torture those he deemed worthy. Those he respected.
Worthy opponents, he put down quickly.
He only tortured those he thought of as weak and vile.
Which raised the question of why he’d chosen to slice open Urian’s throat as opposed to stabbing him in his Daimon’s mark. That would have been a quick and painless death. So fast, Urian wouldn’t have even felt it. He’d have been gone and Acheron wouldn’t have been able to put him back together.
Which meant either his father knew that Acheron would save him, and he would live out eternity, isolated from his friends, family, and home, agonizing over the loss of Phoebe, or his father intended for Urian to bleed out slowly, in agony, knowing his father had killed him.
Either way, his father was a cold, mean son of a whore.
And Urian had yet to find some way to settle the score between them.
November 8, 2008
“Are you sure about this, Urian?”
Urian scoffed at Acheron’s doubt when he’d told him what was going on, as he waited for Spawn and Davyn to join him in the restaurant where he was meeting them. Like he would have wasted Ash’s time on a rumor …
“Absolutely—it pays to have friends on the dark side. Stryker’s sending out scouts even as I speak to find that journal, at any and all costs.”
Come to find out Ash’s little girlfriend was an archaeologist who’d been busy digging up “dirt” Urian’s father wanted in the worst way.
Now his father had a hit on them.
“He wants to take down Artemis and Apollo and absorb their powers. He’s also hoping there’s something in the journal she found to hurt you, which now has your mom going apeshit and sending out her demons to look for it too.” Urian laughed evilly. “Welcome to Armageddon, buddy. Looks like they’re starting without you.”
“Thanks for the warning. Let me know if you hear anything else.”
“Will do.” Urian hung up the phone as Spawn finally showed up for their meeting and slid into the booth seat across from him.
Dressed black on black, in jeans, a turtleneck, and a motorcycle jacket, he reached over for one of Urian’s fries.
Urian popped his hand for the affront. “Did I say you could do that?”
“Really? You’d deprive one of your best men basic sustenance?”
“Yeah, well, we’re not Daimons anymore. Get your own order.”
“Fine, irritable asshole.” Spawn grabbed a menu from the table to look at it. “So why am I here, anyway?”
Because Urian was homesick and he couldn’t admit that out loud.
To anyone.
“Figured you needed an outing and you make more money than I do.”
Spawn rolled his eyes. “Awesome.” He paused as the waitress came over and he ordered a shake and burger … with his own fries.
Urian tried not to stare at his old friend. Like him, he had white-blond hair, only Lucian’s was cropped short, but longer on top and in front. He also bore the same blue eyes that had made Urian an outcast as a boy among their people.
For similar reasons. Spawn’s father had been a Dream-Hunter, which was why he had heightened powers most Apollites didn’t.
Damn, it was good to see his old friend. They really didn’t get to do this much. Spawn was lucky that like Urian, he hadn’t been killed by being staked through the heart. He’d been bled out. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to come back as a Dark-Hunter.
Well, “lucky” wasn’t the right word given that he’d died trying to save his Apollite wife and children from humans who’d cornered them and thought it would be fun to expose them to daylight. Urian was the only one who knew Lucian had actually been a Daimon before his death. Or that he’d served in their elite guard.
As bad as the Dark-Hunters hated him, thinking he was an Apollite, they both knew it would be a lot worse if the Dark-Hunters ever learned the truth.
“So you’re homesick.”
Urian laughed. “Tuck the telepathy and get out of my thoughts.”
“You know I can’t. You’re too close to me.”
He growled, then sighed. “What the hell? Read away.”
Before Spawn could say anything, Davyn walked in and took a seat beside Urian. “Man, whatever you or Acheron did … Stryker is pissed off.” He slid a small packet toward Urian.
“What’s this?”
“My ass.”
Spawn arched a brow at that. “Your ass fits into an envelope that size? I’m impressed. Mine barely fit into my jeans tonight. And after I eat everything I ordered, I doubt it’ll fit into them tomorrow.”
Stygian (The Dark-Hunter World Book 28) Page 47
