Styxx (DH #33) (94 page)

But she had been nicer to him than the rest of her pantheon. Unlike the other buildings around him, that one held no horrible reminders of his time here.

Before he realized what he was doing, he headed for it. Though it was dark, the full moon cast enough light that he could see a great deal. Like the hall Acheron had dumped him in, it was pristine. It appeared as if she’d return any moment to reclaim it.

He went straight to the back, where the bathing pool was. The room was just as he remembered. He glanced to the white chaise where she had sat, watching him. As he headed toward it, he saw the tray of salts and lotions she’d place by the side of the pool for his use.

Kneeling down, he lifted the lids and froze as he caught a whiff of Bethany’s eucalyptus and lilies. But then this had been her patron goddess. It made sense that she’d use fragrances sacred to Agriosa.

He started to put it back, but he couldn’t. He wanted to keep it with him for a little while.

His gaze went to the room where the goddess had taken him to sleep. Cradling the small urn that smelled like Bethany, he headed for it and pushed the door open to see the same huge bed with red curtains that she’d tucked him into. Her symbol—a woman holding a bow—hung on the wall above it.

Against his will, he crossed the room and set the urn on the small table by the bed. He wondered if Agriosa had died at the same time Bethany had. Or if Apollymi had killed the blond goddess of wrath before then.

Not that it mattered. Both were gone and neither had deserved what Apollymi had done to them.

Styxx pulled the covers back and slid into the soft bed … it’d been years since he last slept on a mattress. He buried his face into the pillow that smelled so much like Bethany that it made his eyes water all over again.
I would give anything to wake up in your arms.

To feel her hand in his hair.

A sad smile curved his lips as he remembered her irritation when he’d all but shaved his head after Apollo and his father had used his hair to savage him one time too many. If not for her, he’d have never grown it out again.

But as much as he hated his hair, she’d loved to play in it and would spend hours at night twirling the strands around her fingers. Even when she slept, she reached out for it.

“Why do you enjoy my hair so?”

“It fascinates me. You’re so hard everywhere else, but your lips and hair are like the down of a duckling. And I love the waves in it, and how good it smells. Grow it to your knees and I’ll knit a sweater from it. Then I could have it with me all the time.”

“If I did that, Beth, you’d have no use for me. I might never see you again.”

She’d let out a heavy sigh.
“Damn, you’re on to me. Guess I’ll never get that sweater now. I shall be stuck with you forever. Oh, the absolute horror of it all.”

He’d laughed at her teasing.

Styxx clutched at the pillow as a sob choked him. It ever seemed his fate to lose the ones he loved, and then be stuck with something unsubstantial to hold on to that reminded him of them. Closing his eyes, he let the agony of it all wash over him. All he’d ever wanted was what Acheron had always taken for granted.

A single family member who loved him.

One.

As a boy, Acheron had held Styxx’s love and loyalty, as well as Ryssa’s. Acheron had always had Ryssa’s heart, for that matter. While Styxx had been left with her wrath and rancor.

Over the centuries while Styxx had languished alone, Acheron had raised his Charonte daughter and been protected by Savitar, and Acheron’s army of Dark-Hunters who loved and adored him. For almost eight thousand years, Acheron had Alexion here as his steward and brother.

It was so unfair.

“Listen to me, boy. Fair has no place in this world. Only infants whine about fairness. Men have more important battles to fight … And life, like war, is neither right nor wrong. It just is. And rather than worry over a philosophy you can’t change, you should just try to live through it as best you can.”

Galen was right and he knew it. But it didn’t make it easier to bear.

“I can’t keep living like this.”

After all the sins he’d committed, Acheron had found his place in the world and managed to have a decent life.…

Other than having to continue to deal with Artemis and her tantrums. Styxx didn’t envy his brother that. But at least it wasn’t as demeaning and brutal as Styxx’s relationship with Apollo. While Artemis was difficult, she did love Acheron. She’d birthed him a daughter she treasured above all others. Yes, she was harsh on Acheron, but she could also be kind. She had never treated his brother with the same acrimony, disdain, and cruelty that Apollo had shown Styxx.

Never once had she passed Acheron around or shared him with others. She didn’t hold him down and choke him until he was almost dead and then revive him so that he’d know how fragile he was compared to a god.

Worse, Apollo took out his hatred for Acheron and Artemis’s relationship on Styxx, too. Every time Acheron had offended Apollo, he’d come straight to Styxx to beat him for it as if it was somehow his fault.

And since he’d been given Acheron’s memories, he knew all that for a fact. Ironically, he didn’t see Artemis the same way his brother did. She attacked Acheron out of fear.

Apollo attacked him out of rage and utmost hatred.

While they both sucked, Styxx could have handled Artemis’s wrath a lot easier since it only came out whenever Acheron said or did something to scare her. There was no way to gauge Apollo’s trigger. He was angry when Styxx fought him and he was twice as angry when he didn’t. Unlike Artemis, there was no love in Apollo to mitigate his attacks. No guilt that came later that made him want to make amends.

Apollo was simply a bully. He loved his power over others and he savored every ounce of pain he could wring out of someone.

Indeed, Artemis had never joyfully laughed in Acheron’s ear when she hurt him or punched him with her fists.

“That’s it, prince. Scream out for me. Let me hear your agony! Beg me for my mercy!”

The first lesson he’d learned when dealing with Apollo—don’t do what he said. The more he begged for mercy, the less the god gave it to him.

Just like Acheron. His brother had never intended for him to be free any more than Artemis had.

Out of sight, out of mind.

That was all Styxx was left with.

October 1, 2008

“Who are you?”

Styxx paused at the angry male voice that was thick with an ancient Delphian accent. He turned around in the pool to see an extremely tall, well-built man with white blond hair he wore pulled back into a queue.

Urian.

He remembered him from Acheron’s memories. This was Stryker’s son who would have died by Stryker’s hand had Acheron not saved his life. At one time, Urian had been the most vicious of killers and an enemy to Acheron and his Dark-Hunters. A Daimon, he had stood to the right-hand of his father and helped slaughter countless humans. But now, thanks to Acheron, Urian no longer needed human souls to survive.

These days, Urian was Acheron’s second-in-command, and one of his best friends.

And as Styxx watched the man, there was something strangely familiar about him. Something he knew intimately.

That’s because he’s the direct grandson of Apollo
.

Yeah, that would probably be it.

“I asked you a question,” Urian snarled. “Do you not understand me?”

“I heard you.”

“And?”

Styxx climbed out of the pool and reached for a towel. He quickly 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.”

The way Urian arched his brow and cocked his head froze him to the spot. It was similar to a movement Bethany used to make whenever she was really cross with him. How weird to see that expression on a stranger, and a male one at that.

“You must be Styxx.”

“So you’re not as stupid as you look.”

Urian started to comment until his gaze focused on Styxx’s body. “Damn, you’re scarred up.”

“Aren’t we all?”

Urian didn’t comment on that. “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.”

“Are you always this big an asshole?”

“Are you?”

“Basically, yes. However, I thought I’d tempered it for you. Guess I’m an even bigger ass than I knew.”

Styxx laughed at Urian’s unexpected honesty. “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 then 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 your…? Oh wait, wait a minute. Styxx … Styxx of Didymos, Styxx?”

He nodded.

Urian sputtered incredulously. “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 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.” 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 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 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.”

“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. “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 would definitely agree with that. “In my case, more like losing a sphincter.”

Urian laughed. “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.”

Urian followed him from the pool into the bedroom. “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. He waited so long, it was actually embarrassing.” Urian 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.”

He would love to, but he knew better.

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.”

Sadness darkened Urian’s eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell 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.” Those rushed, heartfelt words were out before he could stop them. Embarrassed by the emotion he’d betrayed, he cleared his throat. “Yes, please. I’d appreciate it.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Styxx stared after him for a few minutes as it dawned on him that Urian was barely older than his son Galen would have been. The two of them could have played together and gone to war as friends.

That knowledge made him strangely protective of a man who was physically older than he was. And while Urian wasn’t quite as tall as Styxx, he was more muscular. How weird. The boy would be highly offended if he ever learned Styxx was protective of him.

Trying not to think about it, Styxx went to finish his chores before it got too dark to see.

A few hours later, he was pulling out his dried clams to eat with coconut milk when Urian returned with a backpack that he set on the table beside Styxx.

He frowned at Styxx’s dinner. “What
is
that?”

Styxx shrugged then returned the clams to the urn where he stored them.

Urian’s scowl deepened as he tipped the chipped clay cup to see the coconut milk in it. “Ew! Really? You were really goingb to drink this shit?”

“
νάγκ
δ ’ ο
δ
θεο
μάχονται
,”
Styxx said simply.