Styxx (DH #33) (81 page)

Damn you, gods … damn you!

“Styxx?”

He didn’t react to his father’s voice at all. He was completely catatonic from the emotions that assailed him. By images of battle and soldiers laid out in broken pieces like this.

But they hadn’t been his defenseless, frail sister and her infant son.

His father screamed in agony as he saw them, and ran past Styxx to gather her remains into his arms and rock her as if she were a baby. “What did you do! How could you!”

Styxx stumbled back at the accusation. He gasped for breath. “You think I could do this?”

“You’re a soldier. She stabbed you.”

So?

“But I didn’t retaliate on my own sister. Dear gods, is this really what you think of me?”

His father didn’t answer as he wailed and rocked her. His screams were loud enough to rouse the dead. And still his brother didn’t come.

Baffled, Styxx went to find him.

He threw open the doors to Acheron’s room to see his brother flinching in bed as if he’d just awakened. “Not so loud,” he whispered.

Un-fucking-believable.
Ryssa was slaughtered just a few feet away while Acheron had laid up drunk and hadn’t protected her. Fury and his own guilt over the fact he’d been high, too, ravaged his heart. He’d only been out of it because she’d stabbed him and tried to kill him.

But Acheron …

He was the one she loved. The one she trusted. Why hadn’t he been with her, soothing her as she condemned Styxx? Why had Acheron left her alone last night?

Yet the worse sting was the fact that she’d died hating him and now he would never be able to explain the matter to her. Never have a chance to make amends.

Wanting blood for the injustice of it all, Styxx grabbed his brother by the throat. He shoved Acheron back on the bed to straddle him. “Are you drunk?”

Acheron shook his head. But it was painfully obvious Acheron was still under the effects of something. He reeked of it.

Blind with grief, guilt, and fury, Styxx backhanded him. He pulled the chest of herbs from the table next to the bed and flung them into Acheron’s face. “You worthless whore. You lie in here on your drugs and drunk while my sister was murdered!”

Styxx punched him again and again. Yet it wasn’t really Acheron he was beating. It was himself and he knew it. His allegations toward his brother were the same ones he had in his head for himself.

How could I have done to this to her?

Because I’m a worthless whore, too …

Acheron shoved him back. “What did you say?”

Styxx glared at him. “Ryssa’s dead, you bastard!”

Completely naked, Acheron shot from his bed and staggered down the hallway to Ryssa’s rooms.

His heart splintered and his emotions ragged, Styxx followed him.

Just before the bed, Acheron fell to his knees as he cried out in agony. “I heard them,” he whispered.

His side bleeding, Styxx winced as more rage clouded his vision.
Why didn’t you do something? Why, Acheron?

Then he heard Acheron’s thoughts in his head.
Damn you, Artemis! I have the powers of a god and couldn’t save the two people I loved most. Because of you, bitch!

And I heard them. I heard Ryssa crying out for help. Apollodorus screaming for me to come to him …

Those words exploded in Styxx’s heart and mind. Acheron had heard them and done nothing.

Nothing!

They had begged him for help.… How could he?

Unable to stand it, Styxx kicked him in the ribs, knocking him to his side. Ignoring the pain it caused him, he stomped Acheron in the stomach. But it wasn’t enough. It didn’t even begin to assuage the agony inside him. Growling, he straddled Acheron and slammed his head against the stone floor over and over again until his own vision was blurred from it. “Why wasn’t it you, you worthless maggot!”

Then they both would have been dead and Ryssa alive.

Roaring, Acheron shoved Styxx away from him. Styxx lay in a heap as the stitches were torn open and he bled anew.

Suddenly, a bright light exploded in the room. Styxx looked away as Acheron lifted his arm to shield his eyes.

Apollo appeared before them. Total silence descended as the god looked slowly around the room, taking in every single bloody detail. Even his father had stopped crying in expectation of the god’s reaction.

The Greek god didn’t speak as he saw Ryssa lying dead in her father’s arms, and his son’s lifeless body still in the arms of his savaged nurse.

“Who did this?” Apollo demanded through clenched teeth.

Tears stinging his eyes, Styxx pointed to Acheron as his brother’s thoughts rang out in his head. “He
let
them die.”

Apollo spun on his brother and hit him with his fist so hard that it lifted Acheron from the ground and slammed him into the wall ten feet above the floor. Then he was thrown to the ground.

Styxx hit the deck as physical agony overrode his mental anguish. It hurt so badly, he couldn’t breathe. More blood gushed from his wound.

Apollo grabbed Acheron by the hair and wrenched his head. His brother tried to fight the god, but Styxx knew from experience it was futile unless you were extremely well-trained. Apollo was so much stronger there was nothing they could do except bleed.

Even so, he wanted to help Acheron fight against the Olympian who had never loved their sister, but Styxx couldn’t move. It felt as if every bone in his body was broken.

The god backhanded his brother. Blood and pain exploded as both their noses were broken and their lips split. The god set on Acheron with the same ruthless fury he’d used the first time he’d attacked Styxx after battle. There was no way to defend against Apollo’s onslaught. Acheron was just as helpless as Styxx had been.

“Artemis!” Acheron shouted.

“Don’t you dare say my sister’s name, you filthy whore!” Apollo grabbed a dagger from his waist and snatched at Acheron’s tongue. He sliced it off.

Styxx choked on blood as he lost his own. Tears streamed from his eyes as unimaginable pain throbbed.
We’re going to die.

Apollo wasn’t about to let them live. And he knew it wasn’t because the god had loved Ryssa. It was because he viewed this as a personal slap to him.

Just like their father.

Styxx panicked as he realized he would never see Bethany again. Never breathe in the precious scent of her body. Or be there when his son was born.

I won’t get to say good-bye.

Acheron tried to crawl away from Apollo. But Apollo grabbed him by the throat in a grip so searing it burned the god’s handprint into his skin.

Styxx arched his back as he felt it on his own flesh.

“
Akri
! No!” Suddenly a demon appeared and dove for Apollo. With dark wings and swirling skin, she knocked the god back from Acheron and put herself between them.

“Out of my way, demon,” Apollo demanded.

Her response was to launch herself at the god. The two of them tangled in a flurry of light and feathers as they pounded each other.

Styxx fought against unconsciousness. He didn’t want to die. Not like this. And not now when Bethany needed him most.

She would be devastated. He didn’t want to leave her with the legacy of birthing a child while knowing he would never see his son. Most of all, he didn’t want to leave them unprotected in such a brutal world that would never take mercy on either of them.

Please don’t let me die.…

Not for him, but for them. He had to live.

Styxx tried to rise so that he could join the fight while Acheron crawled to where the god’s knife had fallen.

Apollo blasted Styxx back.

Acheron seized the knife and spun on the combatants. The moment he touched it, the blade of the knife began to glow. His brother raced toward them.

Styxx pushed himself to his feet just as Acheron reached Apollo. The god knocked the demon back, into Acheron, impaling her on the knife in Acheron’s hands. Eyes wide, the demon stared down at the knife then staggered away with a small cry of pain.

Acheron grabbed her against him as she struggled to breathe.

She lifted a bloodied hand to place it to his cheek. “Apollymi loves you,” she whispered in Charonte—a language Styxx somehow understood even though he’d never heard it before. “Protect your mother, Apostolos. Be strong for her and for me.…” And then the light faded from her eyes as her final breath left her body.

Acheron threw his head back and let out a strangled cry. Grabbing the knife, he spun on Apollo.

Apollo caught his brother’s hand and wrested the knife from him. The god seized Acheron again by the throat and threw him down to the ground. Acheron kicked him back and rolled to his side.

Styxx felt another Olympian presence in the room. Expecting Athena, he was stunned to see Artemis cowering in the shadows.

The bitch who’d played with his brother wouldn’t even stand up for him now.

Yet he knew if Bethany was here, she’d fight for them both. Him and Acheron. She would never be able to stand back and watch this.

I’m sorry, Acheron.
Artemis’s thought repulsed him.

In spite of everything that had happened, his brother deserved more than this betrayal. Just as Styxx deserved to see his son born.

Acheron reached a hand out toward the only woman Styxx knew his brother had ever loved.

She shook her head no and stepped back.

Oh, bitch, you better be glad I can’t fight.
For that alone he’d have cut Artemis’s throat if he could get to her.

No one deserved to be annihilated and denied like that. Not by the woman they loved. It was beyond cruel.

And with that action, Styxx knew she’d condemned them both to die. He saw the fight go out of his brother as Acheron rolled over onto his back at the same time Apollo appeared before him. Blithely, Acheron met the god’s angry glare and made no further move to protect himself.

Styxx lunged at them, but slipped on blood and fell.

Growling in rage, Apollo sank his dagger deep inside Acheron’s heart and sliced him open all the way to his navel.

Unmitigated agony burned through Styxx as the god slowly and methodically gutted his brother on the floor, no more than three feet from Ryssa’s body. His own body registered every brutal cut and slice.

As his vision swam, Styxx’s last thought was of the day Bethany had told him she was pregnant, and the happiness he’d held in that one perfect moment as he’d laid his cheek to her stomach and felt her gentle touch in his hair.

I’m so sorry, Beth. I should have been the man you deserved me to be.

Tears fell as the light and pain began to fade for the last time.

June 25, 9527 BC

Tartarus

Hades, the Greek god of death and the Underworld, stood in the center of his throne room, staring in disbelief at their newest arrival who lay in one of the darkest cells of Tartarus.

And he hadn’t put his “guest” there …

Which was one of the more disturbing facts about this whole scenario.

He looked down at the timepiece on his wrist and ground his teeth. It was still three months before his wife would be returned to the Underworld to be with him. But honestly, he had to speak with her.

And, mother-in-law be damned, it couldn’t wait.

“Persephone?” he called, hoping her mother wasn’t close enough to hear him. The old bitch would have a stroke if she caught them together during her visitation time. Not that it would be a bad thing for her to have one … if only it would kill her.

An image of his beautiful wife flickered in the darkness by his side. Blond and petite, she was the only light in his darkness. “Butterbean!” she breathed. “I was just missing you something terrible.”

He really hated the nicknames she came up with for him. Thank the gods that she only used them when the two of them were alone. Otherwise, he’d be the most mocked of all gods. “Where’s your mother?”

“Off looking over some fields, why?”

Good. The last thing he needed was for Demeter to come in and catch them talking.

But that brought him back to his current “dilemma.” Anger swept through him as he gestured toward the wall that showed the cells where his prisoners were kept. “I’m getting really sick of cleaning up the messes of the other gods, and right now I’d love to know whose ass I need to bust over this latest fiasco.”

She solidified before him. “What’s happened?”

Taking her hand, he led her to the cell where they could see inside, but the occupant was completely unable to see them.

At least that was the normal case. In this one, who knew what the occupant could and couldn’t see?

He pointed to the blue-fleshed god who lay in a fetal position on the floor. “Any idea who killed that and sent it here?”

Eyes wide, Persephone shook her head. “What is it?”

“Well, I’m not completely sure. I think he’s a god … Atlantean … maybe. But I’ve never seen anything like him before. He came in a short time ago and hasn’t moved. I’d try to destroy his soul and send him into complete oblivion, but I don’t think I have the powers to do it. In fact, I’m pretty sure that just by trying all I’d do is piss him off.”

Persephone nodded. “Well, sweetie, my advice to you is if you can’t defeat it, befriend it.”

“Befriend it how?” As the god of the dead, he wasn’t exactly sociable.

Persephone smiled at her husband. Tall and muscular with black hair and eyes, he was gorgeous, even when befuddled and angry. “Wait here.” She opened the door to the cell and made her way slowly to the unknown god.

The closer she moved toward him, the more she understood Hades’s concern. There was so much power emanating from the god that the air was rife with it. She’d been around the gods her whole life, but this one was different. His marbled blue skin was strangely attractive as it covered a body of perfect proportions. Long black hair fanned out. He had two black horns on top of his head and black lips and claws.

But more frightening than his appearance, he wasn’t a god of creation. He was one of ultimate destruction.