The Dark-Hunters (548 page)

These moments when she allowed herself to be vulnerable were the ones that endeared her to him. They were the ones that had allowed him to love her.

Cupping her face in his hands, he gave her a tender kiss.

Artemis sighed as a wave of relief went through her. She loved him so much and yet she was so terrified of what loving him meant. She truly didn’t want to hurt him ever. He was the only person she could be herself around. With other gods she had to be fierce and defensive and with mortals she had to be divine and intolerant.

Acheron was the one person who allowed her to laugh. He was the only one who held her and made her feel warm inside. But the problem was, whenever she opened herself up she felt the coldness inside him and knew that even though he was loyal to her, she didn’t make him happy. That hurt the most. The pain inside him that she couldn’t alleviate made her want to lash out in anger and hurt him for not being as open with her as she was with him.

Why couldn’t he feel what she did?

Even now there was a reservation in his touch. A hesitation and she didn’t understand why.

How could she make him love her the way he had when they first met?

She wanted to punish him for not loving her like she loved him. To make him beg her for her love. But how?

Pulling back, her gaze went to his neck and she cringed at what she’d done to him while she’d fed—it was something Apollo would have done to her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Acheron held his breath at words that had been said to him so many times. Just once couldn’t someone think of that
before
they damaged him?

“I’m fine.” But the truth was, he wasn’t. He’d never been all right with the pain. He’d merely grown used to it.

She brushed the hair back from his face. “You look so tired. I shouldn’t have taken so much blood from you.” She tugged him toward the bed. “You should rest.”

True. There was no telling what horrors would be there for him on the morrow. Another gelding or beating, or just the emotional punching that Artemis excelled at.

He couldn’t wait.

“Will you come to me tomorrow?” he asked again, desperate to not be alone while the whole world lavished well wishes on his twin brother.

Artemis hesitated. She wanted to come, but Apollo would be here for Styxx’s celebration. She had to be careful. Because they were twins and gods, he could sense whenever she was near. If he felt her, he’d come seeking her, and that could very well cost Acheron his life. “You know I have a festival. How can I miss it?”

He looked away and the hurt she felt from him sliced through her own heart.

“I’ll visit the next day.”

Acheron held his emotions in check. “I’ll look forward to it then.”

“Are you being sullen with me?”

“No.” He was hurt. “I hope you have a good festival.”

Artemis raked her hand through his hair. “Will you think of me while I’m gone?”

“I always do.”

She leaned down to kiss his cheek. “You always make me feel so special.”

And she always made him feel like shit. She tucked her arm under his so that she could take his hand. He held it to his heart and let out a long sigh.

As he did so, a bad feeling went through him. Something was going to happen tomorrow. He could feel it with every part of him. Whatever it was, he was certain would change him and Artemis forever.

Akri di diyum.

JUNE
23, 9527
BC

Acheron sat on the railing of his balcony completely drunk in the darkness as he watched the elaborately dressed guests arriving for the birthday party in the palace below. His back was pressed against the building while his legs were stretched out before him in a precarious balance. He wasn’t sure how much he’d imbibed at this point.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to kill him. But if he were lucky, he might yet tumble from his perch to the rocks a hundred feet below and die horribly there.

That would definitely fuck up his brother’s birthday celebration. For the first time in weeks, he laughed at the thought of Styxx dropping dead in front of the gathered nobles and dignitaries.

It would serve them right.

“It’s my birthday too,” he shouted, knowing no one could hear him. Even if they could, they wouldn’t care.

Acheron turned his head and flinched as pain cut through him. He hated the fact that Artemis alone could give him so much anguish. He’d been so careful to shield himself from the callousness of others. But Artemis cut him on a level no one else could touch.

And like everyone else, she didn’t care how much she hurt him.

Then again, he should be grateful. At least this year he wasn’t celebrating the anniversary of his birth in prison …

Or a stew.

Ever alone. Even when he was in a crowd, surrounded by people, he was alone.

Truthfully, he was tired of it. No one wanted him. The only reason his so-called family cared whether he lived or died was because if he died, their beloved Styxx died too.

“I’ve had enough.”

Even though he was only one and twenty, he was as tired as an old man. He’d lived beyond his years and wanted no more pain. No more loneliness.

It was time to end it.

The voices he heard in his head were louder now. They were calling him home …

Acheron stood up on the railing. The winds from below rushed up over him, fanning his hair out as he stared down at the black sea that beckoned him like a lover. He dropped his goblet and watched as it tumbled down below, vanishing from his sight.

One step.

No pain.

Everything would end.

“It’s time,” he breathed. There was no one here to stop him now. No Ryssa to pull him back. No father to tie him down and prevent it. No Estes to call for a physician.

Freedom.

Closing his eyes, he let go and stepped off.

Fear and relief whipped through him as he plummeted through the weightless air. In a moment, he’d have his long-sought-after peace.

Suddenly, something hard struck his stomach. Acheron gasped at the pain. He opened his eyes out of reflex.

Instead of falling, he was now rising, away from the sea. The sound of the waves crashing against rocks was replaced by the heavy fluttering of giant wings. He turned to see a female demon holding him. Just as the oracle had said.

“Let me go!” he shouted, trying to free himself.

She didn’t. Not until she’d returned him to the balcony where he’d been.

Acheron staggered back as she perched on the railing and watched him closely. She had long straight black hair that fell over skin marbled white and red. Her eyes glowed in the darkness, white irises, surrounded by vivid red. Like her hair, her wings and horns were black.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice filled with venom.

“Akri should be more careful,” she whispered kindly. “Had Xiamara been a moment later, you would have died.”

“I wanted to die.”

She cocked her head in a gesture that reminded him of a bird. “But why, akri?” She looked over her shoulder to where the people were still arriving. “So many come to celebrate your human birth.”

“They don’t come for me.”

Xiamara frowned at him. “But you are the prince. Heir.”

He laughed bitterly. “I’m heir to shit and prince of nothing.”

“Nay. You are Apostolos, son of Apollymi. Revered by all.”

“I am Acheron, son of no one. Revered only within the confines of a bedroom.”

She stepped slowly down before him. Her wings tucked themselves around her lithe body. “You don’t remember your birth. I understand. I was sent here by your mother with her gift for you.”

He was trying to follow her words, but his mind was too numbed by drink. The demon was insane. She must have him confused with someone else. “My mother is dead.”

“The human queen, yes. But your real mother, the goddess Apollymi, is alive and wishes you all of her love. I am her most faithful servant, Xiamara, and I am here to protect you as I’ve protected her.”

Acheron shook his head. He was drunk. Hallucinating. Maybe he’d already died.

“Get away from me.”

The demon didn’t. Before he could escape, she placed a small orb to his heart.

Acheron screamed out as pain tore through him. Never in his life had he felt anything like this, and given the tortures they’d put him through, that said much. It was as if there was poisonous fire in his veins, ripping through his entire body.

From the center of his chest where the orb rested, his skin changed from tawny to a marbled blue …

As the pain and color unfurled through him, images and voices screamed out, piercing his eardrums. Scents assaulted his nostrils. Even his clothes burned against his skin. He fell to the ground and curled up into a ball as every sense he had was assailed.

“You are the god Apostolos. Harbinger and son of Apollymi the Destroyer. Your will is the will of the universe. You are the final fate of all…”

Acheron kept shaking his head in denial. No. It couldn’t be. “I am nothing. I am nothing.”

The demon lifted his head. “Why are you not happy? You are a god now.”

Fury rode him hard as he grabbed her. He didn’t understand his powers or anything else that was happening to him, but all the years of his life, all the degradations and horrors tore through him. Those he let travel from his mind into hers.

The demon cried out as she slung her head back. “
Ni!
This was not supposed to happen to you, akri. Not this…”

He grabbed her and forced her gaze to meet his. “It was bad enough when they thought me the human son of a god. Can you imagine what they’ll do to me now? Take these powers away from me.”

“I cannot. They are yours by birthright.”

Acheron fell back, banging his head against the stone floor. “No!” he shrieked. “No! I don’t want this. I only want to be left alone.”

Xiamara tried to embrace him.

Acheron pushed her away. “I want nothing from you. You’ve done enough damage to me.”

“Akri—”

“Out of my sight!”

Her eyes glowed with reluctance. “Your will is my own.” The orb she’d held against him appeared as a necklace about his neck. “If you need me, akri, call and I will come.”

Acheron pressed his hand against his skull that ached and throbbed with new voices and sensations. He felt as if he were going mad and perhaps he was. Perhaps the cruelty had finally shattered his sanity.

He heard the demon leave as unknown voices whispered and shouted through his mind. It was as if he could hear the entire world at once. He knew every thought, every wish, every fear.

His breathing ragged, he wanted an escape from it. He snatched at the necklace, but it wouldn’t break. Instead, it glowed in his palm.

Crying out, he wanted to jump again. Unfortunately, he couldn’t even stand. He was so dizzy. So ill …

What had they done to him now?

*   *   *

Apollymi paced the small courtyard in Kalosis, waiting for Xiamara’s return.

“Where’s the Simi’s matera?”

She turned slightly to see Xiamara’s youngest child in the doorway. Named for her mother, Xiamara, Simi—which was Charonte for baby—was almost three thousand years old and yet she looked no older than a four-year-old human child. Unlike humans and gods, Charonte demons were very slow to mature.

Apollymi knelt down and held her arms out for Simi. “She’s not back yet, sweeting. Soon.”

Simi pouted before she ran to her and threw her arms around Apollymi’s neck. She put one small thumb into her mouth and buried her other hand deep in Apollymi’s hair.

Apollymi closed her eyes as she hugged the small demon. How she wished she could have held her own son like this. Just once. Instead, she’d contented herself with lavishing her love on Xiamara’s Simi while she waited for her son to grow old enough to free her.

Simi laid her head on Apollymi’s shoulder while Apollymi sang to her. “Why is akra sad?”

“I’m not sad, Simi. I’m anxious.”

“Is anxious like when the Simi eats too much and her stomach hurts?”

Apollymi smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Not exactly. It’s when you can’t wait for something to happen.”

“Ooo, like when the Simi is hungry and she’s waiting on her matera to feed her.”

“Something like that.”

Apollymi felt a movement in the air. She looked to the shadows to see the outline of Xiamara’s body. For a full minute, she couldn’t move as she waited for her best friend to join her.

But there was a hesitancy to Xiamara that made her heart stop. “What is it?”

Xiamara held her hands out for Simi who gratefully went to her mother. The demon held her daughter as tears fell down her cheeks.

Apollymi felt her own eyes mist as fear gripped her. “Xi? Tell me.”

She clenched her eyes closed while she continued to rock her daughter. “I don’t know how to tell you, akra.”

The more she hesitated, the more fraught with worry Apollymi was. “Is he not well? I’m still a prisoner here so I know he lives.”

“He lives.”

“Does he not … love me?”

Xiamara shook her head before she set Simi down. “Go find your sister, Simi. I need to speak with akra alone.”

Sucking her thumb, Simi skipped away from them.

When Xiamara faced her, Apollymi felt the blood drain from her cheeks. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Xiamara sniffed back her tears before she placed her hand on Apollymi’s shoulder and transferred the images Apostolos had given her. Disbelief and horror racked her as Apollymi saw what had been done to her child.

Those emotions gave way to a fury so profound, all she could do was scream. The sound of it echoed through the Palace of the Dead all of the way up to Katoteros where the rest of the gods made their home.

All activity stopped as the other Atlantean gods heard the sound of utmost heartache.

One by one, they turned to face Archon whose features blanched.

“Is she free?” Epithymia, the goddess of desire, asked.

Archon shook his head. “She’d be here already if she were free. No. Something else has happened. For now, we’re safe.” At least he hoped so …