The Dark-Hunters (553 page)

“I am Apollymia Thanata Deia Fonia!” she screamed until her throat was raw and bleeding.

She was ultimate destruction.

And she was going to bring her son home …

May the gods have mercy on each other because she was going to have none for them.

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 him there …

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.

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. Not that it would be a bad thing … if only it would kill her.

An image of his wife flickered in the darkness by his side. “Butterbean!” Persephone 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. But he could forgive his beautiful wife anything. “Where’s your mother?”

“Off with Zeus 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. “Because 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 inside 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 cuddled into a ball 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?”

Persephone smiled at her husband who was far from a sociable entity. 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.

And more than that, he wasn’t a god of creation. He was one of ultimate destruction.

Seph, get out of there.

She held her hand up to signal her husband that she was fine. Her legs trembling in trepidation, she reached out to touch the god.

He opened his eyes that were a yellow orange encircled by red. They flashed from that to a swirling silver color. And they were filled with raw anguish.

“Am I dead?” he asked, his voice demonic.

“You want to be dead?” She actually dreaded his answer because if he didn’t want to be dead, there could be serious consequences.

“Please tell me I’ve finally made it.”

Those desperate words tugged at her heart. Reaching up to comfort him, she brushed the black hair back from his blue cheek. “You’re dead, but as a god you live.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t want to be any different than anyone else. I just want to be left alone.”

Persephone smiled at him. “You can stay here as long as you want.” She summoned a pillow for him and tucked it under his head. Then she covered him with a blanket.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because you seem to need it.” She patted him on the arm before she got up. “If you need anything, I’m Persephone. My husband, Hades, is the one in charge here. You call for us and we’ll come.”

He gave a subtle nod before he closed his eyes and returned to lying quietly in the darkness.

Mystified by him, she returned to her husband. “He’s harmless.”

“Harmless, my ass. Seph? Are you insane? Can you not feel the powers he holds?”

“Oh I feel them. Go near him and you’ll have nightmares. But he doesn’t want anything. He’s hurt, Hades. Badly. All he wants is to be left alone.”

“Yeah, right. Left alone here in
my
Underworld? Another god whose powers rival mine? Fuck that. They trump mine. How stupid would I have to be? You know there’s a reason pantheons don’t mix.”

“You can ally him,” she said, trying to calm him down. “Having a friend is never a bad thing.”

“Until the friend turns on you.”

She shook her head. “Hades…”

“I’m a lot older than you, Seph. I’ve seen what can happen when one god turns on another.”

“And I think he poses no harm to either of us.” She lifted herself up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I have to go before my mother finds me missing. You know how she gets when I see you during her time with me.”

“Yeah and a pox on the—”

She pinched his lips together before he could let fly the insult. “I love you both. Now behave and take care of your guest.”

Only his wife could get away with treating him like this and being so cavalier with his body. But then she held his heart and he’d give her anything.

He kissed her finger. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. I’ll be home soon.”

Soon, yeah … right.

But there was nothing to be done about that.

He nodded glumly, then cursed as she faded away from him. Damn the bitch, Demeter, for cursing them to live apart half the year. But right now he had bigger problems than his wife’s mother.

And at about six foot eight, that god-killer was definitely one
big
problem.

JUNE
25, 9527
BC
DIDYMOS

With the icy wind twisting her ghostly pale hair around her and plastering her black gown to her limbs, Apollymi staggered on the rocks of the sea where Apostolos’s body rested in a broken heap. Her precious son had been dumped here as if he were nothing.

Nothing
 …

Unshed tears racked her. She was so cold inside. So defeated. So … There were no words to describe the anguish of her seeing her son’s body lying facedown in the water, abandoned and forgotten.

Thrown away.

After all they’d done to him, they couldn’t even provide a decent funeral.

Weak from her grief, she sank to her knees in a pool of water and pulled him from the rocks to the beach. Unable to stand it, she screamed out, sending birds into flight.

“Apostolos!”

But he couldn’t hear her. His body was as cold as her heart. His silver eyes were open and glazed, and even now, they swirled like a stormy sky. Yet for all the horror of his death, his features were serene.

And they were beautiful. More so than any mother could have hoped for. She saw in his face, herself. Saw her hopes for him made real. He was so perfectly formed. So tall and strong …

And they had butchered him. Tortured him. Defiled and humiliated
her
son. Her precious baby.

Choking on a sob, she ran her hand over the long gash in his chest to seal it closed. Only then, when he was perfect again, did her tears break as she laid her lips to his cheek to kiss him and cry.

This was the first time she’d held him since the moment she’d cut him from her womb. Gathering him close, she rocked him on the beach and let all the horror inside her free. “I tried to protect you, Apostolos,” she breathed against his ear. “I tried so hard.”

She’d failed miserably and in her attempt, had made his life an unbearable one.

Wanting to comfort him and knowing it was too late, she futilely rubbed his cold arms to warm them.

If only he could look at her. Hear her voice. But he never would.

And she would never hear him call her matera.

It was more than she could stand. “Please,” she breathed. “Please come back to me, Apostolos. I swear I’ll keep you safe this time. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Please, baby, I can’t live knowing I killed you. I can’t. Look at me, please!”

But he couldn’t and she knew it.

If only she had the power to restore his life. But unlike his father, she was born of destruction. Death. Pestilence. War. Those were her gifts to the world. There was nothing she could do to bring back the one she loved most.

“Why!” she screamed at the sky. Where were the Chthonians now to demand blood over the death of her precious child? Why weren’t they here on Apostolos’s behalf?

They didn’t care. No one cared, but her.

And Xiamara who’d tried so hard to save him. Xiamara, her closest friend. The only one she’d ever been able to confide in. Closer than sisters, closer than mother and daughter. Now she, too, was gone.

Apollymi was alone. Bitterly alone.

She cradled her son’s head to her breasts and screamed out so loud that the sound was carried on the wind all the way to the halls of Atlantis. “Damn you, Archon! Damn you!”

How could he have ever claimed he loved her? How could he have allowed Apostolos to die like this? To suffer so much pain?

Her heart broken, she buried her face in her son’s wet blond hair and cried until her sobs were spent.

Then her fury mounted and took a vicious root into her heart. They’d both been betrayed by the very ones who were supposed to love and honor them.

Now there would be Kalosis to pay.

It was time to take her son home where he belonged. Time to make her so-called family bleed for their betrayal.

Her course set, Apollymi clothed her son in the black formesta robes of his station. This was his birthright. As the son of the Destroyer, his symbol was that of the sun that represented her, pierced by the three lightning bolts of his power.

He wasn’t garbage. He was an Atlantean god.

And he was the son of the Destroyer.

Picking him up from the surf and cradling him in her arms, she took them both home to Katoteros.

It was an island surrounded by islands. Breathtakingly beautiful, there was no place in the human realm that could compare with it. Standing at the highest point, where her mother the North Wind shrieked on her behalf, Apollymi looked out over the landscape that should have been owned by Apostolos.

The islands sparkled in the perfect light under the sun that attempted to warm her cold skin. It was futile.

The island to her right housed the paradise lands where the souls of their Atlantean people went to rest until reincarnation. The one on her left had been held by the Charontes before her banishment—unlike her family, her demons had been loyal to her. They had all followed her into Kalosis.

And the island before her had been intended as the home of her son.

But it was the one that possessed the second highest point in Katoteros that held her attention now. The one that ruled and united all the islands. It was the one where the hall of the gods had been built.

Archon’s.

Her vision darkening, she took them there, outside the grand marble hall that stood so tall and proud as it looked down upon their world. Music and laughter drifted out to her.

Music and laughter.

Oblivious to what had come to pass and to what they faced, the gods were having a party.
A fucking party.
She could feel the presence of every god inside. All of them. Celebrating. Laughing. Cheering. Having fun.

And her beloved son was dead …

Dead!

Her world was shattered. And still they laughed.

Holding Apostolos close, she ascended the stairs with a deceptive calm and flung the doors wide with her powers. The white marble foyer was circular with statues of the gods taking up station every four feet against the pristine walls.

Her heart hammering with vindictive fury, she walked through the center of the foyer where her emblem of the sun had been etched into the floor. As she crossed over it, she changed it to that of Apostolos. One by one, his bolts of power pierced her symbol.

The colors now red and black to represent her grief and his spilled blood.

Without hesitating, she walked straight for the set of gold doors that led to Archon’s throne room. To the room where the gods made merry while her son lay dead from their treachery.

By all the dark powers of the universe, they wouldn’t be laughing for much longer.

She opened those doors with the full force of her fury. The clattering sound rang out as the doors slammed against the marble walls and broke from their hinges to fall to the shiny, perfect floor.

The music stopped instantly.

Every god in the hall turned to look at her and one by one, their faces blanched white.

Without a word, Apollymi held her son in her arms and walked with a calmness she didn’t feel toward the dais where her black throne sat beside her husband’s gold one. Archon stood up at her approach and moved to the side as if to speak to her.

She ignored him as she placed Apostolos on Archon’s throne, where he belonged. Her hands shaking, she sat him up and carefully placed each of his hands on the arms. She lifted his head and brushed the blond hair back from his bluish face until he looked as if he would blink and move at any moment.