The Dark-Hunters (555 page)

Lachesis took her other arm and nodded. “We bring him back and she’s interred again.”

“We’ll be safe,” Clotho offered. “All of us.”

“You will be the savior of the pantheon!” they said in unison.

Did she really have a choice? Drawing in a deep breath for courage, Artemis nodded. “What do I have to do?”

“You will have to get him to drink your blood,” Atropos said, as if it would be the easiest thing in the world to accomplish.

“And just how do I do that?”

“With our help.”

*   *   *

Acheron lay on the floor in calm serenity, finally numb to everything from his past and present. He was at peace in a way he’d never been before. The walls of his cave shielded him from the voices of others. Not even the gods were in his head.

For the first time in his life, he had total silence.

There was no aching in his body, no grief. Nothing. And he loved this feeling of tranquility.

“Acheron?”

He tensed at Artemis’s voice. Of course the bitch was going to disturb his haven. She could never leave him in peace.

Damn her.

He tried to tell her to go away, but nothing other than a hoarse croak left his lips. Coughing, he tried to clear his throat to speak.

Still no words would come. What was going on? What had taken his voice?

Artemis gave him a tender, concerned look as she appeared before him. “We need to talk.”

He shoved her back, but she refused to go.

“Please,” she begged with a look that would have weakened his resolve only a few days ago. But that concern for her was now long gone. “Just a few words and I’ll leave you. Forever if you wish.”

How could they talk when he couldn’t speak?

She held a cup out to him. “Drink this and I’ll be able to talk to you.”

Furious with her and wanting to vent his anger at her, he grabbed the cup and downed the contents without tasting them. “Go to Tartarus and rot,” he snarled at her, grateful that this time she could hear the venom in his voice.

Then something happened. Pain and fire ripped through his body as if something was setting his internal organs aflame. Panting, he looked up at Artemis. “What have you done to me now?”

There was no mercy or remorse in her gaze. “What I had to do.”

One moment he was in the quiet darkness of Hades’s domain and in the next, he was standing on the shores of Didymos, not far from the palace.

Or rather what was left of it.

Confused, he looked around, trying to understand what had happened to him and the land. But before he could figure it out a searing pain tore through him with such ferocity that it drove him to his knees in the surf.

Acheron cried out, wanting it to stop.

Suddenly, Artemis was there before him. Gathering him into her arms, she held him close as the waves crashed against them. “I had to bring you back.”

He shoved her away from him as he looked around at the smoldering remains of Didymos. “What have you done?”

“I didn’t do this. Your mother did. She’s destroyed everything and everyone who ever went near you. And she was coming to kill us on Olympus. It’s why I had to bring you back. She would have killed us all had I not.”

He glared so hard at her, he was sure his eyes were red. “You think I give a damn about that?” He started away from her, only to be frozen in place by the pain tearing at his stomach. The agony caused him to double over as he struggled to breathe.

Artemis approached him slowly. She stood above him, looking down. “I’m the one in control here, Acheron. I’ve bound you to me with my blood. I own you.”

Those three words set fire to his wrath. He felt the familiar heat ripple over him as his human appearance gave way to that of his god form. Rising against the pain, he held his hand out and brought Artemis into his grasp. “You seriously underestimate my powers, bitch.”

She clutched at his hand, trying to loosen his feral grip. “Kill me and you’ll become the worst sort of monster imaginable. You need my blood to maintain any sort of sanity. Without it, you will become a mindless killer, seeking only to destroy any and everyone you come into contact with … just like your mother.”

Acheron roared with frustration. The bitch had thought of everything. Even as a god, he was still a slave. “I hate you.”

“I know.”

He shoved her away from him and turned his back on her.

“Acheron, did you not hear what I said? You will have to feed from me.”

He ignored her as he made the long trek from the beach to the hill where the royal palace had once stood. Now there was nothing left but smoldering ashes and busted stones. There were bodies of servants and merchants everywhere.

Tears filled his eyes as he ran through the debris, seeking a sign of Ryssa or Apollodorus. Aching and broken, he used his powers to move stone and marble until he uncovered the room that had been hers.

There in the wreckage he found three of the diaries she’d so meticulously kept. They were a little scarred by the fire, but miraculously, they’d somehow survived intact. He opened the first one and stared at her childish writing as she described the very day he’d been born and the joy she’d felt at having twin brothers. Wiping his tears, he closed it and held it close to his heart as he heard her voice in her words.

His precious sister was gone and it was all his fault.

Aching from the truth of that, he saw one of the silver hair combs he’d given her …

He crawled over to it and placed it against his lips. “I’m so sorry I failed you, Ryssa. I’m so sorry.”

As he sat there, it hit him how pathetic it was that all he had to show for a life so vibrant, a soul so beautiful, were such minuscule things. Three diaries and a broken hair comb. That was all that was left of his precious sister. Leaning his head back, he sobbed from the pain of it all.

“Apostolos … please don’t cry.”

He felt his mother’s presence. “What have you done, Matera?”

“I wanted them to pay for hurting you.”

Did it even matter? What they’d done to him was nothing compared to what had been done this day. “And now Artemis owns me.”

His mother’s scream mirrored his own. “How?”

“She’s bound me to her with her blood.”

He could feel his own anger through his mother’s voice. “Come to me, Apostolos. Free me and I will destroy that bitch and those bastards who cursed you.”

Acheron shook his head. He should do it. He should. They all deserved nothing better and yet he couldn’t bring himself to destroy the world. To kill innocent people …

His mother appeared before him as a translucent shade. Acheron sucked his breath in sharply as he saw her for the very first time. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Hair as white as newfallen snow fell from a crown that shimmered with diamonds. Her pale, silver eyes swirled just as his did. Her black dress flowed over her body as she held one hand out to him.

He tried to touch her, but his hand passed through hers.

“You are my son, Apostolos. The only thing in my life that I’ve ever truly loved. I would give my life for yours. Come to me, child. I want to hold you.”

He treasured every word she spoke. “I can’t, Matera. Not if that means sacrificing the world. I refuse to be so selfish.”

“Why would you protect a world that turned its back on you?”

“Because I know what it’s like to be punished for things not my fault. I know what it’s like to have things forced on me that were wrong and against my will. Why would I ever serve that to someone else?”

“Because it would be justice!”

He glanced around at the scattered bodies. “No. It would only be cruel. Justice to the humans has been more than served.”

Her eyes flashed angrily. “What of Apollo and Artemis?”

He ground his teeth at the mere mention of their names. “They hold the power of the sun and the moon. I can’t destroy them.”

“
I
can.”

Thus she’d destroy the entire earth and all who lived here. It was why he couldn’t free her. “I’m not worth the end of the world, Matera.”

Her eyes burned him with her sincerity. “To me you are.”

In that moment, he would have sold his soul to be able to hold her. “I love you, Mama.”

“Nowhere near as much as I love you, m’gios.”

M’gios. My son. He’d waited his entire life for someone to claim him. But as much as he wanted his mother, he wouldn’t end the world for it.

Suddenly a cold wind whipped around him, tearing at his clothes and hair, yet not hurting him. The world around him faded as he found himself on unfamiliar ground. His mother’s image flickered by his side. “This is Katoteros. Your birthright.”

He frowned at the pile of rubble. “It’s in ruins.”

She cast a sheepish look toward him. “I was a little upset when I came here.”

A little?

“Close your eyes, Apostolos.”

Trusting her completely, he did.

“Breathe in.”

He took a deep breath and then he felt his mother inside him. Her powers merged with his and in the blink of an eye, the ruins reunited to form a beautiful palace of gold and black marble. His mother’s presence pulled out of him.

“Welcome home, palatimos.”
Precious one.

The doors opened and as Acheron passed through them, his clothing changed. His hair grew long and black and a flowing robe fanned out behind him as he walked over the white marble floor. He paused at the sign of the sun that was pierced by three bolts of lightning.

His mother slowed as she noted him studying it. “The golden sun is my symbol and it represents the day. The silver of the lightning bolts is for the night. The bolt to the left is for me and the past, and the one on the right is your father and the future. Yours is the bolt in the middle that unites and binds the three of us together and stands for the present. That is the sign of the Talimosin and represents your dominion of the past, the present and the future.”

He frowned at the Atlantean word. “The Harbinger?”

She nodded. “You, Apostolos. You are the Talimosin. The final fate of all. Your words are law and your wrath absolute. Be careful as you speak, for whatever you will, even in carelessness, will determine the fate of the person you’re speaking to. It’s a burden I would never have wished upon you. And it’s one I hate those bitches for. But I can’t undo what they’ve given you. No one can.”

“What exactly are my powers?”

“I don’t know. I took them from you and never looked at them for fear of exposing you to the others. I only know what Archon’s daughters cursed you to. But you will learn your powers in time. I only wish you’d come to me so that I could help you until you grow stronger.”

“Matera—”

“I know.” She held her hand up. “I respect you for being the man you are and I’m proud of you. However, should you change your mind, you know where I am.”

He smiled at her.

“In the meantime, this is all yours.”

Acheron looked around at the statues and somehow he knew who each and every one of them were. As he approached the set of gold doors, he saw the image of his mother to the left and Archon to the right.

The doors opened, and there he saw the remains of the gods where his mother had attacked them. They were frozen in the horror of their last moments.

His mother didn’t show the tiniest bit of remorse for what she’d done to them. “If the sight of them bothers you, there is a room below the throne room where you can store them. While I’m locked in Kalosis, my powers won’t let me put them there, but you shouldn’t have that problem.”

Closing his eyes, he wished the statues gone. In an instant, they were. He had no desire to see the images of people who’d wanted him dead.

His mother smiled approvingly. “You should have the ability to come and go from the human realm to this one at will. You’ll find that Katoteros is a large place with areas unexplored. The mountaintops are windy … and it’s on the northernmost point that you can hear the sound of your grandmother, the North Wind. Zenobi will whisper to you and succor you in my absence. Any time you need to be comforted, go there and let her hold you.”

“Thank you, Matera.”

“I will go now and give you time to adjust. If you need me, call and I will appear.”

He inclined his head to her as she faded away and left him alone in this unfamiliar place.

It was so strange to be here and it would take some getting used to. Closing his eyes, he could see the gods as they’d been. Hear their voices echoing in the faintest of whispers. And when he opened them, they were all gone and he heard nothing.

As he moved around the room, he realized he wore some kind of leather leggings.

Pants.

How very odd to know the names of everything and everyone without even trying. Whatever information he needed was there instantly.

Crossing the room, he approached the single black and gold throne … Archon’s. An image of Acheron’s dead body in it appeared in his mind. And in the next, Acheron was sitting in it, looking out on the gleaming, empty room. Though ornate and gilded, it was sterile.

There was no life to the palace. No comfort here.

He stood, and as he did so a large staff appeared by his side. Over seven feet in length, it held his emblem in gold and silver on the top. Atlantean words were inscribed down the smooth wood.

By this, the Talimosin will be known. He will fight for himself and for others. Be strong.

Be strong. He clenched his teeth as Xiamara’s words whispered through his mind. Gripping the staff tightly, he teleported himself to the top of the northernmost mountain. The sun was just beginning to set as the winds whipped his formesta out behind him. He gripped his staff tight, looking back over his shoulder to see where the palace stood below.

Then he heard it.

Apostolos
 …
feel my strength. It will be yours when you need it.

He smiled sinisterly as he felt his grandmother’s caress against his skin. Closing his eyes, he took comfort and strength.

When he opened his eyes, he could tell they glowed red now. His vision saw so much more than it had as a human. He felt the pulse of the universe in his veins. Felt the power of the primal source and for the first time realized his place in the cosmos.