Urian was aghast at what he found in the temple housed next to Acheron’s in Katateros. When he’d heard a noise, he’d expected one of the souls to have escaped out of one of the other areas. But this was no Shade.
This was a man.
Swimming in the wrong place. At the wrong time.
“Who are you?”
Yet as he turned around in the pool, Urian felt as if someone had slapped him. Hard. For there was no doubt who he had to be.
Acheron’s despised twin brother. Holy shit … They were identical. Same height. Same build. Sculpted features. Virtually indistinguishable, except where Acheron had those freaky swirling silver eyes, Styxx had a pair of vibrant blue ones. Eyes that were the closest shade to Urian’s he’d ever seen on another person.
Weird.
And while Ash preferred to keep his hair long and dyed black, the evil anti-Ash held to their natural blond shade and wore his cut short. He was also scarred abysmally.
And still the defiant bastard had yet to speak.
“I asked you a question,” Urian snarled. “Do you not understand me?”
“I heard you.”
“And?”
With a slowness Urian was sure was just to piss him off, he climbed out of the pool and reached for a towel. He 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.”
Oh yeah, this guy was a douche on steroids. Now all the stories he’d heard about the infamous brother made total sense. “You must be Styxx.”
“So you’re not as stupid as you look.”
Urian would have made an equally nasty comeback, but he couldn’t get over how many scars Styxx had on his body. While Urian had more than his fair share, they paled in comparison to the number this man carried.
Apparently, Styxx pissed off everyone he’d ever come into contact with.
Urian grimaced at that road map of pain. “Damn, you’re scarred up.”
“Aren’t we all?”
He didn’t comment on that, especially not with his past. “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.”
Wow, his arrogance was quite a special thing. “Are you always this big an asshole?”
“Are you?”
That was a loaded question and then some. Urian flashed a grin. “Basically, yes. However, I thought I’d tempered it for you. Guess I’m an even bigger ass than I knew.”
Styxx laughed. “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. It wasn’t often he met someone who could match his sarcasm. He’d love to put this guy in a match with Shadow.
He 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 such a prestigious role. Especially for someone so young, that was almost unheard of. In fact he only knew of one who’d done that. “At your …? Oh wait, wait a minute. Styxx … Styxx of Didymos, Styxx?”
He nodded.
No! No! What were the odds? Seriously? Urian sputtered at something that was too surreal to be reality. “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 you 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.” Stunned and thrilled to meet his hero, 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 a 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 each other 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.”
Urian snorted. “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 as that old wound opened and bled. “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 snorted. “In my case, more like losing a sphincter.”
Laughing, Urian shook his head. “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.”
Now that he knew who he really was, Urian followed him from the pool into the bedroom. He had so many questions to ask. Things he’d always wondered about that no one had documented. Really, how often did someone get to interview their hero? “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.” For Apollites anyway. “He waited so long, it was actually embarrassing.” Urian didn’t want to think about the times his father literally picked them up and threw them down to keep them from battle.
He 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.”
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.”
Urian had forgotten about that small fact. It would be the same as inviting his father to dinner. Yeah … real bad idea. Acheron hated his twin with a special kind of vim. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the 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.” Embarrassed by the emotion he’d betrayed, he cleared his throat. “Yes, please. I’d appreciate it.”
Urian suppressed a smile at Styxx’s enthusiasm. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Though to be honest, Urian hated leaving him there. Alone. If there was one thing he understood, it was loneliness. Isolation. And Styxx had had more than his fair share of it.
Before, when he’d assumed him to be Acheron’s villain brother with no conscience, Urian hadn’t cared what happened to him.
Now he had a face and a history.
It made a lot of difference. Perspective. Life was all about perspective. If anyone should appreciate that, a former Daimon should. After all, his people had been misjudged by everyone.
And they still were. It was why Spawn was one of his few friends among the Dark-Hunters. He was a former Daimon, and one who’d served under his command; they understood each other. And both were ostracized by the rest of Acheron’s army.
They were the brotherhood of misfits.
Styxx was their newest recruit.
Welcome to my madness.
And that was what it was. That raw, biting loneliness that never left him. The bitter gut punch that ached through and through. He’d lost both the women he’d loved most.
Xyn and Phoebe.
Why couldn’t it have taken him instead?
Trying not to think about it, Urian snuck into Acheron’s temple where he lived and did his best to act nonchalant. He shared the temple with Acheron, Simi, and Acheron’s steward Alexion, who was one of the first Dark-Hunters ever created, and sadly the first to have been killed. And Alexion’s wife, another Dark-Hunter who’d died in the line of duty, Danger. And of course, Alexion’s own Charonte, Simi’s sister, Xirena.
They, and a few peculiar pets, made up Acheron’s happy home. Aside from the collection of statues in the basement no one ever talked about.
And Urian meant no one. As that topic quickly sent his boss into a fit of anger.
“You okay, Uri?” Danger asked as soon as she saw him skulking about.
Urian dropped the banana he’d been trying to smuggle out. “Um. Yeah. You?”
“Always.”
“Good.” Crap … why did she have to be so nosy?
Hours went by before Urian was able to head back to where he’d left Styxx. Though what the man was doing, Urian didn’t want to know, as it appeared he was pulling out some kind of nasty seafood grossness to eat. Pushing that aside, Urian set his backpack on the table beside Styxx.
He frowned at Styxx’s dinner. “What is that?”
Styxx shrugged, then returned the unidentifiable ick to the urn on the table.
Urian’s scowl deepened as he tipped the chipped clay cup to see the coconut milk in it. “Ew! Really? You were really going to drink this shit?”
“Anánkai d’oudè theoì mákhontai,” Styxx said simply.
Urian laughed. “ ‘Not even the gods fight necessity’ … nice. You said that to your men right before the battle for Ena.”
“Did I?”
“You don’t remember? I used to use that for my own men to motivate them. It got me stabbed once. Apparently, what works for Greeks doesn’t work for Spathi Daimons.”
“Honestly, no, I don’t remember. And it got me stabbed a time or two, too. Besides, I can’t really take credit for it. It was something my mentor used to say to me all the time.”
“And what would he say about this?” Urian held up a bottle of wine.
“Brôma theôn.” Food of the gods.
Urian handed it to him, then dug out the opener and two glasses. “I’m going to hazard a wild guess that you’re a little short on supplies. Would you like me to bring you something?”
“I can make do, but some fresh water would be nice. It doesn’t rain here, and it doesn’t get quite hot enough to make a lot of condensation. It’s been difficult to desalinate the river water, which I can’t figure out why it’s salty …”
Urian scowled at something he hadn’t known about the island. Or Styxx, for that matter. “Why didn’t you stay where your supplies were?”
Styxx dug a fork out of the backpack and sat down to eat. “I haven’t received any.”
Urian was aghast at the last thing he expected to come out of Styxx’s mouth. “What have you been living on?”
Closing his eyes, Styxx savored the unfamiliar taste. He swallowed and wiped his mouth before he answered. “Clams mostly … whenever I can find them. Coconuts. Some greens I found out back.” He took a drink of wine, then sighed in appreciation. “What?”
“Nothing.” Urian grabbed the backpack up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”
Styxx nodded as he kept eating. “Urian? What’s this called?”
It took Urian a second to realize that Styxx was as innocent about the world as he’d been when he was first made human. Damn, that was pathetic. “Spaghetti.”
“It’s really good. Thank you.”
“Parakaló.”
Urian hated leaving Styxx alone. But once again, he found himself hiding a massive secret from those around him. Weird that this seemed to be some recurrent theme in his life and he didn’t know why. He’d done so much to avoid drama, yet that bitch kept hunting him down just to put stress on him he didn’t want.
So here he was again.
But what else was he to do? He couldn’t let the poor guy starve. Styxx needed help and it wasn’t in him …
Yeah, okay, so maybe it was in him to turn his back on people and not care. Urian was a bastard that way. Yet there was something about Styxx that was so familiar. A kinship he couldn’t deny. Maybe because he looked so much like Acheron and he owed Acheron so much.
Whatever it was, he found himself back in the temple where Styxx sat at the pool with his feet dangling into the water while he stared off into space, at nothing in particular.
“Is this what you do at night?” Urian asked him.
Styxx got up and pulled his jeans down. “There’s nothing else to do, really. Sometimes I go outside and stare at the moon.”
“You must get a lot of sleep.”
“Not really.”
Urian couldn’t imagine living like this. And he’d always thought his life was lonely. “How are you not crazy?”
Styxx snorted. “Who says I’m not?”
Touché. Perhaps they all were. “I couldn’t take three days of this boredom without being stark-raving mad.”
“As far as prisons go, trust me, this isn’t so bad. No one’s sticking hot brands on me or beating me, and I’m not chained to anything or drugged. Best of all, I don’t have to bend myself in half to lie down.”
Urian cringed at what he was describing in a monotone, yet the scars on his body said that he spoke from absolute experience. “When were you a prisoner?”
Styxx laughed bitterly. “Honestly? In the whole of my extremely long life, I’ve only spent roughly a high grand total of fourteen years where I wasn’t imprisoned for one reason or another.”
That number staggered his mind and left him reeling. More than that, it left him furious on Styxx’s behalf. What the hell? “Imprisoned for what?”
“Being born Acheron’s brother … well, except for when Apollo and the Atlanteans held me here. That was entirely my fault. Turns out, gods don’t like it when humans defeat them and invade their homelands. Who knew?”
Urian had to sit down for a second on that one, especially when he remembered Apollymi’s reaction the day she’d seen his shield. And Styxx would have been just a kid …
Where the hell were his parents?
“Didn’t anyone love you?” He looked up at him.
Styxx let out a bitter laugh and ignored his question. Instead, he swung his arm around the room. “Did you know this temple belonged to Bet’anya Agriosa … the Atlantean goddess of misery and wrath? The next temple on the right belonged to Epithymia, their goddess of desire. She was a royal fucking bitch. Vicious. Cold. Lived to hurt others. It always made me wonder if Aphrodite was anything like her.” He paused as he caught the pained expression on Urian’s face as he grappled with trying to reconcile the horror of Styxx’s life in his mind. And kept failing to do so. He just couldn’t imagine what this man had been through. “Sorry. I’m not used to having anyone to talk to.”
Honestly, Urian wasn’t sure what to make of Styxx. From what Acheron had said of his brother, he’d expected some arrogant, demanding prick who looked at the people around him like they were dirt.
The man in front of him was definitely not what Acheron had described. There was no arrogance in him, at all. If anything, given that he’d been born a prince to one of the richest kingdoms in the ancient world, and had been a young commander of one of the most successful armies, the bastard was exceedingly humble. He had a very quiet, suspicious nature more akin to Urian’s. He reminded Urian more of the gators that called the swamps home in Louisiana.
Styxx kept his eyes on everything around him, assessing each corner and shadow as a possible threat. Though he seemed to be at ease, there was no doubt he could launch himself at someone’s throat and roll them under for the kill before they even saw him move.
Yeah, Urian could easily see in Styxx the legendary general he’d read about. The one who didn’t complain over anything and who had sacrificed and sold his own personal effects to buy supplies for his men. Just the physical scars on his body alone made a mockery of the person Acheron thought him to be.
This was not some pampered prince who’d been waited on hand and foot, and who expected the entire world to bow down to him. In over eleven thousand years, Urian had never seen any man more scarred. Even Styxx’s fingers and the backs of his hands said he’d lived a hard and harsh life. For that matter, Styxx barely had the use of his right hand. Two of his fingers, the pinkie and ring fingers, stayed permanently curled against his palm. And the other two didn’t fully extend.
More remarkably still, there were just four scars on his face. And one of them was only noticeable if you paid close attention. He had a faint scar beneath his left eye. One that ran along his hairline across his forehead that was covered by his hair most of the time. One that slashed across his right eyebrow, and the one in the center of his upper lip where it’d been forcefully busted open so many times that it’d left a permanent divot and thick vertical line.
The awful condition of Styxx’s body verified what he’d said about captivity. As did his knowledge of the temples. As with Kalosis, there was nothing left inside any of the buildings here to say whom they’d belonged to, and not even Acheron knew.
But Styxx did.
And what really screwed with Urian’s head was the fact that Styxx had been imprisoned for more than eleven thousand years. The duration of Urian’s long, long life. So he could easily appreciate exactly how many mind-blowing years that was.
Alone.
He would call the man a liar for that, but again, the scars and his calm acceptance of Acheron dumping him here and forgetting about him testified to the fact that Styxx was more than used to isolation and neglect. More than used to scrounging for scraps to eat.
And all Styxx had asked him for was untainted drinking water.…
Buddy, you get the prize bonus in my book. Urian still couldn’t believe how humble a request that was.
“I brought you more food,” Urian said, trying to break the suddenly awkward silence.
“It wasn’t necessary.”
“Having seen the shit you had on your plate when I brought in the spaghetti, I’m going to respectfully disagree.” Urian headed back to the other room and, as a trained warrior himself, didn’t miss the fact that Styxx kept a lot of empty space between them. He also walked at an angle so that he could see if Urian was reaching for a weapon.
The way Styxx did it, it was hardwired into him. That, too, made a mockery of the pampered-prince bullshit.
At least until he saw what Urian had brought in a large plastic box, and then Styxx relaxed his protocol and rushed forward.
“Bread?” he whispered.
“Yeah, that’s the white stuff in the plastic bag.”
His expression said he hadn’t had bread in a long time. Urian imagined he must have looked like that the first time he saw daylight.
He stepped back so that Styxx would look through the box and see what else it contained. The minute he was clear, Styxx rooted through the contents like Erik breaking into his presents on Christmas morning.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Urian picked up another box that he’d set on the floor. “I have your water and more wine in this one. And I put candles and a lighter in here, too.”
Styxx placed the lid on top of the box. “Thank you, but I won’t need those.”
Urian glanced around the cave dubiously, and that was from a former Daimon who’d once called Kalosis home. “You sure? It’s really dark in here.”
Styxx shrugged. “I’m used to it. Besides, if Acheron sees a light, there’s no telling how he’ll react, and I don’t want to fight with him. Most of all, I don’t want him to take away what little freedom I have.”
Damn. For that, Urian wanted to beat Acheron’s ass. What kind of bad history did they have?
But then, having fought off-and-on with his own brothers, and even his sister, he understood. It didn’t make his brothers or sister bad people, it just made them family. “Okay. I’ll … um … I’ll bring more food after tomorrow.”
Styxx smiled at Urian. “Careful, you keep this up and I won’t have anything to occupy myself with.”
Urian’s phone rang with Cassandra’s ring tone, though it could be Erik calling since he’d started using it to update him on his daily routines.
Excusing himself, he pulled it out and turned it on to answer. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the cuter of the two on the other end. “Hey, Cass, is everything all right?”
“It’s fine. Wulf and I had our babysitter crap out on us and Chris’s wife is sick. You know what that means. Big guy doesn’t want the kids near her for fear they might come down with something fatal. And I really would like to have one last night out before the little ones outnumber us.”
Urian laughed. Neither their son Erik nor their daughter Phoebe had ever had a cold in their lives. And baby three, soon to be named Tyr, was due any second now, which was why he’d panicked when he answered. His first thought was that she’d gone into labor early. “Sure. I don’t mind babysitting. You know that. I love your rugrats.”
“They love their Uncle Uri.” She’d no more said that than he heard Erik in the background begin chanting, “Uncle Uri’s coming!” Then his nephew started a happy war cry that warmed Urian’s heart and simultaneously saddened it to a level Cassandra would never understand, as it reminded him of all the other nieces and nephews he’d never see again.
“I’ve got to go run that one down, Uri. He’s off the chain. Love you! See you soon.”
“Yeah, see you soon. Love you, too.” He hung up and slid the phone back in his pocket.
“Your wife?” Styxx asked.
“My wife’s sister.”
“Ah. So does your wife live in the main temple with you?”
Well, that question sucked every last bit of joy and humor out of his year. His stomach tight, Urian reached to touch Phoebe’s necklace. “No. She died.”
“I am extremely sorry. I know how hard that is.”
While Urian had no doubt Styxx had seen his share of pain and then some, the guilt he felt over that night was its own special form of eternal hell that he could never reconcile. No matter how hard he tried. No matter what he did. It all came down to one harsh, bitter truth … “I appreciate it, but I had a very special bond with my Phoebe, and she was killed when I should have been there to protect her.”
Styxx drew a ragged breath. “I do know your pain, Urian. My wife was murdered by Acheron’s mother while she was pregnant with our first child. And I have absolutely nothing left of them, except my memories.”
Wincing at the nightmare Styxx carried, Urian dropped his gaze to his arm, where Styxx had carved two names into his own flesh. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who they were or why Styxx had done it. And how much pain that man held in his heart to have inflicted that much harm on himself because of it. “Bethany and Galen?”
He nodded. “I had no other way to honor them. I never even got to see their bodies.” He cleared his throat. “You need to go to your family. Don’t keep them waiting.”
Yeah, if anyone ever understood his pain where Phoebe was concerned, Urian had found him. In that, they were joined in a very sad and pathetic brotherhood of misery. “What about you?”
Styxx laughed. “I assure you, I’ll be here when you get back.”
Yeah, he guessed he would at that.
Urian gave him an ancient salute that Styxx quickly returned, and then Urian left to head up the hill. But with every step he took, he had a strange feeling. Like he knew Styxx from somewhere. The man was so familiar to him.
He’s Acheron’s twin, dumbass.…
There was that.
And it wasn’t like you didn’t obsess over him as a kid or anything. He laughed as he remembered his father banning him from even saying Styxx’s name in his presence.
“If I hear you speak of that Didymosian bastard one more time, Urian, I will beat you until you can’t sit down. And stop dressing like him! He was an enemy to Atlantis and Apollymi.”
For that matter, Urian had Styxx’s phoenix emblem tattooed on his biceps. Best not to ever let Styxx see that, though. It might freak him out. But then Urian was used to keeping it covered. It’d been another thing that had enraged his father.
Much like his shield.
I just excel at pissing off everybody.
Urian paused to look back at the dark temple. Had he not been out for a walk earlier and heard the faint splashing, he’d have never known Styxx was in there. And he’d almost ignored it and kept going. Only his centuries of honed senses and incessant need to check and lock down his perimeter had caused him to investigate the foreign noise.
Wow. As he resumed the path to the main temple, he couldn’t understand Acheron’s reasoning where Styxx was concerned. Having lost all his brothers, he’d give anything to see one of them again. Even Archimedes, who’d bullied and shoved him to the point where Urian had wanted to rip his heart out, more times than not. The two of them could barely be in a room and not walk out bruised from the unfortunate event.
Still he’d welcome that asshole back if he could.
Dang, Ash. Who in their right mind throws out a perfectly good brother?