Stygian
Page 53
What the hell was his father thinking now?
October 24, 2010
Urian was supposed to meet Davyn at Sanctuary so that he could gather more information about Stryker’s plan. He and Davyn had always tried to pick spots where there was no chance of any of the Apollymians seeing them together. If Stryker ever learned that Urian still talked to his old friend, he’d kill Davyn immediately.
And it wouldn’t be quick. Last thing he wanted was to cause any harm to befall Davyn. He’d sooner cut his own throat.
Instinctively, he rubbed the scar left by Stryker’s attack on him the night Phoebe died. The bitter memory of that night was never far from the surface, and it was carved in blood on his heart.
He’d worshiped his father his entire life—had committed all manner of atrocities to please him.
And for what?
So the bastard could kill Urian’s wife and then cut his throat the first time he displeased him? One day I will have my vengeance.
If it was the last thing he did, he would kill Stryker for what he’d taken from him.
“C’mon, Davyn, have something good for me.” Urian went over to the bar to order a beer while he waited.
Colt Theodorakolpolis—one of the bears who lived and worked here—handed it off to him.
Without a word, Urian drifted around the game area. He checked his watch. Davyn was late. Highly unusual for him.
Fear tightened his gut. Had Stryker found out? The mere thought made his blood run cold.
Suddenly a familiar tingle went down his spine and danced along his neck, alerting him that there was a Daimon on the premises.
Urian scanned the semicrowded bar, looking for his friend.
He saw a flash of white-blond hair in the far corner and headed for it.
It wasn’t until he was within sight that he realized it wasn’t Davyn. This was a woman and when she turned toward him, he felt like someone had sucker-punched him.
No, it couldn’t …
It wasn’t possible.
“Tannis?”
The woman frowned at him as if the name and his face meant nothing to her.
But to him that name had meant everything.
Time froze as he was taken back to the day his little sister had died. Little not because she was younger, but because compared to them, she was so tiny and fragile. One to be protected at all cost.
Unlike him and his brothers, she’d been too gentle and kind to take a human life in order to live.
And so she’d withered away into dust on her twenty-seventh birthday. The pain of her decay had caused her to scream until her throat had bled. And still she’d had no peace. No mercy. It had been the most agonizing death imaginable.
One given to her by her own grandfather’s curse. After they’d scooped up her remains and buried them years later, they never spoke her name out loud again.
But Urian remembered. How could he ever forget the tiny woman he’d protected and championed? The one he’d killed to protect?
But this wasn’t Tannis.
She’s dead. He’d seen her decay into dust with his own eyes. Yet this woman was a complete physical copy of her, except for the way she moved. While Tannis had been hesitant and dainty, this woman was sure and determined. Fluid. She moved like a warrior ready to kill. She had a self-assurance his own sister had lacked.
Before he could think better of it, he closed the distance between them.
Medea turned as a shadow fell over her. Expecting it to be her informant, she was stunned when she looked into the face of her father.
But this man was different. Instead of her father’s short dyed black hair, his was long and snow white, pulled back into a ponytail.
Still, there was no denying the similarity of their features. This was her father’s doppelganger.
“Who are you?” they asked simultaneously.
Medea hesitated when he didn’t answer right away. Why was he being reserved when it was obvious he was a relative she hadn’t met? Maybe a cousin even her father didn’t know about?
Curiosity got the better of her so she answered first.
“I’m Medea.”
“Medea …” He seemed perplexed by her name.
“I’m Urian.”
Urian.
She gasped at the name of her mysterious half brother, whom she’d heard about but never expected to meet. He was now a servant of Acheron. Enemy to all of them after he’d betrayed her father.
“Filthy traitor!” she spat.
He didn’t take that well as he gripped her arm and yanked her toward him. “Who are you?”
She wanted to see the shock on his face when she delivered the truth. “Your sister.”
Urian blinked twice as that news sank in. He’d only had one sister. There was no way he could have another and not know it. “How?”
“Stryker married my mother, then divorced her to marry yours. She was pregnant with me at the time and he never knew.”
His jaw went slack. Why hadn’t Davyn told him about this? Davyn had told him about Stryker’s first wife returning, but a sister …
A living, real sister. Why would Davyn have kept that secret?
Ah, shit! Suddenly he remembered Acheron telling him.… I wouldn’t have forgotten something like that. Ever! Yet he had. Yeah, I did.
After the fight when Ash had gone around tampering with memories … The bastard must have removed that one, too. Why would Ash have done that? Had it been intentional or a mistake? When it came to things like that with emotions and brains, Ash didn’t always have the best control with his powers, so until he talked to him, he’d give him the benefit of the doubt.
But if he’d done this on purpose …
He could kick his ass.
And with that thought came a really bad feeling.
“What are you doing here?”
“Sightseeing.”
He knew better, especially with someone sired by his father. “You’re spying for Stryker.”
She jerked her arm out of his hold. “Don’t take that tone with me, little boy. You served him too and for many more centuries.”
The thought made him ill. “And I paid the ultimate price for that blind stupidity. Trust me.”
She scanned his body. “I don’t know. You look pretty healthy and happy to me.”
Those looks were definitely deceiving! “Yeah, right. Let me tell you something, little girl—I was his favorite. His pride and joy above all others. For thousands of years I served at his side, doing everything he asked me to. Everything. Without question or hesitation. And in the blink of an eye, because I dared to marry without his permission, he cut my throat. Literally.”
“He cut your throat because you married his enemy.”
Yeah, right. It had nothing to do with whom he’d married and everything to do with his father’s ego. Stryker couldn’t stand the thought of anyone questioning his authority. Not even his own son.
“I married a kind, gentle woman who never hurt a soul a day in her life. She wasn’t a warrior. She was an innocent bystander whose only mistake was falling in love with a monster.” And making him human. Making him care for someone other than himself, and he would sell his soul if he could have one more moment with her. “Don’t delude yourself for one minute. Stryker will turn on you, just as he turned on me.”
“You’re wrong about that.”
“For your sake, sister, I hope to the gods that I am.” But the bad thing was, he knew better. It was just a matter of time before their father went after her, too.
God help her, then.
And with the gallu on the loose … they were all about to get screwed.
January 16, 2011
“This … seriously sucks.”
Styxx laughed as he and his giant brown dog came out of their tent to greet Urian in the middle of a godforsaken desert. “Depends on your vantage point, little brother.”
Arms akimbo, Urian turned in a circle as he surveyed Styxx’s small black
Still laughing, Styxx closed the distance between them. “It’s not hot. This is winter. Come back in July or August.”
“Yeah, no thanks.” Urian hugged him, then stood back with a severe frown. “Damn, you’ve gone native. But for the blue eyes, I’d have no idea it was you.”
Styxx lowered the black veil from his face. “Better?”
“Not really. Weirds me out more.” He shook his head. “When you called last week and told me you’d been living in the desert for the last two years, I thought you meant Morocco or another city. But you really live out in the middle of Nowhere, Sahara.”
Styxx shrugged. “This place makes sense to me.”
“You might like it, but it’s bringing back bad childhood memories. Life before toilet paper was not worth living.”
“Again, a matter of perspective.”
Urian shivered in revulsion. Styxx was definitely having some kind of midlife crisis. “You look good, by the way. Healthy.”
“Thanks.” Styxx held the flap open so that Urian could go inside, where he had nothing but his bedroll and saddlebags of necessary supplies. “I feel better than I have in a very long time.”
The big brown dog came bounding in and curled up on Styxx’s bedroll to chew his rawhide bone. Urian arched a brow. “What’s his name?”
“Skylos.”
He scowled at Styxx for a name that just seemed cruel. “You named your dog … Dog? Seriously?”
Again, Styxx shrugged. “He doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Probably because he doesn’t speak Greek.”
Grinning, Styxx pulled out a bottle of wine and the only two cups he had and poured drinks for them.
Urian sat down beside the dog and took a sip. “So what do you call the horse and camel? Alogo and Kamila?”
Styxx rolled his eyes. “No, they had names when I bought them. Jabar and Wasima. The dog just started following after me one day.”
Urian sighed heavily. “I’d go insane here. How do you cope with the solitude?”
“That was what I had to make peace with. All my life, I hated being alone. After we freed Soteria, it dawned on me that I had to make a choice. Either be part of the modern world or not.”
“You chose poorly, my friend.”
“No, this I understand. It’s the existence I willingly chose on my own. No one incarcerated or dropped me here against my will. Not to mention, I really like not having solid walls that confine me.”
That Urian could understand. Part of what he’d hated about Kalosis had been the claustrophobia. While it had been expansive, he’d known there was a much larger world to be had and so he’d often felt confined there. Boxed in.
Especially with the daylight ban.
But this was too much daylight.
Styxx sat down next to him. “What about you? How have you been?”
Urian reached for the can of cashews. “Same old, same old. Someone’s always trying to take over the world or end it. Really not looking forward to dealing with 2012 and the crap that’s coming out to play with us.” He laughed as he skimmed Styxx from the top of his agal-wrapped black keffiyeh to his desert boots. “It’s really messing with my head how natural you look dressed like a Bedouin. The scimitar and dagger just add to the whole cosplay, Assassin’s Creed thing you got going.”
Styxx laughed. “I also have a handgun tucked at my back, and a rifle.” He inclined his head over to where it rested near his bedroll. “But the sword doesn’t run out of bullets when bandits attack.”
“Another thing I tend to forget. You’re human.”
“There are many who would argue that.”
Urian didn’t respond, especially given the shit he had to take from the rabble, given former Daimon status.
Instead, he opened the backpack he’d brought and handed a dark blue box to Styxx. “I got you something I thought you might like.”
Styxx set his cup aside to take it and open it. A slow smile curled his lips as he saw four new sketchbooks and a pencil set. “Thank you, very much.”
He figured his friend could always use more and had he known where and how he was living, he’d have brought a whole lot more. “Hey, someone with your talent should never be without. That picture you drew of me and Phoebe … incredible. You nailed her looks and you’ve never even seen her, and I can’t thank you enough for leaving that for me. The only pictures I had of her were the ones in my head. Is that why you started drawing?”
He carefully tucked his gift away. “I actually started as a kid. It was one of my favorite things to do until Ryssa saw me and thought I was copying her journals. She had one of her more legendary hissy fits and then when she opened it and saw my feeble attempts at drawing, she laughed and ridiculed them, and ran straight to my father to tell him I’d been wasting my study time and precious parchment on stupidity. He didn’t take it well. He made me burn my sketches and had me whipped. Then he made me earn back all the money I’d squandered on wasting good parchment for foolishness. After that wonderful experience, I had such an aversion to art, I didn’t even want to look at figured pottery.”
Urian cringed at the thought, given how popular such pottery was in their day. “Then how did you learn to draw like that?”
“Vanishing Isle. I didn’t have paper or pencil, but I did have a lot of sticks and a lot of wet sand, and a shit-ton of time. You think I can draw? You should see my sand cities.”
“You mean sand castles?”
“Nah, anyone can build a sand castle. I do entire cities, complete with armies and aqueducts.”
Urian laughed even harder. “I hate to admit it, but I have missed your twisted sense of humor. And I’m stunned you get cell reception out here.”
“I don’t. I was in a town a week ago buying supplies when I called.”
“Ah.” Urian looked around and realized that Styxx was also lacking any form of power. “So how do you charge the phone?”
“Bribe a store clerk to use their outlet for an hour while I shop.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
Styxx leaned over to his backpack and pulled out a roll of toilet paper, then chucked it at Urian. “I try.”
Laughing, he shook his head. “Dude, that’s so messed up.” Sobering, Urian cleared his throat. “You haven’t asked me about Acheron.”
His expression turned to stone and made Urian regret that he’d brought it up. “I assume he’s doing fine. The world hasn’t ended and I’m not dead.”
“He’s expecting a baby in April.”
Styxx snorted. “That should make medical news then, and I’m sure Soteria is grateful she doesn’t have to go through labor.”
“Wha …?” It took Urian a second to figure out what he meant and then he felt like an idiot. “Ah, gah. Yeah. You knew what I meant.”
He gave him a sarcastic nod. “Do they know what it is?”
“Boy.”
Yeah, that was another somber expression on Styxx’s face that made Urian want to cut out his own tongue. He really needed to change the topic. Obviously, he was stabbing at some deep scars and ripping them open.
Styxx smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m happy for them. I’m sure his son will be handsome and strong.”
He cleared his throat. “So how’s Davyn?”
Urian breathed in relief to finally be on a safe topic. “Insane. I seem to attract that personality type for some reason.”
Styxx smirked. “Aeì koloiòs parà koloiôi hizánei.”
Urian scowled at the old Greek saying as he tried to figure out what Styxx was implying. “A jackdaw is always with a jackdaw?”
“Birds of a feather.”
Urian laughed. “Hey now, I resemble that remark.”
Styxx leaned back so that he could peep through the crack in the tent flap. He set his cup aside. “If you really want to know why I love it here, follow me.”
He was definitely curious, because he couldn’t imagine anything that would make this worthwhile.
Skylos lifted his head, but since Styxx didn’t call him outside with them, he went back to sleep.
As soon as they were out of the tent, Styxx looked up at the sky and started opening the sides of the tent so that they could take advantage of the much cooler night air. “You don’t have a view like that in New York.”
Urian gaped at the sight of the vivid night sky. Styxx was right, he hadn’t seen anything like that in a long, long time. “I’d forgotten how beautiful and bright they are.”
“Yeah. When I was a kid, I’d sit out on my balcony for hours staring at them. Most of the time, I don’t pitch the tent. I sleep out here on the sands, watching them. It was one of the things I missed over the centuries. They don’t exist on the Vanishing Isle or Katateros.”
“Kalosis either. And I never think about the fact that Katateros only has a moon. Alexion said the stars faded when Apollymi killed Astors, I think his name was?”
“Asteros.”
Urian cocked a brow at his answer. “I’m amazed you remember any of their names.”
Again that expression that said he’d stumbled across another brutal memory. Urian kicked himself. He’d come here to make Styxx feel better, but apparently, he was just being an inadvertent asshole.
“Are you hungry?” Styxx asked. “I have dried scorpion, nuts, figs, dates, and apples.”
“And you dared to mock jumbo shrimp?” Urian twisted his face up in distaste. “I really hope the scorpion offer is just to screw with me.”
“No, it’s actually quite good. Tastes like chicken.”
“Ar, ar, ar.” Urian feigned laughter over what he used to default to whenever Styxx would quiz him on what things tasted like in New York. “I’d rather live on blood … or my shoes.”
Styxx tsked. “I might have some beef jerky left.”
“That I could be talked into.”
Grinning, Styxx went back inside. “It’s good to have you here, Urian. I’d forgotten what it was like to actually carry on a real conversation with someone outside my head.”
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