Stygian (The Dark-Hunter World Book 28)

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

  October 23, 2017

  “Falcyn!” Urian barked as he caught sight of the massive Were-Hunter bastard in Sanctuary coming way too close to his sister.

  He hated that bastard for many, many reasons. Not the least of which was having removed Xyn from Kalosis all those centuries before.

  Damn him!

  Worse? He knew that look. And no man or beast gave his sister that look without getting an ass-beating from him.

  Falcyn tsked at Urian. “Do you really think to make me heel at your command, lapdog?”

  Unperturbed by that insult and wanting to drink dragon blood, Urian narrowed his eyes while he rapidly closed the distance between them. He kept his attention keenly focused on Falcyn, watching his every twitch.

  He didn’t trust the Drakos bastard at all. This was one of Xyn’s brothers, which meant that Urian knew exactly how treacherous Falcyn could be.

  Stepping between them, Urian gave Medea a bit of breathing room. “I would caution you to remember you’re in a Were-Hunter sanctuary.”

  Falcyn snorted. “As if I give two shits for Savitar’s laws.” He raked a bitter stare over Urian. “Or you, for that matter. And even less for your boss. So don’t even think of dragging Acheron’s name into this as protection from my wrath. I dare him to say a single word to me … on any matter.”

  Urian scowled at his words and bravado given the fact that Acheron was the final Fate of all. To defy him while knowing his real place in the universe was a special level of stupid and bravery that most lacked. “Is there nothing you fear?”

  Falcyn’s gaze went past Urian’s shoulder to something in the crowd.

  “Aye, but sadly she’s not here.”

  Urian turned his head at the sound of the deep voice behind him. Blaise du Fey. There was a bastard he hadn’t seen in a long, long time. Another of Xyn’s dubious kin.

  But at least he was a little better natured than Falcyn. With hair as pale as Urian’s and eyes a peculiar lavender shade, Blaise was a fierce and reliable warrior.

  And like Xyn, his ears held a bit of a point to them. Something that always hit Urian hard in the gut whenever he saw Blaise or any of the Adoni as it reminded him of the way he used to nibble and toy affectionately with Xyn’s. Those ears had always been a source of fascination for him.

  Stop, Uri! You make me self-conscious! I feel enough like a freak because of them.

  Don’t say that. I adore your ears. They’re as beautiful as the rest of you. And the fact that they’re not like everyone else’s makes them as special as you are. You should never cover them. Rather flaunt them to the world. Let them see the unique beauty that is you.

  God, how he missed her. And instead of having her precious kindness, he was stuck with her two asshole brothers to deal with.

  Awesome.

  Falcyn tsked at him. “Now, Blaise, why would you go and bring Xyn into this? Especially given what a sore topic that is?”

  Blaise let loose a charming grin. “Felt the need to rankle my big brother. Besides, everyone else fears you so. You need me to even you out.” Blaise kept his hand raised and out so that he could feel his way through them. Because of his albinism, he was blind in his human body. “And if you’re through scaring the natives, I’ve got something I need to speak to you about.”

  Falcyn sneered. “Rather spend time scaring the natives than listening to your petulant whine.”

  “Ah, now, you’re going to hurt my feelings.”

  “You don’t have any feelings.”

  “Not true. I had a lot of them, until you, Kerrigan, and Illarion shriveled them into oblivion. But I think I managed to salvage one or two. Please, try not to kill those last two off. I might need them one day.”

  Urian shook his head at Medea, who was so lucky that she’d been raised as an only child. He envied her that.

  Falcyn made a rude noise of dismissal. “Those are called hunger pangs.”

  Blaise laughed. “Hungry for a kind word, you mean.”

  “Well, you won’t be getting it here.” Falcyn gestured toward the stairs as if his brother could see his movements. “So off with you.”

  Blaise sighed heavily. “’Fraid not. Must intrude. Can’t wait.”

  Urian pulled Medea away from the fighting dragons. “Well, then. We’ll leave you to your argument. Come, big sis. Let’s get out of here before Godzilla and Mothra go at it and we’re caught in the crossfire.”

  She screwed her face up at him. “Before who and what?”

  Urian groaned under his breath. How could he forget that she knew next to nothing about pop culture? It was actually painful how few of his quotes she understood. “One day we’ve got to do an all-day movie marathon to catch you up on my references.” And with that, he pulled her toward the stairs.

  “What are they?” she asked him as he led her upstairs to the less crowded area of the bar.

  “Blaise is a mandrake. Falcyn … hell if I know. He’s one of the dragon breeds, but not a Were-Hunter.” Even though Urian usually called him that just to piss him off because it was fun to listen to the irritable bowel symptom noises Falcyn made in protest.

  “If they’re brothers, he’d be a mandrake, too. Right?”

  One would think. But he’d learned centuries ago from Xyn that it didn’t work that way. “I don’t think they’re really related. The dragons have an even more peculiar idea of what constitutes family than we do.”

  “But if he’s a dragon and he’s not a mandrake or Were-Hunter, how can he be human? Aren’t they the only two kinds of pure-blooded dragons who can take human form?”

  Urian paused to look from her to the two dragons in the crowd below. “That, Medea, is the question we’ve all asked and no one will answer. All we know is that he’s a bloodthirsty beast who’s best avoided.”

  Urian scowled at Medea as they talked inside the small private room in Sanctuary that was reserved for whenever the preternatural clientele became rowdy and needed a time-out away from human witnesses who might not react well to the reality of what they shared their world with. Barely more than a closet, their quarters were cramped, but it allowed them to not be overheard by any of the humans outside.

  Or the Were-Hunters, who as a rule had very sensitive hearing.

  And given the fact that his sister had just told him about a mysterious plague that was about to destroy her people, he was glad no one could overhear them.

  “Why are you telling me this? I’m no longer a Daimon.” He hadn’t been one in years.

  Medea crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, but for all you know, this plague that Apollo’s sent could infect you, too. Whatever it is that Apollo unleashed on us is taking an awful toll. I know you hate our father, but—”

  “Stryker’s not my father!” he reminded her coldly. Thank the gods for that favor.

  “Biologically, true. However, he did raise you as his own. His wife birthed you.”

  “After I was ripped from the stomach of my real mother by that bitch you serve … and shoved into her womb without anyone’s knowledge or consent!” And Medea reminding him of how the gods had screwed him over wasn’t warming him to her cause.

  At all.

  Honestly, he’d had enough of being their bastard stepchild they kicked whenever they became bored.

  “That bitch is also the mother of your current boss and the beloved protector of your real father and mother, don’t forget!”

  Urian hissed at her less-than-subtle reminder about Apollymi’s position in his world. And the fact that he’d once loved her like a second mother most of his life. But he felt doubly betrayed by her for not telling him the truth, when she’d known it all those centuries. He was so angry at Apollymi for what she’d done that he had yet to even speak to her again after finding out the truth.

  When he looked back and thought about all the years—no, centuries—he could have had with his real father … he wanted to kill her for it. How could
she have done it?

  “You have some nerve to come here and ask me to help Stryker or Apollymi given what they’ve both taken from me.”

  It was cruel beyond cruel, even for them.

  “I know that. Which tells you how desperate I am.” She swallowed hard. “They’re not the only ones who are sick, Uri. Davyn has it, too. He’ll die if you don’t help us.”

  That news staggered him. Davyn was the one person he couldn’t bear the thought of losing. He’d kill himself first.

  “Please, Urian. I lost my husband and only child because my grandfather—the grandfather of your birth twin—was a bastard. Watched them both be slaughtered in front of my own eyes by the human vermin you protect. For no reason other than they feared us when we’d done nothing to cause their suspicions. We were innocent and harmless, minding our own business when they attacked us. So don’t think for one minute you own some kind of market share on pain. Because trust me, brother, you’re a novice. You’ve no idea what I went through in my mortal life or this one. I’m sorry for what Stryker did to your Phoebe. I am, but I’ve lost too many to sit back and watch the rest die and not do something to at least try to help them. That’s not who I am.”

  It wasn’t who he was either, and she was wrong about her pain. He’d lost more children than she had. He knew exactly the pain of her loss. While he might not have birthed them, they were his children all the same.

  A single tear slid down her cheek as her eyes turned haunted. “Praxis was five years old, Uri. Five. And he died in agony at the merciless hands of those human bastards, screaming for me to help him while they …” She choked on her words. “Tell me, Urian, how am I even sane, given what they violently stole from me? No amount of time can dull a pain that sharp!”

  Urian knew her pain. Firsthand. And he hated that anyone had to go through it. He pulled her against him. “I’m so sorry, Dee.”

  Her breathing ragged, she pushed him away from her. “I don’t need your pity. It’s worthless. You can keep it, especially if you’re not going to help me.”

  Urian caught her arm as she started to leave. “Wait!” He wanted to deny her this request. In truth, he wanted Stryker to go down in flames and to laugh as he watched it happen.

  But Medea was right. He couldn’t allow the rest of what had once been his family and friends to die and do nothing.

  Not if he could help it.

  “There is one thing that might be able to save them.”

  “What?”

  He hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to help them, but because he didn’t know what Stryker might do with the cure. In his hands, it could prove most lethal.

  No good deed goes unpunished.

  Somehow this was going to come back on him. He knew it. Such things always did, and they left him bleeding and cursing. Yet even so, he couldn’t allow Medea to be hurt any worse than she already had been. She was right. She’d been through enough and at the end of the day, they were family. Maybe not in the conventional sense, but he felt a kinship with her all the same. And he had grown up thinking himself as one of Stryker’s sons. Thinking of Stryker’s daughter as his own sister.

  Every time he looked at Medea, he saw Tannis’s beloved face. Remembered their time as children. They’d all been innocent victims of a fetid power game between the ancient gods. All of them had paid a high cost to continue living, just to spite those who would see them fall for no reason whatsoever.

  For better or worse, Medea was every bit as much his sister as Tannis had been. And because he loved her, he refused to add to her pain.

  “I don’t know if it’ll work or not.”

  Medea chafed at his hedging. “Oh for goodness’ sake, just say it, already!”

  “A dragonstone.” The one thing Xyn had told him about so very long ago. They were incredibly powerful and could curse just about anything.

  Pulling back, she scowled at him. “A what?”

  Urian hedged as he sought a way to explain it. But it wasn’t as easy as it should be. “For lack of a better term, it’s an enchanted rock the dragons have. Supposedly, it can cure anything. Even death.”

  “Where do you get one?”

  That was the easy part.

  And the hardest thing imaginable, as there were so few left. “As luck would have it, there’s one here.”

  Joy returned to her dark eyes. “Where?”

  He visibly cringed at the last place either of them wanted to venture. Because asking for help there was all kinds of rampant stupid. If only Xyn were still alive. She’d have shared hers in a heartbeat. “That would be the stickler, as it belongs to Falcyn.” The bastard he hated almost as much as Apollo.

  “That surly beast I met earlier?”

  He nodded. “To my knowledge, that’s the last one in existence. The rest were all destroyed or have gone missing.”

  Medea groaned out loud. “Great. So how do I go about getting this thing?”

  “Word of advice? Ask nicely.”

  Urian and Medea entered the room where they’d been told Falcyn had gone to see Blaise.

  Problem was, they weren’t alone. And the fey Adoni with them didn’t seem happy. Indeed, this appeared about the same as walking into the middle of a bank robbery.

  With all the robbers wrapped in C-4.

  Falcyn drew up short at the sight of them. “Here to help or to hinder? Declare yourself.”

  Urian didn’t hesitate with his answer. “Whichever choice ends with me on your good side.”

  “Grab the bitch.”

  That better not be his sister Falcyn was talking about.

  But before anyone could move, a bright light pulsed inside the room, blinding everyone except Blaise, who couldn’t see anyway.

  Falcyn cursed. “Urian?”

  Hissing from the pain, Urian held his hand up in a useless effort to try to see someone past the large white blob. “Blind as a bat!” he snapped in response to Falcyn’s call. “Dee?”

  “Can’t see shit.”

  “It’s demons in the room.” Blaise moved to cover them. “Gallu.”

  Ah, that’s just great. At least they weren’t Charonte.

  “Who invited the assholes to our party?” Falcyn snarled.

  They were one of the few breeds that could infect a victim and turn them into mindless slaves. Or killing machines. Neither of which appealed to Urian.

  He only killed on command or when threatened. As the old Daimon saying went—you protect those who stand behind you. Respect those who stand by your side. And defeat or kill whoever stands against you.

  Suddenly, something grabbed them and they were falling.

  “Blaise? What are you doing?” Falcyn snarled. “Hang on! Everyone stay calm!”

  Falcyn scoffed. “Then why do you sound panicked and why am I still blind?”

  Urian hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. A few feet away, Falcyn and Medea landed in an entwined heap.

  “Hey, hey, love! You only touch the no-zone if you intend to make it happy.”

  Medea grimaced. “There’s not enough beer in the universe for me to touch your no-zone, dragonfly. Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “Says the Daimon crawling all over it.”

  “Jumping off it, you mean, before I catch something I’m sure antibiotics won’t cure.”

  Urian laughed. One thing he loved about his sister—she had a mean sense of humor.

  Falcyn scoffed at her insult. “Not what it feels like from where I’m lying and you’re still on top of—umph!” He growled as she elbowed the air out of his lungs.

  With a fierce scowl, he rubbed the abused area and pushed himself to his feet. “Blaise, what did you do?”

  Another thing Urian agreed with. They appeared to be out in middle-of-nowhere Alaska, Nebraska, or some remote end-of-the-world apocalyptic location.

  Blaise turned around slowly in a way that said he was using his dragon-sight to feel the aether. “Well, this wasn’t what I had planned.” />
  “What?” Urian’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You weren’t wanting a trip to Halloween Town? I’m so disappointed, Blaise. Was hoping to get my Jack Skellington underwear signed.”

  Falcyn scratched at his whiskered cheek. “So how’d we get here?”

  “Not sure. I was aiming for the parlor of the Peltier house.” Blaise screwed his face up. “Epic fail. Not even sure where we are.”

  Urian let out a long, tired breath as he surveyed the twisted landscape. “I think I know. But you’re not going to like it. I sure as hell don’t.”

  Medea pursed her lips. “Try us.”

  Urian glanced around at a place where he hadn’t been since his marriage to Sheba. Gods, he hoped he was wrong. But yeah, this looked like the realm Ruyn used to party in for shits and giggles. “Myrkheim.”

  Blaise made an expression of exaggerated happiness. “Oh goody! The borderlands where heathens go to rot! Just where I wanted to build my vacation home! Where’s a lease? Sign my scaly ass up!”

  Medea rolled her eyes. “What’s Myrkheim?”

  Falcyn laughed bitterly. “Guess the Daimons don’t spend a lot of time here as it’s not really part of your mythology. It’s a nether realm. A holding ground if you will, between the land of light and dark where the fey can practice their magick.”

  “Whose feyfolk?” she pressed.

  Legitimate question, Urian supposed, as there was a lot of fey in the world to go around.

  Falcyn sighed. “At one time, everyone’s. But nowadays, it’s mostly reserved for Morgen’s rejects. And some other IBS-suffering bastards.”

  “Yeah, okay … So what’s the—” Before she could finish her sentence a bolt of light shot between them, narrowly missing her.

  In fact, it only missed her because Falcyn deflected it. “Stray magick. You have to keep your head up for it. If it hits you, there’s no telling what it might do. Could vaporize you. Turn you into a toad. Or just ruin your chances for children.”

  Which was why Ruyn liked to play here. Bastard lived to play dangerously.