Urian was aghast. “What have you been living on?”
Closing his eyes, Styxx savored the unfamiliar taste. It was even warm … He swallowed and wiped his mouth before he answered. “Clams mostly … whenever I can find them. Coconuts. Some greens I discovered out back.” He took a drink of wine then sighed at how good it tasted. The last time he’d had this was years ago in New Orleans.
He felt Urian staring at him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
It wasn’t until then that Styxx realized Urian was one of the few people whose thoughts he couldn’t hear. He had no clue what the man was thinking.
Urian grabbed the backpack up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”
Styxx nodded as he kept eating the … “Urian? What’s this called?”
“Spaghetti.”
“It’s really good. Thank you.”
“Parakaló.”
Once Styxx finished, he washed out the bowl and dried it then took his wine to the pool. He didn’t know why he liked to stay in this room. There was just something about it that soothed him.
Rolling up his pants leg, he saw that the fabric was starting to fray. He needed to be more careful washing it and wearing it. Since there wasn’t anything here to replace it with or animals to use for pelts, he’d have to make it last. He dipped his feet into the pool and sat alone in the silence.
He’d just finished off his wine when Urian returned.
“Is this what you do at night?”
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.” Even now, he couldn’t sleep through a night.
“How are you not crazy?”
Styxx snorted. “Who says I’m not?”
Urian released an elongated breath. “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.”
“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.”
“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?”
Styxx 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.” Styxx paused as he caught the expression on Urian’s face. “Sorry. I’m not used to having anyone to talk to.”
Urian wasn’t sure what to make of Styxx. From what little Acheron had mentioned 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 the brother Acheron had described. There was no arrogance in him. He had a very quiet, suspicious nature. 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 your throat and roll you under for the kill before you 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, stayed 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. There was nothing left inside any of the buildings to say who they 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. Alone. It was mind-blowing. 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 for was drinking water.
He still couldn’t believe how humble a request that was.
“I brought you more food,” Urian said, trying to break the sudden 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 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.
Styxx froze as he saw the abundance of food Urian had brought in a large plastic box. “Bread?” he whispered, awed by the precious sight of it.
“Yeah, that’s the white stuff in the plastic bag.”
His mouth watered at the thought of tasting bread again.…
Urian stepped back so that Styxx would look through the box and see what else it contained.
Styxx’s heart raced in excitement at the glorious amount of food. It’d been thousands of years since he’d last had a surplus like this. A lot of it, he had no idea what it was. But it was food … Peanut butter. Beef jerky. Deviled ham …
Why would ham be possessed?
It didn’t matter. He’d eat it anyway.
Styxx jerked his hand back as he touched a bag of apples. For a full minute, he couldn’t breathe as he saw himself as a boy in his room.
“Here, brother.” Then Acheron would roll one through the hole in the wall for him to catch it.
His throat tightened as he moved his hand away and put the items back into the box to cover the apples. “Thank you.”
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.”
“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.”
Or confine me in a temple where they raped and beat me.
“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. Excusing himself, he pulled it out and turned it on. “Hey, Cass, is everything all right?”
Styxx heard a woman on the other end as she asked Urian to come stay for a few days in a place he’d never heard of before.
“Sure. I don’t mind babysitting. You know that. I love your rugrats.… Yeah, see you soon. Love you, too.” He hung up.
“Your wife?” Styxx made the most natural assumption given the love he’d heard in Urian’s voice as he spoke to her.
“My wife’s sister.”
“Ah. So does your wife live in the main temple with you?”
Urian reached to touch the necklace he wore in a manner that reminded Styxx of how he used to caress Bethany’s necklace on his wrist. “No. She died.”
“I am extremely sorry. I know how hard that is.”
“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 swallowed hard as his own tears rose up to choke him. “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.”
Urian’s gaze fell to his arm. “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.”
“What about you?”
Styxx laughed. “I assure you, I’ll be here when you get back.”
Urian gave him an ancient salute that Styxx quickly returned then 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 is Acheron’s twin.
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 him 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.
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 heightened nerves and incessant need to check and lock down his perimeter had caused him to investigate the foreign noise.
As he resumed the path to the main hall, 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 Urian had wanted to rip his heart out. The two of them could barely be in a room that they didn’t walk out bruised from the unfortunate event.
Yet even so, he’d welcome that asshole back if he could.
“Dang, Ash. Who in their right mind throws out a perfectly good brother?”
November 1, 2008
Styxx sighed in his sleep as he felt a gentle hand in his hair. Chills shook him while the scent of Bethany filled his head.
“Beth?” he breathed, opening his eyes. He rolled over then jumped away as he saw a very tiny auburn-haired woman who bore no resemblance to Bethany at all.
She pulled back with an equal amount of wariness.
It took Styxx a minute to find her in Acheron’s memories. Her name was Danger. A former Dark-Hunter who’d died, she was the female spirit who had married Alexion. The two of them lived in Acheron’s temple and kept it for him.
“You must be…”—the monster—“Styxx.”
He’d heard her catch loud and clear. “You should be going.”
She tsked at him. “I kept wondering where my food was vanishing off to. Any idea how hard it is to keep a Charonte stocked in Ding Dongs when half the stash gets confiscated?”
He pulled the blankets higher to keep himself covered from her curious gaze. Her eyes widened as she saw the scars on his arms, hands, and upper chest.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. Who’s Beth?”
“My wife … was my wife.”
She frowned. “I didn’t know you were married. Acheron never mentioned that. Beth isn’t a Greek name, is it?”
“She was Egyptian.”
Danger cocked her head to study his forearm. “And Galen?”
“You read Greek?”
“My husband’s Greek. Not quite as old as you, but definitely not modern. Since he loves his native language so much, I learned it.… So who’s Galen?”
“Galen was my son.”
Her frown deepened. “I thought Acheron’s nephew was Apollodorus.”
“He was Ryssa’s son, not mine.”
“Oh…” Why did Ash never mention he had another nephew?
Styxx barely caught himself before he responded to her thought.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“I was sleeping.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
Get out was what she meant. He’d overstayed his welcome. Besides, if Acheron learned of his presence, there was no telling what he might do to him given his hatred. “I’ll go back to my island. Sorry I disturbed you. I’ll tell Urian not to bring me any more food.” He glanced meaningfully to his clothes that were set on the table behind her as he lifted his sheet higher. “But I can’t leave until you allow me to dress.”
“I wasn’t telling you to leave or to stop getting food. I was teasing about that.”
“Oh. I’m not used to being teased.”
“Are you all right?”
No, he wasn’t. Styxx choked on the grief and sadness that her kindness evoked. He hadn’t interacted with a woman like this since Beth. Nor had any woman touched him like that since the day she’d left to go to Egypt. And as bad as the memories had been, having awakened to Danger rammed the full weight of his loss down his throat.
“Fine,” he breathed. But he wasn’t fine. He hadn’t been for thousands of years.
She moved to touch him.
Styxx flinched away from her. “Please don’t.” It hurt too much for a woman to be this close to him, and for her to lay her hand on his skin.…
He’d rather have the priests and their hot brands.
Finally, she stepped back from the bed. “Would you like for me to make you breakfast while you dress?”
“Thank you, but I don’t want you to trouble yourself.”
“It’s no trouble. Trust me. You’ll be a lot easier to feed than two Charonte. It’ll be waiting on you when you finish.” She vanished before he could thank her again.
* * *
Danger paused by the boxes of foodstuffs as she glanced back to the room where she’d found Styxx. Acheron had ordered her to stay away from him. He’d been emphatic that she not go near Styxx’s island.
But why?
He wasn’t the monster Acheron had made him out to be. He was actually rather polite and bashful. Hardly the cocky asshole Acheron and Alexion called him.
She smiled as she saw the way he’d organized his food. Everything was meticulously placed, but then that made sense since he didn’t have a lot to occupy himself with.
What did he do all day? There were no books, instruments, or anything of that nature. He had a small collection of handmade weapons and tools. And one really lovely bowl that had been carved out of stone.
She let out a low whistle as she ran her hand over the smooth surface. “You are incredibly talented.” He’d even chiseled out a Greek key pattern around the edge of it.
&nb
sp; Her smile faded as she realized his food consisted of nothing but Doomsday prep items. Everything was designed to be reconstituted or was dried, with a few fresh vegetables and fruits.
And one box of Simi’s Ding Dongs.
“This is not meal worthy.” She flashed herself back to the kitchen where she and Alexion cooked for Simi and Xirena, and Urian whenever he was home. As quickly as she could, she fried Styxx two eggs and some bacon and made a small stack of pancakes. Grabbing a glass of milk, she returned to him.
She’d just set it out on the table when he came through the door and paused.
His eyes lit up like Simi’s whenever they had Diamonique on QVC. “Eggs and bacon?”
“Yes.”
Even though he didn’t smile, the joy in those electric blue eyes warmed her. But he didn’t come any closer. Curious about that, she stepped away from the table.
Only when she was out of reach did he move to sit.
“It smells delicious. Thank you. I can’t remember the last time I tasted eggs or bacon.”
When he went to eat the pancakes like bread, she stopped him. “They’re pancakes.”
“Okay.” He folded it to eat.
She bit back her smile. “It’s not a pita, sweetie. You put syrup on it and cut it up.”
He frowned as if he had no idea what she was talking about. “Syrup?”
They must not have had that in his day. She lifted the small container.
His scowl deepened. “Dark honey?”
“No. It’s sweet like honey, but it’s maple syrup.” She poured it over the pancakes for him.
He hesitated before he tried it then he flashed a grin at her. “Who wants Ding Dongs when they can eat this?”
She laughed at his unexpected enthusiasm.
Then he lifted the milk and sniffed it. “Cow?”
“Um … yeah.” What did he think it was?
His expression said it was ambrosia to him. He took a deep drink. “I haven’t had cow milk since … I can’t even remember.”
Danger watched him. It was so disconcerting to see someone who looked so similar to Acheron and yet was so different. And as she studied him, she realized his short hair was really butchered and uneven.
Styxx (DH #33) Page 75