Styxx (DH #33)

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Savitar expelled a heavy breath. “I had no idea. Does Acheron know about this?”

  “I don’t know. Given his extreme hatred of Styxx, though, I’d say he doesn’t care. He’d probably say Styxx deserved it.”

  Savitar felt Styxx’s forehead. “How long has his fever been this high?”

  “Since the fight with Stryker. He had it when I brought him home and it hasn’t broken or gone down at all.”

  Savitar placed his hand to Styxx’s throat. “He barely has a pulse.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t know what to do. Not like I can call a doctor. I tried to tell Ash, but he said Styxx was probably faking it for attention. He told me Styxx couldn’t die and would be fine. Not to concern myself with it. But he doesn’t look fine. He looks like a corpse.”

  “All right. Stand back. I’m going to shock him out of this.”

  Urian moved to the doorway as Savitar placed his hand over Styxx’s chest. A slight hum filled his ears a few seconds before what appeared to be a sledgehammer-like bolt shot from Savitar’s hand into Styxx’s chest.

  Styxx’s eyes flew open. Panting, he frowned at Savitar and then Urian as if he didn’t recognize them at first. As soon as he did, his eyes filled with panic and tears.

  “No!” Styxx breathed raggedly, sweeping the room with his gaze. “Beth! Galen!”

  Styxx wanted to scream as he found himself not in his cottage, but back in hell. Desperate and hysterical, he rushed from his bed to frantically search his condo for his family.

  They weren’t here. They were gone.

  All gone.

  Treacherous agony tore him apart as he fell to his knees and bellowed. “Why did you bring me back here? Why? I was with them and we were happy! I was with them.…” Styxx buried his head in his hands and tried to come to terms with the reality he despised. “Beth, don’t leave me again … please … please come back to me … I can’t live without you anymore.” And he couldn’t stand the thought of being here alone.

  Urian choked at the sight of a profound grief he knew better than anyone. For a long time, he’d hated Ash for bringing him back to life. Every day he lived without Phoebe was a day he despised with fury.

  Why didn’t I leave him alone?

  Had he known Styxx was in a coma with his family, he’d have left him there forever.

  His heart breaking for his newfound friend, Urian knelt down beside Styxx and gathered him into his arms. “I’m sorry, Styxx. We didn’t know.”

  Savitar came up to them and placed his hand on Styxx’s shoulder, knocking him out again. “Unfortunately, he won’t stay that way.”

  “Help me put him back in bed.”

  Instead of helping, Savitar picked Styxx up as if he weighed nothing and carried him to the bedroom. There was something weird about how Savitar was acting now. But Urian didn’t know him well enough to even hazard a guess about his thoughts.

  “It’s disturbing, isn’t it?” Savitar asked him as Urian entered the bedroom.

  “What?”

  “How much he favors Ash.”

  Urian shrugged. “They’re identical twins. I had two sets of brothers who were, too. But while they may share looks and some tendencies, they are usually very different people.”

  Savitar swept his gaze around the room then opened the closet where Styxx had two pairs of jeans folded neatly on the top shelf. One sweater, a jacket, two long-sleeved button-downs, and three short-sleeved shirts. One pair of shoes. Frowning, Savitar continued searching all six rooms of the condo.

  Curious, Urian followed him around. “What are you looking for?”

  “What’s your impression of this place?”

  Urian answered with the first word that popped into his head. “Spartan.”

  Savitar nodded. “Not exactly the kind of place a spoiled prince would be happy in, is it?” He handed a bankbook to Urian. “Acheron gave him plenty of money. And you can tell by the lack of dishes, he doesn’t do much, if any, entertaining. The only thing he appears to have splurged on is the computer.”

  “Only because I ordered it for him. He didn’t know anything about them and asked my advice.”

  Savitar picked up Styxx’s phone, looked at it then handed it to Urian. “Yours is the only number he has, and it’s the only one he’s called.”

  And not often, and even then not for very long. Their longest conversation had been about the computer and that had probably been no more than twenty minutes, tops.

  Urian sighed. “I assumed he had other people he hung out with.”

  “Has he said anything to you about being alone?”

  “He really doesn’t talk much. He mostly asks questions about modern things he can’t figure out. Or customs and phrases he’s unfamiliar with.”

  Savitar scowled. “Does he ever mention Ash or their sister?”

  “Only if I bring them up, and then he quickly deflects the conversation to another topic. Tonight notwithstanding, or when he and Ash went at each other, he’s usually quiet and reserved. Unassuming. But he does have a wicked sense of humor.”

  “How so?”

  Urian smiled at the memories of their brief conversations. “One of my personal faves … he made a snarky remark over a random online encounter and then apologized by saying that he was so allergic to stupidity that it caused him to break out into rampant sarcasm. Another time, I made the comment that he was a leader and not follower. He corrected me by saying if it was a dark place with loud growls then fuck that shit, he’d gladly follow me in to investigate it.”

  Savitar laughed.

  Urian continued, “He also wanted to know why sour cream, buttermilk, and blue cheese have expiration dates. Why boxing rings are always square. Why buildings burn up as they’re burning down.” He paused to laugh. “And my two favorites, he asked why we have doctors now and not physicians.”

  Savitar screwed his face up. “They’re the same.”

  “That’s what I said, but then he pointed out to me that back in the so-called barbarian days, we didn’t have doctors who practiced medicine, but rather physicians who healed you … or killed you, just like now. He asked me how modern man could trust someone with so little confidence of knowledge of their field that they told you right up-front that they were still in the learning process.”

  Savitar snorted. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “Yeah, and a few months ago, he was in a grocery store and wanted to know why lemon juice was artificially flavored, but dishwashing soap contained real lemons. And what did modern people have against turkeys? He could find turkey masquerading as bacon, steak, and burgers, but no plain turkeys. Needless to say, I never thought about any of that. Probably because the only time I was ever in a grocery store I was shopping for humans.”

  Savitar ignored those last comments. “It must be hard for him to adjust.”

  “He doesn’t complain. He just tries to understand modern mind-sets, such as how can he be a chauvinist pig if he opens a door for a woman and then he’s an insensitive pig if he doesn’t.”

  “The day he figures that one out, tell him to write a book and we’ll all be rich.”

  “He already has. He stays back until she goes in and then he runs for it before another one comes along.”

  Savitar laughed, then sobered. “Tell me honestly, Urian. What do you think of him?”

  “I like him, and it’s not because I idolized him as a military hero when I was a kid. He was a fierce old fart to me then. Kind of like you.”

  Savitar arched a censoring brow then smiled and heh’ed.

  “You know me, Chthonian, I don’t play well with others, and I basically hate everyone, all the time, but I would actually cross the street to have a conversation with him.… In fact, I have.”

  “Coming from you, that’s the highest endorsement I can think of.”

  Urian nodded. “I just don’t understand their mutual hatred. I mean, I had brothers I couldn’t stand to be around for more than five minutes, but I didn’t real
ly hate them. We were just different. While I might deck one from time to time, I never really tried to kill one.”

  “I get why Acheron hates him, and it is justified. Believe me. Apollymi herself has told me about their bad blood, and I know she’s not lying. I’m just having a hard time reconciling the stories I’ve been told with the man who lives here. Of course, eleven thousand years can change someone.… I don’t know.” Savitar sighed. “Keep an eye on him and let me know if he slips back into another coma.” He vanished.

  Urian started to leave, too, but given how distraught Styxx had been, he didn’t want Styxx to be alone when he woke up.

  Sighing, he glanced around for something to occupy himself with. His gaze fell to a sketchbook on the end table. Curious what it contained, he walked over to it and flipped it open.

  His jaw went slack at what he found inside. The majority of the book was filled with drawings of an absolutely stunning woman who had to be Bethany. Some of them were so real, she looked like she could step off the page and touch him. But the ones that were truly haunting were drawings of Styxx and her. He’d perfectly captured their smiles and laughs, but most of all he’d caught the anguish and love on his own features as he held her. There were also pictures of Bethany with a son, and of the boy by himself. A boy Styxx had never met. It wrung Urian’s heart.

  Damn, Styxx was talented. Who’d have ever guessed it?

  What he found most telling was that while a couple of the drawings of Bethany had her seductively clad in Greek gowns, none of them showed her naked. Even though Styxx had never intended for anyone else to see this, he’d kept his wife’s honor sacred and respected her.

  Urian stopped on the next page as he found one of a toddler boy dressed in a hoplite’s Corinthian helm. It was hilarious and adorable. Beside it, Styxx had written the name “Galen” in Greek.… He also had a few of an adult Galen, one of a woman named Tig, a horse and dog, and a few scenes from what must have been Didymos.

  And then the ones that really floored him … images of Acheron in his modern Goth wear and long black hair, as well as pictures of them together with a bolt of lightning coming down between them.

  When Urian turned to the next page, his heart stopped. Styxx had drawn Urian with Phoebe. Even though Styxx had never seen her, he’d penned her perfect likeness from Urian’s descriptions. It was absolutely eerie that Styxx could do that, and it showed him just how true to life his drawings of Bethany must be.

  Incredible.

  The love Styxx had for his wife and son bled onto every page. Since Styxx had nothing left of her to hold on to, he must have created this. And it was like looking into Styxx’s soul.

  Urian set the sketchbook back right where he’d found it. But honestly, what disturbed him the most about that book …

  He saw his own future. Phoebe had only been a dead a handful of years and it still burned inside him like a raging furnace. For Styxx, it’d been over eleven thousand and he still ached as much now as he had then.

  That did not bode well for Urian.

  Maybe that was why he was so drawn to Styxx. They were bound by similar tragedies and had been born virtual contemporaries in ancient Greece. Well, not quite, Styxx was the same age as his father, but close enough.

  Urian glanced back at the sketchbook and cringed. So that’s what I have to look forward to. Insanity.

  Great.

  January 21, 2009

  Just after midnight, Styxx woke up covered in sweat. He was so cold, his teeth chattered. Someone pulled another blanket over his shoulder. For the merest heartbeat he thought it might be Bethany.

  It wasn’t.

  Urian stepped into his field of vision. “How are you?”

  Broken. Completely. But there was no need in saying it. He still didn’t know how a dream could seem so very real. He’d felt Beth’s skin … her breath on his cheek. His son’s early morning demands for breakfast and entertainment as he tried to pull Styxx out of bed.

  “Come Daddy, come!”

  If only he could.…

  When he didn’t respond, Urian squatted down next to the bed until their gazes met. “I know,” he whispered. “I still wake up and expect to find Phoebe beside me. I haven’t even deactivated her cell phone. I keep it so that I can call and hear her voice on those hours when I feel like I can’t take it anymore. It’s not fair that we’re forced to live without them while the world goes on oblivious to the fact that it’s missing the most vital part of it.” He let out a bitter laugh. “It’s why I’m here with your hairy ass. I don’t want to see Tory and Ash. Not because I hate him like you do, but because they remind me of what I no longer have. And while I don’t begrudge them their happiness, it makes my loneliness burn even deeper.”

  Styxx finally blinked. “Why do you talk to me, Urian?”

  “I don’t know. You’re entertaining when you’re not catatonic or in a coma. Or in a homicidal rage. Why do you talk to me?”

  The answer slipped out before he could stop it. “Because I can’t hear your thoughts.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Styxx sighed. “It’s something I’ve been able to do from birth. With a tiny handful of exceptions, one of whom is you, I hear every thought in someone’s head.”

  “That has to suck.”

  “It does, indeed. That was what made me so lethal on the battlefield. I knew what my enemies were going to do and I could cut them off.”

  “Yeah, okay, that would not suck.” Urian had meant to make him laugh, but if anything, it darkened Styxx’s mood, so he changed the subject. “You think you could eat something?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Urian handed him a bottle of water. “You need to sip this. While I know you can’t die from hunger or thirst, you still feel both. I’ll go recon the fridge while you take a shower.” He rose to his feet then left the room.

  Wishing himself dead, Styxx sat up slowly and leaned back on his arms to survey his bedroom as sirens rang outside above the steady hum of traffic. How he hated it here.

  Yeah, Acheron had given him millions of people in this city, but Styxx didn’t relate to any of them. The handful of women he’d talked to had rammed home how out of synch he was with this time period. While he was hornier than hell, he couldn’t bring himself to sleep with any of them. The minute they opened their mouths and started ranting about trivial things, he lost interest.

  He missed discussing philosophy, ideas, and politics with Bethany. Listening to her hum and sing when she wasn’t even aware she was doing it …

  No other woman could touch her beauty or grace.

  With a heavy sigh, he forced himself to get up and shower. As he caught sight of himself he grimaced. He still had Acheron’s long black hair. He curled his lip. How could Acheron stand it? It made Styxx feel like a woman. Not to mention it was unsanitary and got all over the place. For that matter, how could Acheron fight with it?

  Unable to tolerate it any longer, he went back into his bedroom to get his shears from his desk drawer then returned to the bathroom to cut it off. As he moved to throw out the ponytail, he remembered seeing ads for Locks of Love that made wigs for cancer victims. He coiled the hair up and left it on the counter before he started the shower.

  Once he was cleaned and clothed, he headed for the kitchen to find Urian eating a sandwich.

  “You know, food still tastes weird to me. It’s hard to get used to eating when I lived on blood for eleven thousand years.”

  Styxx grimaced at the reminder of what Apollo had done to his own people. “I’m surprised you haven’t filed down your fangs.”

  “I’ve thought about it. But I’ve never seen myself without them. Too old to change now. Might throw off my bite and I have enough trouble chewing as it is. You probably don’t realize chewing is a skill. And the first time I bit my tongue … be glad you weren’t there for it.”

  Styxx sat down to eat his own ham sandwich. “What made you decide to go Daimon?”

  “Rage mostly.
My best friend was a couple of years older than me and he refused to fight the curse. So I watched him age to an old man in less than twenty-four hours, screaming in utter agony the entire day until he decayed into nothing but dust. All I could think about was that he’d never harmed anyone. Never even been in a fistfight, and all because of my own grandfather over something that happened before I could walk. It pissed me off. But after losing Phoebe, I can understand why Apollo was so upset and cursed us. I’d have done as much, if not more, if they’d murdered my son and beloved, too.”

  Styxx released a painful sigh. “He didn’t love Ryssa.”

  Urian arched a brow. “What?”

  “She was a possession. Nothing more. Most of the time, he bitched about her whining and complaining … which she did all the time, about everything.”

  “That’s not what Ash says.”

  “He and I had two entirely different sisters. She coddled him and hated me.”

  “Why?”

  Styxx swallowed his bite of food. “What can I say? I’m an asshole. As for Acheron, she felt sorry for him. In her mind, she was convinced that I stole our father’s throne and his love from my brother.”

  “Is that why he calls you a thief?”

  Styxx shrugged. “I don’t know. Ironically, I didn’t even want the throne. I just wanted a family that didn’t hate me.”

  Urian finished off his sandwich. “I’d have gladly given you some brothers. Man, there was so much testosterone in that house, I don’t know how my mother and sister stood us. But we were mostly happy. Although my older brothers said that my father was a very different man before Apollo cursed us.”

  “How so?”

  Urian shrugged. “He was happier and much more easygoing.” He picked up the pickle from his plate. “The only thing I really hated was not seeing sunlight.” He laughed bitterly. “My father used to get so mad at me when I was kid. I’d stand in the door at dawn, trying to catch a glimpse of the sunrise. And he’d start screaming that if I wanted to burst into flames then he was willing to begin the process by setting my ass on fire if I didn’t get to safety.”