Styxx (DH #33)

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Savitar took them out of the room.

  Tory rubbed Ash’s back. “You okay, baby?”

  “Not really. I’m seriously hating myself right now as I remember things I’d forgotten on purpose. Things I should have never allowed myself to bury.”

  “Such as?”

  Tears filled his eyes. “All the times when we were little and Styxx would try to protect me. There was this one time when we were playing and running around and I accidentally knocked over the bust of Styxx’s grandfather. As his father came storming into the room, Styxx shoved me under a table and told him he was the one who’d bumped into it. He had the hell beat out of him for being reckless and thoughtless. And after he’d been sent to his room with no dinner, I snuck in to check on him. He was bruised from the middle of his back to the backs of his knees. Horrible welts that were four inches thick from the cane they’d used on him. I asked him why he hadn’t told his father the truth. Do you know what he said to me?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s what big brothers do.”

  She pulled him into her arms as his silent tears fell. “Shh, baby, it’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay, Sota. I’ve seriously wronged him and I don’t know how to make it right. How can I let him do this for me?”

  “I don’t know. And honestly, I’m too selfish for you to ask me.… I don’t want Styxx hurt, I don’t. But I can’t live without you. So my vote is to sacrifice him to save your life.”

  “Yeah, but I’m the big brother now.…”

  * * *

  Styxx paused inside the courtyard doorway as he caught sight of Apollymi sitting on a stone bench that overlooked a dark fountain. The hair on the back of his neck rose as the old Didymosian adage went through him. A silent man is a thinking man. A silent woman is an angry one …

  And silent women had a nasty habit of stabbing him when he wasn’t looking.

  But this one didn’t need a knife to stab him through the heart. Not to mention, Apollymi had never been that merciful to him.

  The last time they’d met had been brief and with an audience who had intently watched their every move. Then he hadn’t dared to allow himself to focus on her then for fear of what he might do that would get Urian killed.

  This was the first time he’d ever actually looked at the woman who had taken his wife and son.

  The woman who had taken everything from him.

  And all to save the life of her own son.

  He should probably hate her for that alone, but given the fact that he’d have sold his soul to have a mother who would just acknowledge his existence with something other than profound hatred, how could he? In spite of what Acheron thought, Apollymi’s unconditional and unreasoning love for her son was the only thing Styxx had ever coveted.

  That and Ryssa’s.

  Styxx swallowed hard as that old wound ripped open and flooded him with pain. Ryssa’s last words to him had been so harsh and cutting—in more ways than one. He’d done everything he could to make his sister love him, but her unwarranted jealousy and love of Acheron had kept her from seeing him as anything other than worthless, spoiled, and selfish. An unwanted nuisance. While he’d done his absolute best to protect and shield Acheron, Ryssa had ruthlessly blamed him for things he had no control over.

  For things he hadn’t done.

  But he wouldn’t think about that. The past was ancient history. Literally.

  This was the present, and once again, Acheron needed him. What the hell? Not like I have anything to live for anyway.…

  Wasima and Jabar couldn’t care less who fed them. Dog either, for that matter.

  Taking a deep breath, Styxx studied the goddess who despised him even more than his own mother and sister had.

  Her pale blond hair was a stark contrast to her black gown, both of which flowed around her perfect body. Ironically, the Atlantean goddess of ultimate pain and destruction had to be the most beautiful woman who had ever lived.

  The splashing water made a soothing sound in spite of the fact that they were both currently in Atlantean hell. Her isolation struck him hard as the memory of his own slammed into him and reawakened a horror he did his best every waking minute to forever bury. There was nothing worse than to exist in a tight hole where the only company you had was the sight of your own face in a cold reflection that showed you just how much you hated yourself.

  But unlike him, Apollymi didn’t sit alone in her prison.

  His gaze went to the two Charonte who stood on opposite sides of her. While they didn’t speak, they were at least another life form nearby. Not to mention, she had an entire Daimon army to serve her and keep her company.

  He winced as he remembered all the centuries he’d screamed out for someone, anyone, to have mercy on him and just speak so that he could hear them. They didn’t even have to talk to him. Just speak.

  Eleven thousand years was hard to live through.

  Eleven thousand years of utter solitude …

  “So you’re not a coward, after all.”

  He narrowed his gaze on Apollymi as his hatred rose to swallow every last remnant of his pain. “I’ve been many things in my life, but never a coward.”

  She rose with the same slow, graceful movements he was now trying to duplicate. As she turned to face him, her eyes flashed from swirling silver to a deep, vibrant red—another thing she shared with her son. “You don’t fool me, dog. I see you for what you really are.”

  Styxx caught his bitter laughter out of habit. As a human, that kind of response would have caused his father to knock him through a wall. But then Apollymi couldn’t kill him.

  Only Acheron could, and the bastard had never been that merciful.

  “I find that hard to believe.” Not once in his entire existence had anyone other than Galen or Bethany ever seen the truth in him. And that was okay. He’d long ago grown used to being misjudged and despised.

  Before he could blink, she vanished then reappeared right beside him.… Just like Apollo used to do to him. She sank her hand deep into his short blond hair and wrenched it hard. “But for my son, I’d have your heart in my fist right now.”

  He didn’t flinch or react to the pain at all. “But for my brother, I’d gut you where you stand.”

  She laughed at his threat then tightened the grip in his hair. “You are nothing but a second-rate copy of my Apostolos. A mere shadow of the man he has become. No one will ever mistake you for him. How could they?”

  Strange to hear his own doubtful litany coming out of someone else’s mouth. She might as well be his father, telling him how he’d never be good enough to rule. How he should have drowned him the moment he was born.

  Or bashed in his head.

  When he didn’t respond, she hissed at him, baring her fangs. “I hate you.”

  Styxx smirked. “The feeling is entirely mutual.”

  She yanked his hair so hard, he was amazed she didn’t draw out a fistful of bloody strands. Her eyes flashing again, she jerked him against her and sank her fangs into his neck.

  He gasped at the raw, unrelenting pain of her bite. A pain she took pleasure in giving him. It was the same way Apollo used to do him, over and over again.

  For the love of the gods, please rip out my throat. Maybe then, for a few minutes at least, he might actually be at peace.

  But as she drank from him, her hold started to gentle and the pain lessened. Within a few seconds, it almost felt like a mother’s embrace. Not that he remembered the sensation of being hugged. In fact, he could count on one hand how many times in his entire existence he’d been held by anyone.

  And none of those had ever come from his own mother.

  Apollymi pulled back to look up at him with a stern frown. His blood stained her lips. To his complete shock, she brushed a tender hand over the wound she’d left in his neck. “I had no idea,” she said in a tight voice.

  Styxx shrugged her arms away. He didn’t want or need anyone’s kindness or pity, and especial
ly not hers. “Yeah, well, we all have shit to deal with, don’t we?”

  She reached out to him, but he stepped back. He wasn’t a boy anymore begging for a modicum of kindness from someone. He’d learned as a toddler that he was alone in this world. And honestly, he now preferred it that way.

  “Is it done?” he asked.

  Apollymi gave a subtle nod.

  Good. Now he could move into his next prison and be done with it … or, best of all, die. He wiped the blood off his neck and turned to leave.

  “Styxx?”

  He paused, but didn’t speak. Ironically, it was the first time she’d ever called him by name and not an insult.

  “Thank you for doing this for Apostolos,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “And for what it’s worth, I am so sorry for what happened to you because of my actions.”

  Sorry … That one word caused his lip to curl.

  This time he gave free rein to his disdainful snort. “Everyone’s sorry for something.” He pinned her with a heated glare. “And there are some things, my lady, that sorry doesn’t fix.”

  “Wait!”

  He started to ignore her, but stopped for some unknown reason.

  Before he could say a word, Apollymi appeared at his back. Placing her hand on his forehead, she pulled his head against her shoulder and again sank her fangs deep into his jugular.

  Styxx gasped as his head spun, not with pain but with an unbelievable surge of power. Everything became more vibrant, more vivid. He’d always been able to hear voices, but they were louder now.

  Clearer.

  Panting and weak, he couldn’t breathe as she lifted her lips from his neck and held him in her arms. “What have you done to me?”

  She stroked his hair as if he was the son she loved. “I have given you my powers. It’s only temporary. But I don’t want you hurt.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She kissed his cheek and tightened her hold on him. “You agreed to do this and you don’t even know what it is we’re asking you for. All you knew was that your brother would die if you didn’t. That my grandchildren would be fatherless…” Her words broke off into a sob. “Come back from this, Styxx. Survive and I promise you, you will have what you crave most.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He felt her hot tears on his cheek while she continued to hold on to him. “I know, baby. But I’m an Atlantean god. I have to keep my promises or I’ll die. You can trust in that.” She kissed his cheek one more time then released him.

  Still dizzy, Styxx was afraid to move. He felt so strange … both weak and strong at the same time.

  “You should know that it’s Apollo who started this by awakening my pantheon with his mother’s blood. His intent is to kill Apostolos, bring back the entire Atlantean pantheon, and then come for you. I originally marked you just enough that he would know it was you and leave my son alone. But as of right now, you are as much my son as Apostolos is. You draw the same powers he does. Apollo will never know the difference unless you tell him. No one will.” Her eyes sad and tormented, she cupped his cheek in her hand. “Your courage and heart are duly noted, m’gios. And they will never be forgotten.”

  “Is he ready?”

  Unsure of what to say to Apollymi, Styxx turned as Savitar rejoined them.

  The instant the Chthonian looked at him, Savitar stepped back. “That’s eerie as hell.”

  Styxx scowled at him. “What?”

  Savitar manifested a mirror and held it up so that Styxx could see his wavy black hair that fell just past his jaw and swirling silver eyes. Yeah, that was eerie. His clothes had also been replaced with black jeans and a T-shirt and black leather jacket—the same exact outfit Acheron had been wearing at Savitar’s. No wonder Apollymi had been so kind to him. Like this, he really was absolutely identical to Acheron. It must have touched her maternal instincts.

  “Remember, it’s only temporary,” Apollymi repeated. “The more of my power you use, the quicker it will leave you exposed as to who you really are. So please, save it for when you absolutely need it.”

  Styxx inclined his head to her then spoke to Savitar. “Where are we going?”

  “Katateros.”

  “Wait!”

  Styxx arched a brow at the sound of Urian’s fierce shout as he came running toward them with a blond man in tow.

  Savitar growled. “We don’t have time for this.”

  Urian snorted nonchalantly. “Take it up with the bossman. He’s the one who sent me in with a time-out. Acheron has called a team huddle before we make our final play.”

  Savitar let out an exasperated sigh. “Remind me to cancel your ESPN subscription.” He glanced to Styxx with an odd glimmer in his eyes that Styxx couldn’t begin to define. “Fine.”

  The next thing Styxx knew, the four of them were back on Savitar’s island with Acheron, and Tory who was feeding crackers to their son. Danger and Alexion, along with Simi, Xirena, and Acheron’s daughter Katra and her husband Sin.

  So his brother had decided to hold a family reunion while sending him off to die in his stead.…

  Really nice touch.

  “They’re not going to wait all day,” Savitar warned Acheron.

  “I know, but as I was reviewing the situation with everyone and trying to come up with an alternate plan that didn’t leave Styxx hacked into little bloody pieces Urian reminded me that we were missing a most vital member of the team.” Acheron pinned his gaze on Styxx. “The quarterback who actually went up against the Atlantean gods and beat the shit out of them.”

  Styxx scowled as all heads turned to him. Honestly, it scared him. He wasn’t used to this many people looking at him like that unless they were about to throw him onto a live subway track.

  He shrugged at the group. “Since no one has bothered to tell me what I’m heading into, I’ve got nothing.”

  Ash looked at Simi who blushed and grinned sheepishly.

  “Well, see, akri-Styxx, it all started when the Simi decided she was gonna give you the promise for your birthday for Christmas. See?”

  “Clear as a two-hundred-mile-an-hour sandstorm.”

  Ash gave a low, sinister laugh. “Simi decided to wake up the Atlantean gods for you.”

  Styxx frowned. “Why?”

  Simi sighed heavily. “Well see, it wan’t supposed to be all them gods. Is only supposed to be the one. But she won’t get up. Lots of them others got up and got ugly, fast, and the Simi still don’t know why the only one I tried to wake keeps sleeping when it’s so important she get up and talk. It’s so confusing.”

  Yes, yes, it was.

  Before Styxx could comment, Sin turned to Savitar. “I have two gods and a demigod requesting permission to enter your home and join our powwow.”

  Savitar gave him a look that questioned his sanity. “Who?”

  “My brother, Seth, and your least favorite god of all time.”

  “Noir?”

  “Second least favorite,” Sin quickly amended.

  Savitar made a sound of supreme disgust. “I thought that bastard was dead.”

  “Apparently not.”

  A tic started in Savitar’s jaw. “Why?”

  Sin shrugged. “They say they can help with this.”

  Hands on his hips, Savitar glared at Acheron and then Kat. “Apollymi owes me. Big. And so do you.” He he looked back at Sin and gave a curt nod.

  Styxx was even more confused than before, especially when Set appeared beside Acheron with a man identical in looks to Sin—only with longer hair. The other newcomer bore a remarkable resemblance to the man Styxx had rescued in the desert.

  Just what the hell was going on?

  The Sin lookalike laughed and nudged Set to look at Styxx. “Now there’s a photo op expression if ever there was one.”

  With a wry grin, Set transformed into the redheaded man Styxx had saved a few months back in the desert and Zakar into his “brother” then they quickly returned to their immortal app
earances.

  “Over four thousand years ago,” Set explained, “Apollo and his whore mother used my son Seth,” he indicated the red-haired man with them, “to trap me in the desert without his knowledge of what was being done to him and why, and restricted my powers so that the Greeks could take over my pantheon and hand my son over to my bitterest enemy. But for you, Styxx, I’d still be there, chained in the desert, fighting off vultures—human and animal.” He glanced to his son and his gaze softened instantly. “And my son would still be hating me for something I tried my best to spare him.”

  Styxx’s scowl deepened. “Why didn’t you tell me it was you when I freed you?”

  “You were in enough anguish over Bet. I didn’t want to make it worse on you when I didn’t think I could do anything to fix it or help you. Especially after you did me such a massive favor.” Set inclined his head to Sin’s brother. “Zakar and I were allies back in the day, which was why I had you take me to his place to recuperate. Since you left, we’ve been trying to find a way to revive my daughter without awakening the other Atlanteans.”

  The more they talked, the less clear all of this became. Why would they worry about another pantheon? “But Bethany was Egyptian, not Atlantean.”

  “From me, yes. Her mother is Symfora.”

  Styxx’s stomach churned as an image of that cold-blooded bitch went through him and he had perfect clarity as to his wife’s real name. “Bethany’s Bet’anya Agriosa?”

  Set nodded. “For an obvious reason, she was scared to tell you the truth. She was so afraid you couldn’t forgive her for what they did to you without her knowledge or approval, that she was planning to give up her godhood entirely, in both pantheons, to live a mortal life with you in Didymos. Her aunt had already mixed the serum that would have stripped her of everything so she could be with you and not hurt you.”

  Tears clouded his vision as Styxx remembered Bethany telling him the truth after she’d freed him in Atlantis, and his steadfast. In his mind, he hadn’t seemed feasible at the time. Now …

  “I wouldn’t have cared.” At least not after he’d had a chance to aborb it all.