Authors: Sherrilyn Kenyon
Urian cleared his throat. “Good luck, brother. I hope when you find a way to sleep through the night and breathe again, you’ll share the secret with me.”
January 16, 2011
“This … seriously sucks.”
Styxx laughed at the sound of Urian’s disgusted voice from outside his tent as his dog started barking to warn him they had a visitor. He calmed the huge brown dog down before he got up. Throwing back the flap, he came out to greet him. “Depends on your vantage point, little brother.”
Arms akimbo, Urian turned in a circle as he surveyed Styxx’s small black tent and the vast desert that surrounded them as far as the eye could see in all directions. “From mine … you found hell, buddy, except I doubt hell is this hot.”
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 appeared doubtful that anyone could like it in the desert. “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. “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 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.” And he’d finally come to terms with the fact that he would never be part of a family or group. So long as he was in the vicinity of other people, Styxx had held out hope that Acheron would change his mind or that he’d find a group that would accept him.
Out here, he’d stopped being one half or part of a whole and had learned to be whole by himself. “But 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 scanned 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. 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.”
“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.”
“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. 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.”
“That’s so messed up.” Sobering, Urian cleared his throat. “You haven’t asked me about Acheron.”
Styxx forced himself not to react. Or to care. That had been the hardest thing to do … to let go of and bury a relationship that had died a long, long time ago. “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 … ah, gah. Yeah. You knew what I meant.”
He did, indeed. “Do they know what it is?”
“A boy.”
Styxx’s breath caught in his throat at the injustice. But he forced his anger down. It wasn’t Acheron’s fault that his mother had murdered Styxx’s son.
His brother’s life and happiness had nothing to do with his … another thing he’d come to terms with. They may have been born twins, but they were two different people who’d always led two separate lives.
And Acheron didn’t want him in his.
Styxx smiled. “I’m happy for them. I’m sure his son will be handsome and strong.”
Just as his son would have been, had Galen lived.
Styxx had never been quite sure what had bothered him most about losing Bethany and their baby. The fact that they were gone or that he hadn’t been there to at least try and protect them. He could only imagine the horror Bethany must have felt when she faced the Destroyer.
Alone.
He swallowed hard at the eternal pain that never lessened. “So how’s Davyn?” he asked, switching the topic to Urian’s best friend.
“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. “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 to see that it was now completely dark outside. He set his cup aside. “If you really want to know why I love it here, follow me.”
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. “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.” He and Acheron would make up stories about the heroes whose constellations they could identify. “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.”
“Again, I never think about the fact 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.”
Honestly, Asteros was one he’d like to forget. But some memories were just too brutal to die no matter how much time passed.
“Are you hungry?” Styxx asked. “I have dried scorpion, nuts, figs, dates, and apples.”
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. “I’d rather live on blood … or my shoes.”
Styxx tsked. “I might have some beef jerky left.”
“That I could be talked into.”
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 of my head.”
“Well, now that I know where you are, I might occasionally bother you. As long as you don’t feed me grasshoppers, ants, scorpions, or other nasty multi-legged things the gods never intended us to eat.”
“Stop being a baby. Eat your meat or you can’t have any pudding. How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat?”
Urian laughed. “I am stunned you know Pink Floyd.”
Styxx shrugged as he opened Skylos’s dinner first and poured it into a small metal bowl. “Modern music is the only thing I miss about your world.”
“Next time I come, I’ll bring you a solar battery charger for your phone. Not like you don’t have an abundant supply of sunlight here.”
“That I do have. Definitely.” Styxx paused as his gaze fell to his small chest near his rifle that had reappeared one day while he’d been in Katateros. He’d thrown out all the herbs long ago, but there were still four things in it that had belonged to him as a man.
Opening it, he pulled out the oiled cloth and handed it to Urian. “My gift to you, little brother.”
Urian frowned. “Thank you.” He unwrapped the cloth to find Styxx’s black and bronze vambraces. “Wow … how old are these?”
“They were mine back in the day. Galan gave them to me, and I wore them into every battle I fought.”
Urian’s jaw went slack then he shook his head. “I can’t take these.”
Styxx pushed them back toward him. “I have no use for them anymore. They’re just something else I have to pack and carry, or worry about losing.”
Urian let out a long, appreciative breath. “These are incredible. I can’t believe how pristine they are. Thank you. I’ll cherish them always.”
His gratitude made Styxx extremely uncomfortable. “I know how much you like to collect antiques. And they don’t get much older than those.” He went to start the campfire so that he could cook their dinner.
Urian carefully wrapped the vambraces back into their cloth and tucked them into his backpack as he watched Styxx. His heart broke for his friend who’d felt so out of place in the world that he’d had to come to the remotest place on it to find some sense of belonging. Urian hadn’t been joking when he said that he’d go insane with this kind of isolation. This was truly a desolate, hard way to live.
But sadly, it was all Styxx knew.
All he’d ever known.
May 14, 2012
Acheron brushed his hand through his son’s blond hair while Sebastos napped on his chest. There was nothing in the world more soothing to him, and the older Bas got, the less Ash was able to understand how his family could have turned their backs on him the way they had. He’d rather have his arm cut off than hit his son.
And the other acts of cruelty against him …
Never. He wouldn’t be able to put his worst enemy through the things they’d forced him to endure.
Closing his eyes, Ash listened to Tory complaining in Greek as she graded papers in her green armchair across from him.
“I’m sure they’re paying attention in class, love.”
“Really?” She looked up with a peeved grimace. “’Cause I never knew either of the Thebes was in Yugoslavia.”
He cringed at that mistake. “Ouch.”
“Yes, ouch. I don’t even teach that subject. And did you know that one of the heroes in
Seven Against Thebes
was named … not Parthenopaeus like the last name of the professor who teaches this Ancient Civ class … oh no, no. Parthenon was his name. Parthenon … I thought that one was a gimme. Dang. How can anyone get that wrong when Dr. Soteria Parthenopaeus is your professor? Really?” She scribbled a grade on the paper. “One big fat F for you, my lovely.” She screwed her face up then erased the grade. “Okay, a D … no, C. I can’t stand to fail a student.”
Ash laughed at her kind heart that had saved him from the hell his life had been. “I don’t know,
akribos
. That one sounds like she’s on her knees, begging to fail.”
“And this is why I don’t have you help me grade my papers. You’d flunk everybody.”