Styxx (DH #33) (93 page)

But Acheron would never forgive him. He had no intention of looking any deeper than his own twisted and erroneous facts.

While Styxx had held on to those early memories of their friendship that had allowed him to feel for his brother, Acheron had locked out every one of them. He remembered nothing of the kindness Styxx had given him. Ever. None of his attempts to free him.

And now …

Acheron had abandoned him again. Because his brother refused to look at Styxx’s life as it had really been.

Instead, Acheron judged him as everyone else had. On an assumed reality that had never existed anywhere other than inside their own jealous minds.

You are a prince and your father’s beloved heir. You’re rich. What problems could you possibly have?

How dare you complain, Styxx. You don’t know what real suffering is. You can’t imagine what the world is really like.…

His brother knew nothing of the years they’d lived apart. Nothing of Styxx’s war career. Or Galen.

Nothing of Bethany.

Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, Styxx laughed as insanity claimed him.

His brother was across the river with his demon daughter and friends, and here Styxx was locked away again. With no one and nothing but memories that tore out his heart.

Take your sanctimonious indignation, Acheron, and shove it up your ass.

But all of his anger changed nothing.

Yet again, Acheron had made Styxx’s situation worse. Strange how Acheron thought he could see Styxx’s sins so clearly and yet he was blind to his own. In the end, Acheron was a god. He acted like all the others. He chose his pets, and the rest of humanity could burn for all he cared.

And worse, like Apollo, Apollymi, and Artemis, Acheron was capable of incredible acts of cruelty against anyone when he felt justified, right or wrong, for hating them.

That was bad enough when it was done by a human. Acheron had the powers to look into the hearts and pasts, and to see the truth. He had done it for others … for all of his Dark-Hunter brethren.

Yet not his own brother.

Unlike a human who couldn’t, Acheron
chose
not to see Styxx. That was what made it worse. That total lack of regard.

But then, Acheron was surrounded by people who kissed his ass and adored him. He had his daughter who loved him …

And I am the king of hell.

With no one and nothing.

Ο
τις
μοί
γ
’
νομα
 …

I am Nobody.

Sighing, Styxx sat on the floor and closed his eyes and thought of the only person who had ever given him comfort and love. One of only two people in his entire life who had seen him as he really was.

His Bethany.

And she had been murdered by Acheron’s mother on the day the two of them were supposed to leave all this bullshit behind. If one brother had reason to hate the other, he believed he had a few legs up on Acheron.

Not that it mattered. Acheron was with his family again. Cradled next to their loving bosoms.

Meanwhile, Styxx was in his hole where Acheron would soon forget his existence—if he hadn’t already. A hole that was a lot crueler than the Vanishing Isle, because here, Styxx saw nothing but Acheron’s real family using and abusing him, and laughing as they did so. It would be the same as locking Acheron back in Estes’s home for eternity.

Thanks, brother. I hate you, too.

May 4, 2008

Styxx sighed as he secured the last plank on the small raft he’d made. Over the last few months, he’d learned that when Acheron had said Styxx had to earn his trust, what he really meant was “get out of my face and don’t let me see you again.”

Acheron must have reconsidered the servants and supplies because nothing had arrived since he’d been confined here.

Not a damn thing.

The only difference between this island and the Vanishing Isle was that this one didn’t have predators to eat him. And while that made his world a bit safer, it also left him without much meat, and no way to make blankets or have sinew to use for bowstring and ties. Of course the twisted palm leaves could be used on his hammers and spears, but that wasn’t nearly as strong or durable as leather cords.

Styxx grimaced at the blood on his hand. The really bad thing about palm leaves and trees was that they had sharp blades and spines, and he had no way to make leather gloves to protect his skin. His hands were so swollen from previous cuts that had gone to infection that he’d lost even more dexterity, especially in his right hand.

Not to mention both hands throbbed constantly.

The other thing this island lacked … castor beans. He had no way of making castor oil to draw out the infection. Then again, there were no beans or nuts here of any kind. His diet had been extremely limited to shellfish and coconuts. He hadn’t even seen a bird, which meant no eggs.

The only good thing he could say about being here was that Apollo couldn’t get to him.

Woo-fucking-hoo. At this point, he’d gladly whore himself for just a single bite of steak …

A drink of untainted water.

Cursing, Styxx jerked his hand back as another spine bit into the pad of his finger and left it bleeding. He put it in his mouth and sucked on it while he inspected his raft. On the Vanishing Isle, his rafts would only circle the lagoon. Any time he tried to go out farther or launch from another spot … or even swim out … winds would blow him straight back to shore.

That would probably happen here, too. But he had to find out. Besides, it wasn’t like he had anything else to do … other than draw in the sand and watch the waves erase it.

Styxx grabbed the raft and hauled it toward the water. Grunting from the effort, he pulled against the hull. It took a few minutes to launch. Then he scrambled onto the back and grabbed his pole so that he could push it across the river. A lack of sail had never stopped him from being shoved back in Hades, but maybe here it would keep him from being turned over.

He left the lagoon and kept his gaze on the opposite shore, where Acheron made his home. At this point, he didn’t care what his brother did. He just wanted to hear the sound of another human voice, even if that voice was cursing him.

To his shock and delight, he actually made it across the river. Bracing himself for the worst, he jumped into the water and pulled the raft onto the shore, out of the reach of the tide. He stored his pole then wiped the sweat from his brow. There was a huge mountain in front of him. It was Karnus, the mountain where the majority of the Atlantean gods had placed their temples.

Damn, that was a long climb.

Yeah, well, at least it’s something to do that won’t cut your hands.
He laughed bitterly at that single truth then commenced his journey.

He didn’t reach the top until well after nightfall. All the temples were dark except for the main hall where Apollo had first dumped him in front of Archon’s throne.

Completely naked, Styxx had been bound in gold chains and gagged.

Archon had frowned at Apollo. “What is this?”

“My present to you. Styxx of Didymos. I was told by Athena to remove him from Olympus, and as I was doing so, I remembered you telling me during your war with Greece that you’d give anything to have him bound and tied at your feet for five minutes.”

A slow, sickening smile had spread across Archon’s face. “What reward do you want for this service?”

“Only the right to come and take possession of him whenever it suits me. The rest of the time, he’s yours to do with as you please so long as you don’t kill him.”

Archon inclined his head to Apollo. “Your rights are granted.”

Apollo had pulled Styxx up from the floor by his hair and forced him to kneel in submission to Archon. “In that case, have fun. Oh, you should be warned that he bites unless drugged. And if you fill him with Eycharistisi first, you’ll see why he’s branded as a tsoulus. He’s remarkably talented when he has no control of himself.” Then he’d leaned over to smell Styxx’s hair.

Styxx had jerked away and glared at him.

Laughing, Apollo had sobered then licked his lips. “Don’t worry, precious. I’ll be back for my turn with you later.” After one last grope, the god had vanished and left Styxx to the tender custody of the gods who had relished his total degradation and torture.

In that moment, Styxx truly hated Artemis and Acheron for having removed his own memories and replaced them with Acheron’s while he’d been in Tartarus. If he’d been in possession of his own mind, he’d have never chosen to live here.

For Acheron, Katateros was a haven.

For him it was utter hell.

Had his thoughts not been wrapped up in Acheron’s selfishness, he would have remembered how bad it’d been for him here.

How much he hated it.

But Acheron had no idea that Styxx had ever lived in this cursed place. That he knew Acheron’s family much better than Acheron did.

Ready to confront his brother, Styxx started for the main doors, but the sound of laughter pulled him to the side of the building where lights shined with the brilliance of a sun. It took him a few minutes to climb up so that he could look inside and see his brother’s steward, Alexion, and his wife Danger along with the Charonte demons Simi and Xirena. The four of them sat on cushions that lined the floor in front of a large-screen television, watching some show he couldn’t name.

Acheron entered the room and moved to sit next to Simi while he and Alexion bantered. They looked so happy together. There had never been a time in Styxx’s life when he’d been like that with his family. So relaxed and open. Laughing unrestrained.

In that moment, he remembered all the times he’d listened to Ryssa and Acheron laughing through the walls of his room while he’d been left alone.

Or worse, while he’d been forced to “entertain” Apollo to the sounds of their friendly reverie.

Climbing down, he leaned back against the stone building and tried to calm his ragged breaths. A part of him wanted to go in just to disturb their happiness. One look at him and they’d all stop laughing.

But he didn’t want to intrude.

He didn’t belong there. He wasn’t part of Acheron’s family.

Bending his knees, Styxx braced his arm across them so that he could see Bethany and Galen’s names in the moonlight. How he missed sitting with her while she told him stories about her own family and how much they loved her. How her father would take her hunting, and how her mother lived for their girl-time excursions.

Styxx closed his eyes and let the agony of her loss keep him company for a little while as their laughter continued to reach his ears. He brushed his fingers against his cheek and pretended it was Bethany’s delicate, beautiful hand that touched him. But his hands were coarse, cut, and swollen. Callused. They weren’t the refined, soft hands of his gentle wife.

Tears filled his eyes as he missed her with every part of his being.

Trying to distract himself from something he couldn’t change, Styxx glanced about the dark temples until he saw the one that had belonged to the goddess of wrath and misery. He still didn’t know what all she’d done to him while he’d been there with her. Those memories had never returned.