The Dark-Hunters (411 page)

“There has to be some way to keep you here.”

She hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud until he answered her. “I could stay, but I wouldn’t be the man who’s with you now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I could give up my godhood, but it would change nothing other than I’d become mortal. When my time is up, I’ll revert back to what I was. I won’t have any emotions and I wouldn’t be able to visit you in dreams. There would be no reason to be around you then.”

“I don’t believe that. You have emotions. You feel too deeply not to.”

“In the dreams, I was syphoning off you. Everything I felt came from you. I promise you that if I were to become mortal, that would stop. I wouldn’t even have the power to feel you anymore, either physically or emotionally.”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s the curse, Megeara. There’s no cure for that. No god can alter the curse of another. I’m damned.”

She still couldn’t accept that. It wasn’t in her nature to just accept things because someone said so. She was a scientist and she needed proof of his theory. “Has any Oneroi ever gone free?”

“No,” he said emphatically. “There has never been a single case of freedom for any of us. The few who tried were hunted down and killed.”

“That’s not fair. You should be able to go free if you want to.”

He let out a deep breath as he stroked a lock of hair from her forehead. “Who has ever said that life is fair?”

“Maybe, but I’m going to ask Tory about this.”

“Tory’s just a child.”

“Yes, and she’s obsessed with Greek mythology. If ever there was an escape for you, she’d know it.”

Arik adored the fact that Megeara was willing to try, but he knew it was hopeless. No human knew more about Greek mythology than he did. Megeara was human and he was a cursed god. All he could hope for was to find some way to keep her safe once he was gone.

As long as they were at Solin’s they had a haven. Solin had told them that he had a truce with the other gods. They didn’t tread into his home uninvited and he wouldn’t kill them for it. But Arik and Megeara couldn’t stay here every minute of the day. And she wouldn’t be content to live her life here within these walls. She’d never liked cages of any sort.

She’s going to be dead, so just stay here and enjoy her company until it’s time to return.

Return to what? Emptiness? Coldness?

That was bullshit. He didn’t want to go back to the Vanishing Isle.

Then you die in her stead.

Arik leaned his cheek against the top of her head as she lay against him. She felt so good in his arms. So good with her naked skin resting against his.
I would rather be dead than live without her.

It was true, and actually that was the only solution that made sense. He would spend his time with her and then surrender himself to Hades. Hades would torture and kill him, then everyone would be happy.

You won’t be happy, dumb ass.

That was actually quite true, but even if he gave her up and went home, he’d still be tortured, not to mention the Dolophoni would kill him anyway.

So why not just let them have him and end this?

“Live your life with purpose.”

Arik blinked as those words came out of the very distant past to haunt him. It’d been back in his days as an Oneroi when he’d ironically gone to help Trieg. Acheron, the leader of the Dark-Hunters, had summoned him so that they could discuss the problems Trieg was having over the death of his family and how best to help the man cope with them.

Tall and black-haired, the Atlantean had been even wiser than Athena. He’d been trying to make Arik understand the human psyche and essence. “Remember, Arikos, the key to humanity is simple. Live your life with purpose. They need goals to strive for. All of Trieg’s have been taken from him by his enemies, so we need to replace them with new ones that matter to him. Without goals, humanity is lost and a single man can’t function.”

Acheron had been wrong about one thing. Without goals, everyone was lost. Even the gods.

Until now, Arik’s goals had always been selfish in nature. As a Skotos, his goal had been to find the greatest pleasure to be had. As an Oneroi it had been to do just as he’d been told so as not to be punished. He’d never once considered anyone else’s feelings or life.

But now he understood how to live with purpose. He understood sacrifice. There were things worth dying for. His was simple. Megeara. His only regret was that he wished he’d enjoyed their past more. He should have savored every second of their time together.

Still, he had a few days left. Those he would make count. And when the time came, he would put his neck in the noose with no regrets.

Yeah, right.

Okay, so there would be one single regret—he’d never see or touch Megeara again.

He could die with that.

And in the back of his mind was that same sarcastic voice laughing at him.
“Trust me, boy, you will.”

CHAPTER 16

“Houston, we have a problem.”

M’Adoc turned around from the bay window where he was looking out onto the waterfall behind their palace to see Deimos entering his private suite without invitation. He let out his breath slowly and silently, falling instantly into his emotionless appearance.

“How colloquial American of you, Demon.” He raked the demigod with a practiced mocking brow that only M’Ordant or D’Alerian would know wasn’t feigned, and forced his voice to remain steady and bland. “By your unbloodied presence here I take it that you failed to kill him … again.”

Demon’s eyes narrowed. “I can do without the patronizing undertone.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, M’Adoc crossed the floor to meet Deimos halfway. “We both know I feel no such thing. But to be fair, I can deal without the incompetency. How hard is it to take out a restricted god on the mortal plane?”

“Pretty damn impossible when he has a Chthonian and an Atlantean god standing watch over him.”

M’Adoc had to struggle to hide his confusion. “Why would Acheron care about any of this?”

“Not him, his mother. Remember her? Tall angry blond bitch who seriously spanked her whole family into oblivion over a hangnail?”

M’Adoc’s lips itched to smile, but he was so used to catching himself that it was all too easy to keep it hidden. “It was more than a hangnail and she’s locked in Kalosis, so how can she be a problem?”

“Not entirely, she isn’t. Someone dug up one of her special little priestess medallions and it’s now in the hands of the woman who has a vested interest in us not harming her boy toy … or her. Seems she has an issue with dying prematurely. Go figure.”

M’Adoc was less than amused by Demon’s summation. “Well, that sucks for you, doesn’t it?”

“It sucks for all of us, Oneroi. If you want this handled, I suggest you do it yourself.”

M’Adoc really did have to make an effort to keep his sarcastic tone at bay. “I never thought I’d live to see the day a mere mortal could scare the Dolophoni. You guys have really grown soft over the centuries, haven’t you?”

Deimos curled his lip. “Calling me a coward is no way to goad me into suicide. As I said, we have extenuating circumstances. You’re the one telling me how easy it is to kill him. Then why don’t you try getting your hands’ bloodied for once?”

Little did he know, M’Adoc’s hands had been coated in more blood than a seventy-five-year career surgeon’s. He had no problem with executing his nuisances, he just had to be careful not to let the other gods know about it. The idea of an Oneroi taking a life without their implicit approval tended to make them jittery. “My job is to protect.”

“Yeah, your own back. And mine is to watch over my team—one of whom is now dead.” He took a step forward to make sure M’Adoc understood his rage. “You know I’ve never shirked at killing anyone or anything. But this … this is different. I’m not going to lose another brother needlessly. This is getting out of control.” He hesitated before he added one final comment. “They’re currently at Solin’s house—under his protection. I’m sure you remember him, too.”

Of course he did. He and Solin had battled it out on more than one occasion. Both of them were scarred by those fights.

But that was neither here nor there.

M’Adoc gripped his hands tightly behind his back, tempted to send a bolt straight at Demon’s head, but he couldn’t afford to let Demon know this was anything more than a routine hit or that his failure upset him in any way. He must remain perfectly calm at all times. Demon would love to have an excuse to turn the gods against M’Adoc, and he knew that. It was a dangerous line he toed.

He inclined his head. “Thank you for your services, Demon. I will make sure that the next time I need to consult with the Furies I summon one of the females, as they are much more vicious and competent.”

That barb wasn’t lost on Demon, who sneered at him. “One day, M’Adoc, you’re going to learn why they nick-named me Demon.”

And one day Demon was going to learn why M’Ordant and D’Alerian referred to M’Adoc as Fonias—Slayer.

In the meantime, M’Adoc had a mess to clean up and he would make sure that this time the job was done correctly. Let Arikos have a couple of days of peace so that he’d relax a bit. Then when his guard was down, M’Adoc would take full advantage of it.

*   *   *

Arik smiled as Megeara buttoned his shirt. Even though they’d slept together, this one act seemed somehow more intimate. Her hands were graceful as she wove the buttons through their holes. Her fleeting touch made his nipples harden and his body warm. The scent of her was heavy in the air, and all he wanted to do was take her away someplace private where he could be with her alone for the rest of eternity.

She glanced up at him. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, why?”

“You have a strange look about you.”

“I’m just thinking how delectably kissable your lips are.” And before he even realized what he was doing, he was kissing her again.

Geary sighed as she melted into Arik’s arms. The steely feel of his body was electrifying, and it made her want to rip his clothes off and have another round with him. If only she could. But right now they had a lot of things to think about.

She pulled back as a chilling thought went through her head. “You don’t think they’ll go after Tory to get to me, do you?”

Arik pulled back with a scowl. “Excuse me?”

“The Dolophoni. They won’t go after her to get me or you to come for her. Will they?”

To her relief, he shook his head. “Not their style. They only kill who they’re sent after. They don’t worry about bystanders unless the bystanders attack them. They’re actually rather ethical, which for gods and assassins is an amazing feat.”

“Then why are they coming after me if not to get to you?”

“Someone wants you dead.”

His emotionless tone sent a chill over her. “Remind me later that we need to work on your tact.” Geary shook her head as she tried to understand. “Who could possibly want me dead? I haven’t done anything.”

“You were digging around Atlantis. It’s why the boat was blown up. The gods do not, under any circumstance, want that place disturbed. And they’re all willing to kill to keep its secret.”

“What secret is that?”

“I assume why it was destroyed. Not even we really know what happened the day it vanished. Whatever went down there went down fast, and those who know the truth have kept it hidden ever since.”

Geary cocked her head as she remembered her research. “Plato wrote that it was human hubris that caused the gods to destroy it as punishment.”

Arik scoffed. “Plato wrote of a parable about a nation that was destroyed long before his ancestors had been born. He knew nothing of the truth. Anyone who’d ever gotten close to learning about Atlantis didn’t live long enough to tell anyone else.”

She stepped back as pain filled her. “That’s why my family’s dead, isn’t it? We got too close.”

He gave her a sympathetic nod. “I’m sorry, Megeara. But yeah. Your father was all over the real site.”

A single tear fled down her face, but she quickly wiped it away.

“Come for me, Megeara, and I will grant you vengeance on those who’ve wronged you—those who’ve taken the ones you love most. Come here, child, and let us both deliver to them what they deserve. For petty vanity they took from us both the very people we loved. Help me and I will help you.”
It was the same angry woman’s voice Megeara had always heard here.

“Apollymi?” She whispered the name.

“It is I. And I will protect you, child, if you listen. I would have saved your father, but he denied my help and they killed him. I would spare you a young death.”

“Is she talking to you?” Arik asked in a whisper.

If it’d been anyone else asking Megeara that question, she would have denied it emphatically. “She says the gods took from her someone she loved.”

“Her son. At least that’s what Zeus claims. Her husband, Archon, slew Apostolos, and in grief she destroyed her entire family.”

But that didn’t make sense. “Then why does she want revenge against the Greek gods and not her own?”

“Because Apollo has long asserted that he was the one who killed Apostolos. Back then, Greece and the Atlanteans were in a very strained truce. They’d warred against each other for centuries. The Atlanteans had tried to kill Apollo’s son, but he’d managed to remove the baby from the queen’s womb before she birthed him, and he substituted another child there that they killed instead. He then took his son Strykerius to Delphi, where he was raised by Apollo’s priestesses.”

That didn’t make sense. “If Apollo saved his son, why would he kill Apollymi’s child?”

“Because twenty-one years later Apollo had another son on the Greek island of Didymos. Atlantean assassins broke into the palace in the middle of the night and executed the baby and his mother, who was Apollo’s sanctified mistress. To exact revenge on the Atlanteans for their crime, Apollo claims, he killed Apostolos, then cursed everyone of their bloodline to die horribly on their twenty-seventh birthday—the age of his mistress at death. That is what set Apollymi off. Like Apollo she wanted revenge for the death of her son, but Apollo was the greater god, so he trapped her in Kalosis, where she now sits, plotting her revenge against him and the rest of the Greek pantheon.”