The Dark-Hunters (509 page)

Thank you to Pam Gardner, for her winning bid to be the best friend in the book, and Jessica Hayes, who also won this spot in the acknowledgments. Between the two of you alone, we raised over $4000 to help Autism and Diabetes Research. Thank you, ladies!

And to the readers, who love the series and characters as much as I do. For all of you who call
Dark-Hunter.com
home and who venture to the MySpace pages and
YearofAcheron.com
site. And for the RBL women who’ve been with me from the very beginning—even before there was a Dark-Hunter series. Thank you all. You guys rock!

Last, but not least, Merrilee, for all the hard work you do on my behalf and for making the Dark-Hunter series manga! At last, my lifelong dream is a reality.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

First, let me say that I’m more than aware of the fact that the ancient calendar differed dramatically from our own. But since I’m dealing with a time of unrecorded history, I used our calendar for the dates to allow the reader to have an idea of when things were taking place. I hope those of you who are sticklers for such things will understand why it was necessary.

That being said, I’ve also taken license with how things were in the ancient world at the beginning. I’ve structured the world of ancient Greece and Atlantis around a later time period and given them more technological advances than what the historical record shows for the true time of when the book is set.

In my world, they had a lot of nifty toys until Atlantis sank into the ocean and Apollymi’s wrath sent mankind back into the Stone Age. This is also dealt with and explained in more detail in the latter part of the book.

It’s so strange now to have this tale written. I can still remember the first time I sat down to write a Dark-Hunter novel. Ash was one of the original characters, but back in the day, he was actually the leader of the Daimons and not the Dark-Hunters.

He’s changed a lot over the years, but the one thing that hasn’t ever changed is my love for him.

For my loyal readers, I want to warn you that the first half of this book is very different from the previous ones. Ash’s human life is grim and it’s harsh. I promised you the whole sordid truth of it, and that’s exactly what I’ve written. I’ve pulled no punches.

As a survivor of childhood abuse myself, I know the strength it takes to try and silence the voices in your head and heart that haunt you long after you’ve broken free. It’s not an easy thing to do, and just when you think you’ve buried those demons, they come back for you with a vengeance.

It takes a lot of strength and courage to trust a stranger when you’ve been harmed by the very people who were supposed to protect you. But the one thing I’ve learned is that it can be done. That all of us are worthy and that we all matter. As to this, I can never thank my husband enough for being the man he appeared to be both inside and out. Thank you, baby, for saving me, and for showing me that there are people in the world like you.

As my friend Tish taught me to say:
Digmus Sum.
Thank you, Tish.

So if you’re looking for the humor of my previous books, it picks up when we go from Ash’s past to present-day New Orleans. I assure you all the sarcasm and bantering that the series is known for is alive and well.

But to understand Ash’s present personality and mind-set, I think it’s imperative to know his past.

And so here it is. Unvarnished and whole. This is the steel that was forged by the fires of hell.

As we leave behind this arc in the series, we will pick up with Stryker’s tale,
One Silent Night,
in November, which starts us on the next arc: Jaden’s, and it picks up right where this tale ends. The Dark-Hunter world is evolving, but Ash and the others will still be back and will still hold their places in this elaborate universe.

PART I

MAY
9, 9548
BC

“Kill that baby!”

Archon’s angry decree rang in Apollymi’s ears as she flew through the marbled halls of Katoteros. There was a fierce wind blowing down the hallway, plastering her black gown against her pregnant body and whipping her white blond hair out in spiraling tendrils. Four of her demons ran behind her, protecting her from the other gods who were more than eager to carry out Archon’s orders. She and her Charonte demons had already blasted half of her pantheon back. And she was ready to kill the rest.

They would not take her child!

Betrayal burned deep inside her heart. Since the moment of their union, she’d been true to her husband. Even when she’d learned Archon had been faithless to her, she’d still loved him and welcomed his bastards into her home.

Now he wanted the life of her unborn child.

How could he do this? For centuries she’d been trying to conceive Archon’s son—it was all she’d ever wanted.

A babe of her own.

Now due to the prophecy of three small girls—Archon’s jealous bastards, her child was to be sacrificed and killed. Because of what? Words those little brats had whispered?

Never.

This was her baby. Hers! And she would kill every Atlantean god in existence to keep him.

“Basi!” She shouted for her niece.

Basi flashed into the hallway before her and staggered until she braced herself against the wall. As the goddess of excess, she was seldom sober—which fit Apollymi’s plan perfectly.

Basi hiccupped and giggled. “Did you need me, Auntie? By the way, why is everyone so upset? Did I miss something important?”

Apollymi grabbed her by the wrist and then teleported them out of Katoteros where the Atlantean gods made their home down to the hell realm of Kalosis where her brother ruled.

She’d been born here in this dank, forbidden place. This was the only realm that truly scared Archon. Even with all his power, he knew the dark was where Apollymi reigned supreme. Here, with her powers fortified, she could destroy him.

As the goddess of death, destruction and war, Apollymi kept a room in her brother’s opulent ebony palace to remind her of her station.

That was where she took Basi now.

Apollymi locked the doors and windows to her room before she summoned her two most trustworthy demon protectors. “Xiamara, Xedrix, I need you.”

The demons who resided on her as tattooed marks pulled themselves off her body and manifested before her.

In her current incarnation, Xiamara’s everchanging skin tone was red, marbled with white. Long black hair framed a pixieish face where large red eyes glowed with concern. Xiamara’s son Xedrix shared her features, but his skin was marbled with red and orange, something it often did when he was nervous. “What do you need, akra?” Xiamara asked, addressing her with the Atlantean term for lady and master.

Apollymi had no idea why Xiamara insisted on calling her akra when they were more like sisters than master and servant. “Guard this room from everyone. I don’t care if Archon himself demands entry, you kill him. Do you understand?”

“Your will is ours, akra. No one will disturb you.”

“Do their horns have to match their wings?” Basi asked as she spun around the bedpost while eyeing the demons. “I mean really. You’d think to be so colorful, they’d have more variety. I think Xedrix would look better if his were orange.”

Apollymi ignored her. She didn’t have time for Basi’s stupidity. Not if she were to save her son’s life.

She wanted this child and she was willing to do anything for him.

Anything.

Her heart hammering, she pulled her Atlantean dagger from her dresser drawer and held it in her hands. The gold hilt was cold against her skin. Black roses and bones were entwined and engraved down the steel blade that glowed in the dim light. It was a dagger meant for ending life.

Today it would be used to give it.

She winced at the thought of what was to come, but there was no other way to save him. Closing her eyes and gripping the cold dagger, she tried not to weep, but one tear slid from the corner of her eye.

Enough! She roared at herself as she angrily wiped it away. This was a time for action, not emotions. Her son needed her.

Her hand trembling from fury and fear, she went to the bed and lay down. She pulled her gown up, exposing her belly. She ran her hand over her distended stomach where her son was waiting, protected and yet in danger. Never again would she be this close to him. Never again would she feel him kick and turn in restlessness as she smiled in tender patience. She was about to separate them even though it wasn’t time yet for Apostolos to be born.

But she had no choice.

“Be strong for me, my son,” she whispered before she sliced open her stomach to expose him.

“Oh, how disgusting!” Basi whined. “I’m—”

“Don’t you move!” Apollymi roared. “You leave this room and I’ll rip out your heart.”

Eyes wide, Basi froze.

As if knowing what had happened, Xiamara appeared by her side. The red-and-white-skinned demon was the most beautiful and loyal of all of Apollymi’s army. In silent understanding, Xiamara lifted the baby out of her and helped Apollymi seal herself shut.

The demon removed the blood-red scarf from around her neck and wrapped Apostolos in it before she held him out to Apollymi and bowed low.

Apollymi pushed the physical pain aside as she took her son into her arms and held him for the very first time. Joy spread through her as she realized he was whole and alive. He was so tiny, so frail. Perfect and beautiful.

Most of all, he was hers and she loved him with every part of herself.

“Live for me, Apostolos,” she said, her tears finally flowing. They fell like ice down her cold cheeks, glittering in the darkness. “When the time is right, you’ll return here and claim your rightful place as king of the gods. I’ll make sure of it.” She placed her lips to his blue forehead.

He opened his eyes then to look at her. Mercurial and silver, just like hers, they swirled. And they held within them a wisdom far beyond even hers. It would be by those eyes that mankind would recognize his divinity and treat him accordingly. He brushed her cheek with one tiny fist as if he understood what was meant for him.

She sobbed at the contact. Gods, it wasn’t fair! He was her baby. She’d waited a lifetime for this and now …

“Damn you, Archon, damn you! I will never forgive you for this.”

She held her son close and never wanted to let him go.

But she must.

“Basi?” she snapped at her niece who was still swinging around the bedpost.

“Mmm?”

“Take him. Put him in the belly of a pregnant queen. Do you understand?”

She let go and righted herself. “Um, I can do that. What about the queen’s brat?”

“Merge Apostolos’s life force with that of the queen’s child. Let her know by oracle that if my child dies, so does hers.” That would protect him more than anything else.

But there was one more thing to be done. Apollymi jerked the white sfora from her neck and held it to Apostolos’s chest. If anyone suspected he was her son or any god detected his presence in the human realm, they would kill him instantly.

His powers would have to be bound and locked away until he was old enough and strong enough to fight back. She placed the orb to his chest and watched as his godhood slid from him to the sfora. His tiny body turned from blue to the pale skin of humanity.

Now he would be safe. Not even the gods would know what she’d done.

Clutching the sfora tight in her hand, she kissed his brow one more time before she held him out to her niece. “Take him. And don’t betray me, Basi. If you do, Archon will be the least of your fears. So help me, I won’t rest until I bathe in your entrails.”

Basi’s brown eyes widened. “Baby in belly. Human realm. Don’t tell anyone and don’t mess up. Got it.” She vanished, instantly.

Apollymi sat there, looking at the spot where they’d been. Her heart screamed out, wanting her baby returned.

If only …

“Xiamara, follow her and make sure she does as she was ordered.”

The demon bowed before she vanished.

Her heart broken, Apollymi remained in her bloodied bed. She wanted to weep and to scream, but why bother? It would do no good. Her tears and pleas wouldn’t prevent Archon from killing her child. His brats had him convinced that Apostolos would destroy their pantheon and replace Archon as the king of the gods.

So be it.

Her body aching, she pushed herself from the bed. “Xedrix?”

Xiamara’s son appeared before her. “Yes, akra?”

“Fetch me a stone from the sea, please.”

He appeared confused by her order, but he quickly complied.

When he returned, she wrapped the rock in swaddling. Weak from her son’s birth and her own anger and fear, she leaned against Xedrix and held his arm. “Take me to Archon.”

“Are you sure, akra?”

She nodded.

The demon helped her back to Katoteros. They appeared in the center of the hall where Archon stood with his daughters Chara and Agapa—ironically the goddesses of joy and love. The two of them had been born parthenogenically the first time Archon had looked at Apollymi. Together the goddesses had sprung out of his chest. His love for Apollymi had been legendary. Until he’d destroyed it by asking for the one thing she’d never give him.

The life of her son.

Archon’s features were perfectly formed. Tall and muscular, he stood with his blond hair shining in the dim light. Truly, he was the most beautiful of all gods. Too bad that beauty was only superficial.

His blue eyes narrowed at the bundle in her arms.

“It’s about time you came to your senses. Give me that child.”

She moved away from Xedrix and placed the stone baby in her husband’s arms.

Archon glowered at her. “What is this?”

“That is what you deserve, you bastard, and it is all you’ll ever get from me.”

By the light in his eyes, she knew he wanted to strike her. He didn’t dare. They both knew who the stronger god was and it wasn’t him. He ruled only because she stood at his side. To rise against her would be the last mistake he’d ever make.