The Dark-Hunters (537 page)

“Styxx!” Ryssa snapped. “How dare you!”

He curled his lip at her. “Don’t you dare chastise me. In the end you’re both nothing but whores. You’re beneath me.” He stormed off.

Acheron’s heart bled for his sister as he saw the tears begin to flow down her face. He pulled her into his arms. “You’re not a whore, Ryssa.”

“Am I not? Tell me, what’s the difference between us?”

“You are loved and claimed by the one who takes you to his bed. Believe me, that’s a big difference.”

No, his sister was kind and gently born. She was a lady. Styxx was an ass. And the only shit in the family was clearly Acheron.

JUNE
23, 9528
BC

“Happy birthday, Acheron.”

Acheron rolled over at the sound of Ryssa’s voice. Sore from a night spent with Artemis, he was slightly disoriented. He’d gone to bed on Olympus, but at some point Artemis must have returned him to his own room.

“Good morning, sister.” She looked particularly radiant today. Her blond hair was swept up around her head in small braids that were held in place by the silver set of combs he’d bought for her a few weeks back when they’d gone to the market together. The light blue gown she wore made her eyes shine bright as she placed her hand against her stomach. Her pregnancy was just starting to show.

“Get up and dress. I had the cook prepare you a special breakfast celebration for just the two of us. The meal’s already being brought out.”

He looked past her, but saw nothing. “Where is it?”

“Downstairs.”

Acheron shook his head. “I’m not allowed to eat in the dining room. You know that.”

She waved his words away. “Father was up late with Styxx. They won’t awaken for hours. I want to give this bit of normality to you, little brother. You deserve it. Now dress quickly and join me.”

Acheron really didn’t want to do this. In truth, he hated venturing into the lower rooms where his family had made it clear he wasn’t welcome. But Ryssa had gone to trouble for him. The least he could do was humor her.

Leaving his bed, he dressed quickly and joined her in the hallway. She wrapped her arm around his and smiled. “This is the first time we’ve celebrated the anniversary of your birth together. You’re now twenty and next year you’ll reach your majority.”

As if that would make a difference to him. “Is there a party planned for Styxx?”

She looked away with a troubled expression. “Yes. Tonight as there is every year.”

“Then I shall make myself scarce.”

The look in her eyes mirrored the grief he felt inside. But they both knew he would be as welcome at the party as a plague of frog turds. Without another word, she took him to the dining room where she’d laid out a grand buffet.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I had them prepare a little of everything.” She picked up a platter and handed it to him before she kissed his cheek. “Happy birthday, little brother.”

Nothing could have touched him more. “Thank you.”

He followed her down the line as she explained the various dishes to him.

As Acheron reached for a piece of fruit, she took his hand and laughed. “We don’t eat that. They’re decoration.” She thumped it with her hand. “See, it’s plaster.”

They laughed together at his ignorance.

“Oh, it does a father good to hear his children laughing with one another.”

Acheron froze at the sound of their father entering the room behind him. Cold dread seeped through his entire being.

Ryssa covered her panic with a dazzling smile. “Good morning, Father. I was told you’d sleep late today.”

“Too much to do in preparation of Styxx’s celebration.” He clapped an affectionate hand on Acheron’s shoulder before he kissed his cheek.

Both savoring and cursing the embrace, Acheron closed his eyes and held his breath. His silver eyes would betray him. They always betrayed him.

“I’m surprised to see you up, scamp. I heard you’d taken three women to your bed last night. They pleasured you well, I trust.”

Ryssa cleared her throat. “Father, could I have a word with you outside?”

“Absolutely.”

Acheron let out a tiny breath in relief as his father stepped away from him. He set his plate down and took a step toward the door when the unthinkable happened.

Styxx entered the room with one of his friends. “What is this? What are you doing here?”

Their father turned back and cursed before he glared at Ryssa. “You deceived me?”

“Not exactly.”

Rage contorted his face as he crossed the short distance and slapped Acheron so hard it unbalanced him. He fell to the floor, dazed by the blow that loosened his front teeth and shattered his nose.

“You dared defile my table!”

Ryssa stepped forward. “Father, please! I’m the one who brought him here. It was my idea.”

Her turned on her with malice. “Don’t you dare defend him. He knows better.” He snatched Acheron up by his hair and shoved him against the wall. “I want everything he’s touched burned. Now!” he roared at the servants. “And throw out all the food.”

Acheron laughed. “It must really chafe your ass that you can’t be rid of me so easily.”

His father punched him hard in the stomach.

“Father, please,” Styxx begged. “Remember your heart.”

His father slung Acheron sideways, tearing out a handful of hair as he did so. “Get this filth out of my sight.”

“Guards!” Styxx roared. “Take the bastard out and beat him.”

Acheron straightened before he approached his twin. “Tell me something, brother. What angers you most about me? The fact I share your face or the fact I know
exactly
what your best friend wants to do to you … and how often?” He slid his gaze meaningfully to the man behind Styxx who looked away red-faced. Acheron smiled at him. “Good to see you again, Lord Dorus, especially clothed.”

Styxx let out a shriek of pain an instant before he ran at Acheron who tried to defend himself. But it was useless. His brother spent hours a day training to be a fighter. The best he could do was cover his head and try to protect his face. Styxx rained blow after blow on his ribs until the guards finally pulled him off.

“I want him to feel every lash!”

Acheron spat blood at Styxx’s feet. “Happy birthday to you too.”

His ears clear of his pounding blood and Styxx’s curses, he finally heard his sister’s sobs as she begged their father for a mercy the king had no intention of giving.

One guard clenched his fist deep in Acheron’s hair, then shoved him out of the room toward the courtyard that he knew intimately. They should just move his bed out here and save them all the effort.

Acheron ground his teeth as his hands were tied and his clothes stripped from his body. He cursed the gods after the first lash cut through the skin on his back. Damn them for this. It was bad enough they’d abandoned him, but by condemning him to have the ability to heal most wounds, it made his punishments all the worse. Instead of scar tissue forming a barrier for his abuse, new skin grew each time, which meant they were striking virgin flesh with every beating.

And it hurt …

He lost track of the lashes as he tried to focus on anything else. His sweat mixed with the blood pouring from the wounds on his face making them burn all the worse. Still they beat him.

“Enough.”

Acheron frowned through the haze of pain as he recognized Styxx’s voice. His breathing ragged, he couldn’t fathom why Styxx would stop the punishment he’d called for.

Not until his brother came around so that they were eye to eye. The hatred in Styxx’s gaze was piercing. “Leave us,” he ordered the guards.

Acheron heard the door close. He opened his mouth to taunt his brother but before he could, Styxx slammed an iron bar across his ribs with enough force to lift him off his feet. All the breath rushed out of his lungs.

“You think you’re so fucking clever,” he sneered. “Let’s see how clever you are now.”

Styxx vanished out of his sight. He came back a moment later with a gleaming red poker. Panic set in. Acheron fought his restraints with every ounce of strength he had. But he was weakened by the beating and held down completely.

With a gleam of sadistic satisfaction, Styxx laid the poker across Acheron’s face. Screaming, Acheron tried to move away, but all he could do was smell the burning of his flesh. Feel the deep, penetrating pain that washed over him.

Smiling, Styxx jerked it away and walked behind him again.

Hanging limply, Acheron could do nothing but cry from the agony of his face that continued to burn. When Styxx returned, he carried a fresh poker.

“Please, m-m-mercy,” he begged. “Please don’t … brother.”

“We are not brothers, you bastard!” Styxx shouted before he laid the poker across Acheron’s groin.

Acheron screamed out. Tears fell as he prayed for death to come and stop this torture.

“Where’s your laughter now?” Styxx asked, tossing the poker aside. “Don’t you ever mock me again, you fucking whore.”

Acheron felt something cold and sharp pierce his side. Looking down, he saw the dagger in Styxx’s hand that his brother had buried to the hilt. He tasted more blood in his mouth as he choked on it and the pain that seared him.

“Don’t worry,” Styxx said, jerking the dagger free. “You’ll live.” He brought the blade down across Acheron’s unburned cheek, laying it open to the bone.

Styxx cut him down, then walked off without even a backward glance.

Acheron lay on the ground, his head swimming as unimaginable pain ripped through him. “Please gods,” he whispered desperately. “Please let me die.”

He expelled one deep breath and surrendered himself to the darkness.

*   *   *

Artemis was trying to be patient as she watched the offerings the humans brought to her altar. But they didn’t interest her.

She hadn’t seen Acheron in two days and this was the celebration of his birth—something she wouldn’t have known had Apollo not told her about the party tonight. She didn’t know why Acheron had failed to mention it, but then he was odd that way.

Apollo wasn’t going to the party, but his pet was.

Which meant Artemis would be free to visit Acheron later.

Yet dutifully, she’d been at her temple all day long. The sun had set almost an hour ago and as the day turned to night, she was restless for it to end.

An old man came forward with a goat.

Oh, this was no use. What was she going to do with a goat? Snapping her fingers, she granted his wish even before she heard it.

She picked up the ring that she’d made for Acheron and left them where they were to keep making offerings she had no interest in. Unlike these other mewling, pathetic humans, her Acheron would please her.

Even when he didn’t please her, he still did.

Smiling, she materialized on his balcony, expecting him to be at his usual perch.

It was empty. Frowning, she looked over the edge to see the nobles and dignitaries gathered for the festivities. Surely Acheron wasn’t there. He didn’t like such events.

Artemis stepped through the doors without opening them. Her frown melted as she saw Acheron already abed. Good. She could join him there.

But as she approached, she slowed her gait. His breathing was shallow and ragged. He lay with his back to her and as she drew closer, she saw the pink stains marring his sheets.

Blood. Acheron’s blood.

It was so much more than she’d ever seen before.

Terrified, she moved around the bed to find him weeping soundlessly. But that wasn’t what stunned her most. It was the sight of his beautiful face. Or what was left of it.

One side had a vicious gaping wound that exposed part of the bone and on the other was a burn that had left his eye partially closed, his flesh scorched and his mouth twisted.

“What happened?” she demanded as anger tore through her.

He didn’t answer but the shame in his eyes, the pain, lacerated her heart. Kneeling on the floor, she laid her hand to his burned cheek.

“Kill me,” he breathed. “Please.”

That ragged plea brought tears to her eyes. Wanting to understand, she used her powers to see what had happened to him. As every scene of it played through her mind, her fury built.

How dare they do this to him!

She felt her teeth growing sharp as her need for vindication tripled.

Acheron screamed as Artemis healed his battered body. Whenever his injuries were bad, her cure was every bit as painful.

Once he was healed, Artemis gathered him into her arms and held him in a way no one had ever held him before—as though she cared. “I’m so sorry, Acheron. Why didn’t you call for me?”

“You wouldn’t have come.”

“Yes, I would.”

But he knew the truth. She’d never have risked being seen. “You’re here now. That’s enough for me.”

She nodded as she brushed his hair back from his face. “And woe to those bastards for this. They won’t do this to you and not suffer for it.” Taking his hand, she pulled him from the bed.

When she started for the door, he froze. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to make them pay.”

“How?”

She laughed evilly. “Trust me, love. You’ll enjoy it.”

The next thing he knew they were in the ballroom, unseen by the revelers. Artemis walked over to Styxx who stood beside his betrothed, laughing smugly with a group of his friends who were mocking an unattractive young woman in the corner. The woman had tears in her eyes as she tried to ignore their laughter and brutal comments.

Artemis leaned forward to whisper into Styxx’s ear. “You want to see humiliation, you little prick? You’re about to get a handfirst lesson on it.”

One second Styxx was smiling. The next he was vomiting all over Nefertari and his friends. In fact, he vomited so forcefully that he lost control of his bladder and wet himself. When he tried to run, he tripped and fell into the mess.

Acheron looked away, as disgusted by it as everyone else.

But Artemis wasn’t through. Raising her hand, she opened the double doors that led to the gardens. A pack of angry dogs ran inside and set upon Styxx with a vengeance.

Their father ran to his heir who was on the ground, crying for help.