The Dark-Hunters (603 page)

Well, there was something Stryker hadn’t bothered to contemplate. Not that it mattered. He was more than ready to lay down his life—provided he took his enemies with him. “Oops,” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Guess I screwed up. Inability to see the consequences of our thoughtless acts must run in the family. So much for my father being a god of prophecy, huh?”

Hades’ eyes turned bright red. “He will destroy the humans.”

Stryker sneered at him. “I didn’t see you standing up to defend the Apollite race when my father cursed
us
to feed off each other’s blood and die painfully when we were only twenty-seven years old because a handful of Apollites had killed his worthless whore. As I recall, all of you turned your backs and left us to the darkness like rats you wanted to forget existed.”

Hades shook his head. “I would kill you, but a better fate is to leave you to the thing you just unleashed. I’ll see you back here when you’re no longer living.”

Stryker didn’t comment as he watched Hades rouse Ares. Bored with them both, he returned to Kalosis, which was where he’d go after his death. The Atlantean hell realm had been his home since the day he’d turned his back on his father and sided with the goddess who ruled this domain. Apollymi owned his soul. He’d gladly consigned it to her on the day his father had cursed Stryker’s entire race for something only a handful of soldiers had done.

Stryker wanted nothing to do with the Greeks ever again.

Bitterly amused by the fact that Apollymi would most likely enjoy his eternal torture even more than Hades, Stryker returned to his office, where he kept the sfora orb that would allow him to spy on his enemy. At least on Acheron.

As for Nick, Stryker could see through his eyes any time he wanted to. It was one of the perks he’d claimed when he bound the bastard to him. Unfortunately, though, there wasn’t much to see with Nick, as he’d taken to keeping himself isolated from the world and everyone Stryker wanted to spy on.

He was bored with Nick’s moping.

For now, Stryker wanted to see Acheron’s demise. Waving his hand over the orb, he watched as the clouds cleared to show him the one god he wanted most to bury …

Apollymi’s most precious son.

Stryker curled his lip as he found Acheron in a bizarro Norman Rockwell scene. How quaint. Acheron was at home on Katoteros, the Atlantean paradise realm, trimming a Christmas tree with his girlfriend, Soteria. There was something almost twisted about an ancient god humoring a human custom to placate his lover. The two of them looked so happy and sweet it was enough to make him puke.

That was all about to change.

Leaning back in his chair, Stryker waited.

*   *   *

“Ooo,
akri,
can the Simi eat that?”

Ash Parthenopaeus paused as he heard the voice of his demon behind him. Turning around, he saw Simi eyeing the glass angel in his hand.

Dressed in a black-and-red plaid Goth skirt and corset top, Simi had a Santa hat on her head that covered her small demon’s horns. Like Ash, her hair was solid black in color and fell all the way to her waist.

Before he could answer, Soteria gave Simi a sweet, tolerant smile that melted him. Her brown hair was pulled forward into two pigtails, and in total contradiction to Ash’s dark Goth style, she was dressed in a pair of winter white pants and a red sweater with white reindeer on it. Ash’s long-sleeved T-shirt was black with reindeer skeletons pulling a twisted sleigh.

“Um, please, Simi,” Soteria said, “don’t eat that. That’s been my angel on the tree since I was a little girl. I picked it out at a Christmas store in Greece with my parents.”

Simi pouted. “Then can I eat the chocolate?”

“Absolutely.”

Simi squealed before she grabbed the Hershey’s chocolate bar Soteria had left on the coffee table near them and ran off to savor it.

Soteria laughed. “Dang. I was going to share that with you later.”

Ash put the angel on top of the tree, which given the fact that he was six foot eight in height was an easy reach for him. “It’s okay. I despise the taste of chocolate.”

Soteria pulled silver tinsel from the bear ornament in her hand. “I would ask for an explanation, but every time I ask why you have an aversion to something the answer always breaks my heart. So I’ll just make sure not to get you any for Valentine’s Day.”

“Thanks.”

Closing the distance between them, Ash pulled her into his arms for a quick kiss. His lips had barely touched hers before a bright flash blinded him. He drew a breath in to chastise his steward, Alexion, for the intrusion, but before he could speak something slammed into him and knocked him off his feet.

Soteria turned to face an intruder. Expecting to find the Greek goddess Artemis there, she was stunned to see a tall, extremely well-built man. The brutality on his face was only matched by its beauty. Dressed all in black, he walked past her as if she were nothing more than a piece of harmless furniture toward Acheron.

She summoned her powers to blast him, but when she tried, she found her powers worthless against him. It was as if she were human again. The blast left her and seemed to be absorbed somehow by his body.

The man seized Acheron from the floor and threw him against the far wall as if he were nothing more than a straw dummy.

Dear God, the man was going to kill Ash!

*   *   *

Ash couldn’t breathe as he tried to fight and couldn’t. It was as if something had wrapped itself around him like a steel band, paralyzing him. Pain ripped through his body with potent talons. No one had been able to kick his ass this badly since he’d been human.

No sooner had that thought gone through his head than he had crystal clarity of who and what was attacking him.

War. The ultimate warrior.

Shit.

“No!” Ash shouted as Soteria started to attack War at the same time Simi manifested into the room by her side to fight. War would tear the two of them apart. “Take Simi and get out. Now!”

As Simi launched herself toward War, Soteria grabbed her. Tory gave him a look to let him know that she didn’t want to stand back, but that she trusted him enough to listen.

Alexion appeared with a sword that he tried to stab through the spirit. Instead, it went through War’s flesh and tore into Ash’s abdomen. Ash hissed as more agony poured through him.

Alexion’s face paled. “I’m so sorry, boss.”

He should try being the one with the gaping wound.
But Ash wouldn’t hold that against his steward. The most important thing right now was to save all their lives. “Go! Take Danger, the demons, and Tory, and get the hell out of here.”

War seized him by his throat. Ash choked, trying to remove the tight grip. He met Alexion’s gaze. Loyalty gleamed bright, but his friend knew what Ash did. He couldn’t fight while distracted.

“I’ll meet you at Neratiti.” Gathering the women, Alexion disappeared.

Ash pounded at War’s hand, trying to knock his grip loose. When that failed, Ash shot a blast at the god that didn’t faze him in the least.

“What do you want?” Ash gasped.

War cocked his head in an impersonal gesture as he tightened his grip even more. “Your death.”

Ash’s ears buzzed as the airflow to his lungs was restricted. He tried to breathe, but it was futile. His grip on the spirit weakened as everything slid to black.

CHAPTER 2

Stryker smiled as he watched Acheron turn blue and for once it wasn’t his natural skin tone. The bastard was one gasp away from death.

At least until the Chthonian Savitar flashed into the room with twenty Charonte demons to attack War and drive him away from Acheron. Stryker’s anger ignited as the winged demons attacked en masse. They lifted War up from the floor and slammed him against the wall even as he blasted at them.

Savitar ran to Acheron to revive him.

Damn. Why couldn’t the Chthonian bastard stay on the beach where he lived? No, Savitar had to bring a demon army out to defend Acheron.

Not to sound childish, but it just wasn’t fair …

And it seriously pissed him off.

“Strykerius!” Apollymi’s shrill scream ripped through the air, piercing his eardrums and making the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention. An instant later, she was standing in front of him with her white blond hair flying around her beautiful face. Like him and Acheron, her eyes were a pale, swirling silver. And they were filled with fury as she glared at him.

He should probably be scared, but it wasn’t worth the energy it would take to rise to the occasion. Besides, he’d had the worst things done to him. Torture, dismemberment, and death would be a welcome relief to his current state of nothingness.

“Is something … wrong?” he asked nonchalantly, knowing the tone would only enrage her more.

Apollymi wanted to shriek at his patronizing tone. She wanted to blast the bloodsucking Daimon lord before her into oblivion. If only she could. But for an act of weakness on her part centuries ago, she would free herself of him once and for all. However, he’d been fatally wounded by his father, and to strike back at Apollo she’d shared her blood with Strykerius and fortified him. While that act had saved his life, it had also tied their life forces together.

If he died, she died. It was why her son would never really harm Strykerius no matter how angry the Daimon made him.

It was why she couldn’t kill Stryker herself.

Ironic, really, she was a goddess known for lacking compassion and the handful of times she’d actually shown some had come back to bite her harshly.

There was nothing to be done for it now. Her real son was under attack and her adoptive one, Stryker, was most likely to blame for it.

“What have you done?” she demanded.

Stryker leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head as he eyed her cautiously. “Mulling mostly coupled with a shot or two of reminiscing and a drop of regretting a few past decisions. Some might even call it moping, but I’d kill anyone so stupid as to suggest that of me.” He was more a plotting kind of Daimon.

Her hair rose even higher around her like ribbons twisting in a strong wind, letting him know she didn’t appreciate his sarcasm. “Apostolos is under attack. Did you provoke it?”

He didn’t know why it bugged the shit out of him for her to call her son Apostolos when the rest of the world knew him as Acheron, but it did.

And honestly, he hadn’t provoked dick. He’d directly caused it.
Big
difference.

However, he wasn’t stupid enough to tell her that. Their life forces might be tied together, but when it came to her real son and his well-being, Apollymi lost all self-restraint and sense of survival.

She’d kill them both to protect Acheron.

“No,” Stryker answered honestly. He slid his gaze down to the sfora that was hidden from Apollymi’s view. The moment Stryker focused on it, he saw War surrounded by the Charonte demons who were actually doing damage to the spirit. Acheron was on the floor coughing and wheezing. A little worse for the wear, but alive nonetheless.
Worthless bastard.
Savitar was shouting to the demons, but sound wasn’t available to Stryker while Apollymi was here.

Damn them.

Careful to shield his expression, he returned his gaze to Apollymi’s. “So what can I do for you, Matera?” he asked, using the Atlantean word for mother.

Apollymi drew a long, slow breath as she tried to detect the truth from him. Strykerius had always been a convincing liar. At one time the two of them had been a united force against Apollo. But those days were gone and now the two of them danced around each other in a complicated battle of one-upmanship.

She would cast him and his Daimons out of here, but for all their aggravation, they provided her with company and an army that allowed her to still have power to affect the human realm. Not to mention the small point that so long as they worshiped her, they fed her powers.

Unlike her small group of priestesses who still lived and served in the human world, the Daimons held much more power. They could provide her with a means to protect Apostolos.

“I want your Daimons to subjugate War. Immediately.”

“It’s daytime and until the sun sets he’s beyond our reach. You wouldn’t want one of
us
to die and deplete your strength now, would you?””

She wanted to knock that smug look off his handsome face. Unlike the rest of his blond Daimon horde, his short hair was as black as his heart. Perfectly dyed to keep him from looking exactly like his father. “Protect him, Strykerius. Your existence hinges on his. Remember I
will
kill you to protect him.”

Stryker forced himself to wait until she was gone before he curled his lip in repugnance. He couldn’t believe that he’d ever been dumb enough to think that Apollymi loved him as a son. That she would protect and care for him the same way she cared for Acheron. And every year that had passed since the moment Stryker took his own son’s life to prove himself to her and had been forced to see the truth of his relationship with “his” mother had only made his bitterness grow.

“Tear him apart, War,” he said, glancing back to the sfora. He wanted blood. Unfortunately, there was nothing there. No sign of War, Acheron, or Savitar.

Growling in anger, Stryker slung the orb against the wall, shattering it. Where the hell had they gone?

*   *   *

“War’s broken out.”

Artemis looked up at Ares’ angry declaration as he appeared in the center of the Hall of the Gods where she and the rest of the Greek pantheon were having a small feast.

Her father, Zeus, cursed as he rose off his throne. “What have you done?”

Tall and blond, with muscles honed by his daily training, Ares held his hands up in surrender. “I did nothing. It was Apollo’s son, Strykerius, who released him.”

Artemis felt the color fade from her face at the mention of her nephew. If Stryker was involved, there was only one target he’d have.

Acheron.

And like as not, Acheron’s mother along with Acheron would blame
her
for his attack. As if she’d dare …