Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)

Once he washed and dressed, he'd be able to leave. Thank the gods for some small favors.

On unsteady feet, he quickly prepared himself for his trip. Not even his nosebleed was going to stop him. He only paused long enough to grab his saddlebags and a cloth for his nose.

"Antio," he said with bitter sarcasm to the room and palace, bidding them all his final adieu. He would say good-bye to his family, if he'd had some to leave. As it was, the sooner he got out of here, the happier he'd be.

But as he walked toward the stairs, he saw something strange leaking out from beneath Ryssa's door. He started to ignore it then stopped.

Something wasn't right.

Ryssa should still be screaming over the injustice done to her. Yet there wasn't a single sound and it was close to midday. Not even Apollodorus seemed to be awake.

And as he neared the door to see the red liquid, he realized he couldn't hear their thoughts either.

He stood outside the door, staring at the blood on the floor, as a thousand emotions speared him at once. Panic, trepidation, anger, but it was grief that overwhelmed him. Because he knew what had to be on the other side of the closed door.

"Please, Ryssa, no," he breathed as tears stung his eyes. It would be so like her to kill herself and the baby as a way of punishing them all. That was just the kind of dramatics she specialized in.

For a moment, he thought Acheron would be with her, but if he were dead, Styxx wouldn't be here.

Styxx set down the saddlebags and reached with a trembling hand for the latch. Please, please, let me be wrong.

Terrified, he pushed open the door.

He was wrong, all right. But not in a better way. His head spun even more as he saw a scene that slammed him back into battlefield memories. For a full minute, he couldn't move as he took in the slaughtered remains of his sister, her nurse, and his nephew. Someone had torn them apart and tried to make it appear as if an animal had done it. But he'd been a soldier long enough to know human brutality when he saw it. Animals wouldn't have slunk off and left this behind.

Tears scalded his cheeks as he remained frozen in the doorway. Who would have done such a thing? But more than that, how could this have happened with him and Acheron just rooms away?

And where were her guards?

Why hadn't his stupid, bastard brother been here to fight for the sister who'd loved him above all things? Even though she hated him, Styxx would given his life to defend her and the baby. How could Acheron not have heard them? His room was right here. Surely, she'd screamed and cried for help.

Guilt racked him that he hadn't heard her. How could I have slept through this? He never slept through a night. Ever. Why had he not been prowling the hallways last night as had been his custom since childhood?

Damn you, gods ... damn you!

"Styxx?"

He didn't react to his father's voice at all. He was completely catatonic from the emotions that assailed him. By images of battle and soldiers laid out in broken pieces like this.

But they hadn't been his defenseless, frail sister and her infant son.

His father screamed in agony as he saw them, and ran past Styxx to gather her remains into his arms and rock her as if she were a baby. "What did you do! How could you!"

Styxx stumbled back at the accusation. He gasped for breath. "You think I could do this?"

"You're a soldier. She stabbed you."

So?

"But I didn't retaliate on my own sister. Dear gods, is this really what you think of me?"

His father didn't answer as he wailed and rocked her. His screams were loud enough to rouse the dead. And still his brother didn't come.

Baffled, Styxx went to find him.

He threw open the doors to Acheron's room to see his brother flinching in bed as if he'd just awakened. "Not so loud," he whispered.

Un-fucking-believable. Ryssa was slaughtered just a few feet away while Acheron had laid up drunk and hadn't protected her. Fury and his own guilt over the fact he'd been high, too, ravaged his heart. He'd only been out of it because she'd stabbed him and tried to kill him.

But Acheron ...

He was the one she loved. The one she trusted. Why hadn't he been with her, soothing her as she condemned Styxx? Why had Acheron left her alone last night?

Yet the worse sting was the fact that she'd died hating him and now he would never be able to explain the matter to her. Never have a chance to make amends.

Wanting blood for the injustice of it all, Styxx grabbed his brother by the throat. He shoved Acheron back on the bed to straddle him. "Are you drunk?"

Acheron shook his head. But it was painfully obvious Acheron was still under the effects of something. He reeked of it.

Blind with grief, guilt, and fury, Styxx backhanded him. He pulled the chest of herbs from the table next to the bed and flung them into Acheron's face. "You worthless whore. You lie in here on your drugs and drunk while my sister was murdered!"

Styxx punched him again and again. Yet it wasn't really Acheron he was beating. It was himself and he knew it. His allegations toward his brother were the same ones he had in his head for himself.

How could I have done to this to her?

Because I'm a worthless whore, too ...

Acheron shoved him back. "What did you say?"

Styxx glared at him. "Ryssa's dead, you bastard!"

Completely naked, Acheron shot from his bed and staggered down the hallway to Ryssa's rooms.

His heart splintered and his emotions ragged, Styxx followed him.

Just before the bed, Acheron fell to his knees as he cried out in agony. "I heard them," he whispered.

His side bleeding, Styxx winced as more rage clouded his vision. Why didn't you do something? Why, Acheron?

Then he heard Acheron's thoughts in his head. Damn you, Artemis! I have the powers of a god and couldn't save the two people I loved most. Because of you, bitch!

And I heard them. I heard Ryssa crying out for help. Apollodorus screaming for me to come to him ...

Those words exploded in Styxx's heart and mind. Acheron had heard them and done nothing.

Nothing!

They had begged him for help.... How could he?

Unable to stand it, Styxx kicked him in the ribs, knocking him to his side. Ignoring the pain it caused him, he stomped Acheron in the stomach. But it wasn't enough. It didn't even begin to assuage the agony inside him. Growling, he straddled Acheron and slammed his head against the stone floor over and over again until his own vision was blurred from it. "Why wasn't it you, you worthless maggot!"

Then they both would have been dead and Ryssa alive.

Roaring, Acheron shoved Styxx away from him. Styxx lay in a heap as the stitches were torn open and he bled anew.

Suddenly, a bright light exploded in the room. Styxx looked away as Acheron lifted his arm to shield his eyes.

Apollo appeared before them. Total silence descended as the god looked slowly around the room, taking in every single bloody detail. Even his father had stopped crying in expectation of the god's reaction.

The Greek god didn't speak as he saw Ryssa lying dead in her father's arms, and his son's lifeless body still in the arms of his savaged nurse.

"Who did this?" Apollo demanded through clenched teeth.

Tears stinging his eyes, Styxx pointed to Acheron as his brother's thoughts rang out in his head. "He let them die."

Apollo spun on his brother and hit him with his fist so hard that it lifted Acheron from the ground and slammed him into the wall ten feet above the floor. Then he was thrown to the ground.

Styxx hit the deck as physical agony overrode his mental anguish. It hurt so badly, he couldn't breathe. More blood gushed from his wound.

Apollo grabbed Acheron by the hair and wrenched his head. His brother tried to fight the god, but Styxx knew from experience it was futile unless you were extremely well-trained. Apollo was so much stronger there was nothing they could do except bleed.

Even so, he wanted to help Acheron fight against the Olympian who had never loved their sister, but Styxx couldn't move. It felt as if every bone in his body was broken.