Styxx (Dark-Hunter 22)

As soon as those words were spoken, Styxx found himself alone. And the instant Acheron vanished, every single memory of Styxx's came back to him.

Full force and with complete clarity.

Contrary to his brother's thoughts, Styxx had not lived a perfect, happy life. He had not lived in luxury.

He had known pain ...

Isolation.

Starvation and suffering.

Throwing his head back, he roared in fury. "Damn you, Acheron!"

He was the one who'd had pity on his brother, and now he knew exactly what Acheron had always thought of him. The horrid truth. And how wrong Acheron's thoughts were where Styxx was concerned. For three fucking years that bitch had made him live his brother's life and hold Acheron's memories of their world and past as if they were his own.

"Oh, this is rich.... You stupid punk!"

Styxx was not the one who needed a dose of reality. Rather it was the petulant bitch-brother of his who refused to remember their childhood. At all. But then that was Estes's fault. He'd filled Acheron's mind with hatred and twisted it to the point his brother had forced himself to remember nothing other than Estes's lies.

Just as Acheron had once hated Ryssa for abandoning him. Yet somehow, Acheron had managed to forgive her and see the real truth of her actions.

But Acheron would never forgive him. He had no intention of looking any deeper than his own twisted and erroneous facts.

While Styxx had held on to those early memories of their friendship that had allowed him to feel for his brother, Acheron had locked out every one of them. He remembered nothing of the kindness Styxx had given him. Ever. None of his attempts to free him.

And now ...

Acheron had abandoned him again. Because his brother refused to look at Styxx's life as it had really been.

Instead, Acheron judged him as everyone else had. On an assumed reality that had never existed anywhere other than inside their own jealous minds.

You are a prince and your father's beloved heir. You're rich. What problems could you possibly have?

How dare you complain, Styxx. You don't know what real suffering is. You can't imagine what the world is really like....

His brother knew nothing of the years they'd lived apart. Nothing of Styxx's war career. Or Galen.

Nothing of Bethany.

Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, Styxx laughed as insanity claimed him.

His brother was across the river with his demon daughter and friends, and here Styxx was locked away again. With no one and nothing but memories that tore out his heart.

Take your sanctimonious indignation, Acheron, and shove it up your ass.

But all of his anger changed nothing.

Yet again, Acheron had made Styxx's situation worse. Strange how Acheron thought he could see Styxx's sins so clearly and yet he was blind to his own. In the end, Acheron was a god. He acted like all the others. He chose his pets, and the rest of humanity could burn for all he cared.

And worse, like Apollo, Apollymi, and Artemis, Acheron was capable of incredible acts of cruelty against anyone when he felt justified, right or wrong, for hating them.

That was bad enough when it was done by a human. Acheron had the powers to look into the hearts and pasts, and to see the truth. He had done it for others ... for all of his Dark-Hunter brethren.

Yet not his own brother.

Unlike a human who couldn't, Acheron chose not to see Styxx. That was what made it worse. That total lack of regard.

But then, Acheron was surrounded by people who kissed his ass and adored him. He had his daughter who loved him ...

And I am the king of hell.

With no one and nothing.

?????ς ???ί ?? ' ????? ...

I am Nobody.

Sighing, Styxx sat on the floor and closed his eyes and thought of the only person who had ever given him comfort and love. One of only two people in his entire life who had seen him as he really was.

His Bethany.

And she had been murdered by Acheron's mother on the day the two of them were supposed to leave all this bullshit behind. If one brother had reason to hate the other, he believed he had a few legs up on Acheron.

Not that it mattered. Acheron was with his family again. Cradled next to their loving bosoms.

Meanwhile, Styxx was in his hole where Acheron would soon forget his existence-if he hadn't already. A hole that was a lot crueler than the Vanishing Isle, because here, Styxx saw nothing but Acheron's real family using and abusing him, and laughing as they did so. It would be the same as locking Acheron back in Estes's home for eternity.

Thanks, brother. I hate you, too.

May 4, 2008

Styxx sighed as he secured the last plank on the small raft he'd made. Over the last few months, he'd learned that when Acheron had said Styxx had to earn his trust, what he really meant was "get out of my face and don't let me see you again."

Acheron must have reconsidered the servants and supplies because nothing had arrived since he'd been confined here.

Not a damn thing.

The only difference between this island and the Vanishing Isle was that this one didn't have predators to eat him. And while that made his world a bit safer, it also left him without much meat, and no way to make blankets or have sinew to use for bowstring and ties. Of course the twisted palm leaves could be used on his hammers and spears, but that wasn't nearly as strong or durable as leather cords.

Styxx grimaced at the blood on his hand. The really bad thing about palm leaves and trees was that they had sharp blades and spines, and he had no way to make leather gloves to protect his skin. His hands were so swollen from previous cuts that had gone to infection that he'd lost even more dexterity, especially in his right hand.

Not to mention both hands throbbed constantly.

The other thing this island lacked ... castor beans. He had no way of making castor oil to draw out the infection. Then again, there were no beans or nuts here of any kind. His diet had been extremely limited to shellfish and coconuts. He hadn't even seen a bird, which meant no eggs.

The only good thing he could say about being here was that Apollo couldn't get to him.

Woo-fucking-hoo. At this point, he'd gladly whore himself for just a single bite of steak ...

A drink of untainted water.

Cursing, Styxx jerked his hand back as another spine bit into the pad of his finger and left it bleeding. He put it in his mouth and sucked on it while he inspected his raft. On the Vanishing Isle, his rafts would only circle the lagoon. Any time he tried to go out farther or launch from another spot ... or even swim out ... winds would blow him straight back to shore.

That would probably happen here, too. But he had to find out. Besides, it wasn't like he had anything else to do ... other than draw in the sand and watch the waves erase it.

Styxx grabbed the raft and hauled it toward the water. Grunting from the effort, he pulled against the hull. It took a few minutes to launch. Then he scrambled onto the back and grabbed his pole so that he could push it across the river. A lack of sail had never stopped him from being shoved back in Hades, but maybe here it would keep him from being turned over.

He left the lagoon and kept his gaze on the opposite shore, where Acheron made his home. At this point, he didn't care what his brother did. He just wanted to hear the sound of another human voice, even if that voice was cursing him.