For a moment Styxx didn't react. If Stryker killed his brother, it was over. All of it.
He would finally have peace.
But then he made the fatal mistake of looking at Soteria who saw what he did.
Acheron's imminent death.
The horrified agony on her face and the tears in her eyes undid him. Love like that didn't deserve to be separated. There was no worse hell than being one half of an eternally separated whole.
Twice in his life, he'd been dealt that blow. He wouldn't let his hatred crush Soteria.
Damn me....
Styxx ran at Stryker. He caught the Daimon lord right before he reached Acheron who had stupidly closed his eyes while he fought.
Yeah, you didn't have Galen for an instructor.
Because Styxx still wore sunglasses, Stryker lost focus on Acheron and mistook him for his brother.
Stryker laughed in satisfaction as he buried the knife deep into Styxx's stomach. His vision dimmed while that familiar pain spread through him. It felt like Stryker had caught him in the same exact place Ryssa had.
Trying to catch his breath, Styxx stumbled back and fell into someone. His sunglasses went flying.
Time hung still as he realized he'd fallen against Acheron and his brother had stepped aside to let him go down hard on the floor. He laughed bitterly at that. Their father would have been proud.
Ryssa, too.
Growling at the fact he'd missed Acheron, Stryker reached for the dagger in Styxx's stomach. Styxx held it inside him with one hand while he tried to beat Stryker back with his other. But his blood made the hilt too slippery and the pain and scar weakened his grasp. Against his best effort, Stryker yanked the dagger out.
Styxx gasped as excruciating pain tore through him. "Acheron!" he shouted, warning his brother.
Turning in time, Acheron caught the Daimon overlord with the blunt end of his staff and shoved him back. "Flee or die," he snarled.
Stryker curled his lip. "Fuck you."
Narrowing his gaze on Stryker, Acheron shoved him back then slammed the staff to the ground. A wave of raw, unfettered power shot out from it to the demons and Daimons around them. Every one of them turned to dust.
Except for Stryker. He hovered above the ground in a dragon's form, snarling and flapping. Bellowing in rage, Stryker spewed fire at Acheron.
Acheron lifted his arm, barely in time to keep it from burning him. He shot another god bolt at Stryker who dodged it.
"This isn't over, Acheron. Next time you won't be able to use your powers." With another blast of fire, Stryker vanished.
Trembling with pain, Styxx laid his head on the ground and stared up at the ceiling. The others were talking, but his ears buzzed so loudly, he couldn't understand them.
Styxx laughed then groaned. It was just like the day before he died. He lay bleeding and no one even noticed. Rolling over, he tried to stand then slipped on blood and crashed back to the floor. There was no Galen here to render aid to him.
No friend whatsoever.
Yet Acheron was surrounded by people who were joking with him.
I've got to stop the bleeding. While he couldn't die from it, the last thing he needed was to be weak from blood loss. It would still make him sick, and there was no one to tend him at home.
His head pounded even more, blurring his vision. Unable to stand, Styxx rolled to his back and kept as much pressure on the wound as he could. He started shaking uncontrollably.
Great. I'm going into shock. He should have kept the coat on.
How was I to know I'd be gutted again?
He felt someone kneeling down beside him. Opening his eyes, he was stunned to see Acheron. There wasn't a bit of concern or compassion in his brother's cold expression.
Styxx panted in sheer agony. "You know, brother, you're never supposed to close your eyes in battle."
Ash laughed. "I wasn't the one training to be a general."
Good thing, too. You'd have sucked at it and caused everyone to die. But that was only part of being a leader and he knew it.
Styxx glanced around at the men surrounding them. He heard their thoughts and he knew their faces and histories from Acheron's memories. They loved his brother.
They'd never once mocked Acheron as Styxx's men had done him in the beginning. All of them looked to Acheron with respect and adoration.
None of them had ever paid to screw him.
Acheron's men knew nothing of his past.
A vengeful part of him wanted to tell them what Acheron had been. But then, that cruelty wouldn't hurt Acheron. Not really. Because these men cared about his brother and even if they knew everything, they wouldn't hold it against Acheron. His brother was stupid for even thinking that.
And Acheron had done something with them that Styxx had never done for his own men. Acheron had taken in these shattered creatures, such as Vane and Fang whose pack of werewolves had turned on them and tried to feed them to the Daimons-Kyrian whose wife had handed him over to his enemies to be tortured and crucified-Zarek who'd been a Roman whipping boy wrongfully tortured and executed-and Talon who'd watched his sister murdered before his eyes after his clan, his own blood, had betrayed him-and with a patience he'd never shown Styxx, Acheron had healed them.
All of them.
It was amazing, really. But then, Acheron didn't hate them the way he hated Styxx.
Styxx sighed. "Perhaps. But you do a much better job of leading than I ever did. I definitely think Father trained the wrong one of us."
Without a word, Acheron placed his hand over Styxx's wound. It stung like a hot brand against his skin. And he should know, since it was just like being in the Dionysion. He glared at Acheron. "Fine, then you're a stupid fucking asshole. Get your hands off me," he snarled through gritted teeth.
Ignoring his outburst, Acheron held him down until Styxx was ready to whimper. Only then did Acheron pull away.
"Am I dead yet?" Styxx asked sarcastically.
"Not yet. You still have a few years left to seriously piss me off."
Styxx snorted. "I look forward to it."
I'm sure you do, Acheron thought silently. He inclined his head to Styxx. "You did a good job for me. Thank you."
That must have choked you to say, brother.
"Yeah, well, next time you need someone to descend into a Daimon sanctuary, pick one of your other assholes to do it. I don't have the powers of a god when they come at me, and it puts me at a definite disadvantage."
Grinning, Acheron helped Styxx to his feet then left him and went to be with his men.
In one heartbeat, Acheron had put Styxx out of his mind and forgotten he was here.
For this I left my computer games? Styxx sighed wearily.
"You want me to take you home?"
Styxx nodded at Urian. "Thanks."
"No problem."
In the blink of an eye, Styxx was back in his condo. He'd started for the couch when his knees buckled.
Urian caught him against his side and helped him to his bed. "Are you still wounded?"
"It's the poison from the dagger Stryker used. Acheron healed the wound, but he didn't draw the poison out." Whether that was intentional or not, he had no idea.
"How do you get it out?"
"You draw it out before you stitch the wound closed." Styxx looked down at the sealed scar. "Oops, too late." He started shaking again as sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Do you want me to call Ash?"
"I'll be fine." Acheron wouldn't come anyway. And Styxx couldn't blame him. If he had Bethany with him, he wouldn't bother with his brother either. "Not like I can die. I just need to rest." Styxx had barely slurred those words before he passed out.