And maybe this was all part of being a god. A total disregard for what you did to humans. An inability to have even a modicum of compassion for them.
You could have at least come back and killed me. Acheron had that power. Three seconds. Three little heartbeats and Acheron could have put him out of his misery.
Instead, he'd left him to suffer. Eternally. Alone in an isolated hellhole.
Styxx winced as memories tore through him. Endless days of loneliness and self-loathing. Even centuries back, when Artemis had actually sent servants with food for him, they'd been blind, deaf, and mute ... a precaution of hers to make sure they didn't tell anyone of his solitary existence.
Or more to the point, that she had a boy-toy pet who looked just like him.
He'd had no one. Nothing except bittersweet memories of his wife and the son he'd never met. Memories that hurt as much, if not more, than they comforted.
But what did it matter? He couldn't change the past. It was done and he'd somehow survived it. Damned if he knew how.
Rising, he washed the blood off his face, beard, hands, and chest then returned to the room with Dionysus.
"Better?" the god asked sarcastically.
"Not really. However, the bleeding's stopped." Externally, anyway.
Internally, the arterial hemorrhaging never ceased.
"Good gods, he does look like him."
Styxx turned to find a god he couldn't identify approaching them. Nowhere near as tall as they were, he had long black hair pulled back into a ponytail. There was something evil, yet mischievous about him.
"Meet Camulus. Celtic-Gallic war god."
Styxx started to ask what "Celtic-Gallic" meant, but as soon as the question formed, his mind kicked up the answer from the information Dionysus had implanted into his head. They were two races that hadn't existed until long after his country had been destroyed and then rebuilt from the ashes of Apollymi's fury.
Camulus raked him with a snide grin. "He doesn't dress like him though. Or stand like him. Think he can pass?"
Dionysus shrugged. "Dark-Hunters are pretty stupid. They shouldn't be too hard to fool."
Styxx frowned at the unfamiliar term. "Dark-Hunters?"
"Ah, crap. Did I forget to do a full upload?" Dionysus put his hand on Styxx's shoulder again.
In an instant, he saw events unfolding. Apollo had taken credit for the destruction of Atlantis, claiming it as retaliation for what had been done to Ryssa. Since Apollymi wasn't around to contradict him, that was the most retold myth.
Apollo had cursed his Apollite race to feed on nothing except each other's blood. But the worst, they were condemned to die painfully on their twenty-seventh birthday.... The age Ryssa had been on her death.
Kind of. His father had shaved a year off her age to make her more appealing on the marriage market and had never told Apollo the truth. Stupid bastard deserved that lie.
Then Apollymi, angered over Apollo's mutilation and murder of Acheron, had taken in Apollo's heir, Strykerius whom the god had accidentally cursed along with his people.
Ironically, the sun god had never been all that bright. Why the Greeks had ever designated Apollo as the god of prophecy, Styxx couldn't fathom.
Needless to say, Strykerius bore as much love for his father as Styxx did. But Stryker had yet to kill Apollo. Not for lack of effort on his part. He routinely made attacks on his progenitor and humanity.
Stryker and his army of Daimons were still around because Apollymi had taught them how to circumvent Apollo's curse by stealing human souls and living on those-her retribution on humanity for abusing her son. But from the moment an Apollite pulled a human soul into his or her body, it forever changed them physiologically, and many of them mentally. They were no longer Apollites, but so-called Daimons. Evil spirits who lived solely to feed off mankind's souls.
Then two thousand years after Apollo's curse, Artemis had created the Dark-Hunters to chase and kill the Daimons before the human souls within them died and were lost forever in painful limbo.
At least, that was Artemis's public story. Like her brother, she lied. The real purpose of the Dark-Hunters was to give her leverage against Acheron, and a tool she could use to manipulate and control him.
Styxx laughed bitterly at the irony. You're still a whore, little brother. Still enslaved.
Some things never changed.
"Are you caught up?" Dionysus asked.
"Yeah. You want me to run interference with my brother's men and use them against him until the night I finally get to return the favor he once paid me."
Camulus scowled. "What favor?"
Styxx flicked his hand over the scar in the center of his chest. "He drove a dagger through my heart while I slept. Only I'm not the coward Acheron is. I want him to know it's me when I slide the blade in."
Camulus let out a low whistle. "No wonder the Greeks are known best for their tragedies. You bastards wrote the book on dysfunctional families."
Dionysus scoffed. "Really? Do you want me to pull out your pantheon history?"
He held his hands up in surrender. "I cede, but don't get used to that. Not in my nature."
Dionysus conjured a set of modern clothes for Styxx and held them out to him. "Don't forget to bathe first."
Fighting the urge to make an obscene gesture, Styxx took the clothes and headed to the shower. He quickly climbed into it and sighed at how incredible it felt. He hadn't bathed in warm water since the day he'd died. Even though his head was way above the showerhead, the hot water still felt good sliding over his skin. And as he showered, he clenched his teeth at all the scars marring him from head to foot. But the two that still stung most were the one across his heart from Acheron and the one on his stomach from Ryssa. He didn't know why they bothered him more than the ones from his mother, yet they did.
And the scar that always brought tears to his eyes was one he'd carved himself into his left forearm with an obsidian knife he'd made.
???G??vί??.
???????vός.
Bethany above the scar his father had given him. Galen below it. And Galen not just for his mentor, but for the son who'd never been born to them. His permanent tribute to the people who'd meant everything to him.
To the ones he'd never see again. His scar was all he had left of them.
"I miss you," he breathed. Time had not made their deaths any easier to bear. In some ways, it seemed to make it worse.
Blinking back his tears, he shoved those thoughts out of his mind. There was nothing he could do. They were gone, and with luck, he wouldn't have to endure much longer without them.
He kissed their names then turned off the water and stepped out. The moment he touched the towel, his breath caught. It was so incredibly soft. There had been no cloth on the island. No towels of any kind. And the scent ...
Like flowers.
What an incredible luxury. He froze as he caught a look at himself in the huge mirror that was a much higher quality than anything they'd ever possessed in his mortal days. His mother and Ryssa would have gone blind staring at themselves in this.
His gaze dropped to the horrendous scars that marked his flesh. He curled his lip in disgust. He was hideous. Had Bethany not been blind, she would have thrown him aside in a heartbeat had she ever seen these.
Sighing, he dressed quickly, shaved then left the room to find the two gods plotting Acheron's death and their rise to power. He should have guilt for participating, but honestly ...
Screw Acheron. His brother had shown him no mercy, so why should he have any for him?
Styxx frowned as he caught a whiff of ...
"Is that food?"
Camulus nodded. "I ordered steaks from room service. You want one?"
His jaw went slack as he positively salivated. "Beef?"
"Well yeah, ain't no vegetarians here." Camulus flexed his biceps. "Soy don't give you these."
Styxx ignored him as he pulled the silver cover off the plate and bit his lip. He hadn't seen steak in so long that he'd forgotten what it looked like.
Smelled like.
"Damn, Dion. I think the steak just gave your boy a hard-on."
"I imagine everything will give him a hard-on for a few weeks until he gets used to being in the world again."
"Just make sure you don't give him any chocolate cake. He might die from an orgasm."
Styxx's frown deepened as he sat down to eat. "Chocolate cake?"
Camulus snorted. "We'll order some later. Now be quiet and let the gods talk."