"Where are they?"
"Waiting in Falossos. They hide in a cave that keeps them from the sunlight. But they're not sure what they should do or how to find the Daimons. They are men in need of leadership."
Acheron didn't want to do this. He didn't want to lead anyone any more than he wanted to follow someone else's orders. He didn't want to deal with other people at all.
He'd never wanted anything in his life except to be left alone.
The thought of interacting with others . . .
It made his blood run cold.
Half tempted to go his own way, Acheron knew he couldn't. If he didn't train the men how to fight and kill the Daimons, they would end up dead. Dead without a soul was a very bad existence. He, of all men, knew that one.
"Fine," he said. "I'll train them."
She smiled.
Acheron flashed from her temple back to Simi and ordered her to stay put a little longer. The demon would only complicate an already complicated matter.
Once he was sure she would stay, he teleported to Falossos.
He found the three men huddled in the darkness just as Artemis had said. They were talking quietly among themselves, grouped around a small fire for warmth and yet their eyes watered from the brightness of the flames.
Their eyes were no longer human and could no longer take the brightness that came from any source of light.
He had much to teach them.
Acheron moved forward, out of the shadows.
"Who are you?" the tallest one asked as soon as he saw him. The man was no doubt a Dorian with long black hair. He was tall, powerfully built, and still dressed in battle armor that was in bad need of care and repair.
The men with him were blond Greeks. Their armor was no better than the first man's. The youngest of them had a hole in the center of his breastplate where he'd been stabbed through his heart with a javelin.
These men could never go out and mix with living people dressed like this. Each of them needed care. Rest.
Instruction.
Acheron lowered the cowl to his black chiton and eyed each man in turn.
As they noted the swirling silver color of his eyes, the men paled.
"Are you a god?" the tallest one asked. "We were told a god would kill us if we were in their presence."
"I'm Acheron Parthenopaeus," he said quietly. "Artemis sent me to train you."
"I am Callabrax of Likonos," the tallest said. He indicated the man to his right. "Kyros of Seklos." Then the youngest of their group, "and Ias of Groesia."
Ias stood back, his dark eyes hollow. Acheron could hear the man's thoughts as clearly as if they were in his own mind. The man's pain reached out to him, making his own stomach tighten in sympathy.
"How long has it been since you men were created?" Acheron asked them.
"A few weeks for me," Kyros said.
Callabrax nodded. "I was created about the same time."
Acheron looked to Ias.
"Two days ago," he said, his voice empty.
"He's still sick from the conversion," Kyros supplied. "It was almost a week before I could . . . adjust."
Acheron stifled the urge to laugh bitterly. It was a good word for it.
"Have you killed any Daimons yet?" he asked them.
"We tried," Callabrax said, "but they are very different from killing soldiers. Stronger. Faster. They don't die easily. We already lost two men to them."
Acheron winced at the thought of two unprepared men going up against the Daimons and the horrific existence that awaited them when they'd died without souls.
It was followed by the memory of his first fight . . .
He blocked the thought out of his mind. Though Takeshi had been a great teacher, he'd never fought a Daimon. And the one thing Acheron had learned was that both he and Savitar had failed to tell him everything. Those first years had been hard and brutal.
"Have the three of you eaten tonight?"
They nodded.
"Then follow me outside and I'll teach what you need to know to kill the Daimons."
Acheron worked with them until it was almost dawn. He shared with them everything he could for one night. Taught them new tactics. Where and how the Daimons were most vulnerable.
At the end of the night, he left them to their cave.
"I shall find you a better place to hide in daylight," he promised them.
"I'm a Dorian," Callabrax said proudly. "I require nothing more than what I have."
"But we're not," Kyros said. "A bed would be most welcomed to me and Ias. A bath even more so."
Acheron inclined his head, then motioned for Ias to join him outside.
He stood back as Ias left the cave first, then directed him away from the others' hearing.
"You want to see your wife again," Acheron said quietly.
He looked up, startled. "How do you know that?"
Acheron didn't answer. Even as a human, he'd hated personal questions as they most often led him into conversations he didn't want to have. Pricked at memories he wanted to keep buried.
Closing his eyes, Acheron let his mind wander out, through the cosmos until he found the woman who haunted Ias's mind.