Stygian (Dark-Hunter #27)

Time hung still as they all watched him fall against Acheron and his brother stepped aside to let him go down hard on the floor.

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. “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.

And it knocked Urian to his knees.

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.

Urian rushed to Styxx’s side at the same time Ash did.

Opening his eyes, 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.”

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. Styxx hissed. “Fine, then, you’re a stupid fucking asshole. Get your hands off me,” he snarled through gritted teeth.

Still Acheron held him down until Styxx was ready to whimper. Only then did Acheron pull away.

Urian held his hand to give him comfort.

“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.”

He inclined his head to Styxx. “You did a good job for me. Thank you.”

“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.”

Then Acheron left him and went to be with his men.

Urian helped him to his feet. “You want me to take you home?”

Styxx nodded at Urian. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Feeling horrible for what he’d gotten him into, Urian teleported him home. Styxx started for the couch, and then 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. Acheron healed the wound, but he didn’t draw the poison out.”

“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.”

“Not like I can die. I just need to rest.” Styxx had barely slurred those words before he passed out.





December 1, 2008

Urian watched as Ash checked the blades in his boots to make sure they were working. Suddenly, he turned his head as if he knew Urian was there.

Furious, he glared at his boss. “You’re helping my father?”

“We have to stop War.” That dry, flat tone did nothing to improve Urian’s mood or need to beat Ash’s ass.

“Stryker murdered my wife,” Urian snarled.

“I know.”

Oh well, he was so glad they got that cleared up. “How could you help something like him?”

Ash growled at him. “Get off the cross, brother. Someone needs the wood. You helped your father for centuries. Need I remind you of how many lives you took under his command? Lives of people who were related to you—you killed Phoebe’s mother and her sister.”

He flinched at a truth he didn’t want to hear. Ash was right. He should have stopped their deaths. It was all his fault. He’d been the one who tracked them down. Stryker would never have known where they were had he not found them. He led the assassins straight to their location. “I loved my wife. I never meant to hurt her.”

“Changes nothing. You took your wife from the very people she loved more than her life. For too many centuries, you and your brothers were a tool Stryker used most effectively.”

“Times change.”

“Yes, they do … And you should know that you have another sister.”

Stunned, Urian stared at him as he tried to digest the impossible. “What?”

Ash met his gaze levelly and kept his expression completely stoic. “It’s the life of your other sister we’re going to protect. Not your father’s.”

No … not possible. “My sister died eleven thousand years ago.”

“Medea is a half sister.”

Medea? How was that possible?

But in the end, it didn’t matter. “And I should care, why?”

Ash held his hands up in surrender. “You’re right. You shouldn’t care at all. She’s nothing to you, which is why I haven’t invited you to join us.” Ash started past him.

Urian pulled him to a stop as the need to beat him flared to an all-time high. “How would you feel if my father had killed Tory?”

Ash answered without hesitation. “I would feel soulless. Lost and hurt beyond repair.”

Urian looked away. “Then you understand me. And why I want him dead.”

Ash pulled Urian’s hand off his arm. “He knows that, too. But have you ever considered that he might regret what he did to you?”

Yeah, right. “My father? Get real. The bastard has never regretted a single thing in his entire life.”

“We all have regrets, Urian. Nothing that lives is immune from that nasty emotion.”

The problem was, his father was dead. “So what? You want me to go kiss and make up?”

“Hardly. But I want you to set aside your own hurt and anger to see clearly for a minute. This isn’t about you and your father any more than it’s about me and Nick hating each other over something we can’t change. This is about saving the lives of a million innocent people. People like Phoebe who don’t deserve to be hunted and killed. If I can stand at the side of my enemies for the greater good, so can you.”

Urian scoffed. “Well I guess I’m just not as special as you are.”

“No one knows their true mettle until it’s been tested. This is yours. Whether you pass or fail at being human or a hero is entirely up to you. I can’t tell you what to do, but I know where I’ll be tonight … fighting beside my enemies to save the lives of those who can’t fight what we have to.” He hesitated before he asked the most important question. “So what do you choose?”

“Gory death.”

Ash shook his head. “You stubborn bastard. Take it from someone who knows firsthand, there’s a lot to be said for forgiveness. Grudges seldom hurt anyone except the one bearing them.”

“And there’s a lot to be said for knocking enemies upside their heads and cracking their skulls wide open.”

Ash felt a tic start in his jaw over Urian’s obdurate nature. “To everything there is a season, and tonight ours is to stand together or lose everything. I’m not fighting for Stryker or to save your sister. I’m fighting to protect the ones I love. The ones who will suffer most if war isn’t stopped … children like Erik, Tyr, little Phoebe, and—”

“Low fucking blows,” he snapped at the mention of his nephews and niece.

“Do you?”

Urian’s gaze hardened. “I will be there, but once our enemies are put down—”

“We fight each other again. Understood.”