Still, there was an evil presence here and for once it wasn’t his mother.
No, this was something far more insidious. Like a blackness trying to devour the world. Like Níth?ggur gnawing at the roots of Yggdrasill as he sought to free himself from his prison.
For now it was contained, but his gut said it wouldn’t stay that way.
Kaziel scowled at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Just a bad premonition.”
“Of?”
“What the world would be like if we fail to stop Apollo.”
*
Morgen watched as Apollo left her bed to dress. Exceptionally tall and golden fair from the top of his blond head all the way to his toes, he was exactly what one would expect of a god.
In and out of bed.
She pouted at him. “Why are you leaving?”
“It’s taking too long to round up the dragon. I don’t like this delay. We have to take care of this before Helios overthrows me and takes all my powers.”
She scoffed at his concerns. “My men will handle it. They know better than to fail me.”
He rinsed his mouth out and spat before he turned toward her, patting his chin dry. “And I know my son. He was ever resourceful. Not to mention, that bitch he serves. Apollymi hates me with a passion. As do her two sons. It took me too long to escape her after that bastard Styxx gift-wrapped me and handed me over. I have a staggering debt to repay them all.”
“Two sons? I thought her one and only son was dead.”
“I wish.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Nay, my evil fey queen. Not dead. Acheron is hers by birth and conception. Brought back to life by my idiot of a twin sister who wanted to fuck him, and instead screwed the rest of us by her insatiable appetite for an ex-human whore. As for Styxx, he belongs to Apollymi by adoption. To that end, you can count my son as well. Indeed, she oft mothers Stryker more than she does her own.”
“Really … Any other brats I need know about?”
He dropped the towel and reached for his pants to pull them on. “You could almost count the Malachai. He is a direct descendent of her firstborn. Granted, a thousand times removed. And Urian. She pampers and protects him as well.”
Five sons for Apollymi …
Morgen rose up to lean against him. “Does she consider the current Malachai as one of hers?”
“Not as far as I know. Her loyalty to that end seems to have died with her original son, Monakribos.”
“And what of his father? Was Kissare not supposed to be reborn so that he could return to her?”
Apollo froze in the middle of buttoning his shirt. He blinked slowly before he answered. “He was, indeed.” A slow, evil grin spread across his face. “Why, Morgen, dearest evil bitchtress, I do believe you’ve found something.”
“So he was reborn?”
Laughing, Apollo pulled her naked body against his. “I don’t know. But I know who will.”
The Fates.
He didn’t say it, but Morgen knew the answer as well as he did. Those three whores knew everything about everyone. They were the greatest gossiping bitches ever born!
“And if he does live,” Apollo whispered against her lips, “we will find him and gut him at her feet!”
“I don’t follow. Wouldn’t that be a bit anticlimactic? What’s the point?”
He kissed her lips. “The point is that the goddess of all destruction and darkness has only had three weaknesses in the whole of her life. Kissare, Monakribos, and Acheron.” He nipped at her lips. “Given how frigid a bitch she is, I’m willing to bet that they had more in common than just their mother.”
Morgen’s eyes widened as she finally understood. “You’re thinking that Acheron’s father is Kissare reincarnated?”
He actually drew blood from her bottom lip with his fangs as he pulled back and nodded. “It would explain so much.… Archon swore he would never father a child with her, and he went to his nebulous state claiming Acheron wasn’t his son. Had Apollymi truly loved him, she would never have allowed Styxx to end him. God knows, she suffered much to protect Kissare and their offspring.”
“Then who’s Acheron’s real father?”
“Only Apollymi knows.”
Morgen smiled at this newfound knowledge and what it signified. “And the Fates.”
“If they don’t, they will learn it.” He gave her one last kiss, then stepped away.
She frowned at his actions. “Where are you off to?”
“To find my demon. I have another errand for him.”
*
“Shake that moneymaker, baby! You go! Make that barrier pay! Kick it! Show us more biceps! Spank it till it bleeds! C’mon, you can do it. Pound it harder!”
Urian growled at Medea and her sexual harassment.
Falcyn turned around to glare at Medea as she sat on the ground beside Brogan and catcalled to them while he, Urian, Blaise, and Brandor sought some way to break through the barrier. Hands on hips, he narrowed his gaze at her. “Not helpful.”
Medea put her hand up to her lips before she leaned closer to Brogan to whisper rather loudly. “Neither are their attempts, but notice it doesn’t stop them from trying.”
Brogan laughed.
Falcyn arched a brow at their misplaced humor. “Instead of heckling, woman, you could try helping.”
She flashed a grin to expose a hint of fang. “I am helping. I’m giving you encouragement, dragonfly.”
His jaw out of joint, he turned toward Urian. “Would you consider this encouraging?”
“Coming from my sister? Yeah. She’s not throwing things at you or directly insulting us and our parentage. Hell of an improvement, you ask me. Makes me wonder what you’ve done to her that she actually located some semblance of humor.”
Medea shot a blast at Urian, who deftly dodged it.
Laughing, he returned it with one of his own, knowing she wouldn’t let it hit her.
“Hey!” Falcyn snapped, shoving Urian aside. “Play nice! You hurt your sister and I’ll fry your ass. Ash or no Ash.”
Medea righted herself from where she’d dove to miss Urian’s blast. “You tell him, sweet cheeks.”
Urian scowled. “Is she drunk?” He glanced back at Blaise and Brandor. “What did you throw on her again?”
“Water.” Brandor wiped at his brow.
Yeah, that wasn’t the way she was acting. Urian was beginning to think a pod person had kidnapped her.
Medea scoffed. “I’m fine. We’re just enjoying the sight of male stubbornness at its prime best, and wondering at what point the lot of you will cede defeat.” She glanced over to Brogan. “How long have they been pounding this poor defenseless shell now?”
“At least an hour.” Brogan wrinkled her nose.
Blaise shot a sudden blast at it that recoiled and hit Brandor squarely in the chest. The blast knocked him back fifteen feet and sent him head over heels until he landed on his side in a smoking heap.
Medea burst out laughing again.
With a groan, he pushed himself into a seated position to glare at Blaise. “Really, mandrake? Really?”
Squeaking in fear for her brother, Brogan scrambled to her feet to check on Brandor and to make sure he didn’t attack Blaise out of anger over his indignity.
“You know, Falcyn,” Medea taunted. “I think that puts the wall over for bonus points on all your sorry hides.”
“At least we’re doing something. You could try your hand at it, you know?”
“Why? It’s obviously not budging. If sheer force of will could open it, I’d give it to you and it would have surrendered ten hours ago.”
“One hour ago.”
“Tomayto, tomahto.” Leaning on her side, she propped her head on her hand. “I should go ahead and take a nap while the lot of you waste your time.”
Urian was ignoring their sniping banter. At least until a sharp light almost blinded him.
Summoning a god-bolt, he was about to release it when the shadow took the form of a man he knew well. And one he trusted not at all.
The moment he saw the glow engulfing their hands, Shadow drew up short and set fire to his own hands as if to retaliate. “Whoa! Down, boy!”
“What are you doing here?”
After allowing the fire in his hands to go out, Shadow tugged one of the three amulets he wore about his neck over his head. “I have a present for you.”