Laughing, she stood up on her tiptoes to draw his lip in between her teeth. “That’s better.”
Xyn swallowed as Urian stepped away and led her from the room. They had much left to talk about. A lot had happened to her since the last time she’d seen him.
Funny how promises were so easy to give.
And incredibly hard to keep.
*
Sitting at a small round table at the Café Du Monde in New Orleans, Dikastas looked up from his coffee and beignets as a shadow fell over him and blocked his view of the pedestrian mall, where he liked to watch the tourists while they shopped and strolled along the busy street.
It was even worse than what he’d initially imagined for the interruption—some poor panhandler begging for spare change or an annoying ass wanting directions.
A pouting Girl Scout peddling some overly sweet cookies.
Oh no, those nightmares would be far preferable to this pestilent beast who brought with him a sickening sensation that caused Dikastas’s jaw to fall slack. Indeed, he wouldn’t have been more shocked or stunned to find Apollymi herself standing there, glaring hatred at him.
He choked down his bite of the sugary confection and took a drink of coffee to clear his throat. “Apollo … to what do I owe this…” He searched for an appropriate word.
Honor definitely didn’t fit.
Horror, not really.
Inconvenience would be the most apropos, but since Dikastas was the Atlantean god of justice, moderation, and order, he had a bit more tact than to say that out loud as it would cause conflict and strife. So he left it open to the Greek god’s interpretation while he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin, then gestured at the small metal chair across from him.
Apollo accepted the invitation without hesitation. “What a peculiar place to find you. I actually thought Clotho was lying when she told me where you were living these days.”
Little wonder that, given the fact that the vast majority of his pantheon was currently frozen as statues beneath Acheron’s palace in Katateros. But since Dikastas had had the good sense not to cross Apollymi’s wrath or Styxx’s sword arm, he was one of the extreme few who’d been left free to roam the earth after they’d broken buck wild on them all a few years ago. “And how are my dear half-Greek nieces?”
“Worthless as always.”
Dikastas didn’t comment on that. Mostly, because he agreed about the three Fates. With their great stupidity and rash actions, they had accidentally damned the entire Atlantean race and pantheon in the blink of an eye. Jealous words spoken in a moment of fear against Acheron that had played out with devastating consequences for all the rest of them, especially the triplet goddesses.
He cleared his throat and pinned Apollo with a cool stare. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
After all, they weren’t friends or even friendly. In fact, they hated each other with a fiery zeal. Their pantheons had been mortal enemies, back in the day. And the only thing the two of them had in common was their blond hair.
Literally.
And even it wasn’t the same shade. Apollo’s was far more golden and his tended toward brown.
“I want information.”
Dikastas cocked his brow. “The Fates couldn’t give you what you wanted?”
Apollo snorted. “As I said, they’re basically worthless. What I need to know predates their births by a number of centuries and has to do with Apollymi and Kissare.”
Interesting …
A waitress came up to ask Apollo for an order.
He sneered at her. “Do I look like I eat or drink shit? Begone from me, mortal scum!”
Dikastas sighed at his angry words. So much for Apollo being a god of temperance. “That was unnecessary.”
“So is wasting my time!”
Yet Apollo had no problem intruding on his zen and wasting his. Typical. But then Apollo had always been a selfish prick that way.
All that mattered was his life and his wants.
Everyone else could go to Kalosis and rot.
Leaning back in his chair, Dikastas sipped his café au lait. “Well, if that’s what you’re after, the person you really want to talk to is Bet, as she’d have the most…” He trailed off as Apollo gave him a harsh stare and he realized the total stupidity of what he was suggesting.
“Ah,” Dikastas said with a snide smile. “Guess you can’t go there, can you?” Not after Apollo had screwed Bethany over in not one but two separate lifetimes. The Atlantean goddess of wrath and warfare wouldn’t take kindly to Apollo going to her for anything other than a full disembowelment.
Followed with a thorough denutting.
And the sun itself would freeze over before she’d ever help the bastard who’d killed her beloved husband and cursed her to lose her son, Urian.
“She wouldn’t have been there when Apollymi set up the Atlantean pantheon anyway. She hadn’t been reborn yet, right?”
Again, courtesy of Apollo’s first brutal betrayal against her and her husband …
Dikastas set his coffee cup down and reached for another beignet. “Correct.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Apollo stroked his chin as he thought about something. “So how did Archon convince the frigid bitch of all time to marry him and establish a pantheon with him as its king so that he could play ruler?”
Dikastas snorted at his assumption. “Apollymi isn’t frigid. Therein is the problem. Her passions run deep and dark. She’s ruthless and bloodthirsty, but that doesn’t make her cold. She’s as fiery as a volcano and even quicker to erupt, and far deadlier when she peaks.”
“You still haven’t answered my question. Why him? Why then?”
Dikastas shrugged. “Simple. Someone gave Archon the intel that Apollymi was awaiting the return of her precious Kissare, and she mistook the dull god as her Sephiroth come back to be with her. The spy fed Archon enough information that he was able to dupe her into thinking that he was her betrayed lover reborn as a god. That was why she agreed to set him up as her king and allowed him to rule over her. At least for a time.”
“Are you sure he wasn’t?”
“Yeah. Very much so. Kissare loved Apollymi. He gave his life for her and for their son. There was nothing altruistic about Archon. He was much like you.”
Apollo’s eyes narrowed. But he chose to ignore the dig. “Who was he working with?”
“No one knows. Archon refused to betray his informant. He was too grateful to be the king of his own pantheon to ever give over the name of someone Apollymi would have surely gutted.”
Apollo considered that for a few minutes. “Was Kissare ever reborn?”
“Again, no one knows. But I’d say he must have been.”
“Why?”
“Because someone fathered Acheron. Knowing Apollymi as I do and how she is, I would lay my money and life that Kissare was the father of both her sons. You find out who Acheron’s real father is and you will find out who Apollymi really loves.”
“You think he’s still alive?”
Dikastas cradled his coffee mug as he considered it. “That would be the question of the day, wouldn’t it?”
*
Urian growled as he cowed the dragon bastard in front of him. He’d had it with the scaly beasts!
Xyn appeared between them. “Problem?”
The dragon raked a look over him that said he’d like to have a little Daimon barbecue. “No.”
Urian scoffed. “Keep walking, Barney. Clubhouse is on your right.”
Xyn screwed her face up at his words. “Barney?”
“Big purple bastard. Drives you insane with asinine bullshit, just like your friend there.” He jerked his chin toward the lumbering dragon who’d left them.
Brushing her hand through his hair, she kissed his cheek. “I have so missed you.”
Urian closed his eyes and savored her warmth. “Kanis tin zoi mou pio omorfi.”
She smiled. “You make my life more beautiful, too.”
And that was one of the things he adored most about her. She actually spoke his language.
Rubbing his stomach in a way that set him on fire, she stood way too close for his comfort. “Have you heard from Shadow yet?”