Urian cast a droll look at his son. “Don’t be so quick, Geras. The gods are never so bountiful. There’s always a drawback.”
“He’s right.” Nicander sighed. “As soon as Zeus found out, he demanded that we be put down. When the king refused, we were cursed.”
Urian gave his son an I-told-you-so stare.
“What’s the curse entail?” his father asked.
“The Arcadians and Katagaria are to war against each other and never know peace until the last of us are dead. We cannot choose our mates. They’re chosen for us by the Fates. If we don’t accept who they choose, our males are rendered impotent for the rest of our lives.”
Geras’s eyes bulged in horror as he cupped himself.
Urian smirked. “Take it you changed your mind, m’gios?”
He nodded vigorously.
Nicander sighed again. “Like the animals we are, we’re hunted continuously. Our mates even more so. And when they’re pregnant, they can’t shift forms or use their magick. That’s how I ended up here. I was leading a tessera—a team of four of them—away from my pregnant mate. I’d gotten them clear of her, but couldn’t shake them from my trail. When the portal opened, I didn’t care where it took me, so long as it was away from my enemies.”
Nephele scowled at him. “How do you know when your mates are chosen?”
He held up his hand to show her an intricate pattern that appeared to be branded into his palm. “A matching mark appears on each of our palms to let us know. Once it’s there, we have three weeks to cement the union or we’re screwed. A woman will never be able to have children, and as I said, a man is left impotent.”
“So glad I’m an Apollite,” Geras whispered in Urian’s ear.
Urian elbowed him. “So do the Dark-Hunters hunt you, too?”
He shook his head. “They’re not allowed. Not even if we’re trelos, slayers, or marked.”
His father arched a brow at that. “You still go trelos?”
“Not for the same reasons a Daimon does, but aye. Something about our hormones at puberty causes a similar madness in our species. A slayer is the same thing, only that’s the term they use when it affects a Katagari Were-Hunter … the term given to cover both our branches.”
“And marked?” Urian asked.
“When our council has gotten together and, with Savitar’s approval, determines that someone needs to be put down because he or she is a danger to us all. Once the Omegrion decides, we’re marked for termination and hunted.”
“And they call us cold.” Paris shook his head. “So glad I live here.”
Urian didn’t comment on that. “Who’s Savitar?”
Apollymi answered that one. “A rank, arrogant Chthonian bastard. Surly as hell. Pray to the gods you never have to deal with him.”
Urian was shocked by the venom in her tone. That was the type of hatred usually only reserved for Apollo or Artemis and in the back of his mind, he seemed to recall her speaking of him before, now that he thought it. But it’d been years ago.
They all bowed to their goddess.
The Were-Hunter hesitated, then realized it was probably a good idea to follow suit.
Apollymi walked over to Nicander to examine him a little closer. “So you’re Savitar’s current pet project. Why?”
“No idea, my lady.”
She narrowed her gaze speculatively. “He doesn’t come off that island lightly. Nor does he meddle in the affairs of the gods without a damn good reason. Did the Dark-Hunter Acheron ask him to?”
“I don’t know anyone by that name.”
But Urian did. He immediately remembered the creature he’d met whose eyes matched hers. Were they related?
“Who leads the Were-Hunters?”
“You mean the Omegrion?”
“Not that. Who are the founders of it? The first blood children?”
“The Kattalakis princes. Dragons and wolves.”
That still didn’t seem to pacify her.
She cut a gimlet stare toward his father and then him. “I leave it up to you, Strykerius, if you want to allow the Were-Hunters a haven here. They are cousins to you, after all. Their blood … and souls should feed you, being that they are hybrids.”
There was something Urian hadn’t thought about. But the goddess was right. They were chimeras and since she’d pointed it out, he could detect the soul within them.
That baby was ripe for the plucking, and he wasn’t the only one to know it. Several of his men around him were now salivating.
But his father quickly put a stop to that. “So long as they hold to Eirini Law, so will we.”
Damn those peace laws.
Nicander inclined his head respectfully. “Thank you. And know that my people are setting up limanis with Savitar’s approval and his oversight. Not even a Dark-Hunter can breach their sanctity without suffering his wrath. It’s a place where Daimon, Apollite, and Were-Hunter can gather in the human realm in peace.”
“And if the humans attack?”
A slow smile spread across Nicander’s face at Urian’s question. “Come in peace or leave in pieces.” He turned back toward Apollymi. “We’re slowly learning to live among humans. Although a lot of Apollites have done what you have. They’ve moved to underground communes. We’re setting up networks, with signs that will subtly alert our kind without the humans knowing.”
“About time,” Archie growled.
Paris rubbed his back, but he shrugged off his sympathetic touch. Not that Urian blamed him. He’d now lost all of his children and his wife to Dark-Hunters, and three grandchildren. They were sick of their predators.
Right now, they were losing this war. Not even their aunt Satara was able to help them with the information she gleaned from spying on Artemis and Apollo while she attended Artemis as one of her handmaidens in her temple on Olympus.
There had to be more they could do.
And Urian was done with this. He motioned for his team and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” his father asked.
He smirked. “Same as what I always do, Solren. Going out and getting even.”
“What does he mean by that?” Nicander asked as they stepped through the portal and vanished.
Apollymi laughed. “Those are my Stygian Thánati. They hunt and slay the Dark-Hunters who prey on Daimons.”
Stryker smiled as he pointed to the ornate display of weapons on the far wall. “Those are their trophies, taken from every Hunter they’ve slain.”
“Are they rewarded for it?”
Stryker’s eyes flashed red at the stupidity of that question. “Of course they are. Satisfaction in the destruction of your enemy is its own reward. No one understands that better than their commander.”
“And who is their leader?”
“My son, Urian.”
*
Urian froze as they came up against a familiar power.
Eleni was the first to step toward it, but he caught her arm and shook his head. “You need to return. Every one of you.”
All six members of his guard turned in unison to gape at him, as those were never the orders he gave.
His second-in-command, Spawn, in particular, had rebellion in his eyes.
Urian tightened his grip on his shield. “I mean it. Spawn, take my son and the others and lead them back.”
He saw that same rebellion in his son’s eyes, but he knew better than to question him.
As did Spawn. They’d fought together too many times for him to start questioning him now. “Aye, kyrios.”
Urian stayed behind to cover their retreat. They had barely vanished when he was hit with a blast so hard it staggered him, but somehow he managed to remain standing.
“Why do you carry the shield of Styxx of Didymos?”
“I don’t.”
Another blast almost tore his arm off. “You think I don’t recognize that symbol!” The fury in that tone almost shattered his eardrums.
Urian sent his own blast toward his attacker. Though he couldn’t see him, he hoped he was close to the mark.
It was then he saw Acheron. He planted his staff in the ground and used it as leverage so that he could kick him back with both of his feet.
Urian stumbled back and landed on his ass. He scrambled to rise and used his powers to gather his kopis back into his hand.
“Who are you?”
He lifted his chin with pride. “Urian Strykeros.”
That took the anger out of him. “The one they call Thánatago.”