Styxx laughed. “Then I’d hate to see you on a bad day if this is a good one.”
“Yeah, well, according to Ash I pretty much get on his nerves every ten minutes.”
“It takes you an entire ten minutes? I’m impressed. All I have to do is enter his line of sight to wreck his whole year.”
Urian smiled. It wasn’t often he met someone who could match his sarcasm. He’d love to put this guy in a match with Shadow.
He indicated Styxx’s scars with a tilt of his head. “You must have been a soldier who saw a lot of combat for those.”
“I was … and I did.”
“Cavalry?”
“Protostratelates.”
Urian’s eyes bugged at such a prestigious role. Especially for someone so young, that was almost unheard of. In fact he only knew of one who’d done that. “At your…? Oh wait, wait a minute. Styxx … Styxx of Didymos, Styxx?”
He nodded.
No! No! What were the odds? Seriously? Urian sputtered at something that was too surreal to be reality. “How stupid do I feel? I never put the two names together before. Mostly because I assumed the protostratelates who damn near defeated Atlantis was an old man. Oh wow…” he breathed. “You were a legend. When I was a kid, I extensively studied your surviving war notes, and reports, and everything written about you. Your tactics fascinated me, but there was so much you left out.”
“I didn’t want someone to use my strategies against me.”
“As I said, brilliant, and if you knew me, you’d know I gush over no one.” Stunned and thrilled to meet his hero, Urian held his arm out. “This is really an honor.”
Styxx hesitated, then shook it. “So how old are you … really?”
“I was born a few weeks before you and Acheron died. And before you condemn me, I mostly lived on people who deserved to die.”
“Mostly?”
Urian shrugged. “Sometimes you can’t be picky. But I never fed from a human woman or a child. Or anyone who couldn’t fight back.”
Styxx held his hands up. “I’m in no position to judge anyone for how they survive.”
A deep scowl furrowed Urian’s brow. “It’s strange, though.”
“What is?”
“How much you and Acheron favor each other not to be related at all.”
Sighing, Styxx dropped his second towel, then finger-combed his short blond hair. “Trick of his mother’s to throw off the gods looking for him.”
Urian snorted. “She did well. I had a fraternal twin brother myself.”
“Had?”
“He was killed a long time ago by a Dark-Hunter.”
“Oh, I’m very sorry.”
Urian inclined his head to him as that old wound opened and bled. “Thanks. Me, too. It’s hard to lose a brother, and twice as hard when you’re born together. Kind of like losing a limb.”
Styxx snorted. “In my case, more like losing a sphincter.”
Laughing, Urian shook his head. “What happened between you? I mean, damn, Acheron forgave me, and I definitely didn’t deserve a second chance. You don’t seem like an outright bastard, and you definitely didn’t battle like one. Things you did … you protected your enemy against your own troops. And you were barbecued for it by Greek historians and commanders.”
“I was barbecued for it by many people.”
Now that he knew who he really was, Urian followed him from the pool into the bedroom. He had so many questions to ask. Things he’d always wondered about that no one had documented. Really, how often did someone get to interview their hero? “So how old were you when you first went into battle? Five?”
“Sixteen.” Styxx picked his clothes up and went behind a screen to dress.
“Damn, that was harsh. My father refused to let us near battle until we were past our majority.” For Apollites anyway. “He waited so long, it was actually embarrassing.” Urian didn’t want to think about the times his father literally picked them up and threw them down to keep them from battle.
He took a step back and gestured toward the door. “Would you like to come up to the main hall with me? Dinner should be about ready.”
Styxx shook his head as he came around the screen. “I’m not welcome there. Acheron would have a fit to find me in his temple.”
Urian had forgotten about that small fact. It would be the same as inviting his father to dinner. Yeah … real bad idea. Acheron hated his twin with a special kind of vim. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the bossman you’re here. Stay as long as you want.”
“Thanks, Urian.” Styxx went to hang his towels up to dry.
“Hey,” Urian called. “Would you like me to bring you some dinner?”
“Gods, yes, I’d kill for some.” Embarrassed by the emotion he’d betrayed, he cleared his throat. “Yes, please. I’d appreciate it.”
Urian suppressed a smile at Styxx’s enthusiasm. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Though to be honest, Urian hated leaving him there. Alone. If there was one thing he understood, it was loneliness. Isolation. And Styxx had had more than his fair share of it.
Before, when he’d assumed him to be Acheron’s villain brother with no conscience, Urian hadn’t cared what happened to him.
Now he had a face and a history.
It made a lot of difference. Perspective. Life was all about perspective. If anyone should appreciate that, a former Daimon should. After all, his people had been misjudged by everyone.
And they still were. It was why Spawn was one of his few friends among the Dark-Hunters. He was a former Daimon, and one who’d served under his command; they understood each other. And both were ostracized by the rest of Acheron’s army.
They were the brotherhood of misfits.
Styxx was their newest recruit.
Welcome to my madness.
And that was what it was. That raw, biting loneliness that never left him. The bitter gut punch that ached through and through. He’d lost both the women he’d loved most.
Xyn and Phoebe.
Life was so bitterly unfair.
Why couldn’t it have taken him instead?
Trying not to think about it, Urian snuck into Acheron’s temple where he lived and did his best to act nonchalant. He shared the temple with Acheron, Simi, and Acheron’s steward Alexion, who was one of the first Dark-Hunters ever created, and sadly the first to have been killed. And Alexion’s wife, another Dark-Hunter who’d died in the line of duty, Danger. And of course, Alexion’s own Charonte, Simi’s sister, Xirena.
They, and a few peculiar pets, made up Acheron’s happy home. Aside from the collection of statues in the basement no one ever talked about.
And Urian meant no one. As that topic quickly sent his boss into a fit of anger.
“You okay, Uri?” Danger asked as soon as she saw him skulking about.
Urian dropped the banana he’d been trying to smuggle out. “Um. Yeah. You?”
“Always.”
“Good.” Crap … why did she have to be so nosy?
Hours went by before Urian was able to head back to where he’d left Styxx. Though what the man was doing, Urian didn’t want to know, as it appeared he was pulling out some kind of nasty seafood grossness to eat. Pushing that aside, Urian set his backpack on the table beside Styxx.
He frowned at Styxx’s dinner. “What is that?”
Styxx shrugged, then returned the unidentifiable ick to the urn on the table.
Urian’s scowl deepened as he tipped the chipped clay cup to see the coconut milk in it. “Ew! Really? You were really going to drink this shit?”
“Anánkai d’oudè theoì mákhontai,” Styxx said simply.
Urian laughed. “‘Not even the gods fight necessity’ … nice. You said that to your men right before the battle for Ena.”
“Did I?”
“You don’t remember? I used to use that for my own men to motivate them. It got me stabbed once. Apparently, what works for Greeks doesn’t work for Spathi Daimons.”
“Honestly, no, I don’t remember. And it got me stabbed a time or two, too. Besides, I can’t really take credit for it. It was something my mentor used to say to me all the time.”
“And what would he say about this?” Urian held up a bottle of wine.
“Br?ma the?n.” Food of the gods.