Acheron (Dark-Hunter #14)

Acheron (Dark-Hunter #14) Page 22

Without a word, Apollymi held her son in her arms and walked with a calmness she didn't feel toward the dais where her black throne sat beside her husband's gold one. Archon stood up at her approach and moved to the side as if to speak to her.

She ignored him as she placed Apostolos on Archon's throne, where he belonged. Her hands shaking, she sat him up and carefully placed each of his hands on the arms. She lifted his head and brushed the blond hair back from his bluish face until he looked as if he would blink and move at any moment.

Only he would never blink again.

He was dead.

And so were they . . .

Apollymi's heart beat with fury as her powers mounted. A feral wind exploded through the hall, sweeping her hair up as her eyes glowed red. She turned on the gods then and leveled a malevolent glare at each of them as they held a united breath in expectation of her wrath.

Until she came to Archon.

Only then did she speak in a voice that was laced with her hatred. "Look at my son."

He refused.

"Look, damn you!" she snarled. "I want you to see what you've done."

Archon winced before he complied and the relief in his eyes notched her wrath to an even higher level. How could she have ever allowed something so callous and putrid into her bed?

Into her body?

Apollymi growled. "Your bastard daughters deprived my son of his life. Those little whores damned him. And you," she sneered the word, "dared to protect them instead of my child!"

"Apollymi-"

"Don't you ever speak my name again." She sealed his mouth shut with her powers. "You had every right to be afraid. But your bastard bitches were wrong. It won't be my son who destroys this pantheon. It is I. Apollymia Katastrafia Megola. Pantokrataria. Thanatia Atlantia deia oly!"

Apollymi the Great Destroyer. All powerful. Death to the gods of Atlantis.

It was then they scrambled for the doors or to teleport out, but Apollymi would have none of it. Drawing from the darkest part of her soul, she sealed the hall closed. No one was going to leave here until she was appeased.

No one.

If the Chthonians killed her for this, so be it. She felt dead inside anyway. She didn't care about anything except making them all pay for their part in her son's suffering.

Archon fell to his knees, trying to plead for her mercy. But there was nothing left inside her except a hatred so potent and bitter that she could actually taste it.

She kicked him back and blasted him until he was nothing more than a statue remnant of a god.

Basi screamed out as Apollymi turned toward her. "I helped you. I did! I put him where you told me to."

"You didn't do shit, except whine and piss me off." Apollymi blasted her into oblivion.

One by one, she faced the gods she'd once considered family and turned them into stone as her relentless fury demanded appeasement. They tried in vain to subdue her, but once her wrath was unleashed, there was no power in the universe to stop her.

Except for the child they'd stupidly killed. Only Apostolos could have saved them.

The only one she hesitated at was her beloved step-grandson, Dikastis-the god of justice. Unlike the others, he didn't cower or beg. Nor did he fight her. He stood with one hand braced on the back of a chair, calmly meeting her gaze as an equal.

But then he understood justice. He understood her wrath.

Inclining his head respectfully, he didn't move as she blasted him.

And then there was Epithymia. Her half-sister. The goddess of wealth and desire. She was the bitch Apollymi had so foolishly trusted more than the others.

With tears of crystal ice in her eyes, Apollymi confronted her. "How could you?"

Tiny and frail in her angelic appearance, Epithymia stared up at her from where she cowered on the floor. "I did what you asked. I delivered him into the world of man and made sure he was born into a royal family. I even tried to hand him to the queen to suckle him. Why would you destroy me?"

Apollymi wanted to claw her eyes out for what she'd done. "You touched him, you slut! You knew what that would do to him. To be touched by the hand of desire and to have no god powers to countermand it . . . You made it so that every human who saw him was driven mad with their lust to have him. How could you be so careless?"

It was then she saw the truth in her sister's eyes.

"You did it on purpose!"

Epithymia swallowed. "What was I supposed to do? You heard the Fates when they spoke. They proclaimed him to be the death of us all. He would have destroyed us."

"You thought the humans would kill him in their efforts to possess him?"

A tear slid down Epithymia's cheek. "I was only trying to protect us."

"He was your nephew," Apollymi spat.

"I know and I'm sorry."

Not as sorry as she was going to be.

Apollymi curled her lip. "So am I. I'm sorry I ever trusted you with the one thing you knew I loved above all others. You ungrateful bitch. I hope your actions haunt you into eternity." Apollymi blasted her sister.

And yet she was unappeased. Even with all of them dead and gone . . .

The hole inside her was still there and it hurt so much that all she could do was scream. She screamed until her throat was raw. Throwing her arms out, she splintered the hall until there was nothing left but rubble. Nothing left but her memories of her hope for a son now dead.

Still it hurt.

Apollymi wiped the tears from her face as she stood, looking at what she'd done. There was no satisfaction to be felt.

There was only justice to be done.

"One down . . ."

She turned then and headed to the island kingdom Archon had created for her.

Atlantis.

Those poor fools had thought to strike out at Apollo by killing his son and mistress. Today they were cowering in fear of being discovered by him and punished for their actions. But it wasn't the Greek god who wanted them dead.

It was she. Their patroness.

It would be by her hand and for the acts they'd committed against her son that they would suffer and die.

No mercy. It was what they'd given Apostolos and it was what she'd return to them.

With one swipe of her arm, she sank the entire island into the sea and listened to the beauty of their terrified screams and pleas for clemency and deliverance as the elements struck and ended their putrid lives. It was the sweetest music she'd ever heard. Let them beg . . .

If only Apostolos and Xiamara could be here.

Wincing in pain, she pushed her grief aside as she struck out on their behalf.

The last of the island kingdom faded into the sea just as the sun was setting. Apollymi turned then and looked to the land of Greece.

They were the last to suffer. Not just the humans who'd hurt her child, but those fucking gods who thought they were so smart and smug.

Most of all, Archon's bastard daughters would pay. They thought themselves safe on Olympus under the care of their mother. But the three Fates were nothing in comparison to the daughter of Chaos.

To the mother of absolute destruction.

Their dying screams would be the ones she'd relish most.

June 25, 9527 BC

Mount Olympus

Small and thin in stature with dark hair and eyes, Hermes flew through the hall of Zeus until he stood before his father who only looked a few years older than he. Hermes wasn't sure what was going on, but most of the gods were gathered here and lounging about.

They ignored Hermes until he spoke. "You know the saying, don't kill the messenger? Hold that thought, really, really close to your hearts."

Zeus scowled at him as he stood up from the chair where he'd been playing chess with Poseidon. Dressed in a flowing white robe, Zeus had short blond hair and vividly blue eyes. "What's going on?"

Hermes gestured toward the wall of windows that looked down onto the human realm. "Have any of you taken a look out at Greece in the last, say, hour or so?"

Artemis held her breath as a bad feeling went through her while she sat at a banquet table across from Aphrodite, Athena and Apollo.

Apollo rolled his eyes and waved his hand in arrogant dismissal. "What? Are they reacting to the fact I cursed the Apollites?"

Hermes shook his head in a gesture of sarcastic denial. "I don't think that bothers them nearly as much as the fact that the island of Atlantis is now gone and the Atlantean goddess Apollymi is cutting a swathe through our country, laying waste to everyone and everything she comes into contact with." Hermes gave Apollo a smug look. "And in case you're curious, she's headed straight for us. I could be really wrong here, but I'm guessing the woman's extremely pissed."

Artemis shrank back at those words.

Zeus turned on Apollo. "What have you done?"

All arrogance now gone, Apollo blanched as fear tinted his eyes. "I cursed my people, not hers. I didn't do anything to the Atlanteans, Papa. Unless their blood was mixed with my Apollites, they were unharmed by my curse. This is not my fault."

Her stomach drawing tight, Artemis covered her mouth as she realized what pantheon Acheron must have belonged to. Terrified of what she and Apollo had set in motion, she left the hall where the gods prepared for war and went to her temple so that she could think without their angry shouts in her ears.

"What can I do?"

She was just about to summon her koris to her when the three Fates appeared in her room: As triplets in the height of youthful beauty, their faces perfect duplicates of each other. But that was the only thing that united them. The eldest, Atropos, had red hair while Clotho was blond, and the youngest, Lachesis, had dark hair. They were the daughters of the goddess of justice. No one was sure who their father was, but many suspected Zeus.

The one thing every god on Olympus knew was that these three girls were the most powerful of the entire pantheon. Even Zeus didn't try to circumvent them.

Since the moment of their arrival a decade ago, everyone had given them a wide berth. When the three of them held hands and made a statement, it became the law of the universe and no one was immune to it.

No one.

Artemis couldn't imagine why they'd be here in her temple. "If you don't mind, I'm a little busy right now."

Lachesis grabbed her arm. "Artemis, you must listen to us. We've done something terrible."

That was why the gods lived in fear of them. They were always doing something terrible to someone. "Whatever it is, it'll wait."

"No," Atropos said grimly, "it won't. Apollymi is coming here to kill us."

Stunned by that proclamation, Artemis scowled at them. "What?"

Atropos swallowed. "You must never tell anyone what we're about to tell you. Do you understand? Our mother made us swear to keep it at secret."

"Keep what secret?"

"Swear to us, Artemis," Clotho demanded.

"I swear. Now tell me what's going on." And most important, why it involved her.

Atropos spoke in a whisper as if afraid someone outside the temple might hear her. "Our father is Archon-the king of the Atlantean gods. He had an affair with our mother, Themis, and we were born of it. Our mother sent us to Atlantis to live and our father took us in. Apollymi is our stepmother and we unknowingly cursed our half-brother when we learned of his coming birth."

"It was an accident," Clotho blurted out. "We didn't mean to curse him."

Lachesis nodded. "We were just children and didn't understand our powers yet. We never meant to curse our brother. We didn't, we swear!"

Artemis went cold inside. "Acheron? Acheron is your brother?"

Clotho nodded. "Apollymi barely tolerated us while we lived with them. We were a reminder of our father's infidelity and she hated us for it."

That didn't make sense, any more than their fear did. Artemis tried to sort through what they were telling her. "But everyone knows that Archon has never been unfaithful to his wife."

Lachesis snorted. "That's a lie the Atlantean gods keep so that Apollymi won't harm them. You don't understand just how powerful she is. She can kill us without even blinking. All the gods fear her power. Even Archon. He's as faithless as most men and so here we are."

"She wants us dead," Clotho interjected.

Still Artemis was piecing the story together. "How exactly did you curse Acheron?"

"We were so stupid," Atropos said. "When Apollymi began to show her pregnancy, we spoke out of turn and gave Apostolos the power of final fate. We said he'd be the death of us all and it seems today we are about to see our demise met."

Artemis was even more confused. "But it's not him who threatens us. It's his mother."

Clotho nodded. "And she will kill all of us for our part in his curse. Including you."

"I did nothing!"

Atropos scoffed at her as the young women encircled her. "We know what you've done, Artemis. We see all. You hurt him even more than we did. You turned your back on him while Apollo gutted him on the floor and Apollymi knows it."

Fear tore through her. If what they said was correct, there would be no mercy from Apollymi. Truthfully, she didn't deserve any, but on the other hand, Artemis really didn't want to die. "What can we do? How do we defeat her?"

Atropos sighed heavily. "You can't. She's all-powerful. The only one who can check her powers is her son."

In that case, they were in serious trouble since Acheron was now dead. Couldn't someone have told her this before she'd left him to Apollo? This information was just a little late in coming and would have been much more beneficial earlier in the day.

"We're dead," Artemis breathed as images of her being gutted by Acheron's mother went through her head.

"No," Clotho said firmly, shaking her arm. "You can bring him back."

Artemis scowled at the woman. "Are you insane? I can't bring him back from the dead."

"Yes, you can. You're the only one who has the power."

"No, I don't."

Atropos growled at her. "You drank of his blood, Artemis. You absorbed some of his powers."

Clotho nodded. "He's the final fate. He can resurrect the dead, which means you can too."

Artemis swallowed. "Are you sure?"

They nodded in unison.

Still, Artemis was uncertain. Granted she'd tasted Acheron's powers, but that particular one was reserved for only a very select group of gods and if they failed to bring him back . . .

It could only get worse.

Atropos took her by the arm. "The Atlantean gods used their combined powers to bind Apollymi. So long as Apostolos is alive in the human realm, she's locked in Kalosis."

Lachesis took her other arm and nodded. "We bring him back and she's interred again."

"We'll be safe," Clotho offered. "All of us."

"You will be the savior of the pantheon!" they said in unison.

Did she really have a choice? Drawing in a deep breath for courage, Artemis nodded. "What do I have to do?"

"You will have to get him to drink your blood," Atropos said as if it would be the easiest thing in the world to accomplish.

"And just how do I do that?"

"With our help."

Acheron lay on the floor in calm serenity, finally numb to everything from his past and present. He was at peace in a way he'd never been before. The walls of his cave shielded him from the voices of others. Not even the gods were in his head.

For the first time in his life, he had total silence.

There was no aching in his body, no grief. Nothing. And he loved this feeling of tranquility.

"Acheron?"

He tensed at Artemis's voice. Of course the bitch was going to disturb his haven. She could never leave him in peace.

Damn her.

He tried to tell her to go away, but nothing other than a hoarse croak left his lips. Coughing, he tried to clear his throat to speak.

Still no words would come. What was going on? What had taken his voice?

Artemis gave him a tender, concerned look as she appeared before him. "We need to talk."

He shoved her back, but she refused to go.

"Please," she begged with a look that would have weakened his resolve only a few days ago. But that concern for her was now long gone. "Just a few words and I'll leave you. Forever if you wish."

How could they talk when he couldn't speak?

She held a cup out to him. "Drink this and I'll be able to talk to you."

Furious with her and wanting to vent his anger at her, he grabbed the cup and downed the contents without tasting them. "Go to Tartarus and rot," he snarled at her, grateful that this time she could hear the venom in his voice.

Then something happened. Pain and fire ripped through his body as if something was setting his internal organs aflame. Panting, he looked up at Artemis. "What have you done to me now?"

There was no mercy or remorse in her gaze. "What I had to do."

One moment he was in the quiet darkness of Hades's domain and in the next, he was standing on the shores of Didymos, not far from the palace.

Or rather what was left of it.

Confused, he looked around, trying to understand what had happened to him and the land. But before he could figure it out a searing pain tore through him with such ferocity that it drove him to his knees in the surf.

Acheron cried out, wanting it to stop.

Suddenly, Artemis was there before him. Gathering him into her arms, she held him close as the waves crashed against them. "I had to bring you back."

He shoved her away from him as he looked around at the smoldering remains of Didymos. "What have you done?"

"I didn't do this. Your mother did. She's destroyed everything and everyone who ever went near you. And she was coming to kill us on Olympus. It's why I had to bring you back. She would have killed us all had I not."

He glared so hard at her, he was sure his eyes were red. "You think I give a damn about that?" He started away from her, only to be frozen in place by the pain tearing at his stomach. The agony caused him to double over as he struggled to breathe.

Artemis approached him slowly. She stood above him, looking down. "I'm the one in control here, Acheron. I've bound you to me with my blood. I own you."

Those three words set fire to his wrath. He felt the familiar heat ripple over him as his human appearance gave way to that of his god form. Rising against the pain, he held his hand out and brought Artemis into his grasp. "You seriously underestimate my powers, bitch."

She clutched at his hand, trying to loosen his feral grip. "Kill me and you'll become the worst sort of monster imaginable. You need my blood to maintain any sort of sanity. Without it, you will become a mindless killer, seeking only to destroy any and everyone you come into contact with . . . just like your mother."

Acheron roared with frustration. The bitch had thought of everything. Even as a god, he was still a slave. "I hate you."

"I know."

He shoved her away from him and turned his back on her.

"Acheron, did you not hear what I said? You will have to feed from me."

He ignored her as he made the long trek from the beach to the hill where the royal palace had once stood. Now there was nothing left but smoldering ashes and busted stones. There were bodies of servants and merchants everywhere.

Tears filled his eyes as he ran through the debris, seeking a sign of Ryssa or Apollodorus. Aching and broken, he used his powers to move stone and marble until he uncovered the room that had been hers.

There in the wreckage he found three of the diaries she'd so meticulously kept. They were a little scarred by fire, but miraculously, they'd somehow survived intact. He opened the first one and stared at her childish writing as she described the very day he'd been born and the joy she'd felt at having twin brothers. Wiping his tears, he closed it and held it close to his heart as he heard her voice in her words.

His precious sister was gone and it was all his fault.

Aching from the truth of that, he saw one of the silver hair combs he'd given her . . .

He crawled over to it and placed it against his lips. "I'm so sorry I failed you, Ryssa. I'm so sorry."

As he sat there, it hit him how pathetic it was that all he had to show for a life so vibrant, a soul so beautiful, were such minuscule things. Three diaries and a broken hair comb. That was all that was left of his precious sister. Leaning his head back, he sobbed from the pain of it all.

"Apostolos . . . please don't cry."

He felt his mother's presence. "What have you done, Matera?"

"I wanted them to pay for hurting you."

Did it even matter? What they'd done to him was nothing compared to what had been done this day. "And now Artemis owns me."

His mother's scream mirrored his own. "How?"

"She's bound me to her with her blood."

He could feel his own anger through his mother's voice. "Come to me, Apostolos. Free me and I will destroy that bitch and those bastards who cursed you."

Acheron shook his head. He should do it. He should. They all deserved nothing better and yet he couldn't bring himself to destroy the world. To kill innocent people . . .

His mother appeared before him as a translucent shade. Acheron sucked his breath in sharply as he saw her for the very first time. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Hair as white as new-fallen snow fell from a crown that shimmered with diamonds. Her pale, silver eyes swirled just as his did. Her black dress flowed over her body as she held one hand out to him.

He tried to touch her, but his hand passed through hers.

"You are my son, Apostolos. The only thing in my life that I've ever truly loved. I would give my life for yours. Come to me, child. I want to hold you."

He treasured every word she spoke. "I can't, Matera. Not if that means sacrificing the world. I refuse to be so selfish."

"Why would you protect a world that turned its back on you?"

"Because I know what it's like to be punished for things not my fault. I know what it's like to have things forced on me that were wrong and against my will. Why would I ever serve that to someone else?"

"Because it would be justice!"

He glanced around at the scattered bodies. "No. It would only be cruel. Justice to the humans has been more than served."

Her eyes flashed angrily. "What of Apollo and Artemis?"

He ground his teeth at the mere mention of their names. "They hold the power of the sun and the moon. I can't destroy them."

"I can."

Thus she'd destroy the entire earth and all who lived here. It was why he couldn't free her. "I'm not worth the end of the world, Matera."

Her eyes burned him with her sincerity. "To me you are."

In that moment, he would have sold his soul to be able to hold her. "I love you, Mama."

"Nowhere near as much as I love you, m'gios."

M'gios. My son. He'd waited his entire life for someone to claim him. But as much as he wanted his mother, he wouldn't end the world for it.

Suddenly a cold wind whipped around him, tearing at his clothes and hair, yet not hurting him. The world around him faded as he found himself on unfamiliar ground. His mother's image flickered by his side. "This is Katoteros. Your birthright."

He frowned at the pile of rubble. "It's in ruins."

She cast a sheepish look toward him. "I was a little upset when I came here."

A little?

"Close your eyes, Apostolos."

Trusting her completely, he did.

"Breathe in."

He took a deep breath and then he felt his mother inside him. Her powers merged with his and in the blink of an eye, the ruins reunited to form a beautiful palace of gold and black marble. His mother's presence pulled out of him.

"Welcome home, palatimos." Precious one.

The doors opened and as Acheron passed through them, his clothing changed. His hair grew long and black and a flowing robe fanned out behind him as he walked over the white marble floor. He paused at the sign of the sun that was pierced by three bolts of lightning.

His mother slowed as she noted him studying it. "The golden sun is my symbol and it represents the day. The silver of the lightning bolts is for the night. The bolt to the left is for me and the past, and the one on the right is your father and the future. Yours is the bolt in the middle that unites and binds the three of us together and stands for the present. That is the sign of the Talimosin and represents your dominion of the past, the present and the future."

He frowned at the Atlantean word. "The Harbinger?"

She nodded. "You, Apostolos. You are the Talimosin. The final fate of all. Your words are law and your wrath absolute. Be careful as you speak for whatever you will, even in carelessness, will determine the fate of the person you're speaking to. It's a burden I would never have wished upon you. And it's one I hate those bitches for. But I can't undo what they've given you. No one can."

"What exactly are my powers?"

"I don't know. I took them from you and never looked at them for fear of exposing you to the others. I only know what Archon's daughters cursed you to. But you will learn your powers in time. I only wish you'd come to me so that I could help you until you grow stronger."

"Matera-"

"I know." She held her hand up. "I respect you for being the man you are and I'm proud of you. However, should you change your mind, you know where I am."

He smiled at her.

"In the meantime, this is all yours."

Acheron looked around at the statues and somehow he knew who each and every one of them were. As he approached the set of gold doors, he saw the image of his mother to the left and Archon to the right.

The doors opened and there he saw the remains of the gods where his mother had attacked them. They were frozen in the horror of their last moments.

His mother didn't show the tiniest bit of remorse for what she'd done to them. "If the sight of them bothers you, there is a room below the throne room where you can store them. While I'm locked in Kalosis, my powers won't let me put them there, but you shouldn't have that problem."

Closing his eyes, he wished the statues gone. In an instant, they were. He had no desire to see the images of people who'd wanted him dead.

His mother smiled approvingly. "You should have the ability to come and go from the human realm to this one at will. You'll find that Katoteros is a large place with areas unexplored. The mountain-tops are windy . . . and it's on the northernmost point that you can hear the sound of your grandmother, the North Wind. Zenobi will whisper to you and succor you in my absence. Any time you need to be comforted, go there and let her hold you."

"Thank you, Matera."

"I will go now and give you time to adjust. If you need me, call and I will appear."

He inclined his head to her as she faded away and left him alone in this unfamiliar place.

It was so strange to be here and it would take some getting used to. Closing his eyes, he could see the gods as they'd been. Hear their voices echoing in the faintest of whispers. And when he opened them, they were all gone and he heard nothing.

As he moved around the room, he realized he wore some kind of leather leggings.

Pants.

How very odd to know the names of everything and everyone without even trying. Whatever information he needed was there instantly.

Crossing the room, he approached the single black and gold throne . . . Archon's. An image of Acheron's dead body in it appeared in his mind. And in the next, Acheron was sitting in it, looking out on the gleaming, empty room. Though ornate and gilded, it was sterile.

There was no life to the palace. No comfort here.

He stood, and as he did so a large staff appeared by his side. Over seven feet in length, it held his emblem in gold and silver on the top. Atlantean words were inscribed down the smooth wood.

By this, the Talimosin will be known. He will fight for himself and for others. Be strong.

Be strong. He clenched his teeth as Xiamara's words whispered through his mind. Gripping the staff tightly, he teleported himself to the top of the northernmost mountain. The sun was just beginning to set as the winds whipped his formesta out behind him. He gripped his staff tight, looking back over his shoulder to see where the palace stood below.

Then he heard it.

Apostolos . . . feel my strength. It will be yours when you need it.

He smiled sinisterly as he felt his grandmother's caress against his skin. Closing his eyes, he took comfort and strength.

When he opened his eyes, he could tell they glowed red now. His vision saw so much more than it had as a human. He felt the pulse of the universe in his veins. Felt the power of the primal source and for the first time realized his place in the cosmos.

I am the god, Apostolos. I am death, destruction and suffering. And I will be the one who brings forth Telikos-the end of the world.

That was if he could ever figure out how to use his powers. Acheron laughed at the truth of it.

Turning, he headed down the mountain and back to the throne room in Archon's palace. No, it was his now. Sadness hung deep inside him as he realized that though he had his grandmother and mother with him in spirit, he was still alone in the world.

Completely alone.

He froze as he heard something moving behind his throne. It was a soft scurrying sound . . . like a large rodent. Frowning, he tele-ported toward it, prepared to kill whatever dared defile his new home.

What he found there stunned him completely.

It was a small demon with marbled red and white skin and long black hair. Small red horns poked through the tangles of her curls as she looked up at him with red eyes that were rimmed in orange.

"Are you my akri?" she asked in a childish lilt.

"I'm no one's akri."

"Oh . . ." She looked about. "But akra sent me here. She said my akri would be waiting. The Simi is confused. I lost my mama and now the Simi needs her akri." She sat down and started crying.

Acheron laid down the staff to pick the toddler up. "Don't cry. It'll be all right. We'll find your mother."

She shook her head. "Akra said the Simi's mama is dead. Them evil Greek people killed the Simi's mama. Now the Simi needs her akri to love her."

Acheron rocked her gently in his arms as his mother's shade appeared before him.

Simi stopped crying. "Akra, he says the Simi's akri isn't here."

His mother smiled at them. "He is your akri, Simi."

Acheron scowled at her declaration. "What?"

"Her mother was your protector, Xiamara. Like you, Simi is all alone in the world with no one to care for her. She needs you, Apostolos."

He looked down at those large eyes that swallowed the demon's small round face. Blinking, she stared up at him with the same trust and innocence as Apollodorus. And he was lost to that loving gaze that didn't judge or condemn him.

"Bond with him, Simi, protect my son as your mother protected me."

The thought of tying someone to him, terrified Acheron. He didn't want anyone enslaved to him. "I don't want a demon."

"Would you cast her out alone in the world?"

"No."

"Then she's yours."