Acheron (Dark-Hunter #15)(11)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

Soaking wet, he lay in the surf with his eyes closed.

Terrified of the sight, I scrambled down and rushed to his side. Even before I reached him, I could see the pallor of his beautiful face.

"Acheron!" I shouted with fearful tears in my eyes. I was terrified he was dead.

To my instant relief, he opened his eyes to meet my gaze. Still he didn’t move.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I sank to my knees beside him. My gown was completely wet and ruined now, but I didn’t care. My vanity didn’t matter at all. Only my brother did.

He clenched his eyes shut before he spoke in a tone so quiet I could barely hear it over the surf. "The pain isn’t so bad if I lie here."

"What pain?"

He reached out to take my hand. His own trembled to such an extent that it returned my fear to me tenfold. "The voices in my head. They’re always excruciating on this day, every year."

"I don’t understand."

"They keep saying that it’s the anniversary of my birth and that I should come to them. But Apollymi is screaming at me to hide and not listen. The louder she shouts, the louder they shout. It’s. Unbearable. I just want them to go away. I’m going mad, aren’t I?"

Clutching his hand, I wiped his wet hair from his brow and realized that he hadn’t shaved. A full day’s growth of beard stubbled his chin and cheeks-something he never allowed. Acheron was always impeccably groomed and dressed. "Today isn’t the anniversary of your birth. You were born in June."

"I know, but they scream just the same. I fell trying to reach the rocks and discovered that in the sea the voices are muffled."

That made no sense to me. "Why would that help?"

"I don’t know. But it does."

A wave rushed to shore, completely covering him. He didn’t move at all even though it knocked me sideways. I straightened myself and watched as he coughed up water. Still he made no move to leave the sea.

"You’ll catch a chill lying here."

"I don’t care. I would rather be sick than hear them yelling at me so loudly."

Desperate to help soothe him, I moved to his head and sat cross-legged on the ground before I pulled his head into my lap. "Is this any better?"

He nodded as he again laced his fingers with mine and led my hand to his heart where he held it. By the tight grip, I knew his head was still aching unmercifully.

We didn’t speak for hours as he lay there with my hand on his chest. My legs lost all feeling, but I didn’t care. We were gone so long from the house that Petra came out to check on me. She was as confused by Acheron’s explanation as I was, but she dutifully left us alone and brought food and wine.

Acheron was in too much pain to eat even though I forced him to nibble at some of the bread.

By nightfall, the voices quieted enough that he was able to push himself up. He was unsteady on his feet.

"Are you all right?" I asked in concern.

"Just a little dizzy from the voices. But they’re not so loud now." He draped one arm over my shoulders and together we made our way back to his room.

I had Petra draw him a hot bath while I wrapped a towel around him. He was still pale, his features pinched.

Maia came running in with two glasses of warmed milk. "I was worried about you, Acheron," she admonished.

"I’m sorry, bit. I didn’t mean to concern you."

"Are you feeling better?"

He nodded.

"Maia," Petra said from the doorway. "Come away so that Acheron may bathe in peace."

"I put some sugar in the milk," Maia confided before she obeyed her mother. "Hope you feel better soon."

Charmed by her actions, I followed her.

"Ryssa?"

I paused at the door to look back at Acheron who was still wrapped in the towel. "Yes?"

"Thank you for being worried about me and for staying with me today. Now get yourself dried off before you catch a chill."

"Yes, sir," I said with a smile.

I left and closed the door before I made my way to my own room. The doors were still open so I shut them. As I did so, the strangest thing happened.

I heard a vague whisper on the wind.

"Apostolos."

Frowning, I looked about, but couldn’t see anyone. Where on earth had the voice come from? More than that, I didn’t know anyone named Apostolos.

I shook my head to clear it. "Now I’m hearing Acheron’s voices."

It was strange to be sure.

But even as I dismissed it, there was a part of me that wondered about it. Most of all, I wondered if it might be yet another threat to my brother.

Only time would tell.

June 23, 9530 BC

At last word came. The Queen of Kiza had agreed to take Acheron in. The messenger had arrived yesterday with word that Boraxis was on his way here to escort Acheron to safety. He should arrive in another three days.

Elated, I planned to tell Acheron tonight during the surprise celebration for the anniversary of his birth.

My brother was going to be safe. Forever.

Happily we were out in the orchard today. In truth, we’d spent the entire morning there, laughing and sampling the gardener’s prized fruit. The orchard was so beautiful. Peaceful. The leaves were a bright, breathtaking green that was punctuated by the golden apples that burst with sweet, succulent taste. Even the old, stone walls were tranquil, draped with flowering vines.

No wonder Acheron preferred it to any other place at the palace. The summer air was fresh and warm and I could have spent hours watching the way Acheron enjoyed the simplest of things such as the sensation of sunlight on his skin. Grass beneath his bare feet.

Of course, his life had held far too little of either one. How I wish I could have given him another life. A better one. The life he deserved where no one had ever hurt him for things he couldn’t help. Where people could see in him all the beauty that I saw and understand what a truly gentle soul he possessed.

As I watched him inhale the scent of an apple before he added it to the bunch he’d picked, I was struck by how much he’d changed these last few months.

For once, he reminded me of a youthful seventeen-year-old boy and not a jaded, used-up old man. He’d learned to trust me. To trust in the fact that here he was safe and secure. That no one feared him or was out to seduce him. He could be himself without being obsequious or afraid of being grabbed or hurt. And I prayed he found the same peace in Kiza.

Oh, the pain I felt whenever I thought about his life in Atlantis. How could our uncle have treated him that way? Even now I could see Acheron held in chains. See the shallow emptiness that had been there in his eyes the first time he’d looked at me when he had no idea who I was.

Who he was.

I might have failed him earlier, but I vowed I would not fail him again. Here, he knew peace and happiness. I would try my best to always keep him far away from the world that couldn’t understand or abide him.

While he picked the apples, he reminded me of a squirrel as he jumped from tree to tree, gathering his treasure. He was such a handsome boy. In my heart I knew that he and Styxx were twins, and yet as I watched him, I was struck by their differences.

Acheron moved much more gracefully. Fluidly. He was leaner, his hair a tad more golden, his muscles more defined. His skin softer.

And those eyes . . .

They were beguiling and terrifying.

After he was done, he brought his treasure to me and laid it out in a circle so that I could choose which apples I wanted first. He was always considerate that way. Thinking of others before himself.

"Do you think Father will come and visit soon?" he asked as he lay on his side, watching me eat my apple.

I could sense that he was probing me to see if I were lying. His silvery, swirling eyes were so disturbing whenever he held that gimlet stare. No wonder Uncle beat him for looking at people. It was disconcerting and even frightening to be under such bold scrutiny.

But he didn’t deserve to be hit for something he couldn’t help.

"I’m thinking you and I should take a trip in a few days to visit a queen."

He looked away, disappointed, as he toyed with his own apple.

Wanting to soothe and reassure him, I reached out to brush his golden hair out of his eyes.

"Is that the tenderness of true affection you spoke of?" he asked me in a hesitant voice. "The one where people who love you, touch you without asking for anything in return?"

"Yes," I answered.

He smiled at me, openly and honestly like a child. "I think I like it."

Then I heard something that made my heart stop beating.

There were several footsteps drawing near. I knew there shouldn’t be any such sound in our temporary paradise. Petra and Maia were busy in the kitchen. Petra’s husband had gone to town and the rest were busy with their duties.

Only one person would come with someone else.

I knew it was Father the instant Acheron sat up, his face overjoyed.

I closed my eyes and ached in terror as I forced myself to stand and turn around to confront him. His face angry, Father stood between the old stone columns that marked the opening of the orchard with Styxx by his side.

My blood froze in my veins.

I wanted to tell Acheron to run and hide, but it was too late. They were already too close.

Just three more days and he would have been safely away from here. I wanted to weep.

"Father," I said quietly. "Why are you here?"

"Where have you been?" he demanded as he moved forward. "I have searched and searched until it dawned on me to come here."

"I told you, I wanted time-"

"Father?" Acheron’s excited voice filled my ears. This was the first time the boy had seen him since Father had sent him away.

Horrified, I watched him run to embrace his father. Unlike Acheron, I knew what reception he’d receive.

Not one ever to disappoint me, Father shoved him away ruthlessly and raked him with a repugnant grimace.

Acheron frowned in confusion as he looked to me for an explanation.

I couldn’t speak. How could I tell him that I’d lied to him when all I had wanted was to make his life better?

"How dare you steal him from Atlantis!" Father snarled.

I opened my mouth to explain, but was distracted by the way the twins studied each other. I was entranced by their mutual curiosity. Even though each of them knew the other existed, they hadn’t been together in over a decade. Neither of them really remembered what it was like to see and interact with the other one.

Joy was etched on Acheron’s face. I could tell he wanted to embrace Styxx, but after Father’s reception was hesitant.

Styxx looked less than enthusiastic. He stared at Acheron as if he were a bad dream made real.

"Guards!" Father shouted.

"What are you doing?" I asked, unable to comprehend why my father would summon guards for his own son.

"I’m sending him back where he belongs."

Acheron’s jaw went slack as he turned toward me with terrified eyes.

My heart thumped wildly in fear of his being taken back to Atlantis. "You can’t do that."

Father turned on me with a glare so hateful it actually made me take a step back in fear. "Have you lost your mind, woman? Why would you coddle such a monster?"

"Father, please," Acheron begged, falling down on his knees before him. He wrapped his arms around Father’s ankle in the most obsequious pose I’d seen since we left Atlantis. "Please don’t send me back. I’ll do anything you ask. I swear it. I’ll be good. I won’t look at anyone. I won’t hurt anyone." Acheron kissed his feet reverently.

"I am not your father, maggot," Father said cruelly as he kicked Acheron away. He glared at me with venom. "I told you, he doesn’t belong with this family. Why would you defy me so?"

"He’s your son," I said through my own tears of anger and frustration. "How can you deny him? It’s your face he has. Styxx’s face. How can you love one and not the other?"

Father reached down and gripped Acheron’s jaw tightly in his hand. I could tell his fingers bit into Acheron’s cheeks as he pulled him roughly to his feet so that Acheron could face me. "Those are not my eyes. Those are not the eyes of a human!"

"Styxx," I said, knowing if I could win him to my cause, he could sway Father’s opinion of Acheron. "He’s your brother. Look at him."

Styxx shook his head. "I have no brother."

Father shoved Acheron back.

Acheron stood there quietly, his eyes dazed by the reality of the moment. By his face I could tell he was reliving every nightmare he’d experienced in Atlantis. Every degradation.

I watched as he wilted right before my eyes.

Gone was the boy who’d finally, after months of tender coercion, learned to smile and to trust, and in his place was the defeated, hopeless shell I’d found.

His eyes were hollow now, empty. I’d lied to him and he knew it. He’d trusted in me and now that fragile bond was severed.

Acheron hung his head down and wrapped his arms around himself as if that could protect him from the brutality of a world that despised him.

When the guards entered the orchard and my father told them to take him back to Atlantis, Acheron followed them without a word or a fight. He was once again unassuming and opinionless. He no longer had a will of his own or even a voice. He was what he’d been.