"Why the latter?" Jared asked.
"Because I hate his guts."
Savitar shook his head. "I hate you, too, precious."
She sneered at him. "Put on some real clothes. What is that you're wearing and does it come in adult sizes?"
He looked highly offended by her attack on his wardrobe. "Cargo pants and a Hawaiian shirt are real clothes."
"Not in my realm they're not, and button that shirt."
"Hey!" he snapped as the shirt closed itself. "You know there are women who would pay to see me naked."
"I'm sure there are women you pay to see you naked. Perish the thought, but I'm not one of either group. Now hush while I think."
Stryker was amused by their bantering. He'd never seen Apollymi quite so animated. Or Savitar flustered. Any other time, he'd goad them into continuing, but they had too much to do for him to play Loki.
Jared stepped back. "While you plan and plot, I have a Malachai to kill." He vanished.
Savitar sighed. "I really don't think Acheron is going to approve of that action."
"No," Apollymi agreed. "I would send you after him, but I don't want Apostolos angry at me."
Savitar let out an elongated breath. "You know we have to stay on guard. War's modus operandi is to divide and conquer. He turns all friends into enemies."
Stryker rolled his eyes. "Well, since the three of us hate each other, there's not much more he can do."
Apollymi gave him a hard stare. "I don't hate you, Stryker. I would have never brought you into my realm if I had." She vanished.
Stunned and uncertain about those uncharacteristic words, Stryker followed her. The one thing he'd learned over the centuries was that Apollymi was even less sentimental than he was.
Then again, there was another side to him in private that no one else saw, and it made him wonder what secrets she held.
She'd adjourned to her secluded garden that was walled in by marble. Black roses bloomed all around in memory and in mourning of the son she could never see. Her two Charonte bodyguards stood on the side like statues. But for an occasional blink, it would be easy to think them dead.
"What are you saying?" he asked her as she took a perch on the edge of the pool that flowed backward, up the wall.
"I'm tired, Strykerius." She got up to leave.
He did what he'd never done before. He pulled her to a stop. "I want an answer from you."
She shrugged his touch away. "How dense you are, child. In all your hatred have you never once thought through our relationship?"
"Believe me, these last few years I've done nothing but. You used me and then you cast me off."
She shook her head. "I adopted you, Strykerius. When your children died, I wept with you."
"The hell you did."
She pulled back the sleeve of her gown to show him her wrist. There were eleven black teardrops tattooed into her skin. It was the Atlantean custom to remember loved ones who'd died. "The one at the top is for my son. The rest are for your children."
He touched her arm, unable to believe her. "What about Urian? You told me to kill him."
"I told you your son had a secret that you should investigate. That he was keeping things from you. I never intended for you to kill him. You did that on your own."
"I don't believe you."
"You don't have to. I really don't care anymore. I would end both our lives at this point, but until I know for a fact that War is contained and my son is safe, I'm stuck here."