"Is something . . . wrong?" he asked nonchalantly, knowing the tone would only enrage her more.
Apollymi wanted to shriek at his patronizing tone. She wanted to blast the bloodsucking Daimon lord before her into oblivion. If only she could. But for an act of weakness on her part centuries ago, she would free herself of him once and for all. However, he'd been fatally wounded by his father, and to strike back at Apollo she'd shared her blood with Strykerius and fortified him. While that act had saved his life, it had also tied their life forces together.
If he died, she died. It was why her son would never really harm Strykerius no matter how angry the Daimon made him.
It was why she couldn't kill Stryker herself.
Ironic, really, she was a goddess known for lacking compassion and the handful of times she'd actually shown some had come back to bite her harshly.
There was nothing to be done for it now. Her real son was under attack and her adoptive one, Stryker, was most likely to blame for it.
"What have you done?" she demanded.
Stryker leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head as he eyed her cautiously. "Mulling mostly coupled with a shot or two of reminiscing and a drop of regretting a few past decisions. Some might even call it moping, but I'd kill anyone so stupid as to suggest that of me." He was more a plotting kind of Daimon.
Her hair rose even higher around her like ribbons twisting in a strong wind, letting him know she didn't appreciate his sarcasm. "Apostolos is under attack. Did you provoke it?"
He didn't know why it bugged the shit out of him for her to call her son Apostolos when the rest of the world knew him as Acheron, but it did.
And honestly, he hadn't provoked dick. He'd directly caused it. Big difference.
However, he wasn't stupid enough to tell her that. Their life forces might be tied together, but when it came to her real son and his well-being, Apollymi lost all self-restraint and sense of survival.
She'd kill them both to protect Acheron.
"No," Stryker answered honestly. He slid his gaze down to the sfora that was hidden from Apollymi's view. The moment Stryker focused on it, he saw War surrounded by the Charonte demons who were actually doing damage to the spirit. Acheron was on the floor coughing and wheezing. A little worse for the wear, but alive nonetheless. Worthless bastard. Savitar was shouting to the demons, but sound wasn't available to Stryker while Apollymi was here.
Damn them.
Careful to shield his expression, he returned his gaze to Apollymi's. "So what can I do for you, Matera?" he asked, using the Atlantean word for mother.
Apollymi drew a long, slow breath as she tried to detect the truth from him. Strykerius had always been a convincing liar. At one time the two of them had been a united force against Apollo. But those days were gone and now the two of them danced around each other in a complicated battle of one-upmanship.
She would cast him and his Daimons out of here, but for all their aggravation, they provided her with company and an army that allowed her to still have power to affect the human realm. Not to mention the small point that so long as they worshiped her, they fed her powers.
Unlike her small group of priestesses who still lived and served in the human world, the Daimons held much more power. They could provide her with a means to protect Apostolos.
"I want your Daimons to subjugate War. Immediately."
"It's daytime and until the sun sets he's beyond our reach. You wouldn't want one of us to die and deplete your strength now, would you?" "
She wanted to knock that smug look off his handsome face. Unlike the rest of his blond Daimon horde, his short hair was as black as his heart. Perfectly dyed to keep him from looking exactly like his father. "Protect him, Strykerius. Your existence hinges on his. Remember I will kill you to protect him."
Stryker forced himself to wait until she was gone before he curled his lip in repugnance. He couldn't believe that he'd ever been dumb enough to think that Apollymi loved him as a son. That she would protect and care for him the same way she cared for Acheron. And every year that had passed since the moment Stryker took his own son's life to prove himself to her and had been forced to see the truth of his relationship with "his" mother had only made his bitterness grow.
"Tear him apart, War," he said, glancing back to the sfora. He wanted blood. Unfortunately, there was nothing there. No sign of War, Acheron, or Savitar.
Growling in anger, Stryker slung the orb against the wall, shattering it. Where the hell had they gone?
"WAR'S BROKEN OUT."
Artemis looked up at Ares' angry declaration as he appeared in the center of the Hall of the Gods where she and the rest of the Greek pantheon were having a small feast.
Her father, Zeus, cursed as he rose off his throne. "What have you done?"
Tall and blond, with muscles honed by his daily training, Ares held his hands up in surrender. "I did nothing. It was Apollo's son, Strykerius, who released him."
Artemis felt the color fade from her face at the mention of her nephew. If Stryker was involved, there was only one target he'd have.