Acheron.
And like as not, Acheron's mother along with Acheron would blame her for his attack. As if she'd dare . . .
Athena shot to her feet. She moved so fast that her actions startled the owl on her shoulder, causing him to take flight to the hall's rafters. Gold armor covered her instantly as she turned to face Zeus. "We should summon as many of the other pantheons as we can muster. It won't be long before War turns his sights on us again."
Zeus nodded in agreement. "Fetch Hermes and send him to them. As for the rest of us, let's prepare for war."
Artemis ignored her father's pun as she made her way out of the Hall of the Gods to her own golden temple. As soon as she was alone in her bedchambers, she used her powers to locate Acheron. He was alive but in pain. She let out a breath in relief.
Though he hated her and was planning to marry another woman in a few weeks and she wanted desperately to hurt him for that, she still loved him and the last thing she wanted to see was him killed after all they'd shared these past centuries. Their daughter's heart would be broken if Artemis allowed him to die. But how could she protect him when he wouldn't even speak to her?
No sooner had the question entered her mind than she knew how to stop Stryker once and for all. . . .
Zephyra.
The demoness had taken refuge in one of her sanctuaries centuries ago, before Apollo had cursed the Apollite race. At first Artemis had wanted to turn her out, but sympathy for the woman had swayed her. She, too, had been betrayed by men, and at the time Zephyra had begged her for shelter Artemis had been angry at Apollo and had wanted to strike back at her arrogant brother. In a rare moment of sympathy, she'd allowed Zephyra to stay in Greece.
Little had she known how beneficial that decision would one day be.
"Zephyra?" she said, summoning the woman to her.
She instantly appeared in the room.
Where Artemis was extremely tall, Zephyra was petite. Even so, her preternatural powers gave her an advantage over any except those who were divinity. Her long blond hair was braided down her back, and to the uninformed she looked like any twenty-seven-year-old woman and not the eleven-thousand-year-old warrior she was.
She lowered her head respectfully. "My goddess?"
Artemis narrowed her gaze on the smaller woman. "I have a mission for you. One I think you'll enjoy."
"And that is?"
"Kill Strykerius."
Lifting her chin, Zephyra's black eyes widened. "The son of Apollo?"
He was also the man who had betrayed Zephyra centuries before. And while he was Artemis' nephew by blood, she had no more love for him than he had for her. The two of them had battled too long and too hard for there to be anything other than hatred in their hearts.
It was time to finish it and him. "Yes."
Zephyra's obsidian eyes glowed with relish. "Show me where he is, goddess, and I will make you proud."
STRYKER HELD THE BOLT HOLES OPEN, CALLING out to his Daimons the world over to summon them to Kalosis. Apollymi thought he did it in accordance with her orders to protect Acheron. The truth was Stryker intended to use them as pawns to get at Nick and Acheron. If nothing else, they'd keep the two of them occupied while War slit their throats.
Blood for blood.
Nick had killed Stryker's beloved sister and Acheron had to die because it wasn't in Stryker's nature to let that bastard win after all these centuries. Apollymi had destroyed him. It was only fair he return the favor to her. She had taken Stryker's son. Stryker would take hers.
Another flash of light denoted a new arrival. Stryker waited to see the mettle of this Daimon recruit. As typical, the Daimon landed flat on his back with a loud, "Oof!" Then the man actually whimpered like a child as he writhed on the floor, whining over his pain. "I think I broke my arm."
Stryker let out a long, agitated breath. He missed the old days when the Daimons and Apollites were warriors. When they would appear in his hall on their feet, ready to battle. These new generations were almost as pathetically weak as the humans they fed on.
It was a supermarket world with a supermarket mentality. Since mankind no longer trained for war and huddled together in cities where loose morals made them easy pickings, today's Daimons didn't have to fight for food. All they had to do was stroll into any bar or nightclub, find a drunk woman or man, and take them outside to rip their stupidly willing soul out of their body to feed themselves. There was no fighting. No coaxing.
Fast food even for them.
The only challenge they had left was avoiding the Dark-Hunters and Acheron in particular.
It was why Stryker had trea sured his sister so much. Aggravating to the extreme, Satara had always been plotting something. Always trying to betray someone or screw them over. Even him. It had kept him on his toes and sharpened his skills.