"I prefer manlaces," Torin said, sounding more like his old, irreverent self.
"Fine." Damn. Why hadn't he thought of that? "With our new manlaces, even Rhea won't know where we are."
Cronus stroked his chin, seemingly lost in thought.
"What about the others?" Torin asked, clearly recognizing a phenomenal idea when he heard one.
Strider started designing a Master Strategist plaque for his room. "Maddox can take Ashlyn somewhere. As protective of her and that bun in her oven as he is, he's probably already built a bomb shelter in the city. Now that Gwen's back from her trip to the clouds, she and Sabin can take care of themselves. They aren't in any danger. Aeron's off on his mission to hell and Olivia's taken Gwen's place in the sky, from what I can tell. The others, well, Kane, Cameo and Paris, can stay here with you and defend our home. Gideon can help when he returns." If he returns.
He will. Strider wouldn't believe otherwise.
A moment passed in heavy silence, but at least there was no cutting edge to this one.
"What about the fourth artifact?" Cronus asked, returning to the conversation. "Who's going to look for it?"
Bottom line was, they couldn't allow the Hunters to get it. Even at the expense of Cronus's head. "I can," Strider said. "I'll take the Cloak of Invisibility with me. That way, I won't have to fight anyone if I find it. I can just grab it and go."
Torin arched a black brow at him, green eyes glowing. "Do you have any idea where to start looking?"
Yeah. He did. The Temple of the Unspoken Ones.
Cronus must have realized the direction of his thoughts, because he gave another growl.
"I'm not going to betray you," Strider assured him, palms raised in a mimic of Cronus's earlier gesture. Like Gideon, he could easily lie. Whether he was lying or not, though, he didn't yet know. "I'll remain invisible and listen. If the Hunters arrive, if the Unspoken Ones mention anything about the Rod, I'll be there. I'll find it first."
Cronus relaxed somewhat. "Very well. You may go with my blessing."
"And, uh, we had best get everyone on the same page and on their way," Torin said, his voice hard once again. "The Hunters are on the move."
Strider's gaze returned to the monitors, and sure enough, the groups of Hunters were closing in on the fortress. "You tell everyone what's going on," he said to Torin in a rush. "I'll grab the Cloak and kill as many of those bastards as I can on my way out."
Defeat sat up again, once more happy and eager.
Happy and eager himself, Strider palmed a blade and a semiautomatic, his favorite weapon combination. One stunned, allowing him to close any distance, and the other destroyed up close and personal.
This, he thought with a grin, was going to be fun.
DEAR...GODS. The heat was unbearable, the smells of sulfur and rot thick in Amun's nostrils. Thousands of screams assaulted his ears, each more tortured than the last.
Why had he agreed to come here?
Oh, yeah. To save Legion. For Aeron.
Like Amun, Aeron and William were seated in the small but sturdy boat Cronus had summoned for them after flashing them here. Of course, they'd had to promise to do the bastard a favor in return for the flashing as well as the boat.
They were currently navigating the River Styx, careful to remain as still and steady as possible. One drop of that liquid upon their skin, and their life force would begin to drain.
"So, why is Lucifer afraid of you?" Aeron asked William, cutting through the silence as he gently rowed.
The warrior, who was reclining at the stern of the boat, plucking at the tip of his blade, merely shrugged. "Just is."
"There's always a reason," Aeron insisted.
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I'll always talk about that reason."
William made sure to keep his mind blank, Amun noticed, preventing Amun from reading his thoughts.
Such a delightful journey already. And this was only the beginning.
They had to follow the river to where it merged with the four other rivers flowing inside this vast lair. Phlegethonthe river of fire. Acheronthe river of woe. Cocytusthe river of wailing. Lethethe river of forgetfulness. And they had to do it without disturbing Charon, the boatman of the underworld responsible for carting the dead to whichever section of hell their lost soul had been condemned to. The fires, the endless pits, the persecution caverns.
Until recently, they wouldn't have had to worry about Charon at all. But upon Cronus's release from Tartarus, the god king had returned this realm to its original state, including the rehiring, so to speak, of its guardians.
Charon, if Amun's sources were accurate, was nothing more than a walking skeleton. He viewed living beings as abominations and strove to wipe them out. To the dead, however, he was courteous.
I would help you with the coming trials, Cronus had told them, just before disappearing, but I must return to your fortress 'ere my wife does more harm. Then he'd added, I bid you good luck, for you will greatly need it. You bested Lucifer, Aeron, and now he wants revenge.
That "besting" was the reason Legion was trapped here. She had broken a heavenly law and bound herself to Aeron. Lucifer had planned to use that bond to possess her body and escape the underworld. Only, to save everyone he loved, Aeron had allowed Lysander to take his head and break the bond, returning Legion here and ruining Lucifer's plans.
Olivia upset that you left her behind? Amun signed, and William translated, his gaze then roving over the dark, misty water in search of another boat.
A muscle ticked below Aeron's violet eyes. Eyes he, too, was moving over the water. "Yes."
"How'd you manage it?" William asked, sounding genuinely curious rather than cheekily blithe for once. "I know women, and that one is more determined than most. And, well, you've got no backbone where she's concerned."
Aeron ignored the jab. "Lysander helped."
Lysander. An angel. An elite angel, at that. He was Olivia's mentor, the one who'd killed Aeron, and the only man powerful enough to keep a resourceful female like Olivia from following her man.
"She'll hate me when this is over," Aeron added morosely.
Amun caught the bulk of his thoughts. Aeron had nearly called this trip off to prevent such a thing from happening, and that had filled him with guilt. Olivia was his life, his future. He loved her more than he loved himself, more than he loved his friends. She was his everything. But he wouldn't be the warrior she'd fallen in love with if he'd left Legion here to die. Yet he hadn't been able to tolerate the thought of bringing innocent Olivia into this dark, evil place.
She'd been here before, and several demons had attacked her and ripped off her wings. The memories still troubled her at times, and Aeron never wanted her to have to relive those helpless moments. So he'd tricked her into staying with Lysander, who now held her captive in the sky.
In spite of everything, part of him wanted to go back for her and bring her here if that's what she wished. Anything to stop her from hating him.
"Yeah, you're probably right," William replied after some thought involving knives, scissors and a tub of honey. He showed no mercy. But then, he never did. "Women aren't known for their forgiveness. Especially women who've been spending quality time with the minor goddess of Anarchy and a bunch of bloodthirsty Harpies."
Aeron scowled at him, and the warrior just laughed. That laughter caused Aeron's aggression to spike and his paddling to increase in velocity. Gently, Amun removed the oars from his hands and took over.
Because of the thickness of the mist, he could see very little in front of him. However, he began to see what looked to be pinpricks of orange-gold light. A crackling fire, perhaps? Were they close to the River Phlegethon?
He turned just as slow and easy as he paddled to silently ask the others to verify. But as he moved, he spotted several ripples in the water. Ripples that weren't coming from their boat. His blood heated, and it had nothing to do with the two-hundred-degree temperature.
Amun smoothly locked the oars in their holders and grabbed his guns. Aeron and William caught the significance of his gesture and followed suit.
"What do you see?" William whispered as his gaze scanned the area.
Aeron crouched on his belly, peering intently into the night. A moment passed, silent, taut. "There's another boat," he whispered back. "Several yards ahead."
Amun opened his mind, allowing his demon to search for any incoming streams of conscious thought. All he heard was Must die, must die, must die.
Charon, he realized, just as the other boat came into view. A figure wearing a long, black cloak stood in the center. He had flames instead of hair, and a face that was composed only of bone. Worse, with only the barest (yet still earth-shattering) glance, Amun realized Charon's eyes were deep black holes where thousands of souls seemed to dance...or writhe in pain.
"Let me take care of this," William said.
"By all means," Aeron replied.
William stood, and the vessel rocked. "You know me, old friend. It is I, William the Beloved," he called. "We mean you no harm. We just want to pass through."
Old friend? William the Beloved?
Charon lifted both hands and pointed a bony finger at Aeron and William.
Oh, shit. William's thoughts invaded Amun's mind. Guess I shouldn't have bagged his wife last time I was here.
Wonderful.
"What does being pointed at mean?" Aeron demanded softly.
"It means we're on his hit list," William responded, sounding grimmer than Amun had ever heard him. "Be afraid. Be very afraid."
Amun, the guardian had ignored. Which made noThe answer hit him, drifting to him from the creature's thoughts. Charon sensed the demon inside Amun and didn't care if he entered hell or not.
Just as, this very morning, he hadn't minded if Galen entered. The memory washed through Amun's mind.
"You demand payment, this I know," Galen had said just before tossing a severed human head into Charon's boat.
Charon had nodded in acceptance, and swept his arm behind him so that Galen could pass. Only, Galen remained in place, jaw hardening. He looked over his shoulder, forward, over his shoulder again.
Again, Charon swept his arm back to usher Galen along.
Galen scrubbed a hand down his face. "I can't. Not yet. There's something I have to do on the surface first." His hands fisted. "Someone I have to kill before the bastard kills me. But I'll be back. And when I am, you'll remember that I've already paid for my entrance."
"Uh, Amun, man," Aeron said, dragging Amun from his troubling vision. "You listening? Any ideas about what we should do? William says we can't look into the bastard's eyes without losing our own souls, and we can't touch him, either. If we do, he'll be able to compel our gazes to his."
Charon's boat was inching forward, Amun saw, and sparks were now igniting over his fingertips. Kill, kill, kill, the boatman was thinking. The obsessive concentration he displayed didn't bode well.
Options? Payment wouldn't work, not for them. Aeron was no longer possessed by a demon, and William was merely an immortal. Charon wouldn't let them pay to pass unless they were dead. Or missing their souls. And the boatman planned to do whatever was necessary to ensure either outcome.
The first thing he planned? Splashing them.
Thank the gods Olivia had supplied them with a vial of water from the River of Life. Found only in the heavens, a single drop could counteract the effects of this water. Only problem was, once they ran out, they were out. There'd be no more. Ever.
Better for one man to use one drop than three men to use three drops. More than that, Amun's soul was tied to his demon, so Charon wouldn't want it. Which meant Amun was the only one who could look at and touch the guardian without consequence.
Which meant Amun had to be the one to act.
Have an idea, Amun signed. On my signal, propel our vessel to the shore.
"Great. Someone else will be the hero for a change. But what's the signal?" William asked.
This. Amun leaped at Charon, throwing them both into the river. Sizzling water enveloped him, practically burning away his clothing and peeling away his skin. But he held tight to Charon, caging the bony creature within his arms. Perhaps the water negated a little of the creature's ability, because Amun felt no compulsion to gaze at him. Most of his power remained, however. Skeletal hands pushed at him and those hands were a thousand times hotter than the water, like jolts of electricity straight to his heart, causing the organ to stutter to a halt.
Still Amun held on.
Soon, lack of oxygen began to fuzz his brain. He opened his mouth, accidentally swallowed a mouthful of that terrible, rotting liquid and gagged. Death crawled through him, destroying him cell by cell, filling him with decay. Weakening him.
Charon wiggled loose.
The boatman kicked his way to the surface. Though Amun's vision was dotting over with black, he fought his way up, too. Before he could discover whether Aeron and William were safe, Charon batted him back under with a hard elbow to the top of his head. Stars flashed behind his eyes. More of that disgusting water slid down his throat and into his stomach. A stomach now churning and burning with nausea.
Again, Amun fought his way up. The moment he broke the surface, he sucked in as much air as he could. Good thing, too. His boat was out of sight, and Charon was pissed and now determined to end Amun. Demon or not.
As Amun treaded water, their eyes met. The souls were swirling, faster and faster, white blurs that hypnotized. And yet, Amun didn't lose his soul. Somehow, his demon kept him grounded.
Punish, punish, punish, the creature was thinking. He grabbed Amun by the hair and shoved him under. This time, Amun wasn't strong enough to free himself. He could only flail, sucking in gulp after gulp, dying a little more with every second that passed.
Dear gods. Was this it for him? His muscles seized, preventing all movement. Yes, this was it. The end. His body was shutting down. He'd lived so long, he should be happy about that. But he'd never fallen in love, cherished anyone the way his friends cherished their women, and found that he mourned the lost opportunity.