Over and over, he couldn’t get the sight of Styxx going up against them out of his mind. That couldn’t be the last image he had of his friend. It couldn’t.
Not after all the other nightmares that haunted him.
So help him, he intended to nail Apollo’s head to the temple walls. And yes, that was plural, because he wanted to cleave it into pieces first.
The others nodded in agreement, except Dikastis.
“What do you want from me?” the god of justice asked.
“Help us any way you can.”
That was all well and good, but what Urian found odd was that none of the Atlanteans had come out to challenge them for being in Katateros. They had to know they were here. It wasn’t like they were, you know … gods, or anything.
So why were they so quiet while they had this many foreign gods in their domain?
The silence was eerie and wrong.
His heart pounding in fear of what they’d find, Urian entered the building behind Ash. Inside the dark hall, a feral wind howled and plastered their clothes against their bodies. He kept his sword at the ready, watchful of where and when an attack might come.
It took them several minutes to make it to the arena, and to fight the wind so that they could see what was happening. The Atlanteans were all pinned down.
What the . .?
Then Urian saw what was going on and his stomach drew tight. A ghostly image was wrapped around Styxx, holding a dagger over his heart.
“Bathymaas! No!” Set shouted.
It was too late. She sank the dagger deep into Styxx’s chest, all the way to the hilt, then threw her head back and roared in satisfaction. When she spoke, she used Atlantean only. “Take your bastard back, Apollymi. Now come and face me, you wretched bitch, so that I can bathe in your putrid blood!”
Horrified, Urian looked to Set, whose expression was every bit as pain-filled as his own.
They were too late.
In that moment, Urian felt as useless and helpless as he had the day Phoebe died. When Sheba had gone down beside him.
When Xyn hadn’t shown up.
What good am I?
Suddenly, Apollymi appeared. It was the same ethereal shade form she used whenever she was angry. “What have you done?”
Bathymaas ran at her and then through her. “Are you afraid to face me?”
Apollymi shook her head. “You did not kill my Apostolos.” Tears filled her eyes as she looked at Styxx’s body. “I am still trapped in Kalosis. The man you killed is Styxx of Didymos.”
“No,” Bathymaas breathed. Disbelief widened her eyes as she turned back toward Styxx and paled. “You lie!”
Blood dripped from the wound Bathymaas had given him and as it did so, it drained Apollymi’s powers out of Styxx. His hair returned to blond, his skin darkened, and the scars that had been hidden reappeared on his body.
Urian felt his eyes water as pain racked him. Another friend gone. For no good reason.
Leto’s laughter filled the room. “Poor Bathymaas … you are damned again by your own hand.” She materialized behind Bathymaas and ripped the necklace from her throat.
Set ran for them, but before he could close the distance, Leto put the two pieces together.
“Now I will be the soul of justice and you’ll …” Leto frowned as the amulet refused to reunite. “What? Why isn’t this working?”
Ash met Urian’s gaze and jerked his chin toward the pinned gods.
