“What have you done, Artemis?” his voice whispered along the wind, traveling to Olympus where she waited in her temple.
So, you do speak to me. He heard the relief in her tone. I had begun to wonder if I would ever hear the sound of your voice again.
Acheron curled his lip. He didn’t have time for this.
Acheron?
He ignored her.
She didn’t take the hint.
The Daimon menace is spreading faster than you can contain it. You needed help and so I have given it to you.
He scoffed at the idea of her help. The Greek goddess had never done anything for anyone other than herself since the dawn of time.
“Leave me alone, Artemis. We are through, you and I. I have a job to do and no time to be bothered with you.”
Fine then. I shall send them out to face the Daimons unprepared. If they die, well, who cares for a human? I can just make more of them to fight.
It was a trick.
And yet in his gut, Acheron knew it wasn’t. She probably had made more Dark-Hunters and if she truly had, then she would definitely do it again.
Especially if it would make him feel guilty.
Damn her. He would have to go to her temple again.
Personally, he would rather be disemboweled.
He looked to his demon. “Simi, I need to see Artemis now. You return to Katoteros and stay out of trouble until I summon you.”
The demon grimaced. “The Simi don’t like Artemis, akri. I wish you’d let the Simi kill that goddess. The Simi want to pull out her long, red hair.”
He knew the feeling.
Simi had only met Artemis once, back when Acheron had been mortal.
The event had been disastrous.
“I know, Simi, which is why I want you to stay at Katoteros.” He stepped away, then turned back to face her. “And for Archon’s sake, please don’t eat anything until I get back. Especially not a human.”
“But—”
“No, Simi. No food.”
“No, Simi. No food,” she mocked. “The Simi don’t like this, akri. Katoteros is boring. There’s nothing fun there. Only old dead people who want to come back here. Bleh!”
“Simi…” he said, his voice thick with warning.
“I hear and obey, akri. The Simi just never said she would do so quietly.”
He shook his head at the incorrigible demon, then willed himself from the earth to Artemis’s temple on Olympus.
Acheron stood on top of the golden bridge that traversed a winding river. The sound of the water echoed off the sheer sides of the mountain that rose up all around him.
In the last two thousand years, nothing had changed.
The entire area at the top of the mountain was made up of sparkling bridges and walkways, covered by a rainbow fog, that led to the various temples of the gods.
The halls of Mount Olympus were opulent and massive. Perfect homes for the egos of the gods who lived inside them.
Artemis’s was made of gold, with a domed top and white, marble columns. The view of the sky and world below was breathtaking from her throne room.
Or so he had thought in his youth.
But that was before time and experience had jaundiced his appreciation. To him there was nothing spectacular or beautiful here now. He saw only the selfish vanity and coldness of the Olympians.
These new gods were very different from the gods Acheron had been reared with. All but one of the Atlantean gods had been full of compassion. Love. Kindness. Forgiveness.
There was only one time when the Atlanteans had let their fear lead them — that mistake had cost all of them their immortal lives and had allowed the Olympian gods to replace them.
It had been a sad day for the human world in more ways than one.
Acheron forced himself across the bridge that led to Artemis’s temple. Two thousand years ago, he had left this place and sworn that he would never return to it.
He should have known that sooner or later she would devise a scheme to bring him back.
His gut tight with anger, Acheron used his telekinesis to open the oversized, gilded doors. He was instantly assailed with the sound of ear-piercing screams from Artemis’s female attendants. They were wholly unaccustomed to a man entering their goddess’ private domain.
Artemis hissed at the shrill sound, then zapped every one of the women around her.
“Did you just kill all eight of them?” Acheron asked.
Artemis rubbed her ears. “I should have, but no, I merely tossed them into river outside.”
Surprised, he stared at her. How unusual for the goddess he remembered. Perhaps she’d learned a degree of compassion and mercy over the last two thousand years.
Knowing her, it was highly unlikely.
Now that they were alone, she unfolded herself from her cushioned ivory throne and approached him. She wore a sheer, white peplos that hugged the curves of her voluptuous body and her dark auburn curls glistened in the light.
Her green eyes glowed warmly in welcome.
The look went through him like a lance. Hot. Piercing. Painful.
He’d known seeing her again would be hard on him— it was one of the reasons why he’d always ignored her summons.