Sherrilyn Kenyon - One Silent Night

But compared to War, he was weak.

Like Ker, he was only a by-product of the one destructive force that Stryker sought.

A slow smile curled his lips as he stepped past the two lesser beings to approach the one he needed to awaken. No longer a giant to him, War was actually several inches shorter—which, given the fact that Stryker was six foot eight, wasn't surprising. War's body was as heavily muscled as Stryker remembered from eleven thousand years ago. Even in stasis, War's presence and power were awe inspiring and undeniable. Stryker could feel it in the air. Feel it from the chills that went down his spine in warning. This creature meant death to any who crossed his path. Dressed as an ancient soldier, the god wore a cuirass decorated with the head of Echidna.

Stryker reached out to touch War. The moment Stryker's fingers brushed the stone, light flashed through the room, turning the white marble to flesh. The cuirass was made of steel overlaid with gold, and a gold-studded black leather battle skirt and cloak completed the fearsome ensemble. The sword in War's hands that was halfway out of its black leather sheath flashed to steel.

Black eyes bored into Stryker.

Then all returned to marble. White. Cold. Eerily pristine. War was again asleep and yet Stryker could feel his consciousness rippling in the air around him. War was salivating for release.

"You want out," Stryker whispered to the spirit. "I want revenge against a god I can't touch." He pulled the cork from the vial and lifted it. "From the blood of the Titans to the blood of the Titans, I, Strykerius, return you to form in exchange for one act against my enemies."

He tilted the vial so that the purple blood only marked his fingertip. The feral power of it burned his flesh. Yes, Typhon's blood was as potent as the once-feared god. His eyes narrowing, Stryker wiped the pad of his finger over the lips of the dormant spirit. "Do you accept my terms, War?"

The lips alone turned to flesh. "I accept."

"Then welcome back to the living." Stryker poured the blood into the spirit's mouth.

The moment he did so, a violent shout rang out, extinguishing the torches and drowning them in darkness. "NO!"

Stryker laughed at Hades' indignant cry. It was already too late. A vicious wind cut through the room as War came to life with a battle cry so fierce it echoed through the chamber and caused the caged damned around them to cringe. The torches exploded back to life, flooding the room with so much light that Stryker had to shield his eyes.

Hades appeared with Ares by his side. The gods tried to blast War, but it was futile.

War laughed before he returned their attack. The force of it sent them scattering to the ground like leaves in a storm. The joy in his black eyes said the spirit took great pleasure in his cruelty. His lips twisting into a smile, War turned to face Stryker. "Who do I kill for you?"

"Acheron Parthenopaeus and Nick Gautier."

War sheathed his sword. "Consider it done."

Stryker caught his arm as he started to vanish. "One word of caution, the world isn't what it used to be." He handed the spirit a small messenger bag that contained a pair of black jeans, a black shirt, and boots. "You might want to lose the skirt and armor. Just a thought."

War sneered at him, but in the end, he took the clothes and vanished. Stryker turned toward the gods. Ares had been knocked unconscious while Hades shook his head to clear it.

The dark god of the Underworld glowered his dis pleasure and rage as he stood over Ares, trying to revive him. "Have you any idea of what you've unleashed?"

Stryker was ambivalent to his condemnation. "Cruelty, pestilence, wrath, violence, ultimate suffering . . . what other gifts did the gods bestow on him?"

"You hit the highlights. But before you released him, you should have bothered to learn that he always destroys the one who commands him. You won't be an exception." Hades gestured toward the room. "Look around you. This hole we call Tartarus is all that's left of the primordial god. His death at the hands of War is what caused all the pantheons to combine their powers with the Chthonians' to contain him. And that was back in the day when we were worshiped and held our full powers. We're not that strong anymore."

Well, there was something Stryker hadn't bothered to contemplate. Not that it mattered. He was more than ready to lay down his life—provided he took his enemies with him. "Oops," he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Guess I screwed up. Inability to see the consequences of our thoughtless acts must run in the family. So much for my father being a god of prophecy, huh?"

Hades' eyes turned bright red. "He will destroy the humans."

Stryker sneered at him. "I didn't see you standing up to defend the Apollite race when my father cursed us to feed off each other's blood and die painfully when we were only twenty-seven years old because a handful of Apollites had killed his worthless whore. As I recall, all of you turned your backs and left us to the darkness like rats you wanted to forget existed."

Hades shook his head. "I would kill you, but a better fate is to leave you to the thing you just unleashed. I'll see you back here when you're no longer living."

Stryker didn't comment as he watched Hades rouse Ares. Bored with them both, he returned to Kalosis, which was where he'd go after his death. The Atlantean hell realm had been his home since the day he'd turned his back on his father and sided with the goddess who ruled this domain. Apollymi owned his soul. He'd gladly consigned it to her on the day his father had cursed Stryker's entire race for something only a handful of soldiers had done.

Stryker wanted nothing to do with the Greeks ever again.

Bitterly amused by the fact that Apollymi would most likely enjoy his eternal torture even more than Hades, Stryker returned to his office, where he kept the sfora orb that would allow him to spy on his enemy. At least on Acheron.

As for Nick, Stryker could see through his eyes any time he wanted to. It was one of the perks he'd claimed when he bound the bastard to him. Unfortunately, though, there wasn't much to see with Nick, as he'd taken to keeping himself isolated from the world and everyone Stryker wanted to spy on.

He was bored with Nick's moping.

For now, Stryker wanted to see Acheron's demise. Waving his hand over the orb, he watched as the clouds cleared to show him the one god he wanted most to bury . . .

Apollymi's most precious son.

Stryker curled his lip as he found Acheron in a bizarro Norman Rockwell scene. How quaint. Acheron was at home on Katoteros, the Atlantean paradise realm, trimming a Christmas tree with his girlfriend, Soteria. There was something almost twisted about an ancient god humoring a human custom to placate his lover. The two of them looked so happy and sweet it was enough to make him puke.

That was all about to change.

Leaning back in his chair, Stryker waited.

"OOO, AKRI , CAN THE SIMI EAT THAT?"

Ash Parthenopaeus paused as he heard the voice of his demon behind him. Turning around, he saw Simi eyeing the glass angel in his hand.

Dressed in a black-and-red plaid Goth skirt and corset top, Simi had a Santa hat on her head that covered her small demon's horns. Like Ash, her hair was solid black in color and fell all the way to her waist.

Before he could answer, Soteria gave Simi a sweet, tolerant smile that melted him. Her brown hair was pulled forward into two pigtails, and in total contradiction to Ash's dark Goth style, she was dressed in a pair of winter white pants and a red sweater with white reindeer on it. Ash's long-sleeved T-shirt was black with reindeer skeletons pulling a twisted sleigh.

"Um, please, Simi," Soteria said, "don't eat that. That's been my angel on the tree since I was a little girl. I picked it out at a Christmas store in Greece with my parents."