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 plea sure 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 displeasure 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.