Everything was coming to a head again and Alexion wanted to change what was meant to be.
It was odd to have such vivid feelings now after all these centuries of experiencing absolutely nothing.
There's always hope.
Yeah, right. He'd long forgotten the sensation of hope. Life went on. People went on. Death went on. Tragedy. Success. It all cycled through there and here. Nothing ever changed.
And yet he felt different for once. Marco had gone Rogue and aided the Daimons. There was nothing to be done for him. And even worse, there were others who were quickly following his lead. Others who were allowing him and Kyros to turn their minds away from the truth. The DarkHunters in Northern Mississippi were coming together to rebel against Acheron and Artemis.
It was something that had to be stopped.
His resolve set, he made his way out of his room in the southernmost point of Acheron's palace and headed down the gilded back hallway that ran from his elaborate chambers to the centrally located throne room. The black-veined marble floor was somewhat cold against his bare feet. Had he still been human, that cold would be absolutely biting. As it was, he could only acknowledge the temperature, he couldn't really feel it. And yet that coldness seemed to seep all the way through him.
Reaching the twelve-foot door that was made of gold, he pushed it open to find Acheron on his throne while Acheron's demon, Simi, was lying on her stomach in the far corner of the room, watching QVC.
The demon, who appeared to be a human woman around the age of twenty, was dressed in red vinyl. Her ever-changing horns matched her clothes perfectly and her long black hair was braided down her back. She had a giant, half-empty bowl of popcorn cradled in her arms while her tail whipped around her head as if swishing in time to the countdown clock.
"Akri?" the she-demon demanded. "Where's my plastic?"
As he always did while at home in Katoteros, Acheron wore his black formesta—a long robelike garment that was left open in front, baring his chest and black leather pants. It was made of heavy silk that was embroidered on the back with a gold sun pierced by three silver lightning bolts—a mark that had been branded onto Alexion's shoulder.
Acheron's long black hair was left unbound, hanging about his shoulders. He sat on the gilded throne strumming a solid black electric guitar that played perfectly without the benefit of an amplifier. The wall to his left was a series of television monitors all of which showed the cartoon Johnny Bravo.
"I don't know, Sim," Acheron said distractedly. "Ask Alexion."
Before Alexion could reach Acheron's throne, the demon appeared before him, hovering in midair while her large red and black wings flapped to support her weight. Her wings, like her horns and eyes, were ever-changing in their color to fit her mood and momentary taste. Her hair color changed too, but it was linked to Acheron, therefore her hair color was always identical to his.
"Where's my plastic, Lexie?"
He gave her a patient but strict stare. Simi had been nothing more than a very small child nine thousand years ago when Acheron had brought him here to live. One of the duties Acheron had assigned to him was to help watch over her and to keep her out of trouble.
Yeah. That was next to impossible.
Not to mention, he was every bit as guilty of spoiling her as Acheron was. Like his boss, he couldn't seem to help himself. There was something innately compelling, endearing, and ultimately sweet about the demon. Something that made him love her like a daughter. In all the worlds, she and Acheron were the only two things that still made him feel any human emotion. He loved them both and he would die to protect them.
But as her "other" father, he knew he owed it to Simi and to the world to try and teach her some restraint.
"You don't need to buy anything else, Simi."
Her singsongy response was quick and automatic. "Yes I do."
"No," he insisted. "You don't. You already have more than enough baubles to keep you occupied."
She pouted at him while her eyes flamed red and her tail flicked around. "Gimme my plastic, Lexie. Now!"
"No."
She wailed, then spun around toward Acheron and flew to his throne. Suddenly QVC appeared on his monitors.
"Simi…" Acheron said. "I was watching something."
"Oh, pooh, it's a stupid cartoon. The Simi wants her Diamonique, akri, and she wants it now!"
Acheron passed an exasperated look toward Alexion. "Give her the credit cards."
Alexion glared at him. "She's so spoiled, she's rotten. She must learn to control her impulses."
Acheron cocked a brow at him. "And how long have you been trying to teach her restraint, Alexion?"
That didn't bear commenting on. There were some things in life that were indeed futile. But immortality was boring enough. Trying to control Simi often added a lot of spark to it. "I finally got her to sit in front of the television quietly… Sort of."