Page 38 of The Night Belongs To Lovers

Corey figured it was time to call Apollo and see if he might be okay with some company. It would be a shadow of the intimacy he craved but safer for his heart.

Gazing down at Christian’s shivering naked body, Corey felt instinctively protective. Usually, he would let the prey fend for themselves, thinking they had gotten into this embarrassing state through their own foolishness, but Christian was different and worthy of consideration. He was an extraordinary amusement and a terrific conversationalist. Yes, the god would treat him as special.

Corey recalled that the recessed doorway across the alleyway led to the backroom of a clothing consignment shop. He flew over to it with a plan in mind.

Reaching out to the darkness, Corey waited for it to press back, and when it did, he merged with it, his physical form passing through onto the other side as if the door ceased to exist. Once inside the shop, he searched for proper, fashionable attire to fit Christian’s size, a task that took little time or effort for the god.

After dressing Christian, Corey fled the scene of his feeding. He planned to return to the waterfront, where he could lose himself in the mesmerizing sight of the black night waters gently swaying back and forth. He often spent hours there, letting the cool breeze caress his face and the calming sound of the water soothe his mind.

And be, once again, alone.

OLYMPIUS

The Past

ONLYmoments had passed since the false Coriolanus leapt out the window in a flurry of recriminations and blasphemies, plunging Olympius’ world into chaos.

The apparition’s intent, for his hated child to believe without a doubt that his warrior-god boldly stood before him, spewing poison and instilling doubt, had worked. Olympius now agonized over how the only being he had ever loved believed lies about him so easily and could betray him so cruelly.

Ashe floated above the floor, basking in the solace of cold shadow, the great night god did not know whether he wanted to wail in lamentation or rage in anger.

Was his heart breaking?

Why had the Olympians accused him of manipulating Coriolanus, perverting his free will, and using dark powers to create false love? Such disloyalty and deception were his Maker’s domain, not his. Though he kept aware of their activities from a distance as best he could through mind-walking, Olympius had not spoken to any Olympians except Fortuna his entire immortal life. They knew next to nothing of him!

Or did they?

Everything seemed in doubt, including his trust in Coriolanus and Fortuna. Olympius feared he had misjudged everything; he needed answers. And the undying sunlight would not bar his way.

With intense concentration, Olympius reached out to the hidden Realm of Shadows, a place only those of Coeus’ bloodline and, he assumed, Phoebe’s bloodline could access. He summoned pure, living darkness to him, and as it seeped out of the air, he fashioned it into armour. The protective layer was so dense it rivalled the strength of iron—stronger.

Though no light could penetrate its blackness, Olympius could see through it; he and the darkness were one.

The god, now cloaked in his impenetrable sheathing, felt invincible.

Looking skyward, Olympius took flight, smashing through each floor of the domus and its roof; nothing, not wood, stone or marble, impeded his escape. The god was manic in his mission to find Coriolanus as he propelled himself higher into the bright sky, the ebon armour holding against the intense light.

Olympius soared toward the main road to Rome, where he sensed his warrior-god’s essence.

Travelling at incredible speeds fueled by rage and heartache, the Lord of the Night quickly arrived at his destination and immediately honed in on the source of godly light that kept the night at bay. Wasting no time, Olympius set his sights on Apollo and charged with a vengeance.

The sun god, too absorbed in his arduous task, remained unaware of the raging streak of darkness hurtling towards him with unbridled fury.

Olympius rammed into Apollo with extreme force, knocking the Olympian out of the sky and sending him crashing to the hard ground far below, a piercing scream of surprise following him.

Racing after the fallen immortal, Olympius watched with glee as the sun god met Gaia’s body with massive force. The impact created a small crater that sent the other Olympians scattering to get out of the way. Olympius saw that Coriolanus was among them, though he appeared out of sorts. Even through the pain of betrayal, he cared for and worried about his warrior-god.

With Apollo’s connection to the light severed, darkness quickly flooded back, reclaiming its rightful place in the evening sky.Olympius felt his power immediately increase—double, then triple. He knew the remaining Olympians no doubt felt their power diminish. And this was good, for he was not done with Apollo yet.

Empowered by bitter resentment, Olympius sent his ebon tendrils to attack the bewildered, injured sun god. The shadows swiftly enveloped Apollo, coiled around his entire body, and aggressively squeezed until his mouth opened to scream in pain. When that occurred, Olympius forced his gloaming power into Apollo’s mouth and down his throat, filling his insides with thick, pulsating darkness.

As the sun god writhed in agony, his glowing, bright eyes conveyed the sheer magnitude of his suffering. But soon, they succumbed to the darkness and turned wholly black; no trace of Apollo’s radiance remained.

“Unhand him, mutt!” Ares shouted as he charged towards the Lord of the Night. Prepared to aid his brother, he held his sword, stained with a thousand mortals’ blood, high in the air.

But Ares’ attack was interrupted when Coriolanus tackled him to the ground, knocking the sword out of his hand. “I will not let you hurt him, Mars!” Coriolanus declared, but the young immortal was no match for the mighty god of war, even at full power, bathed in moonlight.

Ares grabbed Coriolanus tightly by the wrists and lifted him off his body, overpowering the warrior-god. He drew his leg back, placed his foot upon his opponent’s chest, and kicked him off withextreme force, sending Coriolanus flying into the forest, where he slammed into a thick tree trunk.

---