(Re) Zo̱ntanoús Nekroús - Chapter Six

Veronika Lecter:
Nathan was everything I remembered about his grandfather - no, great-great grandfather. Tall, imposing, dark hair and foresty eyes - and that was just from a distance. I'd have like to know more but under the circumstances, the forced emigration of my mother and I to America, I'd only been able to know Nathaniel Belikov the first for a few years. I swatted at my chest to stop the sudden burning at the remembrance of his face.

We were frozen for a moment, spotting each other up. Nathan had only met me once, when he was 11 or 12, and my troop was attempting to seek a rogue shapeshifter in his area. We'd come up to his home, a manor in my eyes, and a man much like him answered. Perhaps resemblances ran in the family. He squinted hard at me and asked who I was, and I vaguely remember a younger Nathan passing by, watching me from the corner of his eye.

As it turned out, Nathan's father did remember me. His great grandfather, my Nathaniel, always spoke of a small dark haired girl with a round face and sad eyes. And that was me. I was surprised he could tell, given my new appearance.

I looked past Nathan to see a boy crawling along the hotel floor. He had a cane of sorts in his hand and a book settled next to him, and it took me a second to realize that he was grasping at someone's pant leg.

"Help..." The young man on the ground gasped, patting the body in front of him. I passed Nathan, who seemed to be in a trance-like state, dropping down next to the unconscious blonde boy.

His neck was blue and purple, bruised to all's end. I reached out to touch it - hot from numerous attempts to pump blood through. He was barely breathing though, the rise and fall of his chest barely visible.

"You, young man," I said curtly, turning to the dark haired kid next to me. "..Look at me. I'm going to show you-"

"I can't see." He breathed, and I noticed a small trickle of blood running down his lip.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm blind." He stated simply.

"Then why-? ....Nevermind." I scoffed and turned back to the boy on the ground. "Natenka - er, Nathan." I corrected myself. "Do you have anything we can do for him? It's his neck and....its an internal wound...."

Nathan shook his head. "Can't you do anything?"

"Yes, but I'm a hunter, not a healer." I stated obviously, watching the boy's breaths become ragged and more labored.

"No, I mean....I know who your dad is. Can't you pull some strings?" Lights danced in my head - hell no. That was not even going to be remotely possible, not now of all times. The best I could do was....well, make his passing a bit easier.

I reached into my satchel, still neatly tucked under my Yankees shirt, and retrieved the silver knife. Engraved on its blade was the phrase "Γι 'αυτό είμαι ευγνώμων."

For this, I am thankful.

"Veronika, what are you doing?" Nathan was rushing over now, aiming to grab my knife away from me as I held it poised above the dying man's hearts.

"The last thing I can do. Βρείτε την ειρήνη."

I slashed the knife downward but instead of meeting the boy's chest, I met someone's arm - the blind boy. He was staring at me with soulless eyes, unfocused as befitted him.

"Don't." He said calmly, and I noticed something within him. There was a tranquil fury buried deep in his heart, and though I was taller and much more mature, it was a disturbing feeling.

My hand arched against his but he was firm in holding me back, a form of defense against a friend he was about to lose.

"You don't understand, I'm saving him. Do you want him to end up like the great one?" I asked, pressing harder against his forearm.

"No, but we can save him." He said, turning to Nathan. "Nathan, my bag. It fell down the stairs when the huge zombie came. Could you get one of my thermoses and.....?"

"Tristan's barely conscious, Trive. What if it kills him? If he can't hold on to us?"

"It's our best shot. And if the water does kill him....he won't be our enemy, not for a long time. Styx has many people to choose from, and our friend will likely take a long time to face us."

I saw Nathan nod solemnly and turn behind us, ushering down a few stairs and disappearing from view.

"What do you know about Styx?" I asked begrudgingly. The boy gripped my forearm now and raised it, unintentionally staring at his comrade, who was beginning to look sickly with blood loss.

"She is my mother, and I am her last son. That's all."

"You speak for her?"

"For now, yeah." I nodded understandably. I wished I could tell him about my father, we could bond over the underworld at the very least, I could finally have a little brother. But my father's name was not being used in good spirit, and so I waited, eventually easing my grasp on the knife and letting it clunk to the floor.

Nathan returned a few minutes later with a backpack full of silver bottles. He extracted one and handed it to the boy - Trive, I think, who felt the lid dextrously. With ease he popped the lid open and I noticed a thick, black, soupy looking water.

"By the goddess...." I mumbled quietly. It was a river I'd evaded a few times in my long life, the water of the River Styx. This boy was truly the last the river had, and now....

"Listen, we need to make sure Tristan stays conscious. If he falls under then....it'll be lucky if he makes it out, to put it simply." Nathan and I nodded. "...As a son of Styx, this water can be used to heal me. But you guys.....I'll need help, okay? Nathan, keep him occupied. Tell him to think of his family, something that made him happy before all this."

Nathan crept around Tristan's body and began mumbling to him, occasionally prodding his head and chest to keep him there.

"....Veronika?" He asked. "Veronika. I need you to help me with the most important part. You'll need to open the wound so I can apply the water and heal him for good."

I looked down at the knife in front of me and gasped, imagining me jamming it into the boy's chest. I felt delusional more than ever, but knowing this kid of Styx......I picked it up.

"Just a little cut, that's it. Anywhere on his neck. I'll pour the water on and we'll hope for the best."

I crawled closer to Tristan, hands steady as I held them at the bruise on his neck. Trive was at my side, and I could feel him breathing. He touched Tristan's body, mapping it quietly, before telling Nathan to start.

Nathan began to speak to Tristan fondly, stories from Camp, stories I tried to ignore for my own sake. It was now or never, and I quietly mumbled a reluctant prayer to Artemis, and to my late mother.

My knife nicked his neck and I watched with horror as Trive dipped his hand into the thermos and flicked the water about his neck, where it swelled like it was alive. Nathan sat back as the rest of the thermos was pumped endlessly over his body.

"Find peace." I whispered, just as I heard someone ascending the stairs for us.