Chapter Twelve

It'd been two days after Hannibal attempted suicide.

And he hadn't done anything since then. He was eating again, slowly and in small bursts, but at least he was eating. He was getting dressed and showering and doing most things on his own. He would flip through my magazines, probably because the only magazines I had were for BDSM, but he didn't seem to mind. I was a little worried the intensity of it might bring me uncomfortable memories, but if it did, he didn't let on.

Part of me wanted to get him out of the house, to see the sunlight again, or at least the moonlight, but that was far too dangerous. Theo's men were swarming the place and everyone in Styx had a vendetta against Hannibal for his crimes. Even though Abel had expressed to everyone he'd run into that he didn't want anyone acting on their rage against Hannibal, people still spat and cursed his very name.

The name he'd given himself.

I sat at the bar, watching Hannibal cook again. I was relieved to have him cooking again, because having pizza for the past couple days was starting to mess with my sensitive stomach. He didn't seem to mind and if anything, it was good for him to get up and do things instead of laying curled up in bed all day.

The rich heavy scent of herbs and spices wafted through the penthouse, making me tremble with anticipation to see what sort of concoction Hannibal could come up with today.

"How did you learn to cook so well?" I asked him, resting my elbow on the bar, cheek against my knuckles. Hannibal was silent for a moment, stirring vegetables around in a cheesey spinach mix before he spoke.

"My stepmother taught me." He said blankly. I cocked my head curiously at that. His stepmother? Clymene? That nasty old hag was the one who taught him how to cook? Hannibal seemed to pick up on my reaction because I saw the corner of his mouth twitch, like he was trying not to smile.

"Not out of motherly love," He assured me, turning off the stove and pouring a thin layer of olive oil on the food, "My brothers would dress me up and force me into the kitchen with her and she joined in by forcing me to cook. For some reason, cooking was a bad thing."

"I don't think it's a bad thing," I replied defensively, "I can't cook and I hate it. Everything I touch turns into crispy masses of unidentifiable toxic crap. I wish my mother had taught me to cook, but she was always working." Hannibal cocked his head, then looked down into the pan as he stirred things around for a bit so they'd cool.

"She worked a lot?" He asked. I hesitated. Part of me didn't really want to talk about my mother, but after all the things I had done and asked of Hannibal, it was only fair that I told him anything he wanted to know, so I nodded, twirling a fork around on the bar.

"She worked at brothels in another realm. And before you say anything, yeah, my mom was as prostitute, but only because we didn't have money or education or anything. She had to make money for us to live off of. Suffice it to say, we didn't have nice things when I was a kid and we were always running away from clients that had gotten addicted to my mother," I said dryly, then paused and shook my head, "But she was a great succubus. A great mom. I probably wouldn't be here without her. She may not have taught me how to cook, but she taught me other things that helped me live on my own after she passed." Hannibal was quiet, but I could see the gears turning in his head like he was processing my words. I smiled lightly at that.

But at least he was listening, and talking, and cooking again. Maybe this wasn't going to take so many years after all. Was Hannibal really that strong? In all honesty, if his life had been mine, I would have given up a long time ago... Then again, he probably did, but couldn't put himself out of his misery and that tore at my heartstrings. I resisted the urge to hug him, because that was probably still pushing his limits.

Granted, he let me hold his hand now and touch his shoulder to get his attention or something, but hugging? That might be taking it to a whole new level that he might not be ready for yet.

He spooned the food out onto separate plates and handed one to me. I nodded my thanks and took a bite, unable to resist a moan of pleasure. The variety of flavors assaulted my mouth like a party on Mardi Gras. I took my time eating, savoring each deliciously detailed bite.

Oh yeah, Hannibal should've been the Titan of food, because I had never tasted anything so good in my entire life-- and I ate a lot of weird stuff traveling with my mom.

"What did you do while your mother worked?" Hannibal asked, making me blink and look up at him, mildly surprised. I hadn't expected him to keep talking, but I answered nonetheless.

"Usually stupid kid things. I took a shot at shoplifting and my mom beat the crap out of me for it, so never tried that again. I eventually found one of those old broken piano toys that people buy their babies. You know, all bright and rainbow-y and gay as hell. But it worked and I would practice on that for a while. Never had a real piano up until I came here."

"Did you have siblings?"

"No," I admitted with a shrug, "My mother was very careful not to get pregnant. Well, most of the time. I was an accident. She really liked the guy, but when he found out she was pregnant, he took off and left her. Thankfully, my mom had a friend who took care of me while went off to work. I think her name was like Estelle or something. She made sure to keep me out of trouble and take care of me until I turned ten. We had to move because my mother's boss found out she had a kid, so they kicked her out."

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right," I said, "My mom got jobs at brothels easily because of her species. I tried to help her, but she would always tell me that the last thing she wanted for me was to be like her. So she would take me around town to do little jobs, like cleaning up shops for pocket change or pet-sitting. Things like that. We did get a little more money when my mom met up with my biological father again and he had changed his tune about wanting a kid, but halfway through their relationship, my mother died, and he felt guilty, so he's been feeding me cash ever since. Don't know how he gets it, don't particularly care. My mother always told me to take what I could while I still had the chance, otherwise, I'd never get another chance." Hannibal nodded in agreement before he took our plates to wash them in the sink. I watched him, slightly intrigued.

Nobody had really asked about what my mom was like, or what we did before we came into money. It was nice to actually talk about it for once and have someone paying attention. It was rather sweet of him, actually. And I was so glad he was trying hard to talk more. I loved hearing his sexy voice, and oddly enough, the more I paid attention to him speaking, the more I noticed his Atlantean accent. It was an almost erotic sound, lilting and tender, with just the slightest roll in his Rs.

 "Hannibal," I said carefully, watching him glance at me, "Just out of curiosity... How do you say I love you in Atlantean? Like, just curious." I felt heat rising in my cheeks at such a silly question. Hannibal's mouth twitched again, but he turned back to the dishes, shaking his head.

"Not sure." He responded. I looked at him in confusion.

"You don't know?"

"Never had to use it." Hannibal responded briefly. A lump swelled in my throat, but I swallowed it down, aching for him. I averted my eyes to the numerous scars criss-crossing his body. Shades of white or pink, puckered or indented. It made me wonder how he could have scars, though. Most gods automatically healed. Scars would mar the perfection of their beauty. I wasn't sure if I should ask at first, but I couldn't really stay silent anymore. Guess one of my curses was curiosity.

"And your scars?"

"What about them?"

"Most gods just... heal right away." I pointed out. Hannibal was silent for a moment and I felt stupid and guilty for asking him, but he shrugged after a moment as he dried his hands off, then paused to look down at the scars cutting across his knuckles and palms.

"Most gods don't need a reminder." He said at last. I bit my bottom lip at that, pain cutting through me. He didn't need to elaborate on that. I knew full well what he meant. A reminder of why how many people wanted him dead, a reminder of why he shouldn't trust anyone. A general reminder that he couldn't die, no matter what he did. Not wanting to stir up any more bad memories, I left him to his own thing as I went upstairs to shower and change.

I pulled on a pair of black Tripp pants with red belts, a cropped hooded jacket over a black tank top, and a pair of buckled boots before I went downstairs to find Hannibal sitting on the sofa, flipping through another one of my magazines while listening to the smooth jazz channel on the television. I was relieved to see him looking more comfortable now.

Part of me still didn't want to leave him alone, though. I had to run an errand, which would probably only take half an hour, but I was still worried about it. I didn't like leaving him alone, which is why I hadn't left the apartment for the longest time. But Hannibal hadn't done anything since a few days ago, so surely it'd be safe to leave him alone now, if just for half an hour?

"Hannibal?" I asked, getting his attention. He tilted his head to look up at me as I approached him with a tentative smile.

"I have to run into town to do an errand, but I should be back in about half an hour or so. If I'm not, don't worry. The crowds are bad now what with the end of the holiday. Think you'll be okay by yourself? Anything you want me to get you while I'm out?" I asked. Hannibal studied me for a while, like he was trying to figure me out, but then he shook his head and looked back down at his magazine.

"All right. Be careful." I added. He nodded. I teleported from the apartment before I had the urge to kiss or hug him again. I appeared in the shopping district, annoyed with the amount of people that had flooded the streets in a flurry of excitement because of the last few days of the vampiric holiday. It was like trying to wade through a river of maple syrup. People moved slowly and complained every so often, some people were singing and others laughing and shouting. It was just a huge mess, but after what felt like almost an hour --and, God, I hope not-- I made my way to Bella's shop.

I came through the front door, only to be met by another shoulder-to-shoulder crowd of bodies. I cringed at the amount of people squeezing between each other to get to racks that were naked in a matter of seconds. Bella was up front at the register, struggling to get each customer checked through. She waved when she saw me.

"Akin! Your stuff's in back! Bags on the table!" She called. I gave her a thumbs up before I weaved my way through an endless crowd. I made my way to the back room. Several book cases of old leather bound books, a narrow staircase going up to their apartment, a black writing desk with a laptop and other Victorian antiques sitting on it, and a round spider-web designed cafe table with a couple of black paper bags. I walked over and took them off the table before heading to Bella as she checked out another customer.

"Thanks so much for this, Bella. I appreciate it." I told her. Bella beamed.

"No problem, Akin," She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before she pointed out the back door, "You can use the back entrance to avoid the horde of bloodsucking shoppers." I smiled at that and nodded, leaving through the back door and closing it behind me. I had just closed the door and backed up to leave when a hand clamped over my mouth and an arm drew around my waist. Instant anger at being sneak attacked bubbled through me and I started to thrash and squirm, my protests muffled by a hand that smelled like a McDonalds deep fryer.

"Ouch," Epimetheus's voice snarled in my ear, "Quit that! Stop!" I bit down on his hand and he yelped in pain, but instead of him letting me go, he threw me hard against the side of the building. My ears rang and nose exploded, blood pouring over my mouth. I gasped, blinking against the pain as I sank to the cold ground, breathing hard and trying to scramble to my feet, but Epimetheus reached down and grabbed me up by a handful of hair. I clenched my fist and slammed it up into his nose, making him yelp again like a struck puppy. I went to knee him in the groin, but he caught my leg and flipped me back onto the ground again, the back of my head striking the cobblestones.

"Stop attacking me, you cunt," Epimetheus shouted, glowering at me as I scrunched myself against the wall to pinch my nose to stop the bleeding, "I know Hannibal is at your apartment, but Abel put a barrier up so I can't get in."

"Boo hoo." I spat. Epimetheus's eyes flared with hate and he lunged down, grabbing me up by the front of my jacket before slamming me hard into the wall. My vision danced and twirled to the point where I was seeing two Epimetheuses-- and trust me, one was enough.

"If you don't kick Hannibal out, I'll draw him out." Epimetheus sneered in my face. I snorted, then winced at the pain racking my skull. I reached up to try and pry his fingers off my jacket, but it was like they had become one with the jacket.

"He's not stupid enough to go anywhere, you asshole." I seethed. Epimetheus narrowed his eyes, face twisting up angrily before suddenly, he relaxed and a smirk spread across his lips. He stepped so close to me, I could feel the heat of his body through his clothes and it made me choke in disgust.

"Not unless I have the right bargaining chip." He replied cheerfully. I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but he slammed my head into the wall again and this time, my vision blacked out and I fell.

I felt like I was swimming in darkness for the longest time before I woke up to something ice cold pressing against my cheek. My head throbbed in pain, like I'd been hit over the head with a baseball bat. I sucked in deep, shaky breathes as I struggled to force my eyes open. I found myself staring across a cold stone floor. I frowned, confused as I tried to sit up, but my hands were tied tightly behind my back.

I scowled. What idiot thought using regular rope to tie up an incubus would even work? I clenched my fists and the ropes snapped instantly. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, rubbing the side of my head when suddenly everything came rushing back to me. My eyes widened as I remembered leaving my penthouse, visiting Bella, and then Epimetheus.

But oh my god, Hannibal!

I told him I'd be gone for half an hour! How long was I out? I scrambled to my feet, looking around in bewilderment. I was in a small abandoned office room in what looked like maybe one of the old mills by the docks. I stumbled over to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. I stepped back and threw my hand out at it, sending a blast of power that exploded the door handle off and sent the door flying open. I stepped out, clutching at the side of my head as I stood in the main room with tons of pipes and large canisters touching the ceiling, a few broken benches, and scattered papers and beer cans. I looked around until I saw a door  near some boarded up and stained windows.

I started toward the door when a sharp blast of power slammed into me and sent me flying and slamming into the concrete floor. I gasped in pain, clutching at my side as I felt my bruised side. I looked up, my hair falling over my face as I saw Epimetheus jump off the second floor, that was only separated from the rest of the mill with a railing. He landed on the ground near me and I started to get up so I could lunge at him, but the toe of his boot caught me in the ribs and I yelped, sinking back down to the floor.

"Should've figured rope wouldn't work," Epimetheus groused in irritation, then lunged down and grabbed me by a handful of hair, "What I wouldn't give to have Alexion and his damned fancy ropes... or Prometheus." There was a tinge of pain in his voice at the mention of his brother's name. I gritted my teeth and reached up to sink my fingernails into his arm, making him shout angrily in pain before he threw me into one of the metal canisters. I swore I heard my ribs crack upon impact. The metal dented inwards and I hit the floor, breathing hard as blood pooled into my mouth and I parted my lips, letting it drip onto the floor.

"Prometheus would know what to do," Epimetheus snarled at me, like it was my fault, "He always knows what to do."

"So why don't you just go to Tartarus and hang out with him there?" I snapped. Epimetheus's eyes flashed, nostrils flaring as he stormed over to me and picked me up, slamming me into the metal canister again.

"Shut up! Prometheus won't stay there! He won't end up like Menoetius or Atlas! And it's going to be Hannibal who's going to help me. He's the only brother I have left." He added with a heated glare. I scowled at him.

"I thought you and Hannibal weren't brothers."

"We're not! Not the way Prometheus and I are. Prometheus is my real brother. Prometheus and I shared a womb! Prometheus and I shared everything!"

"Then I hope you both share a jail cell, dickhead."

Epimetheus roared angrily and threw me across the room. I slammed into the wall and sank down, breathing hard as more blood poured into my mouth and dribbled past my lips. I struggled to find my breath, my strength, but my body felt like it had just been thrown through a trash compactor. I panted for breath, tilting my head back against the wall as Epimetheus approached me, curling his lip.

"I don't get what Hannibal sees in you, but as long as it draws him out, it doesn't matter to me. Because either way, I'm going to kill you and watch him finally cry over something." He mocked. I laughed at that, which only seemed to infuriate him even more.

"What are you talking about? Hannibal isn't going to come out here for me. Thanks to you, he can't go out in public anymore, and thanks to me..." My voice trailed as pain lacerated my heart. And because of me, he wasn't going to trust me anymore. He never would. And now he probably thought I'd abandoned him, again. He was probably sitting back home alone. Oh god, what if he was hurting himself again?

Panic rose in my chest and I lunged to my feet to leave, but Epimetheus caught me by the waist and slammed me into the wall, causing more pain to rocket through my body. He slammed his arm up against my throat, choking off my air. I seethed past clenched teeth, grabbing at him and trying to pry him off, but it was like trying to pull metal plates apart. He was completely glued to me.

"You're not going anywhere, incubus," Epimetheus sneered, "Hannibal won't come out, unless you're in danger. And once he picks up on your location, he'll come running in here to save you. Unfortunately, he won't be able to until after he sets Prometheus free. And once that's finished with, I'm going to kill you and watch Hannibal fall apart."

"You're so stupid," I choked breathlessly, "He won't come."

"You're the stupid one," Epimetheus snorted, "I know my brother. He's never clung to someone like this, not even Cain got this much love and attention from Hannibal. You're just blind. Hannibal would die for you and, unfortunately, he can't, so I'm going to kill you instead. And then he'll be shattered. Then Prometheus and I can use him to permanently destroy the Sons of Hades and the big ol' bastard himself." He shoved his arm harder against my windpipe, nearly crushing it before he stepped back and I hit the floor, choking and gasping for air. I tried to get up, but my body felt weak from the beating. It'd been way too long since I actually got into a fist fight. Epimetheus grabbed a handful of my hair, making me hiss as he tore me up to my feet.

"And unfortunately, tying you up isn't going to keep you docile, now is it?" He demanded. I spat in his face and he snarled, slamming my face into the brick wall. Pain exploded in my face and blood gushed from my nose as Epimetheus released me and I dropped to the floor like a limp doll. I tried to urge my body to move, but it was way too hard. I felt the pain right down to the marrow of my bones. I slumped down on the ground, breathing hard and peering up past my hair at Epimetheus, who grinned wickedly down at me.

"And don't think about waiting to attack me in my sleep, incubus, because I haven't slept in a month. And I won't sleep again until Prometheus is with me and you're dead." He announced. I gritted my teeth, but couldn't say anything as blood gurgled up my throat and poured past my lips onto the ground. I cringed in pain, blinking past the darkness that threatened to engulf me.

I wasn't going to pass out.

No fucking way.

And Epimetheus was wrong. Hannibal wouldn't show up. Or at least, I hoped to God he didn't. He wouldn't be so foolish. I was nothing compared to him. He was a god, a Titan. He could do what Epimetheus wanted, but if he just let it be, Epimetheus would only have me and I couldn't get into Tartarus. Nobody could get into Tartarus, unless they were a god.

"I can't wait to see the look on Hannibal's face when he sees you," Epimetheus was gushing, clasping his hands together tightly, "What I wouldn't give to just break that slimy little bastard." I spat blood on the ground at his feet, glaring up at him.

"How could you do that to him? He's your brother." I seethed. Epimetheus twitched, then glared down at me.

"He is not my brother. He was just some filthy hybrid my father was forced to take care of."

"He didn't have to."

"Yes, he did," Epimetheus spat, "Lea had given us a cursed infant. Well, actually, he was about three when he came to live with us. He didn't even speak Greek. How is it that a god couldn't speak the language of its father? Stupid as shit he is. She told us if we didn't take him that she would land a horrible curse on us, so my father had no choice, but to take the bastard in. We're not the only ones who hated him. His mother cursed him and she didn't even give him a name. He tried to give himself a name, and in the middle of a war, and while the Atlanteans called him by name, the Greeks did not. He was undeserving of a name. And he always will be."

"Well, you call him Hannibal now." I pointed out. Epimetheus twitched and rammed his foot into my ribcage, making me gasp in pain.

"Because it's hard to keep track of how many fucking whoresos there are in this realm! Do you have any idea how many I've run into? For the gods' sakes, all of Hades's sons are disgusting bastard children, except Cerberus. But only because he was created, not birthed. But it doesn't matter. Because they're all going to die as well."

"Good luck with that."

"Thanks," Epimetheus taunted, kicking me again and making me hiss past clenched teeth at the intense pain throbbing in my side, signalling that one of my ribs was definitely broken, "And I can't wait to kill them. They're like Scooby-Doo and the gang, always getting in the way. But not this time. Prometheus and I are going to unleash something even more dangerous than ourselves." I scowled at him in confusion as he grinned.

"Menoetius." He answered. I glared at him.

"You're stupid. Menoetius was destroyed by Zeus during the Titanomachy." I snapped. Epimetheus laughed out loud.

"You think Zeus could actually hurt Menoetius? That fat bastard only leashed Menoetius. He didn't kill him. Menoetius is still alive, but he's been trapped in the darkest pit of Tartarus. And when Prometheus and I get out, we're going to open his cage and unleash his fury upon the entire world and when we do, oh, you guys better fucking get down on one knee and beg for mercy, because Menoetius was one of the feared of the Titans for his strength and stamina. He'll rip you all to pieces and fuck you raw in the process." He laughed.

Cold dread pooled in my stomach at that. Part of me didn't want to believe it. How could Zeus not be strong enough to destroy a Titan when he had taken down his own father? Was Menoetius really that strong? The thought terrified me, and even worse was that he sounded like he actually believed all this.

Oh, Hannibal, please don't come here, just run as fast as you can.