The Dark-Hunters, page 231
He turned to face him. “Don’t worry,” he said as his black gaze burned Alexion with its intensity, “I won’t. Your mistake was that you wouldn’t have believed your friend had he told you the truth. My mistake would be listening to my ‘friend’ now … Then again, you’re not my friend, are you? My friend died nine thousand years ago, and had he lived, he would have told me and not left me to live centuries with guilt over his death.”
Kyros turned around and renewed his angry stride toward the parking lot.
“Kyros—”
“Dialegomaiana o echeri,” Kyros said without even looking back.
“What language is that?” Danger asked.
“It’s our native tongue.”
“And what did he say?”
Alexion let out a disgusted breath. “Briefly put, ‘talk to the hand.’”
She looked as deflated as he felt. “Should we follow him?”
“To do what? I can’t beat sense into him, much as I would like to. The choice has to be his.”
Damn fate for that. He hated free will at times. No wonder Acheron cursed it constantly. His boss was right, free will sucked.
His gaze went to Marco. The poor, hapless Dark-Hunter still had a dagger protruding from his chest, where someone, probably a Daimon, had stabbed him. Shaking his head in regret at the man’s foolishness, Alexion went to the fallen Dark-Hunter and pulled the dagger free. Of course it wasn’t the dagger that had killed him. His decapitated head lay a few feet away.
Danger moved to stand just behind him as she examined the body too. He could sense her revulsion, but like a trouper she kept herself calm and professional. “You don’t think Kyros did that, do you?”
“He couldn’t have.”
“Then who?”
The voice that answered her question wasn’t his and it came from the other side of the shadows. “Just your friendly neighborhood Daimon patrol.”
Alexion leaned back ever so slightly so that he could see behind Danger.
There in the shadows was a group of six Daimons …
Chapter 12
Danger’s gaze narrowed angrily at the sound of the Daimons’ taunting. How rare for the Daimons not to try and run away. Could they be the Spathis Alexion had mentioned?
Then again if they really had killed one Dark-Hunter already, they were probably drunk on their own power and looking to kill more.
“Oh, I so don’t like you people,” she growled.
“The feeling’s entirely mutual,” the lead Daimon said.
The Daimon glanced over to Marco’s body. “We do nice work, don’t we?”
She shrugged, unwilling to give them any sort of reward or praise for their barbarism, which brought back one too many nightmares from her human life. “Looks like he committed suicide to me. He probably took one look at your ugly face and went blind, so he decided it was better to be dead than have your heinous form be the last thing he’d seen.”
Alexion actually laughed out loud at that.
The Daimon glowered at her. “I assure you he died screaming like a girl.”
She looked over at Alexion and shook her head in disgust. “Oh, I am so offended by that. What is the deal with that sexist statement? I’m a female and I don’t scream. But I’ve killed many a male Daimon who did.”
Alexion didn’t comment.
Danger turned back toward the Daimons, who were still eyeing her as if she were a main course. She was definitely going to beat the life out of them, but before she did, she had one question. “So why did you kill him?”
The Daimon shrugged. “He had a victim he didn’t want to share. Seems he thought he could take the soul into his own body like we do. We thought turnabout was fair play so we staked him to free it. You know, Dark-Hunters don’t burst apart when a soul is freed. Why is that?”
“We’re not scum?”
Alexion laughed again.
She looked at him over her shoulder. “You’re enjoying this whole thing way too much.” She gestured toward the Daimons. “Keller said you could make them poof?”
“Normal Daimons, yes.”
“And let me guess, these are Abby Normal kind of Daimons?”
He shook his head. “You watch way too many DVDs, and yes, they’re Abby Normal.” She was amazed he understood her reference to the movie Young Frankenstein.
“Oh, goodie,” she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “And here I am without my favorite stake and why is that? Because the ugly winged demon from hell—literally—came after us.” She looked back at the Daimons and sighed heavily. “Now we got these guys to fight. Well, at least they’re not scaly.”
“And they are blond,” Alexion added. Danger found it amusing that he was adopting her light tone. “You like blonds.”
“True, but after looking at them, I think my tastes just changed. I think I’d rather do the demon than one of them.” Danger spun, grabbed the dagger out of Alexion’s hands, then rushed the Daimons with it.
Alexion watched in awe as she took the Spathis on. She was an incredible fighter with more daring than skill. Not that she lacked skill by any means. She didn’t. It was just that her daring outdistanced it by a long shot.
She cut one Daimon across the chest as she ducked a second one. Her smaller size gave her a distinct advantage over the much larger Daimons.
She stabbed one.
He burst into dust.
It was then she turned to face Alexion with a scowl. “You just gonna stand there and look impressed or are you actually going to help me with this little situation?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “You seem to have it under control.”
She glared at him as she jumped away from another attacking Daimon. She kicked him back. “I really hate men most nights,” she mumbled.
It wasn’t until one of the Daimons went for her back that Alexion rushed forward. He caught the Daimon with a fist to his jaw.
Danger twisted around like she was about to stab him. Alexion caught her hand, kissed her clenched fist, then pulled the dagger from her grip.
“I’ll give this right back,” he said, an instant before he plunged it into the Daimon. Golden powder shot all over him before it drifted to the ground.
He turned and then tossed the dagger into the chest of another Daimon who was about to attack Danger.
The Daimon froze mid-motion, mouthed the word “damn,” then burst apart.
The last remaining Daimon ran.
Danger grabbed the dagger from the ground, then launched it at his back. It caught him dead between his shoulders. Like the others before him, he shattered into dust.
Alexion held his hand out for the dagger to return to him. It flew through the air until he had it firmly in his grasp.
Danger gave him a peeved stare. “You know, those parlor tricks would be much more impressive if they had actually helped me.”
With a wry twist to his lips, he handed her the dagger. “I wanted to see what you had in you.”
“Piss and vinegar. Next time you don’t help me, I’ll unleash it fully against you.”
He had to admit that he loved seeing the fire in her eyes whenever she was angry. The passion pinkened her cheeks and made him wonder what she would look like naked beneath him. She would definitely be a wildcat and that made him smile even against his will.
What he wouldn’t give for a taste of Danger.
“I don’t find it funny,” she said testily.
“Believe me, I don’t find the idea of you getting hurt funny either.”
“Then why are you smiling?”
“I’m smiling because you are absolutely beautiful.”
Danger couldn’t have been more stunned had he told her to take a flying jump off the Eiffel Tower. It’d been a long time since a man, especially one as handsome as Alexion, had complimented her. She’d almost forgotten the weird fluttering such a thing caused in the stomach. The little bit of embarrassment that was counterbalanced by a slice of pride and gratitude. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The weirdest part was, in that moment, she wanted to kiss him. Badly.
But that was nuts and she knew it.
He’s not even human.
Neither are you.
Well, her mind had a point, but still … This was neither the time nor the place.
Alexion glanced at Marco, then off into the direction Kyros had fled. The familiar look of torment came back into his hazel-green eyes, as if he wanted to go after his friend. It was followed by a look of reservation that said he knew how futile that action would be.
“Give him time to think it over,” she said gently, feeling for him. “He’ll come around.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
He’d be dead, most likely by Alexion’s hand. And as distasteful as she found that, she could only imagine how much more so he did. Therefore, it would only be cruel to point it out, and she had a feeling that Alexion had had enough cruelty in his life.
“Can’t Ash tell you the outcome? I know he can see the future.”
“Yes and no. Neither he nor I can see the future when it relates to us or to anyone close to us.”
That didn’t seem fair to her. What would be the point of seeing the future if you couldn’t help the people closest to you? “It must stink to know everyone’s future but your own.”
He let out a tired breath. “You’ve no idea. It’s actually cruel in my opinion. But then maybe it doesn’t matter after all since futures can and do change. Something as simple as you’re supposed to turn right down a street one day … in your bones you know it, and yet for reasons no one understands, you decide to debunk fate and go left. Now instead of meeting the spouse of your dreams and having a house full of kids, you get flattened by an ice-cream truck and spend the next five years in physical therapy recovering from the injuries; or worse, you die from it. And all because you exercised free will and turned the opposite way on a whim.”
That was something to give her nightmares. It really didn’t bear thinking on since it made her wonder where she had gone so tragically wrong with her own life. Was it fate or free will that had screwed her over?
“Now that’s really morbid, Doc Sunshine. Thank you for that one.”
He made a small face, as if he realized just how doom-and-gloom he’d been. “It can work in reverse too.”
“Yeah, but I notice you didn’t think of the positive one first. Freud would have a blast with you, wouldn’t he?”
“Probably so,” he said flippantly. “I’ll have to ask him when I get back.”
She paused at his words and what they signified. “You know Sigmund Freud?”
The grin he gave her was absolutely dazzling in its charm and beauty. “No, but I had you going there for a minute, didn’t I?”
Danger shook her head. There was something so oddly infectious about him. She hated the thought that she could be charmed so easily, and yet he was doing it little by little.
“So what should we do with Marco?” she asked, returning to the matter at hand.
Alexion looked at the body. “There’s not much to be done now.”
Danger did a double take as she realized the body had already decomposed. She stared at the blank spot where he’d been lying just a few minutes ago. The only thing left to mark where he’d been was his clothes.
“Mon Dieu,” she breathed. “Do we all do that?”
Alexion’s tone was emotionless. “All humans do eventually.”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of anger that was building inside her at the thought of just evaporating like that. “But it usually takes more than five minutes.”
“Not for a Dark-Hunter.”
Danger continued to stare at the spot. It was highly disturbing. She wasn’t even sure why. Only that it seemed a body as strong as theirs, which was immune to so much, shouldn’t just crumble away in a matter of minutes.
The finality of the death hit her hard.
Alexion pulled her into his arms. Her first instinct was to push him away, but honestly, she needed his touch right now. She needed something to ground her and to keep her from panicking over a reality that had never hit her before.
Ultimate death.
No Artemis to bring them back. No heaven. Just total annihilation and desolate pain. She could be like that man Alexion had showed her earlier. Without hope. Without anything at all.
“It’s all right, Danger,” he said softly against the top of her head as he cradled her. “I don’t know if it’ll make you feel better, but he had started killing humans.”
In a way it did, in a way it didn’t. “I don’t want to die like that, Alexion.”
And then she realized something …
He had. He’d died alone with the woman he’d loved dropping his soul and refusing to help him.
How could his wife have done such a thing? It was so cold. So callous.
Danger pulled back ever so slightly to look up at him. “Is that what happened to your body?”
He nodded. “It’s why I don’t have one now.”
But he felt so real, so solid. “Then how can you be here to hold me?”
There was a tenderness in his eyes that fired her blood. He might be a destroyer but he understood compassion, and she truly appreciated his showing it to her now when she needed it most.
“Acheron has a lot of powers and luckily reincarnation is one of them. This temporary body is identical to yours, except it really is indestructible. Cut my head off and I can still poof right back here.”
That didn’t make sense to her. “I don’t understand. Then why were you afraid of the Charonte?”
He gave a nervous laugh. “The Charontes don’t just destroy the body. They destroy the ousia.”
“The what?”
He smoothed the hair back from her face as he explained it. “It’s the part of us that exists beyond the body or the soul. The soul is our spiritual part. The ousia is what gives us our personality. It is our essence, our life force if you will. Without it, there’s nothing left of us. It is the ultimate death, from which there is no return of any kind. A Charonte is one of the few things that can easily end what little existence I have left. And though my existence might suck a lot, I’ll take it with all its drawbacks over total destruction any day.”
She still didn’t understand. “But if Acheron is so powerful that he can grant you a temporary body, why can’t he give you a permanent one?”
Alexion grew quiet and took a step back.
His face had turned to stone again, letting her know that she had touched on a very sensitive subject. “C’mon, Alexion, spill it. There’s something even weirder about you, isn’t there? Something that scares you.”
She could see it in his eyes.
He moved away from her, back toward the car. She went after him, not really expecting an answer.
But after a few seconds he said, “Acheron was young when he brought me back. At that time, he didn’t have a full understanding of his powers, and the gods know Artemis wasn’t forthcoming with instructions. If she’d had her way, he wouldn’t have learned anything.”
A bad feeling went through her. “So basically what you’re saying is he screwed up with you.”
He nodded without looking at her. “If I’d died even a hundred years later, it would have been a different story for me. But what was done to me is irreversible even for Acheron. I can never again be human or live as a man. There’s nothing to be done for me. Ever.”
He took that with remarkable dignity, but then he’d had a long time to get used to the idea. She, herself, would still be pissed off that Acheron had screwed her up. “I’m really sorry, Alexion.”
“It’s okay. At least he cared enough to save me. If he hadn’t…” He glanced over to where Marco had been.
Crap. She didn’t like the thought of him dying like that at all. She supposed he was right. What he had now was much better than the alternative.
Danger tilted her head to indicate the direction of the car. “Why don’t we go get something to eat? I’m really hungry.”
“Sure.”
The car unlocked by itself the instant they drew near it. Danger shook her head at his powers. He was every bit as scary at times as Acheron.
She got into the car on the driver’s side while he entered on the passenger’s side.
“So what name would you rather I call you?” she asked as she headed out of the parking lot. “Ias or Alexion?”
He gave her a devilish grin that set fire to her hormones. “I would rather you call me ‘lover.’” He wagged his brows playfully at her.
Danger rolled her eyes. Like all men with a one-track mind, he was incorrigible.
“Don’t blame me,” Alexion said in an almost offended tone. “I can’t help it. You should see the way you fight. It really turned me on.”
“Could you tell me how to turn you off?”
He snorted. “Go two hundred years without sex and then ask that question. There’s not a shower cold enough.” His gaze trailed over to the tennis courts they were passing where a handful of college students were playing. “Aren’t co-eds supposed to be women of loose—”
She made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. “Don’t you even go there.”
“Well, if you don’t want me…”
She cut him a mischievous look of her own. “I never said that, now did I?”
Chapter 13
Kyros entered his house, his hands still shaking. He couldn’t believe what he’d seen tonight. What he’d heard. Marco had been slain.
And Ias was alive.
Ias had been alive for all these centuries.
Rage and grief battled relief and happiness. He was so confused by his emotions that he didn’t know what to feel or think. Part of him wanted to embrace his old friend.
As men, they had been closer than mere brothers. There was a special bond that came from entrusting your life to another man’s hands, a bond that came from him entrusting you with his. It was communal and unbreakable. They had shared that.
How many times had they fought together? Starved on the long marches to and from battle? When one had fallen from wounds, the other had stood over him and battled the attackers off until the fight ended. Then the one standing had rendered medical aid to the other.
