Inferno (22 page)

“What’s what like?”

Nick swallowed hard as he forced himself to ask what he needed to have an answer to. “Killing someone.”

Acheron hesitated as if reliving something brutal in his own past. “It sucks. For both of you. Especially the first time.” He paused for a second before he continued. “Savitar has a saying…”

Nick had never met Savitar, but from the way Acheron talked about him, he assumed the ancient being had been some kind of mentor to Ash over the centuries. And an extremely powerful one at that.

“When you first take someone’s life, two people die. The person you just killed and the human being you used to be. You’re never the same after that—it changes you forever and not in a good way—and no matter how hard you try, you can’t go back to the innocence you had. Ever.”

Nick turned left as he considered that. “So who was your first?”

“My brother.”

Nick gasped at that most unexpected answer. Ash? Fratricide? Had he heard that correctly?

Surely not. Ash was a good guy. He would never take his own brother’s life. Would he?

No, not unless there was a
really
good reason for it.

“What was that?” He glanced over to Ash, whose face was completely stoic. “Why? How? Was it an accident?”

Ash let out a long, tired sigh. “Not an accident at all. Purely and ruthlessly meditated. I stabbed him while he was asleep in his bed.”

That hit Nick like a punch to his breadbasket. “How old were you?”

“Not much older than you are … Just a baby with a bad temper.”

Chills ran over him at the harshness of killing someone while he slept. Man, that was cold, and it was so out of Acheron’s character. “Why would you do something like that?”

Ash made a bitter sound before he answered. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.… Luckily, even though he died, they brought him back. But it didn’t matter. What I did was inexcusable. And in my heart, I knew I had killed my own brother for what was basically my own selfish reasons and jealousy. That I had looked right into his eyes when he awoke in pain, and I saw the shock, fear, and horror he felt as his life drained out of him and his warm blood covered my hand. I can still feel it sometimes … along with the shame and disgust I had as I realized I wasn’t the person I thought myself to be. In that one awful moment, I saw myself for what I really was—a heartless animal who deserved nothing but hatred. The reasons didn’t matter. They still don’t. And death, even when necessary and justified, will haunt you forever.”

Nick tried to imagine the emotions Ash was talking about, but really he couldn’t. And honestly, he was grateful for that mercy. There were some experiences no one needed to have.

“What about the Daimons you kill?” They were the demons who stole human souls to elongate their lives. If a Dark-Hunter didn’t find and kill the Daimon, the stolen human soul would die and be lost forever, giving their victim eternal torment. The only way to save the human soul was to kill the Daimon before they totally devoured it. “Surely you don’t care about killing them.”

“Nick … they are still living, breathing people and they don’t deserve the curse Apollo gave them over something their ancient ancestors did. They have families and friends they love, who love them back. People who will be torn apart by grief when they’re gone. Every sentient creature has plans and hopes for their future. And every one of them will look at you with terror in their eyes as they realize that the life they cherished is over and that they will never again see the people they love. It doesn’t matter how warranted their death is, you will still feel like shit afterwards, and wonder what kind of monster you are for doing what you did.”

Ash ground his teeth. “Whatever deserved hatred or indignation you hold toward them, or the heady rush of adrenaline that comes when it’s self-defense and you have no choice … it will wither beneath the tsunami of your guilt and self-loathing. In time, if you’re lucky, you will make peace with your actions, and while you’re awake, you might even convince your conscience that your actions saved others and were completely justified and sanctioned. But at night, when you’re asleep, or any time your unguarded thoughts travel without you, you will be haunted by their eyes and faces, and by the knowledge that your life was bought at the expense of theirs.… And
that,
little brother, will eat at you forever.”

“Is that why Kyrian seldom sleeps?”

“It’s why none of us sleep for very long.”

Nick gripped the wheel as he tried to come to terms with everything he’d learned and everything that had happened tonight. But what disturbed him was the fear that he wouldn’t always have the same humanity Acheron spoke of once the Malachai took him over. He just couldn’t see his heartless father being haunted by anything. “Do you think that’s true of demons, too? Of the Daimons who kill humans?”

“I know it’s true, Nick. And while there are rare exceptions of barbaric creatures who are truly without conscience or compassion, most are not.”

“But what if you’re born broken? What if your genes are so tainted that you have no choice except to be a killer?”

Ash shook his head wearily. “You have got to quit fixating on this, Nick. We all have a choice. Believe me. I was born out of the darkest corner of hell and inside me lives a vengeful beast that wants to lash out and destroy everything it touches, without hesitation or prejudice.”

That news floored him. Was it true?

“But you’re always so calm and relaxed.”

“I’ve learned to hide it well. But it doesn’t mean that it’s not there, just below the calm surface, salivating for the nearest jugular.… You are not your father, little brother. You will never be like him.”

If only he could make Ash’s conviction his own. “You’re the only one who thinks that.”

“It doesn’t matter what other people think. The only opinion that really matters is yours. We are all the writers of our lives. We can make our stories comedies or tragedies. Tales of horror, or of inspiration.
Your
attitude and
your
fortitude and courage are what determine your destiny, Nick.… Life is hard and it sucks for all. Every person you meet is waging his or her own war against a callous universe that is plotting against them. And we are all battle-weary. But in the midst of our hell, there is always something we can hold on to, whether it’s a dream of the future or a memory of the past, or a warm hand that soothes us. We just have to take a moment during the fight to remember that we’re not alone, and that we’re not just fighting for ourselves. We’re fighting for the people we love.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Ash laughed bitterly. “Most of the time. But, admittedly, there are many other times when I think I’m as full of bullshit as you do.”

Nick grinned even though he hated the way Acheron could see into his thoughts. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“Anytime.”

He paused as he let Ash’s words play through his thoughts for a minute. But for better or worse, he kept coming back to one basic fear.… “Ash, do you know what keeps me up at night?”

“At your age, I’d imagine thoughts of scantily clad women.”

Nick snorted. “How very stereotypical of you.”

“Hey, I was your age once, and I’ve known a lot more of us over the centuries. But honestly, I do know what you’re thinking. And I know what you hide from others. Deep inside, in places we don’t want to admit to owning, those of us who have sperm donors instead of fathers wish that once, just once, they would look at us like a father is supposed to look at his kid. That they would be proud to call us their children. And alongside that bitter desire we hate ourselves for feeling comes the fear that we’re going to be just like them one day, and that our children will hate us the way we hate them.”

“Yeah. Exactly. I don’t want to be my father.”

“You don’t have to be … there’s a scene in
The Iliad
that—”

“The what?”

“I weep at the modern educational system,” Ash said under his breath. Then louder, “It’s a story written by a man named Homer about the Trojan War.”

“Oh, I know that.”

Ash inclined his head to him. “There’s a scene in
The Iliad
when Hector is about to leave for battle where he’s talking to his wife, Andromache, and he reaches for their son, Scamandrius, who recoils from him because he doesn’t recognize his father while Hector is dressed in his armor. Hector laughs, then removes his helm and puts it on the ground so that Scamandrius can see his face. Then he soothes his son and prays aloud for him.…

“‘Zeus, all you other gods, grant that this child, my son, may become, like me, preeminent among the Trojans, as strong and brave as me. Grant that he may rule Troy with strength. May people someday say, as he returns from war, ‘This man is far better than his father.’

“
That
, Nick, is what everyone should strive for … not to be the same as our sperm donors, but better. Your father has shown you what you don’t want to be. Now it’s up to you to take the lessons he’s taught you and use them to do better. We should all try to leave the world a better place than what we found when we got here.”

Nick fell silent at those words for several minutes. That was what he wanted. When he died, he didn’t want the world to be glad to have him out of it. “Is that what happened with you?”

“That is for the world to decide. But I can tell you this. I try and I do my best every day. In the end, that’s all we can do.”

Nick considered that for the rest of the way as he navigated traffic.

He parked the car in front of Casey’s house. There wasn’t a light on inside the sprawling mansion at all. It looked completely deserted. “Do you think her parents have been notified?”

Ash went still as if he were listening to the ether. After a few seconds, he nodded. “They’re on their way to her.”

Good. He knew firsthand how awful it was to be alone in a hospital. No one should be stuck like that.

Getting out of the car, he locked the door, then retrieved his stuff from the trunk.

Nick hesitated. “Where do you think I should put the keys?”

“Under the mat on the front porch. You can text her and let her know where they are.”

“You’re brilliant.”

Ash broke out with a cocky grin. “I know.”

Laughing, Nick did what he said. He was on his way back to the street when a weird wave went through him. He thought he’d imagined it until he saw the way Ash stood on the pathway, tense and alert.

Completely still.

“You felt that, didn’t you?” Nick whispered.

Ash gave a subtle nod.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” Ash moved closer to Nick as if to protect him. “And honestly, Nick, that’s what concerns me. It’s not often I don’t have an answer.”

You should have killed him.…

Those echoing words came like a subtle breeze that was so light, Nick wasn’t sure it was real.

You have to take your place.…

“Do you hear that?” he asked Ash.

“Hear what?”

The air around them went perfectly still. Like standing in the eye of a hurricane.

Before Nick could react, Acheron used his powers to teleport them from Casey’s house, into Nick’s bedroom in his condo. The quickness of it disoriented Nick to the point that he thought he’d hurl.

Choking on bile, he forced his stomach to back down. “Next time, warn a brother before you snatch him around, Ash. That stuff’s harsh and I’d hate to barf on your expensive boots.”

“Yeah, and I’d hate to have to kill you for it, too.”

Nick started to respond until he looked up and realized that for once Acheron wasn’t wearing his opaque sunglasses. He was immediately assaulted by two simultaneous and shocking truths about his friend.

One … without those sunglasses on, Acheron was absolutely beautiful. His every feature was perfectly sculpted like a major work of art.

But what really slapped him hardest was Acheron’s eyes. There was nothing human about them. They swirled with a deep glowing silver … like mercury in a centrifuge. Nick had never seen or heard of anything like them. Those weren’t the black, light-sensitive eyes of a Dark-Hunter.

They were the eyes of something far more powerful and ancient.

“Dude,” Nick breathed. “What’s the deal with your eyes?”

The sunglasses returned immediately to cover them. “Sorry about that. You okay?”

No, he wasn’t. “What are you, Ash? Really?”

“The last of my kind on this earth. You know that.”

Yeah, but … “Did all Atlanteans have eyes like yours?”

“No.”

“Why do they swirl?”

A tic started in Ash’s jaw, letting him know that Ash was extremely self-conscious about them … which must be why he always kept them covered no matter how dark it was.

“Why are your eyes blue, Nick? Bad genetics. Your eyes are as much an anomaly as mine. Just more people happen to share your mutation.”

Suddenly, he felt bad for saying anything. “I’m sorry, Ash. If you want the truth, though, I think they’re cool as all get-out. Can I see them again?”

“I’m not a specimen in a museum, hung on a wall for your amusement.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

Ash held his hand up in irritation. “I know, Nick. I do. But I’ve taken a lot of grief over them through the centuries. You’ve no idea … and it is a serious hot button for me.”

And Ash wasn’t as calm as he appeared. Nick made a mental note of what he’d said in the car about his temper. Whatever he did, he didn’t want to push Ash over the edge.

“I still think they’re awesome.”

“That’s because you haven’t had to deal with the negative aspects of a deformity people have never understood.”

In that moment, Nick had an epiphany of what Ash’s childhood must have been like. Ancient societies had been even less tolerant of people who were different than modern-day high schools. And for whatever reason, Ash had been raised without his parents to protect him.

Oh yeah, his past s-u-c-k-e-d.

“Did your brother have eyes like you?”

Ash shook his head. “His eyes were the same color as yours … it was how people told us apart at a glance.”