The Dark-Hunters (137 page)

She couldn’t. Not yet. Even though Zarek scared her. Even though at this moment he did seem unbalanced and terrifying.

He hadn’t really hurt her. He’d only frightened her, and that wasn’t something anyone should die for.

After this, she could well understand how he could have snapped one night and killed everyone in the village he had been entrusted to guard.

Would he snap like that with her?

Because she was immortal, he couldn’t kill her, but he could hurt her.

A lesser judge might go ahead and render verdict based on his actions tonight alone. She was tempted herself, but she wouldn’t. Not yet.

“Are you all right?”
Sasha asked after she refused to respond to his demand for a verdict.

“Yes.”

But she was lying and she had a feeling Sasha knew it. Zarek terrified her in a way no one ever had before.

Over the centuries, she had judged countless men and women. Murderers, traitors, blasphemers. You name it.

But none of them had ever scared her. None of them had ever made her want to go running to her sisters for protection.

Zarek did.

There was something about him that really wasn’t sane. She was used to dealing with people who tried to hide their insanity. Men who could play gallant heroes while inside they were cold and cruel.

Zarek lashed out and yet he hadn’t hurt her.

At least not yet.

But his bullying tactics were going to have to go.

She remembered Acheron’s words to her: “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly…”

What was inside Zarek’s heart?

Expelling a long breath, Astrid reached out with her senses and tried to locate Zarek.

As before, she couldn’t find him at all. It was as if he were so used to keeping himself hidden that he didn’t register on anyone’s radar. Not even her heightened one.

“Where is he?”
she asked Sasha.

“In his room, I think.”

“Where are you?”

Sasha came and sat at her feet.
“Artemis is right. For the sake of mankind, he should be put down. There’s something seriously wrong with that man.”

Astrid rubbed his ears as she considered that.
“I don’t know. Acheron bartered with Artemis so that I could judge Zarek. He wouldn’t have done that for no reason. Only a fool barters with Artemis for anything. And Acheron is far from foolish. There has to be something good in Zarek or else—”

“Acheron will always sacrifice for his men. It’s what he does,”
Sasha scoffed.

“Perhaps…”

But she knew better. Acheron would always do whatever was the greater good for all involved. He had never before interfered when it was time to judge or execute a rogue Dark-Hunter, and yet he had asked her personally to judge this one …

He hadn’t allowed Zarek to be killed nine hundred years ago for destroying his village and killing innocent humans.

If Zarek truly posed a danger, Acheron would never have bargained with them for a hearing or allowed the Dark-Hunter to live. There had to be more to this.

She had to believe Acheron.

She had to.

*   *   *

Zarek sat alone in his room, watching the snow fall outside through the open curtains. He was seated in the rocking chair, but remained motionless. After his “meltdown,” he’d gone through the house replacing bulbs and picking up the broken pictures. Now everything was eerily quiet.

He had to get out of here before he snapped again. Why wouldn’t the storm break?

The hall light came on, temporarily blinding him.

He frowned at that. Why did Astrid use lights when she was blind?

He heard her padding down the hallway toward the den. Part of him wanted to join her, to talk to her. But he had never been one for idle conversation.

He didn’t know how to make small talk. No one had ever been interested in anything he had to say.

So he kept to himself and that suited him just fine.

“Sasha?”

The sound of her melodic voice went through him like shattered glass.

“Sit here while I make another fire.”

He almost got up to help, but forced himself to stay in his chair. His days as a servant to the rich were over. If she wanted a fire, then she was just as able to make one as he was.

Of course he could see to light the kindling and his hands were rough from hard work.

Hers were soft. Delicate.

Fragile hands that could soothe …

Before he realized it, he was headed for the den.

He found Astrid kneeling before the hearth, trying to push new logs onto the iron grate. She was struggling with it and doing her best not to get burned in the process.

Without a word, he pulled her back.

She gasped in alarm.

“Move out of my way,” he snarled.

“I wasn’t in your way. You got into mine.”

When she refused to move, he picked her up and dropped her into the dark green armchair.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her expression startled.

“Nothing.” He returned to the hearth and made the fire. “I can’t believe that with all the money you have, you don’t have someone here to help you.”

“I don’t need anyone to help me.”

He paused at her words. “No? How do you get around on your own?”

“I just do. I can’t stand for anyone to treat me like I’m helpless. I happen to be just as capable as anyone else.”

“Bully for you, princess.” But he felt the swell of another wave of respect for her. In the world he’d grown up in, women like her never did anything for themselves. They’d bought people like him to serve their every whim.

“Why do you call me ‘princess’ all the time?”

“It’s what you are, aren’t you? Your parents’ shining darling.”

She frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I can smell it on you. You’re one of those people who has never had a moment’s worry in your life. Everything you’ve ever wanted, you’ve gotten.”

“Not everything.”

“No? What have you ever lacked?”

“My eyesight.”

Zarek fell silent as her words rang in his ears. “Yeah, being blind sucks.”

“How would you know?”

“Been there, done that.”

6

“You were blind?” Astrid asked.

Zarek didn’t answer. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed that to slip out. It was something he’d never spoken of, not even to Jess.

Only Acheron knew and Acheron had thankfully kept the secret.

Unwilling to visit his past again tonight and the pain that waited there, Zarek left the den and returned to his room where he locked the door so that he could wait out the storm in peace.

At least alone he didn’t have to worry about betraying himself or hurting anyone.

But as he sat in his chair, it wasn’t images of the past that haunted him.

It was the scent of roses and wood, the clear pale eyes of a woman.

The remembered feel of her soft, cold cheek underneath his fingertips. Her damp tousled hair that framed features which were feminine and inviting.

A woman who didn’t flinch from him or cringe.

She was astounding and surprising. If he were someone else, he might even go back to the den where she sat with her wolf and make her laugh. But he didn’t know how to make people laugh. He could recognize humor, most especially irony, but he wasn’t the kind of man to make jokes or nurture smiles from other people. Especially not a woman.

That fact hadn’t bothered him before.

Tonight it did.

*   *   *

“
Is he guilty?
”

Astrid started at Artemis’s voice in her head. Every night since Zarek had been brought into her house, Artemis had bugged her with that one question—over and over again, until she felt like Joan of Arc being tormented by voices.

“Not yet, Artemis. He just woke up.”

“Well, what’s taking so long? As long as he’s living, Acheron is on edge and I positively hate it when he’s agitated. Judge him rogue already.”

“Why do you want Zarek dead so much?”

Silence descended. At first she thought Artemis had left her, so when the response came, it surprised her.
“Acheron doesn’t like to see anyone suffer. Especially not one of his Dark-Hunters. So long as Zarek lives, Acheron hurts, and in spite of what Acheron thinks, I don’t like to see him hurting.”

Astrid had never known Artemis to say such a thing. The goddess wasn’t exactly known for her kindness or compassion, or for thinking of anyone besides herself.

“Do you love Acheron?”

Artemis’s voice was sharp when she answered,
“Acheron is no concern of yours, Astrid. Only Zarek is, and I swear if I lose any more of Acheron’s loyalty over this, you will be very sorry for it.”

Astrid stiffened at her hostile tone and threat. It would take more than Artemis to hurt her, and if the goddess wanted a fight, she had better come prepared.

She might not like her job anymore, but Astrid took it seriously and no one, most especially Artemis, was going to bully her into a premature verdict.

“If I judge Zarek too soon, don’t you think Acheron would be angry and demand a rejudging?”

Artemis made a rude noise.

“Besides, you told Acheron that you wouldn’t interfere, Artemis. You made him swear that he wouldn’t contact me to try to sway my verdict and yet here you are trying to do that. How do you think he’d react if I told him of your actions?”

“Fine,”
she snapped.
“I won’t disturb you again. But get up with it already!”

Alone finally, Astrid sat in the den, thinking over what she should do next, how she could push Zarek to see if he would break again and turn more violent.

He had attacked her house, but not her. Sasha had attacked him, and though he had hurt the wolf, the wolf had hurt him much more. It had been an honest fight between them and Zarek hadn’t tried to kill Sasha for the attack. He’d gotten the wolf off him and then left him alone.

Instead of seeking revenge on Sasha, Zarek had given him water.

Zarek’s worst crime so far was belligerency and the fact that he had a truly frightening presence. Yet he did kind things that were at odds with his surliness.

Her common sense said to do as Artemis asked, find him guilty and run.

Her gut instinct told her to wait.

So long as he didn’t strike out in anger at her or Sasha, she would follow this through.

But if he ever did strike out at them, then she was out the door and he was toast.

“There is no such thing as an innocent man…”

Astrid let out a tired breath. She’d said that to her sister Atty the last time they had spoken to each other. Part of her honestly believed it. Never once in all these centuries had she found someone innocent. Every man she had ever judged had lied to her.

All of them had tried to deceive her.

Some had tried to bribe her.

Some had tried to escape her.

Some had tried to beat her.

And one had tried to kill her.

She wondered which category Zarek would fall into.

Taking a deep breath for fortification, Astrid got up and went to her room to dig around in the clothes Sasha wore when he was in human form.

“What are you doing?”
Sasha asked as he joined her.

“Zarek needs clothes,” she said out loud without thinking.

Sasha nipped at her hands, and nosed his clothes back into the basket in the bottom of the closet.
“He can get his own. Those are mine.”

Astrid pulled them back out.
“C’mon, Sasha, be nice. He doesn’t have any clothes here and the ones he’s wearing are ragged.”

“So?”

She sorted through the pants and shirts, wishing she could see them.
“You were the one who was complaining about having to look at a naked man. I thought you’d prefer to see some clothing on him.”

“I also complain about the fact that I have to piss outside and eat out of bowls, but I don’t see you letting me use the bathroom or tableware around him.”

She shook her head at him.
“Would you stop? You nag like an old woman.”
She picked up a heavy sweater.

“No,”
Sasha snapped.
“Not the burgundy sweater. That’s my favorite.”

“Sasha, I swear. You are so spoiled!”

“And that’s my sweater. Put it back.”

She got up to take it to Zarek.

Sasha followed, complaining the whole way.

“I’ll buy you a new one,”
she promised.

“I don’t want a new one. I want
that
one.”

“He won’t hurt it.”

“Yes he will. Look at his clothes. They’re ruined. And I don’t want his body touching something I wear. He’ll contaminate it.”

“Oh, good grief, Sasha. Grow up. You’re four hundred years old and you’re acting like a whelp. It’s not like he has cooties or anything.”

“Yes he does!”

She glared down her leg where she could feel him. He grabbed the sweater with his teeth and pulled it out of her hands.

“Sasha!” she snapped out loud, running after him. “Give me that sweater or I swear
I
will see you gelded.”

The wolf ran through the house.

Astrid went after him as fast as she could. She relied on her memory as to where things should be.

Someone had moved the coffee table. She hissed as her leg collided with the corner of it and she lost her balance. She reached out with her hands to catch herself, only to feel the tabletop tilting. It gave under her weight.

The glass top fell sideways, sending things flying.

Something hit her in the head and something shattered.

Astrid froze, afraid to move.

She didn’t know what had broken, but the sound had been unmistakable.

Where was the glass?

Her heart pounding, she cursed her blindness. She didn’t dare move for fear of cutting herself.