The Dark-Hunters (291 page)

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.

Back to back, they had fought countless times, keeping one another safe.

He owed Ias more than could ever be repaid by coin or by deed. It was that part of himself that was ecstatic that Ias was alive.

But the other part of him was so betrayed, so hurt. How could Ias have survived and not told him?

How?

Why hadn’t Acheron ever mentioned it? He more than any other knew just how much Ias’s death had torn him apart. In the beginning, the loss of Ias had been more than he could bear. He’d felt so responsible. If he had told Ias about his wife, then his friend wouldn’t have made the tragic mistake of thinking she loved him. But he’d known that knowledge would have destroyed Ias, who loved Liora more than anything else.

Even his own life had been forfeit because he’d kept silent. He’d died protecting Ias from Lycantes, who’d been Liora’s lover, the first time Lycantes had gone for Ias.

Why didn’t I ever tell him?

For centuries he had carried that guilt and second-guessing on his shoulders like Atlas. There had been very few nights over the last nine thousand years when remorse hadn’t gnawed at him.

Every time a Dark-Hunter had talked about the possibility of going free, of having a lover drop the medallion that contained their soul before it was returned to them, he’d remembered his friend.

More than that, Ias had been the one who had given all the Dark-Hunters their out clause. Without Ias, Artemis or Acheron or whoever had come up with it wouldn’t have permitted them to regain their souls or go free. Ever.

But in spite of it all, Kyros knew one thing, Ias wouldn’t lie to him. It wasn’t in his friend to do such a thing. His friend had never been anything but honorable.

But was this Ias the same one who had been mortal?

“What are you doing?”

Kyros looked to see Stryker standing just inside the doorway of his office where he was headed. With a nonchalance he didn’t feel, Kyros pushed past him and sat behind his carved mahogany desk in a burgundy leather chair. “I’m contemplating.”

“Contemplating what?”

He pinned the Daimon with a murderous glare. “Did you know the destroyer was once my best friend?”

Stryker paused as those words hit him like cast stones. Now there was something he hadn’t seen coming. He’d always wondered where the Alexion had come from.

But let’s face it, Acheron wasn’t really into sharing any kind of information with him, especially nothing Stryker might be able to use against him. That was the shame about enemies. They were ever tight-lipped.

But his mind whirled with this newfound knowledge. So the Alexion had once been human … And he had known Kyros …

Good. He could work with this.

“You must be feeling very betrayed right now,” Stryker said in a calculatedly sympathetic voice. “Did he say anything to you?”

“He said he came to save me from following
you.
”

Stryker kept his face blank. He had to play this carefully if he were going to pull it back from the fire that was waiting to engulf it and ruin all his plans.

“Interesting.”

So, the Alexion wanted to save Stryker’s pawn from death. This could be extremely beneficial. The Alexion would think twice before he damned his friend to Shadedom and it would give Stryker a pawn to use against him. Surely the Alexion wouldn’t kill the very man he’d come to save.

Oh, yeah, this was very good news indeed. “You do know he’s lying to you, correct?”

Kyros shook his head as he leaned back in his chair. “I don’t think so.”

“Don’t you?” Stryker asked as he moved forward to push aside the black leather pencil cup. He sat on a corner of the desk. “Use your head, Kyros. He claims to be your friend, but where has he been all these centuries?”

“He said he couldn’t make contact.”

“Couldn’t or
wouldn’t?
”

Kyros’s eyes narrowed on him. “Just say what you’re going to say, Stryker. I’m in no mood for your bullshit right now.”

“Fine,” he said, leaning forward to meet Kyros’s gaze levelly. “What I have to say is this. If he really is your friend, where has he been all this time while you’ve been languishing in the backwoods of hell? How many times have you requested Acheron move you from Mississippi into an urban area where there is something going on other than a keg party? And how many times has your request gone unanswered?”

Kyros looked away from him. “Ash had his reasons.”

The poor pathetic little fool. He had no idea what he was dealing with when it came to either Acheron or himself.

“Did he?” Stryker asked. “Or was it your
friend
who refused your request? Think about it, Kyros. Acheron is a busy man who doesn’t have time to oversee all the thousands of Dark-Hunters out there that he has created to destroy us. Who would he defer to in such matters? Hmm?”

Stryker didn’t give him time to answer. He didn’t want Kyros to formulate a logical argument before he planted doubts in his mind. “His right hand, that’s who. The one he trusts above all others to carry out his orders.”

He tsked. “Hell, the Alexion even has the ability to command part of my brother’s powers. There are some of us who believe that your friend, the Alexion, even shares the blood of Acheron. So you know it’s your so-called friend who has been responsible for your assignments. He was the one who didn’t think you deserved to be around more people. And even if he wasn’t the one making the decision, surely such a
friend
would have the ability to sway Acheron’s mind and intervene to
save
you long before now. Wouldn’t he?”

He saw the uncertainty in Kyros’s eyes and forced himself not to smile in victory.

“They’re both playing you, Kyros. Think about it. This is just another mind fuck. They’re off laughing at you right now. This instant. Both of them. The Alexion is here to kill you all, not save you. If he’d really wanted to save you, he would have given you a decent assignment in a thriving city long ago. But he didn’t, did he?”

Stryker tried to look sympathetic. “Trust me, there won’t be a single Dark-Hunter left alive in this area once he returns to Acheron unless you kill the Alexion first.”

Stryker slid off the desk, moving closer to him. “Already you’ve seen his work. Wasn’t Marco where I told you he would be?”

“Yes.”

Good, his Daimons had done what they were supposed to. “Was he not killed how I told you?”

“Yes.”

“And was the Alexion not there?”

Kyros nodded. “Everything you’ve told me has come to pass.”

“Then who is lying to you?”

His answer was automatic. “They are.”

“Yes,” Stryker said, finally smiling. “They’re lying and so what are we going to do about it?”

Kyros gave him a hard, sinister glare. “Kill him.”

*   *   *

Danger watched Alexion as he sat at the small round table looking completely defeated. For a man who claimed to have no emotions whatsoever, he was definitely showing them now.

At his insistence that they not return to her house where they could be found again by the demon (or for all they knew, the demon might still be waiting for them), they’d rented a hotel room.

To be honest, Danger was a little nervous about staying here. She didn’t like feeling this exposed. If the maid were to open the door during the day and let sunlight in …

Alexion, according to his own admission, wouldn’t explode into dust, but she would. And no offense, being roasted wasn’t something she wanted to experience unless it involved one of her friends telling embarrassing stories about her.

But Alexion had assured her that he wouldn’t let any harm befall her.

I suppose this is the test then.

If she survived the day, he was honest. If she didn’t … she would be seriously pissed.

And dead.

In the meantime, it was just the two of them in the small hotel room. And to be honest, Alexion looked weary and beat by what had happened with Kyros. The poor man had been so upset that he hadn’t even touched his dinner.

“He’ll come around,” she said as she pulled her boots and socks off.

He looked up at her. “I wish I had your faith.”

“Then have faith in Acheron. That’s what you keep telling me to do. Would he have sent you here to fail?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice tired and yet strangely determined.

His answer surprised her. “No he wouldn’t. That would be cruel.”

“Yes,” he insisted. “He would have. As Acheron would say, sometimes you have to fail in order to succeed. Whether we want it or not, there is an order in the universe. It’s hard to understand and many, many times it’s hard to swallow, but it’s there and our choices are our own. Failure is part of life and no one can succeed every time they try something.”

She huffed at that. “Well, that sucks.”

He nodded in agreement. “But failure is the price of having free will.”

“Maybe we would be better off without it then.”

He gave a short laugh. “That’s what Acheron thinks most of the time. He really hates free will, but he will never interfere with it.”

“How could he?”

Alexion grew quiet again.

She could sense his restlessness and yet he sat there perfectly still. She’d eaten twice during the night. He hadn’t. He’d only said that he wasn’t hungry. But then given the fact that he couldn’t really taste food, she could understand that.

“Are you going to come to bed?”