The Dark-Hunters (624 page)

Giving Nike his golden helm to keep as a memento of their battles together, Cratus kissed her brow before he headed down the mountain toward the hall of the gods. His embossed shield as heavy as his conscience, he leaned on his thick spear to keep him steady on his path.

As promised, Nike stayed behind, but he could feel her gaze on him as he walked. Her offer to run haunted him. But it wasn’t in his nature to run from or submit to anything. He was a warrior, and it was all he knew. All he lived for.

He would fight to the end.

More than that, he refused to give his enemies the satisfaction of dragging him before Zeus in chains. He’d lived his life standing on his own two feet, and so would he die.

Alone. Without flinching, begging or fear.

It was a fitting end, really. After all the lives he’d callously taken for Zeus, this would be his penance.

He paused before the doors that led to where the gods would be gathered. He’d walked here among them a hundred thousand times.

But today would be his last.

His head held high, he threw open the huge gold doors. As soon as he did, silence rang out in the hall as everyone held their collective breaths, waiting to see how Zeus would punish him.

Zeus froze in place before his throne, his eyes dark and threatening. Cratus’s gaze went to the right side of the dais, where his post had been for all these centuries.

It would be his post no more.

Taking a breath for courage, he dropped his shield just inside the door. The hollow, metallic sound echoed loudly in the silence and mimicked the emptiness inside Cratus’s heart.

Still, no one moved.

Not even the gowns of the women rustled.

His gaze locked determinedly on Zeus’s, he hefted his spear above his shoulder and threw it hard to bury it in the wall right above Zeus’s head—a last act of defiance that made every god present gasp in shock.

Cratus pulled his sword over his head and tossed it to the feet of Ares. Next he removed his quiver and bow, which he handed to Artemis. With every step he took toward Zeus, he peeled a piece of his armor off and dropped it to the marble floor, where it clanked loudly. First vambraces, then his greaves, his cuirass and finally his armored belt.

By the time he reached Zeus, he wore nothing but his brown loincloth. He tucked his wings down and lowered his head in silent submission to the king of the gods.

Zeus’s curse rang out before he pulled a lightning bolt out of his glowing quiver and used it to slash across Cratus’s face.

Cratus tasted blood as his eye and cheek erupted with throbbing pain. Covering his face with his hand, he felt the warm blood from his wound pouring between his fingers.

“How dare you come here after what you’ve done! No one defies me!”

The next blow knocked Cratus off his feet and sent him skittering across the floor. The cold marble peeled at his skin and bruised his muscles.

He came to rest at the feet of Apollo. Looking down in repugnance, the god sneered at him before he moved back, out of Zeus’s line of fire.

Cratus wiped at the blood on his cheek, which dripped from his face to the floor, before he pushed himself up.

He didn’t get far.

Zeus planted his foot on his spine and held him down on his stomach. “You have disobeyed me. I want you to grovel for my mercy.”

Cratus shook his head in denial. “I beg for nothing.”

Zeus kicked him over and drove a lightning bolt through his shoulder, pinning him to the floor. Cratus screamed out at the piercing agony that pulsed with every beat of his heart.

“You insolent dog. You dare defy me even now?”

“I will not—” His words broke off in a growl as Zeus planted another lightning bolt in his side and then in his other shoulder.

Curling his lip, Zeus stepped back. He swept an imperious glare around the gathered gods. “Is there one among you who will speak up in defense of this defiant maggot?”

With his one undamaged eye, Cratus looked to his brethren.

One by one, they turned away. Hera, Aphrodite, Apollo, Athena, Artemis, Ares, Hephaestus, Poseidon, Demeter, Helios, Hermes, Eros, Hypnos … et cetera. But the ones who really stung were his mother and his brother Zelos and sister Bia.

They stepped back and looked away, shame-faced.

So be it.

In his heart, he knew Nike would have spoken up for him. But she had done as he asked and stayed behind.

Zeus pierced him with another lightning bolt that would have probably hurt, too, had his body been capable of feeling any more pain. “It appears no one here cares for you.”

Big surprise there. Cratus laughed, spitting up blood, as he remembered the day he’d forced Hephaestus to chain Prometheus to a rock for his eternal punishment. The god had been reluctant to carry out the orders and had called Cratus pitiless for his insistence that they obey Zeus’s heartless command.

Cratus in turn had mocked Hephaestus’s weak-kneed compassion. He’d told the god it was better to be the punisher than the victim.

Now it was his turn to suffer. No wonder no one would speak up for him.

He deserved no better.

Zeus pulled him up from the floor by his throat. His entire body numb from the pulsating lightning bolts that still pierced his flesh, Cratus could do nothing but stare at the father god.

“Will you pick up your arms and fight for me?”

Cratus shook his head. He would never again serve as a mindless dog obeying his master’s every whim.

“Then you will suffer for all eternity and you will beg me every day for my mercy.”

CHAPTER 1

New Orleans, 2009
6,000 years later …
Roughly
(Give or take a few centuries …)

Delphine paused to get her bearings as she looked around the old buildings with iron-work balconies or elaborate wood trim, many of which had boards over their windows. What a strange city … but then she wasn’t used to being in the mortal realm except through human dreams. There the world of man looked entirely different.

This extremely loud and bright place baffled her. Not to mention the awful smell of something she thought might be manure of some kind …

She jumped as a loud, rude sound startled her while a car went speeding past.

Phobos grabbed her arm and yanked her to stand beside him on the uneven sidewalk. “Be careful. If a car hits you, it will hurt.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

He nodded before he glanced about the street where several cars were parked in front of a row of houses that were so close together, she wondered if they didn’t share a common wall.

“The garage should be that one over there.”

She looked to where he was pointing. Landry’s Garage, Detail and Repair. “Are you sure he’s there?”

Phobos gave her a droll stare. “His presence isn’t what’s in doubt, his
reception
of us is. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t gut us both faster than Noir would.” He wiped his hand over his brow to remove some of the perspiration. But it was quickly replaced by more.

She’d never been in a hotter place in her life. Poor Phobos, wearing all black clothes, wasn’t exactly dressed for it, either. He looked as miserable in the heat as she felt. She’d always thought of him as one of the more attractive gods with his exceptionally dark hair and sharp features.

Tall and lithe, he moved fluidly and fast. Something that terrified his enemies and made him deadly in a fight. His job was to inspire dread, and at one time he and his twin brother, Deimos, had wreaked havoc on ancient battlefields. In more recent centuries, they’d become warriors for the Furies, punishing anyone who crossed the gods.

Until two days ago when everything had changed …

She shivered at the memory. Even though she should feel nothing, her stomach was still knotted over the horror she’d witnessed. They were still trying to piece their world back together after Noir’s vicious attack.

“How did we get chosen for this again?” she asked him.

“We weren’t there when Zeus banished him and therefore he shouldn’t hate us as much as he hates the other gods.” He snorted derisively. “Most importantly, we’re part of the handful who is neither imprisoned nor dead.”

That was comforting …

Not at all.

And it didn’t mean Cratus would listen to them, never mind actually help them. “You think we stand a chance?”

“Like an icicle on the equator. But Cratus pulls his powers from the same primal Source that birthed Noir. Without him on our team, we’re completely screwed.”

She still wasn’t sure about this. Zeus had sent them here to beg a favor from an ex-god who most likely would gut them as soon as they appeared. She’d never met Cratus, but his nasty reputation was legendary.

He had mercy on no one.

His brutality had only been matched by his single-minded determination. Even though Zeus had bound his god powers, the other gods continued to fear him. That alone said it all about his winning personality. Hephaestus himself had warned her that there was no reasoning with Cratus.

The man was angry and mean.

And that was before his punishment had driven him insane.

“Are you sure there’s no other way?”

Phobos’s features darkened. “Half your brethren are dead, and every time mine go out, they get their hides kicked back to the Stone Age. Believe me, belly-crawling to this asshole is the last thing I want to do.”

But it was a necessary evil.

“Zeus is the one who should be doing this,” she groused as she wiped the sweat from her own brow.

Phobos snorted. “You want to tell
him
that?”

Hardly. The father god tolerated no one to question him. She narrowed her eyes. “This was your bright idea, Phobos. You lead the way.”

“What are you? Scared?”

She gave him a nasty glare of her own. With her half-human blood, she did have more emotions than most of her Dream-Hunter brethren, but they were muted compared to mankind’s. “If I were capable of hate, I would probably hate you.”

He sucked his breath in sharply between his teeth. “You know, you get the best sex from a woman when she’s angry and hating.”

“Since I’ve never had sex with a woman, how would I know?” She shoved him gently on the shoulder to move him forward. “We’re on a mission, Dolophonos. Remember if we fail, your twin dies.”

“Believe me, I haven’t forgotten.” He crossed the street with purpose.

Delphine followed in spite of the bad feeling she couldn’t shake. This wasn’t going to turn out well. She knew it.

They entered the office of the garage to find a small girl who was doodling on a sheet of paper and a woman around the age of thirty sitting at a dinged, metal desk. The woman was pretty enough, with small brown eyes and dark hair. Her smile was bright when she saw them. “Can I help you?”

Phobos stepped past Delphine to approach the desk. “We’re looking for a guy named Cratus.”

She frowned. “I don’t know anyone by that name. Sorry. Maybe he’s at the garage down the street.”

Phobos scratched his head, obviously as baffled as Delphine was. “I know for a fact that he works here in this garage. Believe me, my sources are beyond reproach.”

The little girl wiped her nose and pushed a pair of glasses back with her knuckle. “Did they lose their friend, Mommy?”

“Do your homework, Mollie.” She turned her attention back to Phobos. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I’ve never heard the name Cratus before. I’ve worked here for five years and I assure you that none of our guys are named that. It’s not exactly a name you’d forget—you know?” The phone started ringing. She put her hand on it. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No.” Phobos stepped over to the large window that looked out from the office into the garage area where men in gray and blue coveralls were working on various cars.

Delphine followed his lead and froze as she saw the man they sought.

Holy gods …

No one could miss
him.

Little wonder he was the god of strength and the son of Warcraft … That power and formidableness bled from every pore of his body. Standing well over six feet tall, he rippled with well-defined muscles. As she watched him, he wiped grease from his hands with a dark blue cloth. His gray coverall suit had been unzipped, and the sleeves wrapped around his lean waist, leaving his torso covered by a black tank top that only made those muscles more apparent. Black tribal tattoos decorated both of his arms from the wrists to his shoulders.

But it was his face that made her gasp. She’d never seen a man more beautifully made, except for the jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face, hairline to earlobe. His right eye was covered with a black patch and from the depth of the scar, she wondered if he’d lost the eye completely to whatever injury had caused it.

Yet it in no way detracted from his handsomeness. If anything, it added to it and made his face all the more rugged. His jet-black hair was sweaty and curled slightly around a face that was chiseled from steel and dusted with dark whiskers.

Fierce power emanated from every inch of him. Strong and lethal, it said he should be on a battlefield, sword in hand, killing and maiming his enemies, not stuck in a garage, working on cars.

He was everything she’d heard and more.

May the gods help them …

If he didn’t kill the two of them, she’d be stunned.

Phobos glanced at Delphine over his shoulder. “He is definitely here.”

The secretary frowned as she hung up the phone and saw Cratus through the window. “You’re looking for Jericho?”

Phobos faced her. “You mean Cratus.”

She pointed at the man Delphine had been ogling. “That’s Jericho Davis. He’s only been here a couple of weeks. Is he in trouble with the law or something? If you’re here to serve process—”

“No. Nothing like that.” Phobos gave her an almost charming smile. “We’re old friends.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Well, if his name isn’t Jericho Davis, we need to know. Landry is a stickler about his people toeing the line. We don’t take in convicts or riffraff here. This is a respectable business, and we intend to keep it that way.”