The Dark-Hunters (688 page)

Aimee shook her head. “I don’t believe that. Our paths collided with each other for a reason. Like you with the ball. One move and we can take that hate and pain away.”

Menyara patted her hand. “Now you’re thinking, child. But remember, it is a powerful demon inside him. One who is hungry for blood fire and he will not easily be appeased. Look in your heart and you will see truth.”

Kerryna clanged her cup on the saucer at those words. “You told me the heart blinds us.”

Menyara laughed at Kerryna. “It does indeed.” She pulled a ring from her finger and held it out to Aimee. “Wear this, child. It will protect you.”

“From what?”

“When the time comes, you will know.”

Aimee looked down at the garnet that was so dark it appeared black. Set in an antique setting of gold latticework, it was beautiful. “Your vagueness reminds me of a man named Acheron Parthenopaeus. You two wouldn’t happen to be related, would you?”

She laughed. “We are old friends and like me, Acheron knows when the truth will only hurt. You must find your own way in this. By the very laws of the universe, I’m forbidden to intervene.”

“Oh, goody. Thanks.” Aimee slid the ring on, then paused. “I’m sorry, Menyara. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful.”

“I know, child. Have no fear. Now it is getting late and you should return home. Your wolf will come to you when the time is right for it to be so.”

Aimee nodded, then said good night to the two of them. And here she’d been thinking to spend a quiet early-morning cuddle session with Fang. Instead, she was terrified for him.

Flashing back to her own room, she heard a lot of animated talking downstairs in the foyer. What on earth? It was late and most of the staff should be done for the night.

Curious, she opened the door and went to the stairs. There below was her entire family, along with Jasyn, Max, Colt, Carson, and Justin. As she descended the stairs, she heard their discussion.

“So what did the police say?”

“He was one of three killed tonight. They’re thinking it’s gang-related, but since Stu is a Dark-Hunter Squire, he knows better. He said it looked more like a demon attack.”

Aimee stumbled on the last stair.

“You a’right?” Dev asked.

“Just testing gravity.”

Laughing, he shook his head.

Aimee straightened up, then joined them. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Greg, the Arcadian panther who came in two days ago, was found dead in an alley over on Royal Street. There were two more bodies found in Exchange Place. Those human.”

Kyle gave her an evil smirk. “They were all drained completely of blood so the cops are thinking vampires.”

She scowled. “Daimon kills?”

“No,” her father said in a grave tone. “They still had their souls. This was a demon only wanting blood.”

And Aimee could only think of one demon new to the city who had been dying for blood.

The one inside Fang.…

CHAPTER 26

Fang woke up in a back alley of the French Quarter, his head throbbing as the midmorning sun peeked in through the surrounding buildings to the shadows where he must have collapsed. Every part of his wolf’s body ached.

How had he gotten here?

Shifting his weight, he saw the blood coating his fur, but it wasn’t
his
blood. Though he was sore, he wasn’t wounded. Yet his body was completely saturated with it as if he’d rolled in it. He could even taste it in his mouth.

He turned human so that he could manifest a bottle of water and at least rinse the warm metallic taste out. It was thick on his taste buds and made him completely nauseated.

After sluicing the taste out, he leaned back against the warm brick wall to look up at the latticework of the metal balcony above his head.

What had happened? Fragmented images of the night before went through his mind like he’d been on some kind of drunken bender. He saw Aimee in his room again. But he hadn’t hurt her. The other images weren’t so clear. They were him with other people … one with a Were-Hunter.

A panther …

He was fighting the people, two of them … or was it three? But he didn’t know why. Closing his eyes, he tried to sort through those images. Still, they were cloudy and confusing. There were growls and insults. Fists and swords. Metal flashing as blood poured.

“Did I kill someone?” He remembered a … was it a man fighting with him? Maybe it was a demon. The images weren’t clear enough to really remember. All they did was confuse him. His head pounded.

Needing something to center him, he manifested a cell phone and called Aimee.

“Fang?”

He let out a relieved breath the moment he heard her soft voice. He didn’t know what it was about her, but she soothed him all the way to the core of his being. “Hey, baby, I—”

“Where are you?”

He arched a brow at the sharpness of her tone. She sounded panicked and strange. “I don’t know. An alley somewhere.”

“What happened to you last night?” Now her words were accusatory. “I tried to find you and couldn’t.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The police are looking for you.”

That slammed into him like a fist. Raking his hand over his head, he tried to make sense of everything. “What?”

“They want to bring you in for questioning. Two humans and a Were-Hunter were killed last night. Greg, who only came here a few days ago, went out to hook up with a woman and never came back. They found him late last night with bite wounds … someone had ripped out his jugular.” She paused before she whispered, “Everyone thinks it was you, Fang.”

Of course they did. ’Cause let’s face it, in a town riddled with demons, Daimons, and Weres, who else would have done it? Anger sliced through him that
he
of all people or animals would be the suspect. “What makes them think that?”

“A torn T-shirt was found in the alley with his body. It had your scent all over it.”

Oh. Well, that was a little more damning than he wanted. Her words also brought back a flash of someone going for him out of the shadows. Of his shirt being ripped off while he fought them, but he couldn’t remember anything more than that.

Why had they been fighting?

Swallowing hard, Fang clutched the phone in his hand. “What do you think?”

“I … I don’t know. You were really out of control when I was with you last night.”

Killer.
She didn’t say the actual word, but then she didn’t have to. Her tone more than implied it and it cut through him that she could doubt him even a little after all they’d gone through together. Why couldn’t one person, just once, have faith in him?

But no. They always thought the worst where he was concerned.

That was okay, he was used to animals and people not having faith in him. Why should she? His own brother had thought him weak and selfish. Why should Aimee be any different? “Where were they murdered?”

“The humans on Exchange Place and Greg in an alley on Royal.”

Fang looked up at the sign he could see from his own alley.

Royal.

“Shit,” he breathed.

“What?”

Fang hung his head as fear went through him. Maybe he’d done it after all. He couldn’t remember not doing it and obviously he’d fought with someone over something potent. And someone other than him had been hemorrhaging badly. Bad enough that blood had been in his mouth and all over his fur.

Just like he’d bitten into someone’s jugular.…

Oh, shit, shit, shit. He was guilty. He had to be.

No, you’d never do something like that.

Or would he? With the demon inside him, he was capable of anything, and last night that demon had been out of control. And it had been blood-hungry.

But he didn’t want to tell any of that to Aimee. “Nothing. Do you know what time the murders took place?”

“The humans, no. Greg died about two
A.M.
”

Images of an Arcadian panther flashed as he saw himself attacking one. The guy had been human, then panther, then human again as they clashed. “What was Greg?”

“Panthiras Arcadius.”

Double shit.

Maybe her doubt about his innocence wasn’t so misplaced after all. It was beginning to look like he was guilty. “I gotta go.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Fang. Be careful. Please.” That was sincere and it touched him deep.

She might have doubts about his moral fiber, but she still cared about him. “You too.”

He hung up and slid the phone into his pocket. Leaning back against the redbrick wall behind him, he raked his hands through his hair as he tried to sort out what had happened. Nothing was clear. All he could remember were the emotions. The rage. The hunger.

What have I done?

Suddenly, he felt as if someone or something was watching him … looking around, he saw nothing out of place. Either with his eyes or his senses. At least not until a large raven landed on the black wrought-iron door gate catercorner to him. It angled its head as if watching him intently.

Yeah … a bird. A friggin’ bird was putting him on edge.

I am definitely losing my mind.
And still the feeling of being watched persisted while there was nothing around him to warrant the sensation. The rising sun had even banished the shadows that had been there when he awoke. No one could be watching him from where he sat. Not without being someplace he could see them too.

Except for the bird.

But for the fact there were no Were-Hunters of that species, he’d think it sentient the way it watched him.
Gah, how pathetic am I that a bird is unsettling me?

Then he heard the sound of a loud bike thundering out on the street. It had a hell of an engine and he could hear the quickness of the gears changing as the rider accelerated. Someone knew how to drive. The sound grew louder and louder, until it was almost deafening.

Damn, dude, get a new muffler.

At least that was his thought until it came screaming into the alley in front of him. A gleaming 2000 Honda F6C Valkyrie, it had a throaty sound of pure raw power and a customized paint job of flames painted over the glossy factory black.

The rider wore a solid black Aerostitch-armored suit with a jet-black helmet. The only color on his body came from silver vambraces that ran from wrist to elbow and matching silver panels on his biker boots.

He looked at Fang as he shifted into neutral and the engine went into idle. “You might want to run.”

“I don’t run from shit.”

The man shook his head as he turned the bike off, put it on its stand and swung one long leg over it. “Suit yourself.”

Then Fang heard it.…

A sound that had haunted him every minute of his time spent in the Nether Realm. One that had made his blood run cold. It was unmistakable and clear, and it brought out the rage that was boiling inside of him now.

The sound of a Reaper.…

No, not one.

Many.

That sick tug of dread filled his stomach. He’d thought those battles were behind him. But it was obvious this newcomer not only knew of them, he was getting ready to fight them. “Who are you?”

“Zeke.” He held his hand out and his motorcycle transformed into a bright oversized sword unlike anything Fang had ever seen before.

The raven flew from the fence. As soon as it reached Zeke’s back, it turned into a woman dressed in a tight leather catsuit, corset, and a long black coat. Her short black hair fell in a sleek bob that framed perfect features and coal-black eyes. Sleek and deadly, she was stunningly beautiful.

She snapped her arms down and as she did so, claws and armor covered her hands.

Zeke looked at her over his shoulder. “She’s Ravenna and this is your last shot to get out while you can.”

Fang shook his head. “I’m in.”

Ravenna raked him with a disbelieving stare. “You a fool, wolf. I’d run if I could.”

Then all hell, literally, broke loose as the Reapers arrived. Out of the brick walls and street below their feet, they came out en masse. At least two dozen, though it was hard to differentiate among them. They fought as a cohesive unit and their typical strategy was to overwhelm their opponent, knock him to the ground, and then rip him to shreds.

Fang manifested a sword, not the one Thorn had given him, but another. “Can I kill these?”

Zeke ran one through, then kicked another back. He swung a wide arc, beheading a third one in a single stroke. “Abso-fuckin’-lutely.”

Fang caught the first Reaper to reach him and sliced it open. It screamed, collapsing on the ground as another came for his back.

Ravenna caught it from behind. “Don’t shift forms,” she warned before she swung around to confront another.

Fang hadn’t planned on it. As a wolf, he was no match for these. He couldn’t bite into them and it left him with nothing else to do except run.

And this time, he wanted them dead. All the months of being locked in hell with them and of being bitten and clawed came boiling up through his body. He wanted vengeance and he was taking it out on every Reaper he could reach.

He slung his hand out, intending to blast a demon, but Ravenna caught his wrist.

“That will only make them stronger. Reapers are special. Hand-to-hand only.”

At least she told him the rules
before
he made the mistake.
Thanks, Thorn, you bastard.
Fang kicked the next one back as Zeke stabbed another. Their numbers seemed to double for a few minutes, as if they were calling in reinforcement.

At least until Ravenna made a high-pitched screech. Wanting to howl, Fang hit the deck as pain tore through his head. It was excruciating. But he wasn’t the only one who felt it. The Reapers shrank back, screaming until they finally vanished.

His ears ringing, Fang pushed himself up to glower at her for that. He wanted to rip her head off over the agony pounding in his skull.

Zeke snatched his helmet off and had a look on his face as if he felt about the same way. His dark brown hair was spiked up in front from the helmet and sweat, but the rest fell to his shoulders. With two days’ growth of beard on his face, he looked lethal in spite of the almost angelic beauty of his features. Pressing one hand to his ears, he glared at Ravenna. “How many times have I told you not to do that shit?”