The Dark-Hunters (705 page)

Medea crossed her arms over her chest. “I have a lot of friends in low places.” She gave him a look that was definitely inherited from her mother’s mostly acerbic personality. “Family too.”

And he couldn’t be prouder even though it was an obvious dig. Another reason he’d promoted her. Unlike Davyn, he didn’t get the impression she was about to wet herself every time she had an audience with him. “Good girl. Did this spy tell you anything else pertinent?”

“Acheron’s wife is three months pregnant.”

Stryker went completely still as raw anger overtook him. One cause was jealousy, pure and simple. It wasn’t fair that Acheron could breed while that ability had been taken from Stryker and his fellow Daimons over something none of them had done or even participated in. As Apollites, they could have children—for a brief period during their seriously truncated lives. But the moment they refused to lie down and die horribly at age twenty-seven, when they crossed over to being Daimons, that right ended.

Bastard Apollo. For that, among many reasons, he wanted to hold Apollo’s heart in his fist and feast on it.

The second cause of his anger was that he couldn’t touch Acheron’s wife no matter how much he might want to. Gods, how alliances sucked.

Acheron’s mother, the goddess Apollymi, was their benefactor and Stryker’s adoptive mother. But for Apollymi, he’d have a way to cripple the Dark-Hunters forever. Take out their weakened queen—Acheron’s wife—and their king would follow. Pregnant women were always an easy target and Acheron loved her to such an extent that he’d never get over losing her. It was such a twofer that it was hard to resist.

But Stryker had enough self-preservation to let it go. Killing Soteria would anger the goddess he served and no one with a brain angered Apollymi. As the Atlantean goddess of destruction, she wielded a nasty tendency to disembowel anyone who irked her.

Even Stryker.

Damn.

Yet not completely bad. If Soteria was pregnant, Acheron would be distracted and wouldn’t venture far from home. He’d be too worried about his enemies, especially Artemis, coming after his wife to harm her or the baby. And given what had happened to Acheron’s sister and nephew when he’d left them alone and his own guilt over their deaths— The Atlantean would be semi-neutralized by that fear.…

Stryker could work with that.

“What’s that grin mean, Father?”

“It means he’s plotting something, dearest. Something bloody and foul. The only question is who is his target, and pray to the gods the answer isn’t you.”

Stryker smiled wider as Zephyra joined them. She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman to ever live. The mere sight or scent of her made him so hard that it was all he could do not to strip her naked and take her no matter the audience.

That woman moved like a flowing breeze, graceful and slow. Seductive. And just as quick to turn vicious without warning. Her long blond hair made his fingers itch to touch it. She stopped beside Medea to give her a hug and the sight of them together made his heart rush. His girls. They looked more like sisters than mother and daughter, and they were the only thing in the universe that meant anything to him.

Except for his son.

Pain lacerated his happiness as he tried not to think of how much Urian hated him and why.

But that wasn’t the focus of this. He had matters far more pressing than his son’s abject hatred over something he couldn’t change. “The Dark-Hunters are now acutely aware of our newly acquired powers.”

Zephyra growled in anger as she moved away from Medea to stand in front of his chair. “That puts a crimp in our plans. They’ll be fortifying now. Rotten bastard scum.”

Medea scoffed. “Their protectors are pathetic humans. Since when do we concern ourselves with cattle? I say we feast on them and massacre the Hunters while they sleep.”

Ah, her bloodthirsty, fighting spirit made him proud.

But Zephyra shook her head. She knew the same lesson Stryker did. “Don’t get cocky, child. Never underestimate a human in survival mode. They can be quite resourceful when cornered. Capable of anything.”

Stryker concurred. “The key is to not attack them yet. They’ll be looking for it right now. Keep them guessing and eventually, they’ll drop their guards. It’s just too exhausting for them to stay tense. Not to mention the fact that we’re still in the process of converting our army.”

Speaking of resourceful and highly aggravating creatures, the demons they had to use to make their people walk in daylight were now hiding from them.

Cowardly bastards. Why couldn’t they just lie down and die for them? Not like the demons had anything to live for anyway. They were disgusting and had no real use in the world. He and his people were doing them a favor by slaughtering them so that the ugly buggers would no longer have to look at themselves in the mirror.

Stryker turned his attention back to his daughter. “Once our numbers are strong, we’ll…” He paused as her earlier words went through him again and it jarred something in his brain. “Medea … how do the Were-Hunters know about us? Did the demon talk before he exploded?”

“No. I was told there was a Dark-Huntress there who was able to touch his slimy remains and see what happened.”

“Really?” Now that was interesting. Stryker fell silent as his mind kicked into high gear. A Huntress with psychometry … That was an extremely rare talent. So rare that he’d never heard of a Dark-Hunter with it before. Oh, this could be a blessing in disguise and then some. “How deep do her powers go?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

He met Zephyra’s gaze. Like Medea, she was scowling at him. “We need her.”

Phyra’s eyes darkened with irate suspicion. “What exactly do you need her for?”

He bit back a laugh before he offended her and she attacked him over it. His wife was ever jealous. Not that she had any worries where he was concerned. There was no other woman in the entire universe who was her equal in his eyes. “If she can touch someone or their belongings and pick out secrets, she could very well have the ability to tell us how to capture Apollo. Or better yet, uncover a way to break our curse and free our people.”

The new light in her eyes told him that she not only understood but agreed. “I’ll get our best on it.”

Stryker nodded. If what he suspected was true … they’d not only be able to kill all the Dark-Hunters, but the father of his race.

Then the world would be theirs and nothing could stop them. At long last, he’d make Apollo bleed the same way Apollo had bled him.

And all the Dark-Hunters would die.

Тω Ξίϕɛι τoν Δɛσμόν Έλυσɛ. By the sword, he would untie the knot. And the Apollites and Daimons would take their place as the rulers of all subspecies—which was everyone.

He couldn’t wait.

Chapter Five

Sam stifled a yawn as she sat at her computer. She’d posted notes to every Dark-Hunter and Squire message board, loop, Twitter, MySpace, and Facebook account she could think of. Even the sites that on the surface appeared to be role-playing games but in reality were their people hiding in plain sight. She’d been texting and leaving messages for hours, warning her brethren and their employees what was brewing.

The Daimons would be coming for them. And they were pissed off.

On the one hand, she could understand their anger. The Daimons were born as Apollites—a race of superhumans that had been created by the god Apollo. Then, because of the actions of their jealous queen who’d ordered the death of Apollo’s human mistress and son, they’d been cursed by him to die horribly at age twenty-seven—the same age his mistress had been when the queen had her killed. Their only hope to live past that date was to start sucking human souls into their bodies, but the problem with that was that souls weren’t meant to live in them. As soon as a Daimon took the soul, it started to wither and die and if a Dark-Hunter didn’t find and kill a Daimon before that soul expired, it would cease to exist.

Forever.

But on the other hand, having watched the Daimons slaughter her entire family, Sam wanted them completely wiped from the earth. They were disgusting animals with no regard for human life and for that they deserved total extermination. And if it was by her own hands, then all the better.

“You want a war, Stryker … I’m ready to give you one.”

Just not until the sun went down. Damn the gods for that restriction on the Dark-Hunters and Daimons alike. For the next few hours, there was nothing she could do except wait.

Sam ground her teeth as she saw the tiny rays peeking in through the slats in her blinds. She was on the other side of the room, safe from their reach.

For now. But one well-placed brick or baseball and those dangerous rays could pose the ultimate threat to her. If they touched her skin, she’d burn up like a B-grade movie vampire.

Not wanting to think about that, she glanced at her clock, and sighed. It was just after noon. Way past her bedtime.

You can’t kill Daimons if you’re too tired to think. Go to bed, Sam. There’s nothing more you can do until dark.

She hated that. It wasn’t in her to withdraw. As a soldier, her mentor had beaten that into her. Amazons don’t back down. Sometimes you might want to. Sometimes you ought to. But Amazons never backed down.

Except for sunlight.

Aggravated, she glared up at her ceiling. “You know, Apollo, if you wanted us to keep humanity safe, you shouldn’t have banned us from the daylight too.” Then the advantage would be with them, not with his cursed race.

Why are you wasting breath?
Even if the Greek god heard her, he didn’t care. She knew that better than anyone. The gods had more important things to do than listen to human complaints.

Still, she felt better for having said it.

She reached for her glass of water and headed to the stairs that would take her up to her bedroom on the third floor of her house. The only thing she really hated about living in New Orleans was that you couldn’t have a basement, which was much safer than an upstairs bedroom. Unfortunately, the sea level here was such that a basement would flood constantly. Since she lived alone, if a fire or hurricane struck, she’d be at its mercy.

For that reason most Dark-Hunters had a human Squire who stayed in their house as a personal secretary and guardian during the day.

Sam didn’t.

You should have let Dev stay with you.

That would have been a mistake in more ways than one. Plus she didn’t know if his shield—whatever it was—would hold the same if she was asleep. Since the moment she’d become a Dark-Hunter, she couldn’t allow anyone near her while she slept. Once she was unconscious, she had no way to block them. Her dreams tangled with their thoughts and she’d spend a restless day seeing and hearing everything they did.

She’d tried once to have a pet dog and then a cat, but their thoughts were even stranger than the humans’. So she was relegated to eternal solitude. Not that it mattered. After all these centuries, she was used to it.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Yawning again, she entered her room and dropped her robe. A few hours of sleep and she’d be as good as new.

And if that damn bird that kept thinking about eating worms parked its butt on her windowsill again today while she was sleeping, she was going to shoot it even if it did flood sunlight into her room.

*   *   *

Dev woke up with a start. His heart pounding, he used his heightened hearing to listen carefully and see what had awakened him. He heard Aimee’s soft snore from her room down the hall. The normal house activity of the day crew working …

Nothing out of the ordinary. Just another typical day.

After one hell of an incredible morning that had ended with him getting mentally bitch-slapped at the end.

Not wanting to think about that, he turned to look at the clock. It was just after two
P.M.
He cursed. He’d only had three hours of sleep.

Go back to bed.

He rolled over and closed his eyes. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t manage to go back to sleep. Worse, he was being haunted by the scent of a certain Amazon frustration.

“What is wrong with me?”

Sam had made it clear that she was done with him. Her play toy had been shoved back in the drawer and she didn’t want to see it again. And yet he couldn’t get the thought of her out of his head.

She’s aggravating. Frustrating. Off-limits.

And sexy as hell.

I should never have imagined her naked.… Never gone to her house and spent the best damned morning of my life with her.

That was like willing himself not to breathe. Some things a guy just did automatically, and when a woman like her offered him a full morning of rampant sex, he took her up on it.

Groaning, he pulled the pillow out from under his head and laid it over his face.
Go back to sleep.

Screw it, suffocate yourself.

At least then he’d be out of his misery.

But it was useless. He couldn’t do either one. He was up. Fully awake. So was his cock.… Damn it to hell. He’d be cranky as all get-out for the rest of the day and night.

There was nothing he could do. His body refused to doze back off.

It was still thrumming from the incredible sex he’d had, the charge to his powers, and an insatiable desire to repeat what they’d done all morning. He was lucky he’d been able to go to sleep the first time.

Now …

Useless.

Disgusted, he got up and went to the bathroom to get dressed and try to put some sanity in his brain.

When have you ever been sane?

Well, there was that.…

It didn’t take long to shower, shave, and dress. He went downstairs to find his identical brother Quinn in the kitchen, bitching about Remi from the night before. It was a familiar sound and a rant he’d had a time or two himself.

Dev gave him a lopsided grin. “You know, I could put him down while he’s sleeping if it’ll make you feel better.”

Laughing, Quinn set his armload of dishes next to the sink. “Don’t tempt me. Not like I didn’t have the same thought myself. Worthless bastard.”