The Dark-Hunters (706 page)

Dev stopped next to the sink. “What’d he do?”

“Screwed up the paperwork from last night again.” Quinn growled low in his throat. “How can he not read a register receipt after all these years? I swear to the gods … Maman would have a stroke if she saw it.”

They both went silent as those words hung between them and they were faced with the reality that their mother would never have a fit about anything ever again.

Gah, when would that pain stop hurting so much? It was only second to the guilt he had over not having protected his parents. Had he been quicker on the draw, he might have saved his mother’s life.

Shoving that useless regret aside, Dev twisted his hand in the chin strap of the helmet he was holding. “Let Aimee sort it out. She’s better at that than us anyway.”

“I’ll tell her you said that.”

Quinn probably would too, and Aimee would be highly offended even though Dev meant nothing by it, other than she had more business sense than the rest of them. Women. They were always getting pissed off over nothing.

Just like Sam throwing him out of her bed for no real good reason. The gods only knew what he’d said that had ticked her off.

Quinn started rinsing the dirty plates before putting them in the dishwasher. “So what are you doing awake? You don’t normally get up till dinnertime.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Quinn wiped his forearm across his forehead to brush back a stray piece of curly blond hair. “You’re off tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

His brother let out a long sympathetic breath. “Man, sucks to be you.”

Dev didn’t comment on his sarcasm as he left the sink and headed toward the door that opened into the club. His older brother, Alain, manned the bar of the almost empty place. There was only a tiny number of humans playing pool in back and eating at the tables at the front of the club.

Alain paused as he caught sight of him. “What are you doing up?”

That was the drawback of being nocturnal. If he ever rose before sunset, his family ragged him over it. “The apocalypse cometh. Thought I ought to be awake for it.”

Alain snorted. “You know, to most people, that would be a joke. But around here…”

He had a point. Dev probably shouldn’t kid about such a likely scenario. “Not very busy, huh?”

“You missed the lunch crowd. We were actually short-handed.”

“Why didn’t you call up for help?”

Alain shrugged nonchalantly. “You guys were up too late dealing with the demon mess. Didn’t want to disturb y’all. We handled it without too much of a tragedy.”

“You didn’t eat any of the tourists, did you?”

Alain grunted. “Nah, but Aimee probably would have had she been here.”

Dev smiled as he thought about how cranky his sister could be when people were difficult. Aimee definitely had her moments. “Then it’s a good thing you let her sleep.”

“Absolutely.” Alain looked down at the motorcycle helmet in Dev’s hand. “You riding?”

“No. I’m standing.”

Alain made a sound of supreme annoyance. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeah.” Dev put his helmet under his arm. “Feeling restless. Thought it might take the edge off.”

Alain gave him a wicked grin. “I know something else that could take the edge off.”

Dev snorted. “Yeah, well, I ain’t had none of that in a while neither.” He wasn’t about to tell even his brother where he’d spent the morning. The less people knew about that, the better off he’d be.

“I noticed you haven’t been mauling the babes who come in here like you used to. You feeling okay?”

“Not dead yet.” But wishing he was, rather than to stand here longing for something he couldn’t have.

Dev inclined his head to his brother. “See you in a little while.” Without another word, he headed out the back door to where they kept their motorcycles stashed. His was a sleek 2007 black, silver, and red Suzuki GSX-R 600. Furiously fast, dangerous, and curvaceous …

Just like he preferred his women.

But the truth was, the gixxer wasn’t what he really wanted to be riding. He’d much prefer something tall and blond who walked like she owned the world.

Don’t go there, Bear.

If only he could stop his thoughts that easily. Damn, what was it with Sam that he couldn’t stay focused on anything else? He started his bike, then pulled the helmet on while it warmed up. His adrenaline pumping, he gunned it out of the lot and headed into the street with no real destination in mind. He just needed to be away from people and animals for a while.

He went screaming down I-10 at over a hundred miles an hour—a suicide pace for a human. It wasn’t really smart for a shapeshifter either. And in the end, it didn’t do anything to settle his mood. He still felt like he was on edge.

After an hour, he found himself down on St. Charles Ave. Some of the most beautiful homes in New Orleans were located here, but it was one in particular that drew him to this street.

Sam would probably kill him if she knew he was outside her black wrought-iron gate like some lunatic stalker. He’d be the first one to admit it was creepy. He damn sure wouldn’t like anyone doing it to him.

Yet here he sat like some lovesick teen hoping to catch a glimpse of his latest crush.

I seriously need help.

Maybe Grace Alexander would be able to fit him into her client list. She was a psychologist who catered to the preternatural crowd—surely she could help him.

Bear, there ain’t no help for you. You’re pathetic. Chasing after a woman who threw you out of her bed …

He wasn’t going to argue that.

Dev shut the shield on his helmet, intending to head home. But as he reached for the throttle, a weird sensation went down his spine.

Daimons.

There was no mistaking the feeling. It was hot and stinging. Turning the bike off, he put down the stand and listened carefully. If he knew Sam better, he’d flash into her house to check on her. But she was as likely to stab him as she was to thank him for that.

You’re being stupid. There’s nothing here.

Just his pathetic subconscious looking for an excuse to get invited into her house again.

Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling.

Sighing at his own idiocy, he started his bike and peeled off.

*   *   *

Sam walked through a haze of memories she wasn’t familiar with. Dozens of blond children and adults. They were laughing, playing …

Dying. It was awful. Men and women at the height of their youth were decaying into dust. Screaming in pain as their bodies aged and then disintegrated.

She was dreaming, she knew that …

Why am I seeing Apollites and Daimons?
Worse than that, she was afraid and angry at the entire world. Vengeance scorched her every bit as deeply as it did when she thought about her own family. She wanted blood so badly she could taste it. Rage suffused every part of her being.

Wake up!
her subconscious screamed out as it realized she was channeling the emotions of someone close to her.

Real
close.

Why can’t I move?
She opened her eyes to find herself in her bed, trapped underneath a shimmering gold web.
What the crud is this?

There was a gorgeous blond man standing to the right of her bed, staring down at her with a snide grimace. “Don’t fight, Dark-Hunter. There’s nothing you can do.”

Ah, now that was like telling a snake not to strike. She pushed with everything she had.

Nothing happened.

The Daimon male who’d spoken to her laughed. “I told you, you can’t fight. Your powers won’t work against the diktyon.”

Sam cringed as he identified the net covering her. It was a weapon of Artemis’s and he was right. It rendered her powerless. Only a god could fight or break its hold.

And even then it wouldn’t be easy.

He looked over to a woman on the other side of her bed. “Sophie, open the portal.”

Sam inched her hand out from under the net. If she could just get to the knife she always put beneath her pillow before she went to sleep …

And all the while, their memories and emotions poured into her with a ferocity that was disorienting and confusing. But at least it gave her some insight into them and how to attack with words.

Sam met the man’s gaze. “You know, you’re right, Karos. Sophie’s been cheating on you with your best friend … what’s his name? Jarret? She’s not really going to her sister’s like she says. She’s snaking on you, hon, and enjoying every minute of it. She thinks you’re a pathetic waste of a Daimon.”

His head snapped to the woman. “What?”

Sophie’s beautiful features paled. “It’s not true. She’s lying.”

“Bullshit!”

“I swear, Karos. I haven’t gone near him.”

Sam snorted. “Not in the last six hours anyway. But last night … it was definitely on, or off if you’re talking clothing.”

He curled his lip at his wife. “I knew you two were up to something. You lying bitch.” He rounded the bed and slapped her hard across the face.

She came back with an impressive haymaker.

While they fought, Sam freed her hand enough that she could use her telekinesis to bring the knife into her grasp. She tried to cut the net, but, big surprise there, it didn’t work.

Suddenly, the knife flew out of her hand.

Cursing, Sam looked to find another Daimon—a young woman—standing in the shadows.

The Daimon tsked at her as she fingered Sam’s knife. “Nice try, but it won’t work.” She glanced at the combatants. “If you two don’t stop, I’m going to rip out both of your spines. Open the portal and let’s get this trash to Stryker before it causes any more conflict.”

Stryker. Sam remembered him from the demon’s memories. Oh gods, they were planning to take her into Daimon central.

They would kill her there. Why else would they want a Dark-Hunter in their domain unless it was to gut her?

I’m going to be their entertainment.

Panic set in as she fought against the net. A shimmering green mist appeared in the corner of her room. It grew larger until it was big enough for them to walk through.

Sophie went in first while the man came over to pull Sam off the bed.

Sam jerked and struggled as hard as possible, but it was useless. The net wouldn’t let her move. He picked her up like she weighed nothing at all and cradled her in his arms.

I’m going to die.

She knew it with everything she possessed. No one would ever know what happened to her. The Daimons would take her into their realm and do who knew what with her before they ended her life.

So this is how my life ends. Not in battle with me taking as many of them as I can. Not in a heroic act of sacrifice.

She was going to be carried to her grave in the arms of her enemies.

Chapter Six

With no other weapon to rely on, Sam sank her fangs into the Daimon’s arm an instant before he would have taken her through the portal.

Cursing, he dropped her.

She hit the floor hard, but luckily it freed her arm and part of her body from the net. She moved to roll out from under it. The Daimon recovered and caught her, then tossed the net over her again.

Ugh! She tried to fight, but that damned net made it impossible.

He rolled her onto her back, bared his own fangs at her, then plunged a dagger deep into the center of her chest—something only a Daimon with superhuman powers could do. Had she been human or a Daimon, it would have killed her instantly.

As it was, it just burned like madness. And if the idiot had possessed a brain, he’d have known that had he left it in her heart, that too could have killed her. But lucky for her, his education was stringently lacking and he pulled it free to let her bleed.

Something that wouldn’t kill her. It’d just piss her off.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” he snarled. “How many my people you kill that way?”

“Apparently I missed one,” she ground out between her clenched teeth as she struggled against the pain. “But I won’t make that mistake again.”

He laughed.

Then he went flying over her, headfirst into the wall.

Completely stunned, she watched as Dev whipped the net off her body and tossed it to cover the Daimon. Using the net, he spun the Daimon around, then let him fly into the wall on the other side of her bed. The Daimon hit it so hard, he went through the plaster and landed in a tangled heap half in her bedroom and half in the hallway.

The bear had strength. There was no denying that.

Sam pushed herself up only to slip on the blood that still poured out of her chest. She grabbed the dagger the Daimon had dropped and went for the bastard.

Unfortunately, his tumble through the wall had thrown the net off most of his body, allowing him to push himself to his feet. He stood to attack.

“Move, Bear,” she growled.

Dev didn’t have time to obey before a dagger went whizzing past his cheek so close he swore it trimmed his whiskers. It buried itself in the Daimon’s chest.

With one last foul curse, the Daimon exploded into a shower of golden dust, leaving the net that had been wrapped around his feet to fall to the floor.

Turning, Dev narrowed his gaze on the portal the women had vanished into. As long as it was open, the Daimons could return and grab Sam, who now slumped against her bed. She was bleeding like crazy and panting from the agony of her injury. That sight made him want to reanimate the Daimon so that he could rip his heart out and feed it to him.

But first he had to get her out of here.

Without a second thought, he scooped her up in his arms, grabbed the net from the floor to keep the Daimons from reclaiming it, and used his powers to teleport her to Carson’s examination room in Sanctuary where the doctor could hopefully help her stop bleeding.

Sam was completely disoriented as she found herself inside a windowless room that appeared to be a hospital. There was a stretcher for a bed and glass and metal cabinets that held surgical instruments and medicine. The bear must have used his powers to teleport her.

A little warning before he yanked her out of her house would have been nice. As it was, it made her feel like she was about to be sick. Literally. The bear was lucky he wasn’t wearing her last meal.