The Dark-Hunters (829 page)

Ah, shit
 …

The bastard was going to cut his head off.
Yeah, that’ll kill me.

At least it’ll be quick.

Coyote twisted his face into a snide smile. “Where’s your soliloquy now?”

Ren laughed at him, then licked at his bloodied and bruised lips. “It’s ‘monologue,’ moron. And you dared to call me the stupid one? Now I
am
insulted.”

Coyote narrowed his gaze in warning, “Fine, then. Your requiem.”

Laughing even harder, Ren coughed up blood, then cursed as it rammed his cock against the bastard’s boot. His breathing ragged, he glared at his brother. “I can barely speak, never mind break into song. And the last time I checked, we weren’t Roman Catholics, so there’s no chance of a requiem from me. Damn, boy. Buy a dictionary. Or better yet, kill me already. I can’t take another minute of your uneducated abuse of the English language.”

The biggest of his attackers grabbed Ren’s chin and lifted it as far back as he could so that Coyote would have a clean shot at Ren’s throat. Tensing from the pain that racked him, Ren glared at the asshole whose grip bit hard into his jaw. “I knew I should have killed you motherfuckers instead of imprisoning you. That’ll teach me to be compassionate, eh?”

Even though he knew it was completely useless, Ren tried to throw them off him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he mentally took himself away from the pain they caused, back to the first time Kateri had smiled at him. The first time her lips had brushed against his skin, and she’d called him baby …

Coyote dragged the jagged edge of the obsidian glass on the club across his throat, slicing his flesh only enough to sting.
“À bientôt, mon frère.”

His brother lifted the club for the killing blow.

I love you, Kateri. May the gods watch over you always, and thank you for being the best thing I ever knew.
If only he could see her one last time …

In the next heartbeat, Coyote went flying into the wall beside them, and the one holding his jaw was unconscious on the floor. Coughing to clear his throat, Ren rolled over to see Cabeza doing a death-match circle with Chacu.

Chacu raked Cabeza with a sneer. “How’s your wife, Kukulkan?”

By the amount of rage and severity of attack that question evoked from Cabeza, Ren was going to lay money that Chacu had had something to do with her death.

And hopefully that was the worst thing the bastard had done to her.

Ren splayed his hands against the earthen floor and pushed himself upright. One of the others grabbed his right arm and snapped the bone.

Okay,
that
he felt.…

Before he could recover, four of them were on him.

“We don’t need Chacu or Coyote to finish you.” As Ren’s attacker reached for the Coyote’s club, a sonic boom went through the room so fiercely, it knocked everyone off their feet.

Damn, I’m on the floor again.
He was getting really sick of this vantage point.

At first, he wasn’t sure what had happened to knock them down. Not until he saw Ash grab one of the Gate Guardians and head-slam his ass into the wall.
Yeah, that hurt, didn’t it, puta? Slam him again, Ash.
He’d say it out loud, but the last one who’d grabbed him had broken his jaw.

Ash rounded the seven of them up, and left Chacu for Cabeza to finish off. His silver eyes swirling with fury, Ash snarled at the Gate Guardians, exposing his fangs. “You swore to protect the innocent.”

The tallest one tried to peacock posture Ash. It might have worked had Ash been a couple of feet shorter. But with those combat boots on, Ash topped seven feet easy. It’d be damn hard to intimidate someone that size if they were human. Toss in the god powers, and mad warrior skills …

You go on, bitch, and posture. Ash can probably use the comic relief.

Bald Ugly jerked his chin toward Coyote as he spoke to Acheron. “We owed a favor to the one who freed us. We were merely paying the obligation.”

Ash shook his head. “Ah, see now, that was your mistake. Your obligation tripped all over a man I consider a brother. One I don’t like seeing ganged up on and beaten to a pulp when I know one-on-one, you’d be picking up busted teeth … so I tell you what … How about I level this playing field a little?”

Still, the imbecile blustered. Maybe because his muscles were five times larger than Ash’s, he thought that gave him the advantage. But one of the first things Ren had learned when he’d shot up to tower over his shorter, bulkier opponents … Lean muscle didn’t interfere with fighting technique. It made you lethal. And you were a hell of a lot stronger than you appeared to be, so people underestimated the power of your blows. While a single blow from the mountain could lay you out cold, you could get twenty in to his one and have him down first. The mountain had to be accurate.

You? Not so much.

The mountain sneered up at Acheron. “We’re not afraid of you.”

Ash shrugged nonchalantly. “That would be exponentially foolish on your part. But I’m not the one you need to fear.” Ash turned and approached Ren. “You look like hell, buddy.”

“Ah, damn,” Ren said, trying not to move his busted jaw any more than necessary. “All those hours in the salon wasted. I’d just got my nails done, too.”

“You’re so not right.” Ash held his hand out to him so that he could pull Ren away from the wall, where Ren had himself braced to keep from falling again.

He took Ash’s hand with the arm that hadn’t been broken, and the moment he did, the pain vanished. Warmth spread through his veins as whatever Ash was doing to him healed his body completely.

Within a few seconds, Ren felt stronger than he ever had before. More than that, everyone else in the room was frozen solid—like someone had hit the pause button on a player.

Ash didn’t seem to notice. “You know, Ren, it occurs to me that you never took your Act of Vengeance when Artemis signed you into her service.”

“I didn’t want it, then.”

“And now?”

Ren glanced over to Coyote, who was frozen in the middle of a furious shriek that made the tendons on his neck protrude, and left his face a mask of ugliness.

As Dark-Hunters, they weren’t allowed to arbitrarily kill anyone. There were very strict codes they had to follow. Murdering someone was a big no-no. “You’d allow it?”

Ash arched a wry brow. “You’re part demon. Do you really give a shit what I think?”

“The demon in me that knows there’s a demon in you who can mop the floor with my raunchy butt tells me to say yes. I care. Deeply.”

“You’re such a liar,” Ash said with a laugh. “And a genius.” He jerked his chin toward the group. “So, how about that vengeance?”

There was only one person in the room he truly wanted to lay low. “I’m going to kill Coyote.”

“Take them all out if you want. You’ve earned it.”

Ren frowned at the offer. Ash wasn’t normally quite this bloodthirsty. Up until he’d married, Acheron had been all Hare Krishna—can’t we all get along? Peace and love, brother. Peace and love. Kill the Daimons to free the human souls, but play nice with everyone else.

Yet from the moment Ash’s wife, Tory, had placed that black titanium wedding ring on his finger, Ash had learned the benefits of “You knock on
my
door looking to fight? Then come on in, brother, and I’ll put your rabid ass down tonight.”

However, given Ash’s lengthy past condemnations of wanton bloodshed, Ren wanted to make double sure that they were on the same page. “What exactly do you mean by that? Send them home intact, a little broken up, or in bloody body bags?”

No sooner had Ren asked the question than seven more Rens appeared in the room around them. They stood before the Gate Guardians and were also frozen in place, yet posed as if they were about to clobber the one in front of them.

What the hell?

Ash folded his arms over his chest. “Relax. They’ll vanish once they dispense of their assigned target … in whatever way you want them to. And you’ll be none the weaker for it. Their powers don’t draw from you.”

Ren gaped at Ash’s abilities. While he’d known the man had mad god powers, he’d had no idea that insta-clone-a-warrior was one of them.

“How did you do that?” Ren breathed. “For that matter, how can you even be here? I thought you couldn’t help us tonight.”

Ash shrugged. “Hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but your gene pool is a little shallow when it comes to intelligence. The hallowed part of the Valley doesn’t begin for another five miles in.” He flashed a fanged grin at Ren. “Great place to set up camp, huh? I’d laugh at your brother’s arrogant idiocy if it wasn’t so pathetic. Anyway, I thought you were going in with the others, not detouring here. Had I known this was your plan, I’d have had your back all along. Sometimes, Ren, you have to remember that you do have friends now. And some of us have been around for a very long time. Like a permanent boil on your ass, I’m kind of attached to all of you.”

Ren laughed. “I will remember that. Thank you.”

Ash inclined his head respectfully. “I shall leave you and Beza to your fun. I’ll take care of Choo Co La Tah for you, and continue holding the line against the vermin breaking though the barriers.” He headed over to where Choo lay in an unconscious lump.

“Acheron?” Ren took care to use the true Atlantean pronunciation of his name with a hard C and audible H.
“Herista.” Thank you.

Ash tapped his heart twice with his fist, which was an Atlantean gesture for blood family.
“Atee, mer, atee.” Anytime, brother, anytime.
Then, turning, he picked Choo up and vanished with him. As soon as Ash was gone, everyone returned to normal.

One day, Ash really needed to come clean about the full extent of his powers.

But that wouldn’t be tonight.

Tonight, Ren had a gate to seal, and a rat to catch. One whose eyes were now widened by fear as Coyote realized he had eight Rens to fight now.

One of whom was severely pissed off and wanted his blood over the beating Coyote had ordered.

Ren left his duplicate army to fight the others while he headed straight for Coyote. As soon as his brother saw him coming for him, Coyote did what he did best.

He ran.

Ren picked up the pace as he ran down the shaft, after Coyote. Tired of chasing the jackrabbit, Ren teleported himself in front of Coyote.

Still looking behind him, he slammed into Ren’s chest, then staggered back.

Ren gave him a pitiless glare as Coyote scurried backward on the ground, like a creepy contorted possessed human in a horror movie.
Stand up and face me like the man you claim to be.…
“I will never understand how our father was so blind to your true nature.”

Finally discovering some semblance of a backbone, Coyote stood up and lifted his chin defiantly. “What are you going to do? Kill me?”

Ren pulled the hand forged knife from his boot, and glanced down at it. It was one of the very few items he’d managed to hang on to from his human life—one of the very few things he’d owned as a human. Simple and elegant, it had a crow etched down one side of the blade and a hummingbird on the other. A bit of whimsy he’d put there one night when he’d been unable to sleep. Too many bitter memories had often robbed him of his rest.

But he’d always had a strong affection for weaponry.

One of the things he’d learned as a boy was metallurgy. He’d watch the smiths smelt different compounds, taking mental notes on what they did so that he could duplicate it in private.

By the time he was twenty, he made all of his own weapons. His bow, arrows, war club, and knives. And he’d learned, courtesy of Coyote’s “pranks,” to sleep with his weapons so that if they were touched or tampered with, he’d know instantly.

There was no worse feeling than to entrust your life to a tool that malfunctioned or broke while you were under attack.

And he had the scars to prove it. As a human, his weapons had been the only thing he’d ever taken pride in. Unlike people, they didn’t mock him. They didn’t leave him, and they protected him when no one else would.

He still felt that way about them.

In fact, the garage at his house was a forge. Since he could fly and teleport, he had no use for a car. There was no need in wasting prime space when he could use it for the only thing that gave him real comfort.

“Say something,” Coyote snarled.

“Sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment.”

“Are you insane?”

Ren laughed. “Given our genes? It’s a safe bet.” He sobered and narrowed his gaze on Coyote. “Tell me something … do you remember that time when I was nineteen and for my birthday, I made a matching set of knives as a gift for you and Father?”

“Yeah? So?”

“Do you remember what you did?”

“No. I don’t even know what happened to them.”

Of course he didn’t. Why should he? “I remember it.” With a clarity he would give anything to purge out of his memory. “I gave you yours first, and you convinced me that Father wouldn’t take his from me. That he would criticize it as being inferior. So I allowed you to give it to him while I watched. He assumed you’d made it, and he embraced you for the gift.”

“Father was bad that way.”

“No, Anukuwaya,
you
were always bad that way. You’re a shadow walker. A treacherous creature from the dark that pretends it’s from the light. It’s shimmery and beautiful, but it has no substance. No loyalty. When we were human, I never saw it in you, because I cherished you as my brother. I didn’t want to see it. And Father, even after Buffalo told him I was the knife’s creator, said it was the best one he’d ever seen. It was the only time in my life he looked at me with anything other than contempt. But you couldn’t stand it. The jealousy ate at you. And you couldn’t let me have those two minutes of his affection. Instead, you thermal-shocked the blade so that it would snap, and then showed it to Father, who thanked you for saving his life from my incompetence. Angry at me for having given him a defective knife, he threw it at me while I ate dinner alone in the kitchen.”

Ren opened the front of his shirt so that Coyote could see the scar on his shoulder where the knife had hit him while he sat unaware of his father’s rage. Their father had thrown the knife so forcefully, that it’d knocked him off his seat, and laid him out on the floor. Stunned, Ren had stared in horror as his father curled his lip and cursed him. “It was a fine weapon. It tore through my flesh and sinew and muscle like they were butter, and the tip embedded in my bone. If nothing else, you should remember that. It was over a year before I had full range of motion in my arm again.” Though to be honest, there were still some things he couldn’t do with that arm.