The Dark-Hunters (97 page)

She shoved the basket into Eala’s hands.

Eala shrieked. “You’re vile, Nynia!” she shouted, dropping the basket and dancing away from it. “No man will ever want so smelly a woman. Will he, Dearg?”

Dearg turned a speculative eye on Nynia. “I don’t know. From what we saw her giving to Speirr the other day, I’d be willing to hold my nose.”

Her face on fire, Nynia was horrified that someone had stumbled upon her and Speirr while they were making love in the woods.

“What say you, Aberth?” Dearg asked another handsome youth.

“Aye. She’d be good for a tup or two, especially since she’s sheathed a strong sword, but you can marry her if you’re like Speirr and common filth is to your taste. I’d rather not.”

Their mean laughter rang in her ears.

Humiliated and embarrassed, Nynia had started away from them when she caught the sound of a horse approaching at a dead run.

Everyone in the village grew quiet at the sound. It was obvious the rider was in a dire hurry. His thick, deep voice could be heard urging the horse onward toward the village.

The instant Speirr came flying out of the woods, people scattered out of his way.

Nynia couldn’t move as she watched him.

He had his head bent low, and both he and the horse were covered in sweat. United in power, beauty, and form, the two of them were a fierce and frightening sight to behold.

They flew as if the demons of Annwn were hot on their heels.

She expected him to keep riding past her, toward his home.

He didn’t.

Instead, Speirr reined his horse in sharply before her, the fierce beast rearing and pawing at the air.

He jumped from his saddle and swept her up into his arms.

Her heart pounded with joy, but she was scared of this. Scared of what his disheveled appearance here meant.

“Fiù?”
she asked hesitantly, using the proper term for
prince,
knowing that with so many witnesses, she could never call him by his given name. “What is it you would have of me?”

His amber eyes were shiny and bright and filled with his heart as he stared at her. “I would have you, my love,” he breathed. “Every day for the rest of my life. I’ve come to marry you, Nyn. If you’ll have me.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Your uncle?”

“He wishes us well and will meet you when he returns.”

Her hands shook as she held him tight.

“You are mine, precious Nyn,” he whispered. “I want no other in my life.”

“Even though I smell like a fish?”

He laughed at that. “And I smell like a sweaty horse. We’re a perfect pair, you and I.”

Only he would say such a thing.

Tears rolled down her face as she held him close and wept from happiness.

Her Speirr had come back to her and she would never let him go. They were meant to be together.

Forever …

*   *   *

Sunshine woke up with a feeling of warm serenity deep in her heart. She felt the weight of Talon behind her and smiled sleepily.

She didn’t really remember her dream other than the fact that it had been about Talon.

And it had comforted her.

She checked her wristwatch and saw it was just after noon. She should be at work by now, hawking her artwork in the square.

Yet she had no desire to get out of this futon.

Rolling over, she snuggled into Talon’s body.

She laid her head on his shoulder and traced the tattoo on his chest. He was so warm and inviting.

“It’s good to have you home, love.” He whispered those words to her in a language she’d only heard once before when they had been making love last night, and yet she understood him.

She lifted herself up and realized he was still sound asleep. “Talon?”

He didn’t budge.

“Speirr?” she asked, wondering why that name came to her mind, but somehow it seemed only right that she should call him that.

His eyes fluttered open. He frowned at her. “Do you need something?”

Sunshine shook her head.

He closed his eyes, rolled over and returned to sleep.

Oh, this was just too friggin’ weird.

Why did she know that name and why did he respond to it?

Had it been part of her dream?

She tried to recall it, and for her life she couldn’t.

As he lay there with his back to her, she saw something in her mind’s eye. It was like a vague childhood memory.

She saw Talon as an adolescent youth, stretched out over a large stone table. There were other monolithic stones around them, forming something that vaguely reminded her of Stonehenge.

Talon was lying on his stomach, his arms under his head, as a tall, dark-haired man leaned over him. The man’s black robes billowed as he beat Talon with a frayed whip.

Talon was looking straight at her, his eyes shining with unshed tears while he kept his jaw firmly locked.

Meet me later.
He mouthed the words to her and she nodded.

Sunshine pulled back, alarmed.

Her dream rushing back to her, she scrambled from the bed and grabbed Talon’s cell phone, then called her mother. She stepped outside the cabin’s door so that Talon couldn’t overhear her conversation.

“Sunshine?” her mother asked as soon as she recognized Sunshine’s voice. “Where are you? Storm said you blew him off last night without calling.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. You know me. I got distracted and forgot to call. Listen, I need to know something. Do you remember years ago when you and Grandma did that whole past-life regression thing on me?”

“Yes?”

“I remember you and Grandma telling me that I was an ancient Celt, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember anything more specific than that?”

“No, not really. I’d have to call Mom and see if she remembers. Knowing her, she might. Why? You sound panicked.”

“I am panicked. I’m having some bizarre flashback kind of thing. I don’t know what else to call it. It’s just very, very weird.”

“Are you with Steve?”

“Talon, Mom, his name is Talon. And yes, I am.”

“You think you knew him in a previous life?”

Sunshine looked back at the door and swallowed. “Honestly, Mom, I’m thinking I was married to him.”

Chapter 7

It was shortly after sunset when Acheron knocked on Zarek’s door. He’d spent most of the day with Artemis, discussing what needed to be done since the human authorities were now looking for Zarek.

He could still see Artemis lying nonchalantly on her white-cushioned throne, her beautiful face completely disinterested.
“I already told you, Acheron, kill him. Only you are blind to the man’s character. It’s why I wanted him in New Orleans in the first place. I wanted you to see firsthand just how far gone he is.”

Ash refused to believe it. He, better than anyone, understood Zarek’s nastiness. The need to strike the first blow before it struck you.

So he’d bargained with Artemis for more time for Zarek to prove to the goddess that he wasn’t some rabid animal in need of a mercy killing.

But how Ash hated bargaining with her for anything. Still, he wasn’t going to sign the order for Zarek’s execution. Not yet. Not while there was still hope.

He knocked again. Harder. If Zarek was sleeping upstairs, he might not hear him.

The door swung open slowly.

Ash walked inside, his eyes instantly adjusting to the pitch-blackness. He closed the door with a mental push and reached out with his senses.

Zarek was in the sitting room on his left.

The ex-slave had neglected to turn on the heat so the house had a frigid chill to it. But then, Zarek was so used to the subzero temps in Alaska that he probably didn’t even notice the more moderate cold of New Orleans in February.

Heading for the sitting room, Ash stopped as he caught sight of Zarek lying on the floor by the Victorian sofa. Dressed only in black sweatpants, Zarek appeared to be asleep, but Ash knew he wasn’t.

Zarek’s senses were as honed as his own and the ex-slave would never allow anyone to enter his sleeping area without being fully alert and ready to strike.

Ash let his gaze wander over Zarek’s bare back. On the lower part of his spine was a highly stylized dragon. It was the only mark his back currently held, but Ash remembered a time when Zarek’s flesh had been covered in scars so deep that Ash had actually flinched the first time he’d seen them.

A whipping boy for Valerius’s family, Zarek had grown up paying the price every time Valerius or his brothers had crossed the line.

The scars hadn’t been just on his back. They had been on his legs, chest, arms, and face. One facial scar over his blinded left eye had been so severe that Zarek had barely been able to open the eye. The scar on the cheek below that eye had given his face a twisted, misshapen look.

In his human lifetime, Zarek had walked with a pronounced limp and his right arm had barely functioned.

When he’d first crossed over and become a Dark-Hunter, Zarek hadn’t even been able to meet Ash’s gaze. He’d stared at the floor, cringing every time Ash moved.

Normally, Ash gave newly created Dark-Hunters a choice of keeping their physical scars or having them removed. In Zarek’s case, he hadn’t asked. Zarek’s body had been so badly damaged that he had erased them immediately.

His second course of action had been to teach the man to fight back.

And fight back he’d done. By the time Ash had finished his training, Zarek had unleashed a fury so strong that it gave him incredible powers.

Unfortunately, it also made the man uncontrollable.

“You gonna keep staring at me, Great Acheron, or are you ready to chew me a new one?”

Ash sighed. Zarek still hadn’t moved. He lay there with his back to him, his arm tucked under his head.

“What do you want me to say to you, Z? You knew better than to attack a cop. Never mind three of them.”

“So what? I was supposed to let them handcuff me and take me to jail where I could wait for sunup in a cell?”

He ignored Zarek’s rancor. “What happened?”

“They saw me kill the Daimons and tried to apprehend me. I merely protected myself.”

“Protecting yourself doesn’t require giving one a concussion, one a set of broken ribs, and another one a busted jaw.”

Zarek rolled to his feet and glared at him. “What happened to them was their own fault. They should have backed off when I told them to.”

Ash returned Zarek’s glare even keel. Zarek possessed the ability to stir his anger even faster than Artemis did. “Dammit, Z, I’m tired of taking shit from Artemis because you can’t behave.”

“What’s the matter, Highness? Can’t take the criticism? I guess that’s what happens when you grow up noble. You never have to worry about having your behavior censored. Everyone thinks you’re perfect. Meanwhile you’re free to frolic through your life. Tell me, what made you a Dark-Hunter? Someone scuff your boots and get away with it?”

Ash closed his eyes and counted to twenty. Slowly. He knew ten would never be enough to calm him.

Zarek raked him with that familiar sneer. The ex-slave had always hated him. But Ash didn’t take it personally. Zarek hated everyone.

“I know what you think of me, O Great Acheron. I know how much you pity me and I don’t need it. Do you honestly think I could ever forget the way you looked at me the first night we met? You stood there with horror in your eyes as you tried not to show it to me.

“Well, you achieved your good deed. You cleaned up your little foundling and made him all pretty and healthy. But don’t even think that means I have to lick your boots or kiss your ass for it. My days of subjugation are over.”

Ash growled low in his throat as he fought down the urge to splinter the man against the far wall. “Don’t push me, Z. I’m the only thing standing between you and a deathly existence so bad it’s beyond even your comprehension.”

“Go ahead then. Kill me. Do you really think I give a damn?”

No, he didn’t. Zarek had been born with a death wish. Both as a mortal man and as a Dark-Hunter. But Ash would never again kill a Dark-Hunter and send him into the agony of Shadedom. He knew firsthand the horrors of that existence.

“Shave your goatee, take the earring out, and keep your damn claws hidden. If you’re smart, you’ll stay away from the cops.”

“Is that an order?”

Ash used his powers to lift Zarek from the floor and pin him roughly against the ceiling. “Stop pushing your luck, boy. I’ve had it with you.”

Zarek actually laughed. “Have you ever thought of hiring yourself out to Disneyland? People would pay a fortune for this ride.”

Ash growled louder, baring his fangs at the impudent ass.

It was seriously hard to intimidate a man who had nothing in life that meant anything to him. Dealing with Zarek made him feel like a parent with an out-of-control child.

Ash lowered him to the floor before he yielded to the temptation of strangling him.

Zarek narrowed his eyes as his feet connected with the floor. He walked nonchalantly to his duffel bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

He knew better than to taunt the Atlantean. Acheron could extinguish him in a heartbeat if he chose to. But then, Acheron still held his humanity. He actually had compassion for other people, which was a weakness Zarek had never possessed. No one had ever given a damn about him so why should he care about anyone else?

He lit his cigarette as Acheron turned to leave.

“Talon will patrol around Canal, so I want you to take the area from Jackson Square to Esplanade.”

Zarek exhaled the smoke. “Anything else?”

“Behave, Z. For the love of Zeus, behave.”

Zarek took a long drag on his cigarette as Acheron opened the door without touching it and strode out of his house.

He held his cigarette between his teeth and raked his hands through his tousled black hair.

Behave.

He could almost laugh at the order.

It wasn’t his fault that trouble always came looking for him. But he’d never been one to dodge anything either. He’d learned a long time ago to take his hits and his pain.

He clenched his teeth as he remembered last night. He’d seen the Daimons on the street as they headed to Sunshine’s loft. Heard them talking about how they intended to damage her. So he’d followed them, until he had a chance to fight them without anyone seeing them.