“Your father has lost his mind.”
That was an understatement. Ever since Cassandra had birthed her son, Erik, his father had been spiraling out of control with an insane need to kill the two of them.
Raking his hands through his hair, Urian was at a loss on how to deal with the man. In all these centuries past, he’d never seen him quite like this. “I don’t know, Dav … has he gone trelos?”
“I was about to ask you that.”
That would be his best guess. It would make the most sense. He was definitely acting like an utter lunatic.
“Urian!”
Davyn sighed. “I am so glad I’m not his son.”
“Way to have my back.”
“Yeah, well. I’d rather have your ass.”
“Not funny.”
Davyn held his hand up with his fingers pinched together. “I’m a little funny.”
“Urian!”
He teleported into his father’s office. “You rang down the temple?”
His father gave him a cold, murderous glare. “Don’t even. Are you aware that the bastard Dante Pontis killed our informant?”
Urian gaped. “Dante murdered his own brother? Damn, that’s cold even for a Katagari Were.”
“Do we have anyone else in his club we can call on?”
Urian scratched at his neck as he considered his sources. “Not really and probably not after that kind of tantrum. Pretty sure anyone who might be bought would have a serious sphincter clinch after that.”
His father moved to stand in his face. “I want a spy, Urian. Find me one.”
“Yes, sir.” Urian stepped back and spun on his heel to put as much distance as he could between him and crazy. Because as much as he loved his father …
That was nuts and in case it was contagious, he didn’t want it to jump on him.
Letting out a deep breath, he left the hall and tried to think of whom he could call in to try to get information. The Weres as a rule were always a bit shaky. They had to tread a fine line between Daimons and Dark-Hunters. And because of that, their loyalty couldn’t always be trusted or relied upon. Some had been known to hand them over without a second thought, if they thought it could buy them favor with Acheron or Savitar.
Urian racked his three brain cells.
A shadow moved to his right as a couple of Daimons headed toward their home for a feeding.
Strangely, that gave him an idea …
Teleporting to the nebulous no-man’s-land that hovered between the realms, he went to find the one creature who could walk just about any place he wanted to.
“Shadow?”
“No.”
Urian snorted at the gruff, disembodied voice. “No, what?”
“Whatever it is you’re selling, I don’t want it. Take your ass and go.”
“C’mon, don’t be that way.”
Winds whistled in his ears. The shadows beside him solidified into a man who eyed him with malice as he crossed his arms over his chest and tsked. Just above average height and well built, Shadow had eyes of steel. And like his very soul, his shoulder-length hair that he wore pulled back into a short ponytail was neither light nor dark, but strands of varying shades that were trapped squarely between his two dueling natures.
The demon was fearless as a rule, hence his personal motto that he feared no evil, for he was the most evil thing that stalked the darkness and called the deadliest night home.
“Good to see you, Shay.”
“No, it isn’t, and I’m not your fucking date. What do you want, asshole?”
Urian smirked. “Really? Do we need all the profanity?”
“What you call an overuse of profanity, I call sentence enhancers.”
“Of course you do.” Urian shook his head. “I lost my spy at the Inferno and I could really use someone else.”
He burst out laughing. “Are you fucking crazy? ‘Hey, Shadow, long time no see … got a dude killed. Could you go replace him? ’Cause I don’t like you at all, which is why we haven’t talked in a few centuries. So if you die, I really don’t give a shit.’ ” He pursed his lips. “Gee, thanks, Daimon.”
Urian had forgotten just how sarcastic Shadow could be. “The reason I’m here is because you have a unique skill set.”
“Yeah, I keep out of other people’s shit. You know, no soweth of the discord among the brethren. My feet do not head to mischief. They’re quite happy here at home.”
“Shay …”
“Uri …” he mocked. “No.”
“Please?”
“That only works if you’re a grown female. Naked. And in my bed or writhing on top of me. And brother, you’re none of those.”
“You really won’t help me?”
A tic started in Shadow’s jaw. “Maybe, but only if I get bored with reruns, have no more belly lint to pick, and something causes me even more brain damage than I already have, maybe, just maybe I might—might—do it. So what is it?”
Closing his eyes, Shadow lifted his crossed fingers and said under his breath, “Please let it be to spy on a hot woman in her underwear.”
Urian slapped him in the chest. “You’re such a fucking pervert!”
“The hell I am! You know, I could do that any time I wanted, and notice that I never have. That makes me a saint.”
Urian rolled his eyes. “Find out what Wulf Tryggvason is up to for me.”
“That burly Viking Dark-Hunter bastard?”
“Yeah.”
He screwed his face up. “Couldn’t even give me Corbin. Effing figures.”
As he started to disintegrate, Urian called out to him. “Thank you, Shadow!”
“You can thank me by not getting me killed, too, Daimon. Really, that’s all the favor I need.”
Oddly enough, Urian would settle for that himself because as he headed back to Kalosis, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible was about to happen.
That feeling only intensified as soon as he returned home and his cell phone lit up with Wulf’s and then Phoebe’s number. The Muppet could wait. He called Phoebe first, but for some reason, he couldn’t get through.
Weird. So he tried Wulf.
Again, no signal. Frustrated, he went through his messages. The first one was Phoebe’s hysterical screaming, “Your father has mine! He wants Erik! What the hell have you done, Urian! What the hell! You better call me as soon as you get this! Oh my God!”
Um, yeah. What the hell was right.
He listened to the next one, which was Wulf.
“You motherfucking, worthless Daimon bastard! So help me, Thor, when I lay hands on you there won’t be enough left to flush, you hear me? You shitstain! You better call me back! Right now!”
Well, that was certainly not the way to motivate someone to want to dial you back, buddy. In fact, Urian had the urge to lose his phone.
And change his number.
Yeah …
Damn, Solren, what have you done? Gone for five minutes and what? You summoned the Furies? And their brats?
Disgusted, he headed for his father’s office, but Trates caught him in the hallway. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“What’s going on?”
Trates let out a tired sigh. “He’s on a rampage.”
“He’s been on one for days.” Ever since Erik’s birth.
“Yeah, but he’s all out of sorts at the moment. He had a conference with Apollymi. I don’t know what the goddess said, but he is fit to be tied. We’re all lying low for a bit.”
Rubbing his forehead as he listened to furniture hitting the walls, Urian grimaced. “Did he kidnap Jefferson Peters?”
“Who?”
“The heiress’s father.”
Trates shrugged. “If he did, I wasn’t in on it.”
“Is that Urian?”
“Run,” Trates whispered. “Just stay low till he cools off. I’ll cover for you.”
Thanks, Urian mouthed before he vanished. While he wasn’t a coward, he just wasn’t in the mood for anyone else to shout at him tonight.
His head throbbing, he strangely found himself in Xyn’s cave. Sighing, he sat down on her bed and hung his head in his hands as he remembered simpler times.
God, how he missed it. Those nights of lying here with her. Of stretching back on her scales while she heated them to keep him warm. In all his life, she was the only one who’d ever really taken care of him.
While he loved Phoebe to distraction, it wasn’t the same. She was his responsibility. He was forever worried about her. Sighing, he forced himself not to think about things that were long gone. This was the present.
If only he could see some kind of future. But with every heartbeat, that was getting darker and darker. And less likely as a possibility.
Urian had done everything he could to get word to Phoebe and Cassandra not to panic. Jefferson was safe. He’d made sure of it. Shadow was guarding him.
But his father was in such a state that he didn’t dare try a more direct line of communication. Not the way Daimons were dropping. Right now, Stryker was taking a shot at anyone who looked at him cockeyed.
And even a few who didn’t.
His phone vibrated again. Urian glanced at it. This time it was Shanus.
What were they doing? Swapping his number around for shits and giggles? They were about to get him killed if they didn’t stop. This was the fifth time Shanus had called.
Not the time or the day …
Eyes wide, he exchanged an annoyed stare with Davyn, who rubbed his back comfortingly.
Until his father neared them. The kill-them-all-and-let-Zeus-sort-them-out expression on his face caused Davyn to shrink away.
“You ready, pido?”
“Always.”
His father nodded, but something in his eyes made Urian’s blood run cold. What had happened? He glanced over to Davyn, who looked as freaked out as he felt. For the merest second he had the thought to go exchange his black jeans and shirt for the armor Xyn had made for him centuries ago.
And to get his shield, too.
With no choice, they followed his father into the portal that was to take them into Dante’s Inferno, where Wulf would be waiting with who knew how many Were-Hunters and Dark-Hunters. While Wulf had been told to come alone, none of them were dumb enough to believe for one yoctosecond that he would. Not while Acheron was alive. He would protect his Hunters at all costs. Since Dante Pontis owned the club, they knew the panther Were-Hunter would be there, along with his large number of brothers and cousins.
The rest was anyone’s guess.
Urian took a deep breath and stepped in. Sure enough, as they appeared inside the nightclub, it was loaded for Daimon. Hunters abounded. Urian saw Wulf immediately and made sure to keep his expression stone and unresponsive, or else they’d both pay for it. He immediately moved over to the side so that in case that was his infant son Erik Wulf had strapped to him, he could help protect the baby.
His father looked around with an evil, gloating smile. “How nice … you brought dinner for my men. If only everyone could be so considerate.”
Several of the Daimons laughed. Urian wasn’t one of them.
But one of the Dark-Hunters laughed. A tall, dark-haired one who looked about as crazed as his father had been acting lately. “You know, I almost like this guy, Acheron. Pity we have to kill him.”
His father slid a sideways glare to the Dark-Hunter before his gaze went to Acheron. The two of them stared at each other without a word or emotion.
Urian, however, lost his composure as he realized how many times he’d seen Acheron over the years. More than that, he had a sudden epiphany of who and what he really was.
And why Katra visited them.
Holy shit!
Acheron was Apollymi’s real son!
How had he missed it all these years? His father thought of himself as Apollymi’s son, but he wasn’t. He was just her adopted child. That was her full-blooded Apostolos. The child she mourned for.
Acheron was why she sat by the mirror all the time. She was watching over him!
Everything was so clear now.
Why they’d been called back. The no-touch laws …
Everything.
Urian had to let him know. “Father?”
“It’s all right, Urian. I know all about the Atlantean. Don’t I, Acheron?”
“No. You just think you do, Strykerius. I, on the other hand, know your every flaw, right down to the one that enables you to believe in the Destroyer while she toys with you.”
Urian gave the Dark-Hunter leader credit. Bastard just laid it all out on the table better than he could.
“You lie.”
And his father chose not to believe it. Damn … what could he do? How could people be so blind? Urian didn’t understand it. He never would.
How, when given all the true, absolute facts, people would still blatantly choose to ignore them all.
“Perhaps. But perhaps not.”
Stryker turned to Wulf and dropped his gaze to the baby. He cocked his head. “How sweet. You went to so much trouble, didn’t you? All of you did. I should feel flattered.”
A bad feeling went through Urian. His father was acting really, really peculiar. He glanced over to Davyn, who appeared equally concerned. Meanwhile his phone was vibrating again. He reached to silence it as his father headed toward him.
’Cause that wasn’t unnerving at all.
To his instant chagrin, his father draped an arm over his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek.
What the fuck was this? While it wasn’t unusual for his father to be affectionate, he’d never done it right before battle and in such a public manner. Urian scowled even more at the action and grew rigid as he waited for some shit to go down.
“Children are the very thing we live for, aren’t they?” His father played with the leather laces that held his blond braid. “They bring us joy. Sometimes they bring us pain.”
Was he blood-high?
“Of course, you’ll never understand the pain I mean, Wulf. Your son won’t live long enough to betray you.”
Urian opened his mouth to explain, but before he could, his father slashed open his throat with his dragon claw. Then he shoved him away.
Stunned and unable to speak, Urian fell to the floor gasping, holding his hands against his neck to stanch the blood flow. But it was useless. It ran through his fingers and spread over the floor.
“You didn’t really think I was stupid enough to fall for this trick, did you?” His father’s gaze bored into Wulf. “I knew you would never bring me the baby. I just needed to get the guardians away from Elysia for a while.”
Wulf cursed at his words as he moved to attack.
His father vanished into a black cloud of smoke while the Daimons attacked.
“Ak’ritah tah!” Acheron shouted.
The portal opened.
One of the Daimons laughed. “We don’t have to go through—” Before he could finish the sentence, the Daimon was violently sucked through the opening.
The others quickly followed.
Meanwhile Urian lay there, blinded by his tears as he tried to breathe. He had to get to Phoebe. He couldn’t die like this.
Ash ran across the floor and knelt by his side. “Shh.” He covered Urian’s hands with his own. “Breathe.”
Warmth spread from Acheron’s hand through Urian’s body as the Dark-Hunters moved to surround them. With each heartbeat, Urian’s breathing became easier and the pain receded.
Until it was gone.
Urian took a deep breath as he realized that for reasons unknown, Acheron had healed him. “Why?”
“I’ll explain later.” Acheron stood up and lifted the hem of his shirt until his stomach was exposed. “Simi, return to me.”
The baby shot out of Wulf’s hands immediately. She turned from an infant into a tiny dragon, then laid herself over Acheron’s skin until she became a tattoo.
A blond Dark-Hunter snorted. “I always wondered how your tattoo moved.”
Ash didn’t speak. Instead, he raised his hands.
One second they were in the Inferno. The next they were in the middle of Elysia.
Urian shot to his feet as he ran to find his wife. Horrific screams and pleas for mercy rent the air. Bodies of Apollite men, women, and children lay everywhere. He hadn’t seen anything like this in centuries. Not since the days when humans used to raid their villages.
“Phoebe!” Urian headed straight for his apartment. Fear tore him apart as every instinct he possessed told him what he’d find. And he was terrified of being right.
Why hadn’t he answered his phone? Why?
And the moment the door opened, and he saw the destruction in his apartment, he knew.
He knew.
Everything had been torn apart. Their furniture was overturned. The stereo had been ripped from the wall and Phoebe’s records, tapes, and CDs were littered everywhere, as if his father had wanted to punish them for trying to have a life without him.
Urian choked on his tears as he tried to come to terms with this moment.
With this reality.
Life with no Phoebe.
It was like the day he’d lost Xyn. Sinking to his knees, he threw his head back and cried out in fury. How many times in his life was he going to lose everything? Why? Was it too much to ask to be loved? To have one person he could keep in his heart?
One person for himself?
Damn you, Acheron!
The bastard should have let him die! Why couldn’t he have left him where he was?
This was so much worse. Phoebe was dead and it was all his fault! He’d done this to her. Caused it.
Blinded by tears, he heard the others outside who shared his grief. That, too, was his fault. He’d failed them all.
Shaking and heartbroken, he paused as his gaze fell to something glittering amid the wreckage on the floor. At first he thought it was a reflection caused by his tears until he realized it was something else.
Something metallic.
Phoebe’s necklace!
Incredulous, he scooped it up and let it dangle from his fingers. This was all he had of her. Such a paltry trinket for a life so vibrant. And yet it was worth more than the Taj Mahal. More than all the gold and diamonds of the earth. Because it had belonged to her and it was all he had left.
He would kill anyone who ever laid a finger to it. That was how dear and precious this worthless trinket now was. Because it was Phoebe’s.
And he wished himself dead to be with her. Not here and now to feel this pain wrought by her absence.
I can’t do this without you, Pheebs. He didn’t even want to try. Because honestly, he was too old and too tired to have one more fresh start in him. He was done with this life.
Done with trying.
Honestly? He just wanted to die and be done with it all.
Ash found Urian on his knees in the center of the trashed living room. There was a small gold locket in his hands as the man wept silently.
“Urian?” Ash said in a low, steady tone.
“Go away!” he snarled. “Just leave me alone.”
“You can’t stay here. The Apollites will turn on you.”
“Like I care.” He looked up and the empathetic pain Ash felt from Urian made him take a step back. It had been a long time since Ash had come into direct contact with so much hopeless grief. He remembered a time, long ago, when he’d felt the same way, and it staggered him for a moment. “Why didn’t you let me die too? Why did you save me?”
Ash took a deep breath as he grappled with a past that had once brutalized him and left him a hollowed-out shell. If he could, he would save Urian from that additional misery. “Because if I hadn’t, you would have sold your soul to Artemis over this and killed your father.”
“You think I’m not going to kill him over this?” He turned on Ash with a growl. “There’s nothing left of her. Nothing! I don’t even have anything to bury. I …” His words broke off as he sobbed.
Ash placed his hand on Urian’s shoulder. “I know.”
“You don’t know!”
God, how he wished that were the truth. Ash gripped his chin and lifted it until their gazes locked. “Yes, Urian, I do know.” In ways this Daimon couldn’t imagine.
Urian struggled to breathe as he saw images flickering through Ash’s swirling silver eyes that were identical to Apollymi’s. There was so much pain there, so much agony and wisdom.
It was hard to maintain eye contact with him.
“I don’t want to live without my Phoebe.” His voice broke on the words.
“I know. For that reason, I’m giving you a choice. I can’t lock onto your father to monitor him. I need you to do that. Because sooner or later, he’ll be back after Apollo’s lineage.”
So what! Urian curled his lip. “Why would I protect them now? Phoebe died because of them!”
“Phoebe lived because of them, Urian. Remember? You and your father were responsible for killing her entire family. Did you ever tell Phoebe it was you? You. Who killed her grandmother? Or her sisters?”
Urian looked away shamefaced as that guilt tore through him. “No. I would never have hurt her.”
“Yet you did. Every time you, your father, or one of your Spathis killed one of her family, she felt the pain you feel now. Her mother’s and sisters’ deaths tore her apart. Isn’t that why you saved Cassandra to begin with?”
Of course it was. One tear from Phoebe’s eyes had always shattered him. “Yes.”
Acheron stepped away from him while Urian pulled himself together as best he could.
“You said I had a choice?”
Acheron drew a ragged breath. “The other is that I will erase your memories of everything. You’ll be free of all of this. All your pain. The past, the present. You can live as if none of this had ever happened to you.”
A blank slate. Thousands of years gone. It sounded so easy, but Urian didn’t believe even Acheron had those powers. He knew the gods better than that.
Besides, he was tired of it all. Life meant pain. It was brutal and it gutted everyone to their knees. And he was so sick of this. “Will you kill me if I ask it?”
“Do you want me to?”
At the moment, it was all he wanted. How ironic was that? He who’d taken so many lives in an effort to live one more day, to breathe one more breath, just wanted to finally expel his last and be done with it all.
But in this, his weakest, darkest moment, how strange that it was Xyn’s voice he heard.
Remember the precious cost …
Damn his dragon for making him see truth even now.
Weaker than he’d ever been in his life, he met Acheron’s gaze. And damn this son of Apollymi for making him into what he’d become, because he knew that by saving his life, Acheron had turned him into something else entirely. But he had no idea what he was now. “I’m no longer a Daimon, am I?”
“No. Nor are you an Apollite, exactly.”
“Then what am I?”
Acheron took a deep breath before he spoke again. “You are unique in this world.”
Unique. Wonderful. Just what he’d never wanted to be. All he’d ever wanted was to fit in, and now he stood out even more.
“How much longer will I live?”
Acheron shrugged. “You’re immortal, barring death.”
Urian curled his lips at what had to be the dumbest answer ever. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Most of life doesn’t.”
He wouldn’t argue that. The gods knew that he’d never been able to figure it out. Urian sniffed and wiped at his eyes. “Can I walk in daylight?”
“If you want, I can make it so. If you choose amnesia, I will make you fully human.”
Urian arched a brow at the most shocking thought of all. “You can do that?”
Ash nodded.
Yeah, only one born of a primal power could do that. Born of the light and dark. Not even Apollymi had the powers Acheron had.
Damn.
Urian laughed bitterly as he raked a cold look over Ash’s body and in particular where the tattoo dragon had gone. He knew exactly what that was. And what it meant. “You know, Acheron, I’m not stupid, nor am I as blind as Stryker. Does he know of the demon you carry on your body?”
“No, and Simi isn’t a demon, she’s part of me.”
With Simi being a Charonte demon, that was an understatement, since they bonded to their master and became a symbiotic life form. Acheron was full of surprises. No wonder Urian hadn’t been able to get a reading on him when they’d crossed paths in the past.
Urian’s gaze bored into his. “That I find most interesting of all. Poor Stryker, he’s so screwed and he doesn’t even know it.”
He moved to stand closer to Acheron. “I know who and what you are, Acheron Parthenopaeus.”
“Then you know if you ever pass your knowledge along I’ll make sure you regret it. Eternally.”
Yeah, he just bet Acheron would at that. Urian nodded. “But I don’t understand why you hide.”
Acheron shrugged. “I’m not hiding. The knowledge you carry can’t help anyone. It can only destroy and harm.”
Perhaps there was truth to that. Just like his powers of healing. Whenever people knew about them, they went crazy for them and there were limitations to what he could do. And when they failed, it got ugly fast. So like Acheron, he kept his powers hidden. For his own well-being as much as for others.
Urian winced as he thought back to all the lives of the people he’d loved who were lost to him. His children. His mother. His wives. Brothers and sisters. The humans and Daimons he’d killed for the right to continue living. “I’m through being a destroyer.”
“Then what are you?”
Urian let his thoughts wander through the events of this night. He thought about the aching pain inside him that screamed over the loss of his wife. It was so tempting to let Acheron erase it all, but with that he would lose all the good memories he carried, too.
Though he and Phoebe had only had a few years together, she had loved him in ways no one ever had. Touched a heart he had thought was long dead.
No, it hurt to live without her, but he didn’t want to lose all connection with her.
He fastened her locket around his neck as he realized that for the first time since he was a boy, his head was quiet. The only voice in it now was his own.
“I’m your man, Acheron. But I warn you now. If I’m ever given a chance to kill Stryker, I will take it. Consequences be damned.”
Stryker snarled in outrage as he found himself in the Destroyer’s throne room. “I was so close to killing them. Why did you stop me? How could you have pulled me back here?”
Still the demon, Sabine, held him back from Apollymi’s throne.
For once Xedrix wasn’t in the room with his mother, but Stryker didn’t have time to ponder the demon’s whereabouts. His thoughts were too consumed by hatred and vexation.
His mother sat on her chaise completely poised, as if she were holding court and hadn’t just destroyed all their years of careful planning.
“Do not raise your voice to me, Strykerius. I will not take your insubordination.”
He forced himself to level his voice even while his blood simmered in fury. “Why did you interfere?”
She pulled her black pillow into her lap and toyed with a corner of it. “You cannot win against the Elekti. I told you that.”
“I could have beaten him,” Stryker insisted. No one could stop him. He was sure of it.
“No, you couldn’t.” She dropped her gaze again and ran her hand elegantly over the black satin. “There is no pain worse than a son who betrays your cause, is there, Strykerius? You give them everything and do they listen? No. Do they respect you? No. Instead they shred your heart and spit on the kindness you would show to them.”
Stryker clenched his eyes shut as she voiced the very thoughts inside his heart. He’d given Urian everything. And how had his son repaid him? With a betrayal so profound that it had taken him days to come to grips with it.
Part of him hated Apollymi for telling him the truth. The other part thanked her. He’d never been the kind of man to welcome a snake to his bosom.
He still couldn’t get over the fact that Urian hadn’t trusted him, his own father. That his son honestly thought, after all these years, he couldn’t tell him the simple truth.
He’d remarried.
And now what had those actions done? Urian’s wife had gone trelos and attacked her own commune. Because she was human and couldn’t handle it. His son’s lies had forced him to commit even bigger ones to protect Urian.
You killed him for his betrayal. That was the lie Stryker would live with. Not the truth. That he’d done it to spare Urian from finding out that Phoebe had gone insane. Because that would kill Urian’s heart. He knew his son too well. And he’d never be able to watch what that would have done to his boy.
The anguish and self-hatred.
Stryker was already hated and loathed. Better he remain the monster they all thought him to be, than watch his son die slowly from his own recriminations.
Urian died for betrayal. Betrayal to the community and to him.
And Stryker would never do that to his mother. “I will listen to you, akra.”
Sighing, she cradled the pillow to her breast. “Good.”
“So what do we do now?”
She gazed at him with a small, beautiful smile. When she spoke, her words were simple, but her tone was purely evil. “We wait.”
Urian really didn’t feel like being here. In fact, this was the absolute last place he wanted to be.
Muppet’s house.
But he had nowhere to go. How pathetic was that? Eleven thousand years old and he was homeless. Friendless.
And the only family he had was this Viking piece of shit.
Glorious. Just glorious.
Even better, he could hear Chris grumbling as he came to open the door to let him and Acheron into the house.
Wulf rose to his feet as they entered. He also gasped. Not that Urian blamed him. He knew he looked bad. He was pale, his clothes still covered in blood. And he was madder than ten liters of hell saturated by demon piss and poured down the throats of a starving Charonte. No doubt all of that radiated in his body language and eyes.
The blond Armani-wearing Dark-Hunter who was seated on their right was the first to recover himself and speak. “We were getting worried about you, Ash.”
The surly dark-haired bastard from the club who had a goatee snorted. “I wasn’t. But now that you’re here, do you need me for anything else?”
“No, Z,” Ash said quietly. “Thanks for coming.”
He inclined his head. “Any time you want me to help rip something apart, just give me call. But in the future, could you pick somewhere warmer to do it?” He flashed out of the room before anyone could respond.
The biker blond covered with Celtic tattoos smirked. “You know, it really pisses me off that he’s a god now.”
“Just make sure you don’t piss him off,” Acheron said in warning. “Or he might turn you into a toad.”
The Celt blustered. “He wouldn’t dare.”
Armani snorted. “We are talking about Zarek, right?”
“Oh yeah,” the Celt said. “Never mind.”
Armani stood up with a groan. “Well, since I’m one of the few nonimmortals in the room, I think I’m going to head to bed and rest.”
The Celt flexed his bandaged arm. “Sleep sounds like a plan to me.”
Chris threw the medical supplies back into a plastic box. “C’mon, guys, and I’ll show you where you can crash.”
Cassandra stood up with Erik in her arms, intending to follow after them. “I guess I should—”
“Wait,” Urian said, stopping her. “Can I hold him?”
She hesitated with a worried frown that he knew he’d earned. He’d barely looked at Erik before this. He hadn’t wanted to.
Part of it had been jealousy. Phoebe had wanted a baby desperately, and it had been the one thing he’d never been able to give her. Another had been pure, unadulterated grief. Because when he saw children, it took him back to his youth. Back to the days when his nieces and nephews had been born, and they’d been hopeful of finding an end to their curse.
Before there had been so many deaths. He hadn’t wanted to think about all the times he’d held Geras and Nephele when they were young.
But now …
Cassandra glanced to Ash, who nodded.
Her features reluctant, she handed Erik over to him.
Damn, it’d been so long since he last held a baby that he almost dropped the little squirmy thing. She actually had to show him how to hold one again.
How could he forget something so important as to hold the baby’s head and neck? But then it had literally been hundreds of years. Lucky for them both, it didn’t take long for it to come back to him. And the smell …
That he definitely remembered. That newborn baby smell. Before the world came and tainted them. Scarred them with its brutality and ugliness. Taught them to hate and to hurt. Taught their hearts to bleed.
He would give anything to spare this child the nightmares that were ahead for him. The harsh lessons that would come in the future and bring him to his knees.
“You’re so fragile,” Urian breathed at the tiny boy who eyed him so cluelessly about the misery this world was getting ready to unleash on him. “And yet you’re still alive while my Phoebe isn’t.”
Acheron held him back. “Will you stay and guard your family?”
Urian snarled at Acheron for a reminder he despised him for. “My family is dead.” Thanks to Acheron and his mother.
Acheron’s gaze turned sympathetic as he glanced down at the infant in his arms. “No, Urian, it’s not. Phoebe’s blood is in that baby. Erik carries her immortality with him.”
Urian hated him for that reminder that made him feel again. Made him care when he didn’t want to. In his mind, he saw how excited she was every time she talked about Erik and his imminent arrival.
“She loved this baby,” he whispered. “I could tell how much she wanted her own whenever she spoke of him. I only wish I could have given her one.”
“You gave her everything else, Urian.” Cassandra’s eyes filled with tears as she spoke of her sister. “She knew that, and she loved you for it.”
Those words broke him in a way nothing else had. And for the first time, he actually liked his sister-in-law.
Acheron was right. She was his family.
So was this baby.
And that stupid Muppet asshole.
Urian wrapped an arm around Cassandra and pulled her close. He laid his head down on her shoulder and finally gave in to the tears that had been choking him. Clutching him tight, Cassandra sobbed against his shoulder.
After a time, Urian let go and handed her Erik. “I won’t let your baby die, Cassandra. I swear it. No one will ever hurt him. Not as long as I live.”
Cassandra kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
His throat tight, Urian nodded and withdrew from her. He drew a ragged breath and wiped his tears off on the sleeve of his jacket.
“What an alliance, huh?” Wulf asked after Cassandra had left them. “A Dark-Hunter and a Spathi united to guard an Apollite. Who would have ever imagined?”
Acheron snorted. “Love makes strange bedfellows.”
Muppet scowled. “I thought that was politics.”
“It’s both,” Acheron said with a grin.
Urian folded his arms over his chest. “Would you mind if I slept in the boathouse?”
Wulf nodded. “Sure. Consider it yours for as long as you want it.”
Urian inclined his head to him and headed out, trying his best not to think about the last time he was here.
For Phoebe.
He’d barely reached it when he felt a strange presence behind him. It was one he knew all too well. He felt his arm heating up as he prepared to hurl a bolt at it.
“Oh now, akri-Daimon, don’t be doing that! You smack the Simi, and the Simi be sad. She not coming to hurt you. I just wanted to come bring you some barbecue chips and make you smiley ’cause you gots the hurts. Now put your arm away.”
What the hell? “Who are you?”
Tall and thin, she stepped from the shadows. Unlike the Charonte he was used to, she didn’t have wings or horns, or mottled skin. Rather she appeared human. Dressed in a short Goth skirt, with striped leggings and a corset top, she was adorable. Right down to her coffin pocketbook and tall, stacked heels. Her black hair had the same odd red stripe in it that Acheron’s did. Only she wore her hair up in pigtails.
Flouncing over to him, she took his arm and led him upstairs.
“You are a Charonte, right?”
“’Course I am. All the demons are.”
“Then why aren’t you in Kalosis?”
She made an adorably cute face. “Mostly ’cause the Simi’s not visiting akra-goddess. That’s why, silly!” She opened the door with her powers and led him in.
“I am so confused.”
She grinned. “Knows whatcha mean. The Simi stays confuzzled most the times. Face it. The world’s just a confuzzling kind of place.”
Suddenly, Urian felt like an idiot as he realized who and what the demon was. “You’re Acheron’s tattoo? From the club.”
She gave him a look that said he was a complete and utter moron. “Well, yeah. You don’t think the Simi would let some ole other Charonte come and lay down on her akri and not eat its head, do you?”
From what he knew about Charonte, no. They weren’t exactly into sharing.
She made him sit on the floor in front of the TV. Then she opened her purse and pulled out two surprisingly large bags of potato chips. “Red meat? White meat?”
“Pardon?”
She cocked her head. “Red meat?” She wagged the bag of barbecue chips in front of his face. “Or white meat?” She rattled a bag of sour cream and onion chips.
“I’ve never eaten either.”
Simi sucked her breath in as if that were the worst thing she’d ever heard. “That’s right. You eats the blood! Except you don’t no more.” Fanning her face, she danced around excitedly, then handed him both bags. “Open them! Open them!”
He obliged her.
“Now eats!”
Urian wasn’t sure about this. Cringing, he held one up to his nose.
Simi made a rude noise and popped his hand. “Would you stop! You done been eating on the people! Stop being all finicky. Eat the dang chip! Unlike the people, which don’t be getting the Simi wrong, ’cause they’s mighty tasty, them’s chips is good! Eat it!”
He laughed at the demonic tone that somehow managed to be childlike. “Yes, ma’am.” He bit into it and gasped. “Holy shit, that’s good.”
“Told you! Eat more!” She held up the bag for him. Then she made an adorable noise and dropped it so that she could run to another room.
After a few minutes, she came back with several drinks. “Fruitsie juicies! You gots so much catching up, akri-Daimon!”
Simi scooted in beside him and started pulling more snacks out of that tiny purse, then turned the TV on to something called QVC, where she educated him on modern shopping.
“Why are you doing this, Simi?”
She lay beside him on the floor with her feet up on the couch—he didn’t know why, but most Charonte slept and relaxed like that. Cocking her head, she scowled at him. “Don’t you know, akri-Daimon?”
“No idea.”
She reached up and touched his chest where his mark used to be. “You gots the heart sadness. Friends don’t leave friends alone when they heart-sad.”
“I didn’t know we were friends.”
She snorted at him again. “Of course we are. That’s how you make friends. You see somebody when they heart-sad and you walk over and say, it’ll be okies and you hug them and share your chips. Then you’re friends.”
She took his hand into hers and held it. “See. Friends. The Simi don’t bite you. You don’t bite the Simi. We friends.”
“I guess it is that simple, huh?”
Nodding, she tilted her head back to watch more TV.
She was still there a few hours later when Acheron came to see him. Only Simi was asleep, which was easy to tell as the little demon came with a giant snore.
Cocking his head, Acheron actually lifted his sunglasses up to rest on top of his head as he studied his sleeping demon. “I wondered where she’d gone off to. This was the last place I’d have looked for her.”
“She’s quite the chatterbox.”
Acheron laughed. “You’ve no idea.”
“Oh, you would be wrong there. Got a pretty good earful tonight.”
Still laughing, he nodded. “I can imagine.” Clearing his throat, he sobered. “How are you doing?”
“Been better.” Urian tucked the blanket he’d draped over Simi higher around her chin. “But she helped a lot.”
“Yeah, she has a way of doing that.” Acheron jerked his chin toward the door. “You got a minute?”
“Why?”
“There’s something I think you want to see.”
“Unless it’s my father’s head on a platter, not really.”
Acheron lowered his sunglasses to cover those screwed-up eyes. “I wouldn’t take that bet. C’mon.”
Taking care to not disturb Simi, he got up to follow Acheron toward the back door. Acheron used his powers to open it so that Urian could see the dawn that was breaking over the water.
Out of habit, he hissed and headed for the shadows.
Acheron caught his arm. “It won’t hurt you. I swear.”
His breathing ragged, Urian looked up at him in disbelief. “Really?”
“I swear,” he repeated. “I know you want to see it.” He manifested a pair of sunglasses for Urian and held them out to him. “You’ll need these.”
Urian put them on and then slowly, carefully made his way to the door and then to the deck outside. It was a chilly morning. Biting, in fact. But he didn’t care.
His gaze was held captive by the amber rays breaking through the darkness, setting the landscape aglow.
In all honesty, he had no idea how long he stood there. A million thoughts spun through his head. A billion memories. But the one that kept playing loudest was the one of him and Paris. Tears choked him as he looked over to Acheron. “I wish my brother could have seen it.”
“I know.”
He shook his head. “You don’t know what it’s like to be born with a twin, Acheron. To come into the world with someone.”
“Actually, I do.”
He gaped at that. “Pardon?”
“Not something I share. With anyone. Unlike you and Paris, my brother and I were enemies. He was a selfish bastard who conspired against me. But life takes us to places we don’t always want to go, and in directions we never think it will.”
Urian laughed bitterly as he considered the understatement of that, given that he was a Daimon currently living in the guesthouse of a Dark-Hunter.
“But,” Acheron continued, “we all have a choice. Toss the oar and let the current take us wherever. Or grab the oar with both hands and fight the current with everything we have. In the end, we all determine what fate we embrace. For we are either pawns or players. The final decision is always ours.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve no intention of being a pawn. There’s too much piss and vinegar in me for that. You may have taken my fangs from me, Acheron, but at my core, I remain a demon. Forever. Venom was the milk I drank from my mother’s breast, and I won’t rest until I bathe in the blood of my father.”
His father hadn’t quelled him with his actions.
He’d fueled him.