Retribution

Abigail came awake with a jerk. The last thing she remembered was being strangled by her worst enemy. Pain hit her hard as she came to terms with what had happened.



I failed....



After all these years, she'd finally found the man who'd ruined her life and killed her parents. And he'd overpowered her with an ease that sickened her. She'd risked everything and even allowed her body to be used as an experiment. Still, it hadn't been enough.



I hate you, Sundown Brady. You rotten bastard!



For a moment, she feared she might have died. But as she focused on the opulent room she was in, she realized she was alive.



And it was o-p-u-l-e-n-t.



The bed she lay on was an ornately carved California king with a dark blue silk duvet that was so light, it felt like moving air. The furniture was the kind of high-end quality that looked like an antique, but wasn't. There didn't appear to be any windows, yet the ten-foot ceiling seemed too high to be a basement. And the French tray above her had a beautiful mural painted inside it of a lush forest scene with gilded deer.



I've died and gone to a palace....



That was what it seemed like. The room she was in was bigger than her entire house.



Biting her lip in trepidation, she slid off the bed and wandered around. Her first stop was the door that someone had locked. Not that she was surprised. Far from it. She'd have only been shocked had it opened.



Abigail closed her eyes and tried to use her newfound powers to feel what was around her.



Nothing showed. Which meant nothing. She was still too new to her powers to fully command them.



"You were right, Hannah," she whispered. "I should have honed them better before I took off after Brady." But from the moment Jonah told her he had the updated dossier that told them where Sundown was patrolling, she'd been impatient.



Now she was paying for that stupidity.



Where am I? She had no clue to anything. While the room was lush, it didn't have much in it other than the bed and a dresser and armoire along with two chairs and a coffee table. There was no phone, computer, or clock.



Had Sundown kidnapped her? It was the most likely scenario since she doubted she'd been abducted by a prince, and that made her heart rate speed up. Why would he do that and not kill her?



Unless he wanted to torture her ...



Yeah, that would be more his speed. Dark-Hunters were said to be vicious killers who lived to hear their prey beg for mercy while they died. Though to be honest, this didn't look like a torture chamber. It looked like a palace. The kind of place Jonah would love ...



And then she felt sick as her thoughts turned to Perry and Jonah, who'd been with her when she attacked Sundown. No doubt they were both dead. Tears choked her at the thought of their loss. They'd been good friends to her for many years. Better than she deserved some days. She could barely remember a time when they hadn't been part of her life.



Now they were dead because of Sundown, too. Damn him!



She cursed as she ran through their last few minutes together. Jonah was the one who'd first identified Sundown on the street. She'd wanted to go after him immediately, but Perry had come up with the idea to get him down to the drain so that they could ambush him and keep their actions out of sight of any passersby or police.



Why hadn't it worked? Her powers should have been enough to defeat him. It was like something else had shielded him from her attacks.



Frustration welled up inside her until she sensed someone approaching her room. She quickly returned to the door and glanced about for something she could use as a weapon. There really wasn't anything unless she yanked a picture off the wall, and those were so large and unwieldy, they wouldn't do her any good. Not to mention, they were actual paintings and didn't have a glass front for her to shatter and use. He didn't even have a lamp in here to bash him over the head with. The light came from overhead cans that were on a dimmer switch. She'd turn the light off completely, but that wouldn't help. His eyesight would be much better in the dark than hers.



It didn't matter. She'd beat him down by hand if she had to. He would not defeat her this time.



She pressed herself back against the wall as the door slowly opened.



* * *



Jess paused as he saw the empty bed. Having survived numerous ambushes in his human life, he knew she'd be nearby, waiting to jump him.



And not in a way a man wanted an attractive woman to jump him.



Since she wasn't in his line of sight, she must be behind the door. That thought had barely finished before she kicked it into him with everything she had, which was a lot for a little thing. The door hit him hard and slammed against his arm and face. Oh yeah, that was going to leave a mark.



Stunned, he staggered back.



That was a mistake. She came around the door with a feral growl and launched herself at him. Damn, it was like trying to fight off a mountain lion. Come to think of it, he'd rather fight a mountain lion.



Those, he could shoot.



"Stop!" he snarled, trying to get her off him as she pounded him with her fists.



"Not until you're dead!"



He hissed as she bit his hand. "Trust me, you don't want me to die."



She elbowed him hard in the stomach. "Why not?"



Jess tried to get a grip on her, but she twisted out of his hold and kicked him hard in the leg. He put some distance between them in the hallway. "You're locked in my soundproof basement, where no one will ever be able to hear you scream-and they won't dare come down here to check on me, since they're not allowed." Definitely not true-he always had a hard time keeping Andy out of his hair, but she didn't need to know that. "They'll just think I'm coming and going on my own. You got about a day's worth of food in the pantry down here. After that, hope you don't mind eating rotting Dark-Hunter carcass, 'cause, babe, that's all you're going to have."



Abigail paused at his words. She would call him a liar, but something in his eyes told her he was being honest. Besides, it made sense from what she knew about Dark-Hunters and their habits. She'd been told by her Apollite brethren that their Squires lived in fear of them and that the Squires interacted with the Dark-Hunters they served only when they had to. Some of them had even welcomed death at Apollite hands to be free of their Dark-Hunter masters. "I could break down the door."



He scoffed at her bravado. "This was designed as a fall-out shelter with ten-foot-thick steel walls. Unless you're packing some heavy artillery in your foundation garments, sweetie, it ain't gonna happen. Ain't no cell service down here or anything else. It's like a tomb, which it will be if you kill me. But that's up to you."



She wanted to tear his throat out. Unfortunately, even though she ached to kill him, her self-preservation kicked in. Last thing she wanted was to die ... at least before he did. "Why did you bring me here?"



"Why are you killing Dark-Hunters?" he countered.



Stepping back, she raked a repugnant sneer over him. At least as much of one as she could, given his wardrobe change. Dressed in a pair of red flannel Psycho Bunny pajama bottoms that added a sense of humor and whimsy to his I'll-rip-your-throat-out tough guy aura, and a gray T-shirt, he looked ...



Normal. The only thing lethal about him now was his giant size and those dark eyes that promised her death.



She swallowed before she answered. "Why do you think?"



"Other than the fact that you're as loco as a three-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory, I'm as clueless as a newborn colt."



Abigail's stomach churned at his words. "Oh I forgot. You think it's all right to kill innocent Apollites and humans and prey on them. Well, I have news for you, buster. We're not taking it anymore. Your days of killing us are over, and we're hunting you now."



Frowning, he snapped his head back with a baffled expression. "Come again?"



"Are you deaf?"



"No, ma'am. But I know you didn't just accuse me of killing the very things I protect."



His denial shot a fresh bomb of rage through her. Grinding her teeth, she lunged at him.



Jess caught her against his chest. She stomped his instep. Cursing, he bent over and stumbled back. Big mistake. She slammed her hands across his ears. Pain splintered his skull. She would have kneed him in the face had he not put a little more distance between them.



Sick of being beat on, he cursed himself for declining the handcuffs.



His only course of action was to wrap himself around her and brace her flat against the wall so that she couldn't continue to hurt him. "Stop fighting," he snarled in her ear.



"No! You took everything from me, and I'm going to kill you for it."



That only confused him more. "What are you talking about?"



"You murdered my parents. You bastard!"



For a few heartbeats, he couldn't breathe as he flashed back to his life as a human. Change out the word parents with father and make her a man, and he remembered the day when someone else had leveled that accusation. After it was said, the man drew his gun and shot him.



The bullet had gone into his shoulder. Acting on pure instinct honed by countless gunfights, Jess had pulled his own Colt out and returned the favor. Only his bullet went straight through the man's head. It wasn't until Jess checked him that he realized that man was a sixteen-year-old boy who'd stared up at him in agony while the light drained out of his eyes. The father he'd mentioned had been a cardsharp who'd tried to gun Jess down outside a saloon a few weeks before that. Stupid fool had pulled a derringer on him. Jess had disarmed him, and when the gambler went to stab him, he'd shot him at point-blank range.



Justified.



But the kid's death ...



That was one of dozens of such memories he wished to God he could purge out of his mind.



"I haven't killed a human being in over a hundred and forty years, and I damned sure didn't kill your parents."



She shrieked at him, then thrashed about with enough force to free herself from his hold. "You don't even remember? You worthless, rotten-"



He caught her hand before she slapped him. "Honey, I haven't shot a human since I was one. Only piece of loco around here would be you."



She shoved him back and tried to kick him. "I saw you with my own eyes. You gunned them down in cold blood."



That set fire to his temper. He might have been a lot of things, but that ... that ... "Oh, like hell. I have never in my life killed anyone in cold blood."



She curled her lip. "Right ... You're a hired killer. It's all you've ever known. You've never cared who and what you put down so long as you got paid for it."



"Was"-he stressed the word-"and those I killed, I did so in a fair duel. They had as much a chance of living as I did." While he was the first to admit he'd been a cold-blooded criminal, unlike Bart, he'd had lines he wouldn't cross. Things no amount of money could make him do. "I swear to God that I did not kill your parents."



Abigail hesitated. He meant what he was saying. She could see it in his eyes and hear it in his indignant tone. "How could you forget that night? I heard you fighting with my father. You left and then came back and broke into our house."



He held his hands up to emphasize his point. "I have never broken into a house. A bank, most definitely. A train a time or two to rob payrolls, but never someone's home."



"You're lying."



He shook his head. "I don't lie. I've got no need to."



"Bullshit. I was there. I saw you."



"And I'm telling you right now that I wasn't. On the soul of my mother, I didn't kill them. And while I fought with your dad, I never once struck him or even insulted him." Then to her utmost shock, he went to a cabinet a little farther down the hallway and opened a drawer that had a safe with a hand scanner. He put his palm on top and opened the safe. Inside was a handgun and KA-BAR. He pulled the knife out.



Her heart pounded as she realized he was going to stab her. She braced herself for the fight.



It didn't come.



Instead, he flipped the KA-BAR around so that the blade faced his body and the hilt was toward her. "If you really, truly think I killed your parents, have your vengeance." He placed the knife in her hand.



Completely caught off guard, she stared at him with the weight of the knife heavy in her palm. You've waited your whole life for this. Cut his throat. So what if she died afterward? She'd have her vengeance.



She wanted his life with a passion that was undeniable. It was a primal need that screamed out for his blood. But something in her gut told her to wait.



And in that instant, she had another memory. Sundown sitting at her kitchen table, coloring with her. "Dang, Laura, you have a real artist here. I've never seen a better rendition of Scooby-Doo."



Abigail had beamed with happiness while her mother brought them both a cup of hot chocolate. When her mother turned her back, Jess had added his marshmallows to Abigail's cup because they were her favorite. He'd winked at her and then held his finger to his lips and cut his eyes to her mother's back to tell her to be quiet about it so that neither of them would get in trouble for it. She couldn't count the times he'd done something sweet like that for her.



Sundown had been their friend.



No, her rationale countered. He'd killed them. She'd seen his face in the mirror of her room. He didn't know how to be anyone's friend. He was treacherous to his core, and if he was offering her a knife ...



"What kind of trick is this?"



He didn't back down or blink. He stood right in front of her, looking at her through his thick lashes. His presence was terrifying and overwhelming as a tic beat a fierce rhythm in his jaw. "No trick. Believe me, I understand that soul-deep need to kill the person who took what you loved away from you. I know for a fact that I'm innocent, but I won't fault you for your belief, wrong though it is." He dropped his arms to his sides. "You want to kill me, go for it. I won't stop you. But know that when you do, you'll be spilling innocent blood yourself. May God have mercy on your soul."



Growling in anger, she moved to slice his jugular, expecting him to catch her hand and use the knife on her.



He didn't.



"I will kill you," she said between clenched teeth. She could behead him. She had no doubts.



He continued to stare down at her. "Do it."



Determined, she pressed the blade so close to his throat that it drew a bead of blood onto the dark carbon steel. Still, he didn't budge. He merely stood patiently for her to end his life.



"What are you waiting for?" His words sounded like a taunt.



She ground her teeth in fury at herself. "I'm not you. I can't kill someone who's defenseless."



"Nice to know the other Dark-Hunters you murdered had a fighting chance."



She pulled the blade away from his throat. "Oh, spare me, you blood-sucking bastard. I know exactly how you prey on people and then blame the Apollites for it."



He scowled at her. "Wait, wait, wait. I'm confused. First I'm a murderer, and now I'm guilty of preying on all humanity. Woman, who have you been talking to? They done got your head screwed on backwards and then some. We're not the bad guys in all this. The Daimons are the ones killing humans, not us."



What in the world was he talking about now? "Daimons? What's a Daimon?"



He choked. "You work with Apollites and you've never heard the term?"



"No. Are they some kind of demon?"



Sundown folded his arms over his chest as he gave her a disbelieving grimace. "Daimons are the Apollites who live past their twenty-seventh birthdays."



Was he on something? Surely, he knew the history of her adoptive people even better than she did. "Apollites can't do that. It's impossible."



"Uh, yeah, they can. I know, 'cause they're what we hunt. Every night. Without fail."



She rolled her eyes at his lunacy. "You are such a liar."



"Why would I lie?"



"Because you're one of the ones who kills humans and then blames it on the Apollites," she repeated, stressing the words so that even he could understand them. "You use them as your scapegoats, and this must be the lie you tell to justify it."



"And that makes sense in what alternate universe? Really? Why would we blame something neither humanity nor Apollites know exists to cover up these supposed crimes we commit? Hell, it'd make more sense to blame little green men. Who told you this malarkey?"



Before she could answer, something bright flashed to her left.



Lifting her hand to shield her eyes, she cringed in pain. It was absolutely blinding.



When the light faded, there was another man in the hallway with them. One with an evil sneer, who looked like he'd been bred for no other purpose than to kill. Tall with jet black hair and icy blue eyes, he was gorgeous. Dressed in a blue shirt and jeans, he had a small goatee. He glanced at her, then locked gazes with Sundown, who seemed to know him. "Do I have to kill her for seeing me pop in?"



Sundown shook his head. "She already knows about us."



The unknown man tsked at him. "Risky, boy. Acheron finds out you've been spilling your guts to civs, he'll have your ass."



Sundown ran his thumb down the line of his jaw. He held an expression that said he was oddly amused. "It's not what you think, Z. Turn on those god powers and use them. I am not responsible for her knowledge of nothing."



Z scoffed. "Impressively screwed-up syntax there, Cowboy. Glad I could follow it ... Sort of. As for the powers, don't really have time to scan her and I really don't give a shit. Rather kill her and save myself the expended energy for something I might actually enjoy ... like picking my nose."



Ew. Someone was socially awkward. She wasn't sure at this point if she liked Z or not. He was rather off-putting.



"So why are you here?" Sundown asked.



"Got a huge problem."



Jess didn't like the sound of that at all. He slid his gaze to Abigail. "I already got one of those. Don't need another right now, little buddy."



Zarek laughed evilly at his term of endearment. Only Jess could call the Roman ex-slave that and live. The one thing about Zarek, it didn't take much to motivate him to murder. He hated all people and wanted nothing to do with the world at large. That being said, the two of them went way back, and but for Jess, Zarek would be dead now and not married to a Greek goddess.



It was a debt neither of them spoke about. Ever. However, Zarek wasn't the kind of man to forget it either. They had an unspoken bond of friendship that ran as deep as a blood tie.



Zarek sobered. "Well, that's just too bad, Hoss. 'Cause I'm here to drop this one right in your lap. Someone killed your buddy tonight."



His heart sank at the news. "Ren?"



"Other friend."



Jess scowled. Like Z, he tended to shy away from most folks. His past didn't exactly lend itself to trust. "I only have you and him. So I'm pulling a little blank here on who you might be referring to."



Zarek slapped him across the back. "Think, bud. Fierce immortal who likes to gamble in Sin's casino, wear tacky shirts and watch anime."



Jess sucked his breath in sharply as he understood. "Old Bear?"



"Give that boy a biscuit." Zarek's tone dripped with sarcasm. "He finally got it."



Jess couldn't believe what Z was saying. It wasn't possible. Old Bear was one of the four Guardians and powerful beyond belief. "How?"



"Some fool beheaded him around one A.M."



The woman frowned at them. "Are you talking about the Native American Dark-Hunter stationed here?"



A bad feeling went through Jess as he met her gaze. Surely she wouldn't have been so stupid as to ...



"Say you didn't."



"Kill him?" she asked. "Fine. I didn't ... but I did."



Oh yeah, this was bad. The kind of bad they made horror movies out of. In fact, he'd rather be naked in a zombie flick with no ammo or shelter, coated in brain matter and wearing a sign that said COME GET ME, than face what they were going to have to face now. "Honey, let me give you a quick lesson. Just 'cause someone's a few centuries old and fanged, doesn't make them a Dark-Hunter."



Zarek concurred. "And some of those fanged immortals we actually need. Old Bear happened to be one of them."



She rolled her eyes dismissively. "Pah-lease."



Jess ignored her. There was no need in arguing with her right now. They had much bigger problems than her pigheadedness. "How bad is it?" he asked Zarek.



"Well, he was the Guardian for the West Lands, where his people had banished some of the worst of their supernatural predators. Now that he's dead, the balance has shifted and those he guarded can be set free."



Jess hated to even ask the next question. But unfortunately, he had to. "And they are?"



When he answered, Z's tone was as dry as the desert. "Nothing too major. A couple of plagues. Some scary weather anomalies.... oh, and my personal fave-" He paused for effect, which told Jess how bad it was going to be. "-the Grizzly Spirit."



Oh yeah, that was quite a stellar lineup from hell. Literally. "You're kidding me, right?"



Zarek shook his head. "I don't have a sense of humor, you know that. The Dark Guardians will be moving after Choo Co La Tah now, since he's the North Guardian. If they can take him down, they can free the ones he guards, too."



And set loose an apocalyptic war that would make the Daimon leader, Stryker, look like a wuss. Yeah, that was just what they needed.



The woman set her arms on her hips in pique. "What are you people talking about?"



"Nothing important." Zarek raked a nasty glare over her. "Just the end of the world as we know it, and for the record, I don't feel fine. Neither will you when it all comes slamming down on your head."



Jess dragged Zarek's attention back to the more important matter. Saving the world from those who would put a major hurt on it. "Where's Choo Co La Tah now?"



"Ren was with him at the time Old Bear died. Now he's guarding him. When the sun goes down, Ren'll need help moving Choo Co La Tah to the Valley of Fire."



Now, that made no sense. "Why?"



Zarek shrugged. "You'll have to ask Ren yourself. I didn't inquire and no one elaborated. All I know is it's something to do with a prophecy from their pantheon, and for that reason, I can't go with you. Apparently the area you have to go into is protected from any god or demigod born outside their pantheon. I'm only here as a messenger. Ash would have come for this, but his wife's in labor."



"Why'd he call you?"



Zarek gave him a droll stare. "My charming personality."



Jess snorted in derision.



"Fine, asshole. I'm sure it had to do with the fact that he figured you wouldn't shoot me."



That was a good bet, and Ash had no doubt refrained from calling Andy because the boy was too high-strung to deal with news like this. Andy would still be in his room, freaking out over the end of the world and trying to get laid before it occurred. "Why didn't he call me himself?" For some reason, Ash's calls came through even down here. That man had the best cell service ever.



"He tried. You didn't answer your phone. And since he's a little busy with his wife threatening to castrate him over her labor pains, he sent me in."



Now, that, Jess would have paid money to hear. He couldn't imagine anyone threatening Ash.



He slid his gaze back to Abigail, who'd been nothing but trouble since the moment he followed her into the drain. The call must have come in when they'd been fighting.



Zarek walked over to her. "And thank you, Miss Priss, for making this easy on us." He snapped his fingers and a rope appeared on her hands, binding them together.



She shrieked in outrage until Zarek manifested a gag over her lips to stifle her insults.



"What are you doing?" Jess asked.



"Making it easy on you."



Completely baffled, he frowned at Zarek's actions. "Making what easy on me?"



"Transporting her."



At this point, Z was starting to wear on his nerves. "Would you stop acting like a third-rate Oracle and spit everything out so that it makes sense." 'Cause right now, he had no idea why Zarek had her bound up like a Christmas goose, and he was too tired to keep chasing answers.



"Glad to. In order to set everything back to normal and stop the hell to come, Choo Co La Tah has to go to the Valley and offer up a sacrifice of the one who killed Old Bear." He passed a wry grin to the woman. "That'd be you, sweet cheeks."