CHAPTER 9

Kyrian walked down the hallway and opened the door to his office. Nick sat at the antique mahogany desk with his back to him. The black leather reclining office chair squeaked as Nick shifted in the seat while his fingers flew over the keys of the computer keyboard.

It was a familiar sight.

On the Internet, Nick was a demigod, which in hacker terminology meant he could pretty much infiltrate anything, no matter how secure the server. Because of that, Nick, Chris Eriksson, and Daphne Addams had been relegated to designing, maintaining, and securing the Dark-Hunter.com Web site where the Dark-Hunters and Squires kept all their records and communicated with each other.

It was nice to know Nick was picking up something other than women of questionable morals at school.

“So what had you barging into my room?”

Nick glanced over his shoulder with a devilish grin. “Man, you got laid. It’s about time.”

“Knock it off.”

Snorting, Nick turned his attention back to his instant message. “You’re the only man I know who can have sex with a woman who looks that good and be in this bad a mood ten minutes later. Damn, didn’t you know sex is supposed to make you feel better?”

Kyrian rolled his eyes at his impudent Squire. Rules and regulations had never applied to Nick Gautier. Nor had the boy ever been intimidated by him. Not even on the night he had learned what Kyrian was.

“Nick…” he warned.

Nick opened a small window on the computer and read the message. “Okay, okay. Here’s the deal from the Oracles:

“Of Apollite birth and of Daimon born, he is the one who will make you mourn.

“Through the wine god’s blood and bath, he exists as pure wrath.

“To bring him under final control, you must find the Dark-Hunter with a soul.”

Kyrian frowned at the riddle, which was the typical garbage given to them by the Oracles. Gods, how he hated them. Just once, couldn’t they actually come out and say it in plain, simple language?

Oh no. Zeus forbid, the Oracles should actually help them protect the humans.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked Nick.

Nick swung around in the chair to face him. “Acheron interpreted it to say that only a Dark-Hunter with a soul can kill Desiderius. That’s why no one has ever succeeded against him. It’s simple prophecy, and you know how that works.”

“There’s no such thing as a Dark-Hunter with a soul. Not a full soul, anyway.”

“Then according to the Oracles and Ash, Desiderius can never be killed.”

Kyrian let out a slow breath. “That is not what I wanted to hear this morning.”

“Yeah, and all I have to say is I’m damned glad I’m not in your boots on this one.” Nick frowned. “Your eyes are green. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Nick tilted his head and gave him a suspicious stare. “Something’s up.” He reached for his cell phone. “Do I need to call Ash again?”

Kyrian took the phone from his hand and glared murderously at him. “Leave Acheron out of this. I can handle it.”

“Yeah, you’d better. You get on my last nerve, but I’d hate to break in another Dark-Hunter.”

Kyrian snorted at him. “What is that? A declaration of love?”

“It’s one of loyalty. I don’t want to see you go down like Streigar did.”

The thought sobered Kyrian. Streigar had been a fierce Dark-Hunter who had been trapped by vampire-hunting humans who exposed him to daylight. His death had upset all of them, Dark-Hunter and Squire alike.

“Don’t worry,” he assured Nick, “I’m not going to be a dawn-surfer. I can handle myself.”

“Want to bet that’s what Streigar said, too?”

Kyrian growled. “Don’t you have class today?”

Nick laughed at that. “Boy, I’m a backwoods Cajun, I ain’t never got no class, cher.” He cleared his throat and dropped the thick Cajun accent. “And no, today’s registration. I’ve got to figure out what I’m taking next semester.”

“Fine, but I have a few things I need you to do today.”

“And that is different from any other day how?”

Sarcasm, thy name is Nick Gautier.

“I need you to take Amanda shopping for clothes. The Daimons burned her house down and she has nothing except the clothes on her back.”

Nick arched a brow. “From what I saw, she had no clothes whatsoever on her back. Her front neither.”

Kyrian narrowed his eyes on his Squire.

“Don’t have a hissy.” Nick held his hands up in mock surrender. “I know she’s yours and I would never encroach, but man, I’m not blind, either.”

“One day, Gator bait…”

“Yeah, right. That threat might actually carry weight if I didn’t know how much you live to order me around. You’d go insane if you couldn’t page me at all hours of the night.”

Kyrian couldn’t deny that. The nights did have a way of getting long and boring when there were no Daimons to pursue. And bugging Nick at three A.M. did provide some entertainment.

Nick pulled out his Palm Pilot and made notes on it. “All right, secret mission, take woman shopping.” He looked up at Kyrian. “By the way, I want hazard pay for this. I seriously hate the mall.”

Kyrian laughed. “That I can tell by the way you dress.”

Nick gave him a fake wounded look. “Excuse me, Mr. Armani. I happen to like the grunge look.”

“Sorry. I keep forgetting it’s fashionable to look like you just rolled out from under a Dumpster.”

Stuttering in indignation, Nick pretended offense. “Why don’t you take your butt back to bed and save your oozing charm for your woman? ’Cause if you keep this up, I’m going to stake you…” then under his breath, he added, “while you sleep.”

Kyrian crossed his arms over his chest. “All right, you’ll get your bonus, but play nice with her. Keep your sarcasm to a minimum.”

“Yes, O great Lord and Master.” Nick added another note—“Be nice to woman, keep mouth shut”—then he looked up. “By the way, is there a limit on what I’m to spend for her clothes?”

“No. Whatever she wants to spend.”

“Visit Needless-Markup and Lord and Taylor. All right, next?”

“Have her back here before dusk or I’m going to feed your Cajun hide to Talon’s gators.”

A glimmer of fear flashed in his eyes. Nick hated alligators, but Kyrian had no idea why. “All right, that scares me.”

“I also want you to go by Talon’s and pick up a srad. Let’s give Desiderius a surprise he won’t see coming.”

Nick visibly cringed at the mention of Talon’s circular daggers. It was an ancient weapon that made a Ginsu look like a butter knife. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”

“Yes, I do.” Kyrian took a deep breath. “Now, I need some sleep. Your primary job today is to take care of Amanda.”

Nick turned off his Palm Pilot and clipped it to his belt. “You like her, don’t you?”

Kyrian didn’t answer. He didn’t dare. Neither one of them needed to know that one.

Instead, he left Nick sitting at the computer and went back to his room.

*   *   *

After a quick shower, Amanda quietly stepped into the bedroom to dress while Kyrian slept in his large four-poster bed.

The room was completely dark with the only light coming from the bathroom. No one would ever be able to tell if it was day or night from in here, and yet Kyrian always seemed to know when the sun was up.

She stepped over to the bed to watch him lying there with the sheet draped over his middle to shield his nudity. Oh, that man had a body …

She could stare at him all day long and not grow tired of all that lush, tawny skin that she longed to explore some more with her lips and hands. What was it about him that was so addictive?

She ached to kiss those poetic lips and run her hands through the golden waves on his head, but she didn’t want to disturb his sleep. He needed his strength.

Tiptoeing from the room, she headed downstairs to the kitchen.

Daylight sparkled against the white marble of the room, bright and cheerful. Rosa was frying bacon while Nick sat on a barstool looking through a college course catalogue.

Probably no older than twenty-four, Nick was lean and handsome. His shoulder-length dark brown hair could have used a trim, but somehow it suited his sculpted features. He was wearing a baggy sweater that had seen better days, and faded jeans with a hole in the knee.

“Hey, Rosa,” he said without looking up from his catalogue, “if I take Spanish next semester, will you help me study for it?”

“Sí. I imagine Kyrian will, as well.”

“Great,” he said sarcastically. “Between that and Ancient Greek Civilization, I’ll have the friggin’ time of my life.”

“Nick!” Rosa chastised. “Such language you use. It is not becoming of a gentleman.”

“Sorry.”

Rosa set a plate of toast, bacon, and eggs down beside Nick, then turned and caught sight of Amanda in the doorway. “There you are, señorita. Are you hungry?”

“A little.”

“Come,” she said, indicating the stool beside Nick. “Sit and I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Thank you, Rosa.”

Rosa smiled.

Amanda took a seat beside Nick. He brushed his hand off on his jeans and held it out to her. “Nick Gautier,” he said with a charming, dimpled smile. “Better known as ‘Nick, get your butt in here, I need you to…’ Fill in the blank.”

She laughed. “Bossy, isn’t he?”

“You’ve no idea.” Nick pulled his cell phone off his belt and handed it to her. “Speaking of, boss man said you’d need to call work.”

“Thanks.”

While Rosa made her breakfast, she called her boss and explained about her house. Luckily, her director was understanding and gave her a two-week leave of absence to take care of it.

As soon as she hung up, Amanda felt ill as she remembered her loss. “I can’t believe they burned down my house.”

“Your house?” Rosa asked. “Who burned it down?”

“The authorities are looking into it,” Kyrian said from the direction of the living room.

Amanda turned around to see him standing in the doorway. He looked pale and uneasy.

Rosa smiled. “M’ijo, you are here today. Nick said you would be gone.”

“I’m not feeling well.” Even though his face was tender, he narrowed his gaze on Rosa. “You came in on time this morning, didn’t you?”

Rosa ignored his question. “Come and sit. I’ll make you something to eat.”

Kyrian cast a wary look to the sunlight spilling into the kitchen from the open windows. He took a step back into the dark living room. “Thank you, Rosa, but I’m not hungry. Nick, I need to see you for a minute.”

Nick gave her a knowing smile. “At least he didn’t tell me to move my butt.”

“Nick,” Kyrian said. “Move your butt, boy.”

While Nick went over to Kyrian, Rosa set a plate in front of her. “Poor little one. What are you to do without a house?”

“I don’t know. I guess I need to call my insurance company. Find a place to live…” Amanda’s voice trailed off as she thought over all the things that needed to be done.

She’d have to replace her entire life. Everything. Toothbrush, shoes, books, furniture, phones. She didn’t even have a pair of underwear.

Overwhelmed, she lost her appetite.

Whatever was she going to do?

Nick came back to the counter and picked up his catalogue, then went back to Kyrian in the doorway. “I need a favor. I have to register at one o’clock, so if we’re not back, can you sign up on-line for my classes? I know you need to sleep, but I really want to take Greek Civ next semester.”

“Why?”

“Dr. Alexander is teaching it and he’s supposed to be really good.”

“Julian Alexander?” Amanda asked.

“Yeah,” Nick said, looking back at her. “You know him?”

She exchanged a knowing look with Kyrian. “Not half as well as Kyrian does.”

Nick shuddered. “Ah, man, not another one of you. Great. Shoot me now and put me out of my misery.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Kyrian took the catalogue. “One o’clock. Anything else?”

“Yeah, do something about those eyes, they’re creeping me out.”

Kyrian arched a warning brow at Nick’s commanding tone. “You two have fun.”

“Fun?” Amanda asked as Kyrian left them.

Nick returned to sit on his stool. “We’re going shopping.” He curled his lips and shuddered at the word.

“For what?”

He took a drink of orange juice. “Whatever you need, my lady. Furs, diamonds, whatever.”

“Diamonds?” she asked, laughing at the outrageous thought.

“It’s on Kyrian, so I say go for broke. Literally.”

She smiled. “I can’t do that. I have my own money.”

“Yeah, but why spend it? You have no idea how rich the man is. I promise you, buy the mall and he won’t even notice.”

Amanda had no intention of doing that. Still, she did need something else to wear. “All right, can we also stop by my mother’s?”

“Sure. My assignment for the day is to serve you any way you want me to.”

She shook her head at his devilish smile.

*   *   *

After she called her insurance company about the fire, Amanda let Nick take her shopping. But what frustrated her was Nick’s inability to let her pay for anything.

“I’m under orders,” Nick said for the fifth time. “You shop, I pay.”

She growled good-naturedly at him. “Do you always follow orders?”

“I do so complainingly always.”

She laughed yet again as they left the store and headed back out into the mall with Nick carrying her bags. “How long have you worked for Kyrian?” she asked as they got on the escalator.

“Eight years now.”

She gaped. “Really, you don’t look that old.”

“Yeah, well, I was barely sixteen when I started.”

“You can be a Squire at that age?”

Nick turned his head to ogle an attractive young woman in a tight, short skirt going up the escalator beside them, then he turned to flash a dimpled smile at her before he answered the question. “I didn’t know what he was for a long time. I just thought he was some whacked-out rich guy with a ‘pity the poor kid’ complex.”

She frowned as they left the escalator and walked through the downstairs level. “Why would you think that?”

Nick adjusted the bags he carried. “You see beside you, my lady, the son of a career felon. My father died in Angola eleven years ago during a prison riot.”

Amanda winced at the thought of losing a father like that. “And your mother?”

“She was an exotic dancer down on Bourbon Street. I grew up in the back room of the club where she worked, helping the bouncers hustle clients.”

Amanda cringed at the life he was describing. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t be. My mother might have her faults, but she’s a good mom, and a terrific lady. She did her best with what little we had. My father knocked her up when she was fifteen and her father threw her out. So it was just the two of us while my dad hit the revolving door in and out of the penal system. We never had much, but she’s always loved me.”

Amanda smiled at the love she heard in his voice. It was obvious he worshiped his mother. “So how did you meet Kyrian?”

He paused for a second as if gathering his thoughts. “When I hit my teens, I was sick to death of watching my mom hang her head in shame. Of her doing without food so I could eat a little bit more. I can remember walking to work with her and watching the way her gaze would stare longingly into store windows.” He sighed. “She had such hungry eyes.”

His stare was hard, penetrating. “My mother is the best-hearted woman God ever put on this planet. And I couldn’t stand watching her degrade herself to feed me. Men groping her all the time. Or seeing the look on her face whenever she saw something she wanted and she couldn’t afford it. At thirteen, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I started stealing.”

Amanda’s throat tightened. She didn’t condone it, but she wouldn’t judge him for it, either.

“One night, the gang I was in decided to mug a couple of tourists and I drew the line. It was one thing to shoplift and break into rich people’s houses, but I wasn’t about to hurt someone.”

So, even as a thief, Nick had honor.

“What happened?” she asked.

“The guys were furious at me and decided to get a little practice in by beating the crap out of me. One minute, I was under their feet, getting bludgeoned to death, and the next thing I knew there was this guy holding his hand out to me, asking me if I was okay.”

“Kyrian?”

Nick nodded. “He took me to the hospital and paid for them to stitch up my head and knife wounds. He stayed with me until my mom got there. While we were waiting, he asked me if I wanted to go to work for him, running errands after school.”

She could just imagine Nick as a smart-mouthed teen. It said a lot about Kyrian’s character that he had seen through Nick’s caustic personality to find the goodness beneath it all. “You agreed?”

“Not at first. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be anywhere near some guy who had all the money in the world. Plus, my mom was very suspicious of Kyrian. She still is. She can’t imagine why on earth he pays me so much money to do practically nothing.” He laughed. “She’s still half convinced I deal drugs for him.”

Amanda scoffed at the thought. His poor mother. “What do you tell her?”

“That he’s Howard Hughes with a God complex.” He sobered and gave her a harsh stare. “I owe Kyrian my life. There’s no telling where I’d be if he hadn’t found me that night. One thing’s for sure, I wouldn’t be a pre-law student at Loyola, driving around in a Jag. I know he’s a major asshole, but he’s really a good guy underneath it all.”

Amanda thought about his words as they left the mall and stowed her purchases in the trunk of Nick’s silvery-black Jag.

They got in the car and she buckled up. “When did Kyrian tell you what he was?”

Nick started the car, then backed out of the parking space. “When I graduated high school. He offered me a permanent job as his Squire.”

“And what exactly is a Squire?”

He pulled out into traffic, and as he shifted gears, she noticed a strange spiderweblike tattoo on his right hand. It held some kind of odd Greek design and she wondered if all Squires held such a mark.

“We were set up to protect the Dark-Hunters during the daylight hours and to procure whatever they need. Food, clothes, cars, maintain their homes, whatever. At one time, we literally stood guard over the special crypts they slept in, which is what started the whole vampires-sleep-in-coffins myth. Since sunlight is deadly to them, they used to sleep in caves or isolated chambers where there was no possibility of sun exposure. In return for our service, they provide financial support to us.”

“So each Dark-Hunter has a Squire?”

“No. Some Dark-Hunters prefer to go it alone. I’m the first Squire Kyrian has had in over three hundred years.”

She flinched at the thought of Kyrian being alone all that time. She could just imagine him walking the floors of his mansion like some restless spirit in search of comfort and finding none.

“And if you want to quit?” she asked Nick.

He sucked his breath in between his teeth. “It’s not really that easy. The Squires have a whole detailed organization that’s kind of like the Hotel California—you can check out anytime you want, but you can never leave. Once you get out, they will monitor you until the day you die. If you ever betray them or the Dark-Hunters, you won’t live to regret it.”

His ominous voice sent a chill down her spine. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. Some of these guys come from a long family history of Squirehood that goes back thousands of years.”

“Is it like slavery?” she asked.

“No. I can leave at any time I choose, I just can’t breach my Squire’s oath. Once taken, the oath is unbreakable and eternal. When I get married, my wife won’t ever know what Kyrian is, or what I do for him, not unless she’s a Squire, too. After my children reach adulthood, I can decide to let them in on it or not. If I choose to let them in, they have to go before Acheron and Artemis, who will review and hopefully approve their application.”

Now that was truly scary, because as he spoke those words, a horrible thought occurred to her. “What about me? Wouldn’t they think I pose a threat?”

His face turned deadly serious as he paused at a red light and turned to face her. “If you do, one of the Squires will kill you.”

She swallowed. “That’s not comforting.”

“It’s not meant to be. We take our duties very seriously. The Dark-Hunters are all that stand between the human race and slavery or extinction. Without them, the Apollites and Daimons would own us all.”

*   *   *

Kyrian lay in bed, trying his best to sleep, but over and over he felt Amanda inside him. She was at the remains of her house. He knew it. He felt her tears, her rage. Her despair.

And he ached for her.

How he wished he could be there with her right now. Comforting her. Never before had the loss of daylight freedom bothered him, but now it did. If he weren’t a Dark-Hunter, he would be able to stand by her side and offer her his strength. His support.

Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, trying to stave off the pain. In a fit of anguished rage, he had chosen this course. Now, there was no way out. Artemis guarded her army zealously and had set the bar so high that in all this time, Kyrian had only known three Dark-Hunters to ever regain their souls.

All the others had died trying.

“What do I need with a soul, anyway?” he breathed as he opened his eyes to stare up at the brown and gold canopy over his bed. “All it does is make a man weak.”

His life had meaning. It had purpose.

Then why did something within him actually hurt in desperate need for Amanda?

It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in centuries and it was a feeling that had once caused him to betray everyone who had loved him.

“I won’t be weak again,” he whispered. It wasn’t that he thought Amanda would hurt him intentionally. It was himself that he feared, for once he gave his heart or his loyalty, he never revoked it.

It came down to one basic fact. He was scared of himself and the lengths he would go to keep her safe.

*   *   *

After they visited the remains of Amanda’s house and her mother’s home, Nick drove into the heart of the French Quarter and parked on a side street so that they could walk over to Chartres. He led Amanda down the semicrowded retail area until they reached a small boutique called Dream Dolls and Accessories.

Amanda frowned. They were going to a doll store? How weird was that?

“What are we doing?” she asked as he opened the door for her.

“We’re going to see the dollmaker.”

Okay, ask a stupid question …

She looked skeptically at Nick. “You know, I don’t think they make life-sized Barbies.”

He snorted at her as she walked into the shop with Nick one step behind her. “I’m not looking for a Barbie and this trip isn’t for me. I’m here for Kyrian.”

Now she really was worried. “Why?”

Before he could answer, an elderly lady looked up from her workbench beside the door and caught Amanda’s full attention. She held a Barbie doll whose face she was repainting.

The woman wore a strange orange headpiece with a light and a bifocal eye shield. It covered her stark white hair, which was pulled back into a tight bun. Her old, brown eyes were bright and friendly.

“Little Nicky,” she said in a motherly tone. “What brings you here this afternoon and with such a beautiful guest? Why, I do believe this is the first time I’ve ever seen you with a woman.” She gestured at him with the tiny paintbrush in her hand. “One worth being seen with, anyway. Why, she’s plum nice-looking and I’m not talking about her looks, if you know what I mean.”

Nick raked a hand through his hair and shot Amanda an embarrassed glance.

“Liza, my love,” he said in a loud tone, flashing her a devilish, charming grin. “Do I really need a reason to come see your shining face?”

She laughed at that. “I may be old, Nicholas Gautier, but I ain’t stupid yet.” She tapped her head, making her headgear shake. “My old noodle is still up to snuff and it’s been more years than I care to remember since a man like you came by to see me for a social call. Now come whisper in my ear and tell me what you be needing.”

Nick went to whisper and it was then she realized Liza was a touch deaf. In fact, Nick ended up speaking so loudly, Amanda heard every word clearly.

Even when he ordered plastic explosives.

“Now, remember,” he said. “Kyrian wants one just like Talon’s.”

“I heard you, Nicky,” Liza said good-naturedly. “What, you think I’m deaf?” She winked at Amanda.

“When should I come back?” Nick asked.

Liza pursed her lips. “Give me a day or two. Can you?” She held up the doll in her hands. “Barbie waits for no Dark-Hunter.”

Nick laughed. “Sure, Liza, thanks.”

As they headed for the door, Liza stopped them. “You know,” she said to Amanda as she tottered up to her. The old woman barely cleared five feet. She patted Amanda on the arm. “You have a graceful look to you. Like a pretty little angel.”

Amanda smiled in gratitude. “Thank you.”

Liza tilted the lenses up on her headgear and walked to a shelf by the door. She stood up on her tiptoes and took a custom-crafted Barbie off the shelf. It was all white, with long, curly black hair, and it had faint, wispy angel wings and a beautiful white beadwork gown.

Never had Amanda seen anything more beautiful or delicate.

Liza handed it to her. “Her name is Starla. I painted her face like a lady I know who comes in here all the time.” She held the doll to her ear as if the doll were talking to her. She nodded, then handed the Barbie to Amanda. “She says she wants to go home with you.”

Amanda’s jaw dropped. Especially when she saw the four-hundred-dollar price tag on the doll. “Thank you, Liza, but I can’t take this,” she said, trying to give it back.

Liza waved her hand, refusing. “It’s yours, hon. You need an angel to watch over you.”

“But—”

“It’s all right,” Nick said, inclining his head to the door. Then in a low tone, he said, “Don’t hurt her feelings by refusing it. She loves to give them away.”

Amanda hugged the old woman. “Thank you, Liza. I will treasure her always.”

They were almost out the door when Liza stopped them again. She took the doll back. “I forgot something,” she said. “Starla is very special.” Liza put the doll’s legs together, then pressed her head down.

Two pencil-thin, three-inch blades shot out of her feet.

“It’s for Daimons,” Liza announced, pulling the head up until the blades retracted. “Beauty is sometimes best when it’s lethal.”

Okay, Amanda thought slowly. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of all this.

Liza handed her the doll and patted her arm again. “You two take care.”

“We will,” Nick said and this time they made it all the way to the street.

Amanda stared at the doll in her hands, not sure what to think.

Nick laughed at her the whole way to the car.

“Liza’s a Squire, isn’t she?” Amanda asked as she got into the Jag and placed Starla very carefully in her lap.

“She’s retired, but yes. She was a Squire and an Oracle for about thirty-five years until she turned Xander’s care over to Brynna.”

“Is Liza the one who makes the boots for Kyrian?”

He shook his head as he started the engine. “Another Dark-Hunter makes the big weapons. The swords, boots, and such. Liza makes the small weapons like the pendulums that carry plastique. She’s an accomplished artist who likes to make jewelry and other innocuous items lethal.”

Amanda let out a deep breath. “You guys are scary.”

He laughed at that, then checked his watch. “It’s almost three. We still have to go to Talon’s and I have to get you back before dark, so we need to rush.”

“Okay.”

They drove for a good forty minutes, out of the city and into the deep bayou.

Down at the end of a long, winding dirt road, they came to a large, old shed/houselike structure. If not for the new locks on it, she wouldn’t have believed anyone had used it in a hundred years. Well, that and the peculiar mailbox in front of it. It was black with what appeared to be giant silver spikes going through the box both diagonally and horizontally.

“Talon is weird,” Nick said as he caught her staring at it. “He thinks it’s funny that he staked his mailbox.”

Nick opened the garage door with the remote in his car. She gasped as they pulled inside and Nick parked the Jag.

Inside, the shed was tile and steel and housed a Viper, a collection of five Harley-Davidsons, and a small catamaran docked in the rear, over the swamp.

“Wow,” she breathed as she spotted one Harley that stood apart from the others. Sleek and black, it gleamed in the dim light. It was obviously a prized possession and she remembered Talon riding it last night.

Nick paid no attention to the car or motorcycles as he headed for the docked catamaran.

“Talon lives all the way out here?” she asked as she joined him on the crisp, clean dock and noticed that they had left enough room for another boat beside the first one.

He helped her into the catamaran, then moved to open the garage door that led out to the swamp. “Yeah, being an ancient Celt, he loves nature. Even when it’s gruesome.”

Amanda arched a brow. “Is he really an ancient Celt?”

“Oh yeah. From the fifth or sixth century. He was a chieftain. His father was a druid high priest and his mother the leader before him.”

“Really?”

He nodded as he untied the boat, then jumped inside it. Once she was seated, he started the whirring engine.

“How did he become a Dark-Hunter?” she shouted over the roar.

“His clan betrayed him,” Nick said, steering the boat out into the swamp. “They told him they needed to sacrifice someone of his blood. It was either him or his sister. He agreed, but as soon as they had him tied down, they killed his sister in front of him. He went nuts, but since he was tied down, there was nothing he could do. As they turned to kill him, he swore vengeance on all of them.”

Jeez, did none of them have a happy life?

“He killed his clan members?” she asked.

“I would imagine so.”

Amanda sat in silence while she thought about that. Poor Talon. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to watch one of her beloved sisters die before her eyes. They might annoy her a large portion of the time, but they meant the world to her and she would kill anyone who hurt one of them.

The horror that man must have felt that day. It must still haunt him.

Nick navigated deep into the swamp until they came upon an incredibly small cabin. She doubted it was even eight hundred square feet. It looked even more rundown on the outside than the shed where they had left Nick’s car. The rough wood was a light, sun-faded gray and it looked as if it would crumble under the slightest breeze.

As they approached it, she saw a dock behind the cabin with two large generators and another catamaran.

“What does he do during hurricane season?” she asked as Nick turned off the boat.

“Nothing really. One of Talon’s powers is that he can control the weather so it’s not that big a danger. But there’s always the possibility the place could blow apart in the daylight while he’s sleeping and not aware of weather conditions. In which case, he’s toast.”

“They like to live dangerously, don’t they?”

He laughed. “It takes a certain breed to do what they do. Flirting with disaster is pretty much a basic requirement.”

Nick got out of the boat first with a warning for her to stay put. He carefully walked along a narrow, old walkway that led from the makeshift dock to the cabin door, then motioned for her to join him.

“Back off, Beth,” he snapped as an alligator approached her.

Amanda jumped back onto the boat.

“It’s okay,” Nick assured her. “They protect Talon in the daylight. As long as you’re with me, they’re harmless.”

“I don’t know about this,” she said, reluctantly leaving the boat again.

Four massively huge alligators kept a vicious eye on her and followed her all the way to the door. Amanda’s throat constricted in fear as the largest alligator climbed up on the porch behind them and swished its tail.

It hissed at them.

“Shut up, Beth,” Nick snapped. “Or I swear I’ll make luggage out of you.” Nick knocked on the faded old door.

“It’s not dark yet, Nick,” Talon’s thickly accented voice snapped from inside, making her wonder how he knew it was them. “What do you want?”

“I need your srad for Kyrian before it gets dark.”

Amanda heard rustling on the other side of the door. A few seconds later, the lock clicked and the door opened the tiniest of cracks. Nick opened it wider and let them in.

She tried to see in the darkness, but had no luck until Nick turned on a small desk lamp.

Amanda froze as soon as she saw the interior. The walls were painted black and the place looked like a military control room. There were computers and electronic equipment everywhere. Though the location and-outside of the cabin would deny it, the man was a techno-junkie.

When her gaze touched on Talon, her jaw dropped wide open. The man was completely naked.

And he looked really good.

She stared at his perfect body, which was covered with strange red and black Celtic tattoos over the left side of his torso, front and back, and all the way down his left arm. His large, dragon-headed torc gleamed in the dim light. And though the man was sinfully handsome, she was strangely unmoved by him.

She appreciated him for the incredible picture he cut, but he didn’t make her heart race like Kyrian did. Nor did she feel even a hint of sexual desire toward him.

And Talon was totally unabashed by his state of undress.

Nick gave her an amused grin. “I should have warned you, ancient warriors tend not to think much about nudity. Clothing is a modern hang-up none of them seem to have.” He looked at Talon. “Celt, put some clothes on before you shock her.”

Talon growled at him. “Why? I’m going back to bed. Take what you need and lock the door behind you.” He paused at his futon in the back corner and raked a hungry look over Amanda. “Of course, if you want to leave Amanda, I might be persuaded to stay up for a bit and be sociable.”

Nick scoffed. “Damn, Talon, can’t you go an hour without a woman?”

“One is no problem. It’s when I get to two or three that I get antsy.” Talon returned to lie down on the black futon. He rolled over on his side and closed his eyes.

At least until his phone rang. Talon cursed, rolled over, and answered it while Nick went to the huge weapon cabinet and picked up two nasty-looking round dagger things.

“Wulf, I’m not even awake yet,” Talon growled. “And I don’t really care, and why would you ask me something about ancient Greece anyway? Did I live there? The answer is hell no … Don’t know, don’t care … Hang on.” He turned over and looked at Nick. “Nick, ever heard of Cult of Pollux?”

Nick looked over at him. “You’d have to call Kyrian or one of the other Greeks.”

“Did you hear that?” Talon listened a sec, then turned back to Nick. “Ash is walkabout, Brax, Jayce, and Kyros are MIA, and Kyrian isn’t answering his phone. Wulf says it’s really important.”

The significance of that sentence seemed to hit both men at once.

Talon spoke into the phone. “When did you last try to reach Kyrian?”

Nick pulled his cell phone out and dialed.

“He might be in the shower,” Amanda suggested.

Nick shook his head. “Even if he was, Rosa would answer.”

After a minute, Nick turned off the cell phone. “Something’s seriously wrong.”