Dark Bites (Dream-Hunter #1)(63)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

“Yeah,” he said under his breath. “It is.”

Or at least it had been when he’d shared this place with his mother. Now…

As much as he wanted to be home, he was terrified of entering.

Nick got out of the taxi and paid the fee then pulled his duffle bag from the seat. Slamming the door shut, he looked up at his house and gripped the handle so tight that his fingers ached in protest.

He’d bought this house as a birthday present for his mother. He could still hear her squeal of joy as he handed her the key. See her standing beside him as she stared at him in disbelief.

“Happy Birthday, Mom.”

“Oh Nicky, what have you done now? You didn’t go and kill someone, did you?”

Her question had appalled him. “Mom!”

Still, she’d been relentless as she narrowed her blue eyes on him and stood arms akimbo. “You ain’t been doing none of that drug dealing neither, have you? Cause if you are, boy, love or no love, I’ll beat you blue.”

He’d scoffed at her warning. “Mom, you know me better than that. I would never do anything to embarrass you in front of your church friends.”

“Then how you get all this money, cher? How you able to buy a house this fancy at your age? You still a baby and I couldn’t afford two bricks off this place.”

“Kyrian put the house in my name, but technically he owns it. He’s letting me rent it from him.” It’d been a partial lie. Part of being Kyrian’s Squire back when Kyrian had been a Dark-Hunter had meant that all of Kyrian’s properties were owned by Nick – at least on paper. This house, though, really was Nick’s. His salary had been such that he could have easily bought three houses like this, but his mother would never have believed he could make that kind of money without breaking the law.

“Broker, hmmm. That’s sounds like one of those euphemisms for drug dealer to me.”

“Ah, Mom, c’mon inside and see the book room. I’ve already got your chair in there so you can read all those romance novels you love so much.”

“Baby, you spoil me. You know I don’t need anything this big and fancy.”

Yeah, but as a kid, he’d heard her crying enough times in the late-night hours that she couldn’t do better for him than their run-down rented duplex – that the only job she could find was stripping. “My baby deserves so much better than this.” Meanwhile her parents had lived in a nice home in Kenner and had money to burn. But they’d disowned her the minute she’d become pregnant with him. His mother had sacrificed everything to keep her son – her dignity and her future. And though she cried at night that she couldn’t give him the things she thought a boy should have, by day, she was the best mom anyone could have hoped for.

Since the minute he was born, it had been the two of them against the world.

“You’ve always taken care of me, Mom. It’s my turn to take care of you. I got a big house cause one day I’m going to give you enough grandkids to fill it full.”

Nick winced as he swore he heard her laughter on the wind right before she’d dashed into the house to inspect it. And as he stood there with his memories, rain began pouring down on him, soaking him to the bone.

All he could think about now was the night he’d found his mother dead in that chair in the library…

Unrelenting pain and grief tore through him with talons made of steel. They shredded every part of him.

How could she be gone, and by such vicious means? Her throat had been ripped out and her body drained of blood. His mother had been a tiny, frail woman. Delicate.

Defenseless.

And she was all he’d ever had.

“I can give you vengeance.”

That had been Stryker’s promise to him. The Daimon lord had told him that if Nick gave him information against Acheron and the other Dark-Hunters and the Squires who served them, then Stryker would give him the power he needed to kill Ash.

That was all Nick wanted now.

Suddenly, he heard Ash’s voice in his head. “You know, Nick. I envy you your mother. She’s one hell of a lady. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

He glared up at the dark clouds. “Why did you let her die, Ash?” he snarled under his breath. “God damn you!” But in his heart, he knew who was really to blame for all of this, and that hurt even more. If only he’d been a better son. A better friend. None of this would have happened.

He’d been the one who had signed on to this world where danger was an intrinsic part. Had he just told his mother the truth, then she wouldn’t have gone home that night with a Daimon. She would be safe now and happy.

Instead, she’d been killed because of him, and that was a truth that cut to the deepest part of his being.

Unable to stand it, he forced himself to walk to the keypad on the gate and press the code. He half-expected it not to work, but it did.

Nick paused by the petunias his mother kept in a large vase next to the back door and moved it over so that he could get the spare key.

Everything was just as it’d been when he’d been human… Only now everything was different.

Most of all, he was different.

His stomach churning, he opened the door and stepped into his house.

His friend, Kyl Poitiers, had told him that there had been some damage to the place during Katrina, but that the house had been restored. Nick had to give them credit – it was pristine. Nothing, other than his mother’s spirited presence, was out of place.

“Oh, Nicky, look! It has one of them garbage disposals! I never thought I’d own something so fancy and look at them tiles on the wall. Is that Italian marble?”

Dropping his duffle on the kitchen floor, he glanced to the right, where the Travertine bake center was. “Only the best for you, Mom.”

He could still see her smiling as she rushed around the room for the first time. “Oh, you spoil me, baby. You’re the only thing right I’ve ever done in my life. I don’t know why God was so good to me that He sent you down from heaven, but I’m glad He did.”

Nick let out a bitter laugh. He wasn’t heaven-sent. Like the worthless bastard who’d fathered him, he was hell-born.

Literally.

He laid the key on the countertop. The last time he’d been here, he’d been calling out for his mother. Screaming her name as he ran through the house, trying to locate her.

He’d found her upstairs.

Against his will, his feet took him right to the spot where he’d last seen her. He stood in the doorway, looking at his mother’s favorite chair. In his mind, he could see her lifeless body there. But in reality, there was no trace of her death…

Or his own.

He cringed at the memory. Just before where he now stood, he’d called out to the Greek goddess Artemis to make him a Dark-Hunter. When she’d refused and told him he’d have to be dead first, he’d blown his brains out right in front of her.

Afraid of how Acheron would react to his death, Artemis had made him immortal and marked him with the Dark-Hunter bow-and-arrow brand on his face, but he wasn’t really one of her army who protected mankind. He had powers greater than the others.

For one, he could walk in daylight while no other Dark-Hunter could.

And now he shared powers with Stryker…

Nick frowned as he saw a half-empty Coke bottle on the side table. His mother had never touched regular Coke, only diet, and he would never have dared left a drink in her secret sanctum.

Someone else had been in the house, and since there was an opened paper from today, he would say that someone had moved in and made themselves at home.

In his house.

Anger tore through him. Who would dare?

Wanting blood, he stormed through the rooms, but found each one empty, with no sign of who had dared trespass here.

“Fine,” he snarled. “I’ll deal with you later.”

First he wanted to visit his mom. He flinched at the thought. He hadn’t been to the cemetery since his worthless father had died. Even though he’d passed by the St. Louis Cemetery almost every day, it just hadn’t been a place where he’d ever spent much time. It reminded him of his father and of the gang Nick once ran with. A gang that used to rob tourists who dared to enter the cemetery alone.

A gang that had almost killed him when he’d been a boy.

Yet he would go today to visit his mother. He hadn’t been here for the funeral. The least he could do now was let her know he still missed her.

His heart heavy, he walked the few blocks that separated his house from Basin Street and walked through the stone entrance of the cemetery. The rains had already moved on, as they often did in New Orleans. But they had left everything sticky and hot.

Since it was morning, the wrought-iron gates were open and chained back. As a Daimon and a Dark-Hunter, Nick shouldn’t be allowed to walk in daylight or go anywhere near a cemetery, yet a higher power had spared him that curse. Like Ash, he could walk in daylight, and unlike other Dark-Hunters, he could walk in a cemetery and not be possessed by the wandering souls that were trapped here.

Without pausing, he walked toward the Gautier family mausoleum. As he passed the raised tombs that had caused New Orleans cemeteries to be called the cities of the dead, he noted how many of them still bore traces of hurricane damage. Even Marie Laveau’s tomb wasn’t as colorful as it’d been. Many of the tombs were missing names and stones.

Fear crept into him at what he’d find waiting for him at his mother’s resting place. But as he turned the corner toward her grave, he froze.

Menyara Chartier, a tiny, frail African-American woman, was sitting in front of the grave, talking in a whisper to his mother while she arranged bouquets of white lilies. The Voodoo high priestess paused mid-sentence and turned her head as if she knew who would be there.

“Ni – ” She frowned, catching herself from saying the rest of his name.

“Aunt Mennie,” he said, his voice breaking as he closed the distance between them. She’d been the woman who had delivered him, since his mother hadn’t been able to afford a hospital stay. Over the early years of his life, Menyara had been the only family he and Cherise had known. For that matter, his mother had rented a room in Mennie’s home until the duplex beside it had been cleared for habitation. “You’re still here.”

She rose slowly to her feet. Even tinier than his petite mom, she shouldn’t have been intimidating to anyone over the age of five and yet there was something so powerful about her that it had never failed to quell him. Without thinking he swept her up into his arms and held her close.

“I knew you would return,” she breathed before she kissed him on his branded cheek. “Your mother, she told me to watch for you.”

To anyone else, that comment might have seemed odd. But Menyara was a gifted clairvoyant. She knew things no one else did.

Not even Acheron.

“I didn’t kill my mother,” he said as he set her down again. That was the vicious rumor that had been going around.

She patted his arm. “I know, Ambrosius. I know.” She turned and indicated the tomb she’d been tending. “Every day I have come for you, to let Cherise know she’s not alone.”

He looked down at the stacks of flowers and rosaries that were arranged around the tomb and saw where a small group of black roses were blooming in a tiny patch of earth. “You bring her flowers?”

“No. I only arrange those the dark-haired man sends.”

Nick frowned. “Dark-haired man?”

“Your friend. Acheron. Whenever he’s in town, he comes and he visits, too. And every day without fail, he sends over flowers for your mother to see.”

His blood ran cold. “He’s not my friend, Menyara.”

“You may not be his friend, Ambrosius, but he is yours.”

Yeah, right. Friends didn’t screw each other over the way Nick had been screwed by Ash. “You don’t know him. What he’s capable of.”

She shook her head at him. “Ah, but I do. Even better than you. I know exactly who and what he is. I know exactly what he can do. And more to the point, I know what he cannot do. Or what he dare not do.” Her features softened as she touched his brand, but said nothing about its presence. “All your life, I have watched you. Your mama always say that you react without thought. You feel too deep. Mourn too great. But one day, Ambrosius, you will see that you and your friend are not so different. That there is much of you in him.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t walk out on my friends and I damn sure don’t hurt them.”

She indicated the flowers with a wave of her hand. “He didn’t walk out, cher. He was here when the devil unleashed his wrath on us. Acheron saved my life and those of many others. He brought food to us when we had nothing to eat and kept your home from being burned. Don’t judge him by one bad act when he has done so many good ones.”

Nick didn’t want to forgive Ash. Not after all that had happened. But in spite of his anger, he felt his heart softening at the knowledge that Ash had been here – that he hadn’t abandoned the city as Nick had thought. “Why are you calling me Ambrosius?”