Night Pleasures (Dark-Hunter #2)(34)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

No sooner had the chill gone down his spine than the curtains parted of their own accord. Cast in shadows, the figure emerging dominated the small shop. At six feet eight inches, and dressed all in black, he was a man who made all life-forms either quiver in fear or straighten in respect.

Or in Kyrian’s case, it made him glare.

A wide smile broke across Acheron’s roguish face. Though his black Ray-Ban Predator sunglasses obscured his eyes, he was still able to make women swoon when they saw him. Arrogant and tough, he took no prisoners and showed little mercy on anyone.

Acheron was a creature of many idiosyncrasies, the most peculiar one being his ever-changing hair color. He changed it so often, many of the Dark-Hunters made bets on what color he was going to dye it for the week. Tonight, he wore his long, dark green hair pulled back in an old-fashioned queue with one thin braid falling loose from the nape of his neck, over his chest.

"Acheron," Kyrian greeted him irritably. "Come to check up on me?"

"Never, little brother. I’m here to sightsee. Can’t you tell?"

"Yeah. You look like a tourist. That dark green hair passes every time."

Ash laughed at the sarcasm. "Well, I figured since Talon is protecting what’s her name… Tabitha? And you’re after Desi-do-wrong, the two of you could use a hand."

"The last time I asked for a hand, Artemis sent me a disembodied one."

Ash grinned. "You know that when dealing with the gods, you have to be specific. Besides, I have information."

"You could have e-mailed it."

Ash shrugged. "My presence here means nothing. You know I won’t interfere with you and Desiderius."

Now, why didn’t he believe that?

Oh yeah, because Acheron Parthenopaeus had never minded his own business when it came to badass Daimons. "Seems I’ve heard that one before."

"Fine," he said, shrugging nonchalantly, "I’ll take my unwanted information and-"

"I’ve already heard what the Oracles said."

"But you don’t know the rest of the story," Liza interjected.

Acheron frowned at her.

"What story?" Kyrian asked.

Acheron took a piece of gum out of his coat pocket and unwrapped it. Meticulously. "You said you didn’t want to know."

"Fine, I’ll go after him without it."

As Kyrian reached the door, Ash’s voice stopped him. "Don’t you find it odd that Desiderius has powers beyond anything you’ve seen from a Daimon?"

"Oh," Kyrian said, turning back to face him. "Let me think. Yeah."

Liza sniggered until Acheron gave her a sideways glare. She straightened up, then burst out laughing. Excusing herself, she ran to the back of the store, and cackled.

Acheron watched her leave, then turned to face Kyrian. He sobered. "All right, here are the facts. It seems old Bacchus got horny one night and made out with an Apollite babe. Nine months later, she had Desiderius."

"Shit."

"Yeah," Acheron concurred as he picked up one of Liza’s dolls she had fashioned to look like Artemis. He frowned at the startling likeness, then set her back on her shelf. "The good news is old Daddy Bacchus couldn’t care less since he has bastards strung out all over history. The bad news is Desiderius was just a little ticked off that Daddykins doesn’t care about the twenty-seven-year time limit on his life. Since he’s half-god, he thought he should have a little longer life span than that. One, say, that reaches immortality."

"So, he turned Daimon."

Acheron nodded. "And with those added demigod powers, he is equal to us in speed, strength, and skills. And unlike us, he has no Code."

"That explains a whole lot, doesn’t it? If you can’t get back at the gods themselves, then go after those who serve them."

"Exactly. And we are prime Desi bait."

"One question."

"Answer."

Kyrian ignored his sarcasm. "Why does it have to be a Dark-Hunter with a soul who defeats him?"

"Because that is the prophecy, and you know how prophecy works."

"How do you know all this?"

Acheron looked back at the doll he’d picked up. "I talked to Artemis last night. It took a while, but I wormed it out of her."

Kyrian considered that for a minute. Acheron had always been the goddess’s favorite Dark-Hunter. Her preference for Acheron had been a long-standing grudge in the hearts of many Dark-Hunters. But Kyrian didn’t mind. He was grateful for the Atlantean’s ability to find out information from Artemis and give it to them.

"You know," he said to Acheron, "one day you’re going to have to explain to me this relationship the two of you have and why you’re the only Dark-Hunter who can be in a god’s presence and not get fried."

"One day, I might. But it won’t be tonight." Acheron handed him a retractable sword and a throwing dagger. "Now get your ass back to bed. You have a job to finish and you need your strength."

Kyrian started away from him.

"Oh and Kyrian?"

He turned to face him.

"Don’t go home alone."

"Excuse me?"

"Desiderius has your number. It’s no longer safe there."

"I don’t give a damn if-"

"Listen to me, General," Acheron said, his voice menacing. "No one here doubts your ability to make Desi the next menu item at the Road Kill Diner; however, you have other people to protect, including a headstrong Cajun who listens about as well as you do, and a sorceress with virtually untapped powers. So, for once, could you just do as I ask and not argue?"

Kyrian smiled tightly. "Just this once, so don’t get used to it."

Acheron watched as Kyrian left the shop. No sooner had he gone than Liza came from the back.

"Why didn’t you tell him that you got his soul from Artemis?" she asked.

Ash slid his hand into his pocket where the medallion rested. "It’s not time yet, Liza."

"How will you know when it’s time?"

"Trust me, I will."

She nodded, and held the curtains open for him. "Now, speaking of people who should tend their wounds, you need to come back here and let me help you. Goodness, but I’ve never seen anyone with their back in worse shape than you. Why on earth you let anyone beat you like that is beyond me. And I know you had to let them. A Dark-Hunter with your powers would never take something like that unless he wanted to."

Ash didn’t answer, but he knew the reason. Artemis never willingly let go of one of her Dark-Hunters. The price of their freedom was a high one.

He had agreed to sacrifice some of his flesh in order to gain Kyrian a chance to kill Desiderius.

Most of all, his torn and bruised back had bought the General a chance for happiness. It was a bloody ritual he willingly underwent every time a Dark-Hunter wanted his or her soul back.

A ritual none of them knew about.

What went on between him and Artemis was private. And he would always keep it that way.

Kyrian eased his way over to Bourbon Street where he’d found the punks before. The pain in his side was lessening, but still excruciating. It took him a full half hour before he found what he was looking for.

And the look on the punk’s face was priceless.

"Holy shit!"

Kyrian grabbed him before he could run. "Tell Desiderius we’re not finished."

The kid nodded.

Kyrian released him and watched as he tore down the street at a dead run.

He knew the first rule of war was that a surprise attack virtually guaranteed a victory, and he had just blown his best surprise. Still, he refused to keep his advantage at the risk of Amanda or one of her family members being hurt. Desiderius wouldn’t go after them so long as he had a Dark-Hunter to contend with.

Limping, he returned to Nick’s car and finally headed back to the one thing that gave him peace.

"Where have you been?" Amanda asked as soon as Kyrian returned.

"I had something to do."

Nick cursed. "You went to find Desiderius, didn’t you?" He cursed again. "You sent word to him that you were alive."

Kyrian ignored him as he headed to the couch and sat down.

"Are you okay?" Amanda asked.

He nodded as he stretched out.

Nick glared at him. Rounding the sofa, he clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. "Dammit, Kyrian, why would you-"

"Nick, lay off me. I’m not in the mood."

Nick’s nostrils flared. "Fine, go and get yourself killed. What do I care anyway? I get the house, the cars, everything. So you go right ahead and tell him you’re wounded and half-dead. Tell you what, why don’t I just leave the door unlocked and invite him on in here?"

"Nick, you’re not helping," Amanda said gently.

She saw the agony in Nick’s eyes. The filial affection he had for his Dark-Hunter. "You know what?" he said through gritted teeth. "I don’t give a damn. ‘Cause I don’t need anyone." He pointed at Kyrian. "I don’t need you, your money, or a damn thing. I’ve never needed anyone but myself. So you go right on and die, ’cause I don’t care."

Nick turned to leave.

Faster than she could blink, Kyrian was on his feet in front of Nick.

Nick glared at him. "Get out of my way."

Kyrian’s face showed the patience of a father with a rebellious teen. "Nick, I’m not going to die on you."

"Yeah, right. How many times do you think Streigar said that to Sharon before he was turned into an extra crispy fried Dark-Hunter?" Nick shrugged Kyrian’s hold off his arm and stormed out of the house.

A tic started in Kyrian’s jaw as he pulled his cell phone off his belt and dialed it.

"Acheron," he said after a brief pause, "I have a renegade Squire who is no doubt headed out to the Quarter in a new anthracite Jag XKR convertible. Can you catch him before he does something stupid?"

His brow creased with worry, Kyrian met her eyes as he listened. "Yeah, thanks."

He looked extremely peeved at something Acheron was saying. "Yes, O great lord and master, I’m resting."

A shocked look came over his face. "How do you know I’m standing?"

After a brief pause, he snorted. "Bite me, Ash. Good luck with Nick." He hung up the phone.

Even though she didn’t know exactly what Acheron had said, she caught the gist of it. "He’s right, you need to lie down."

Kyrian’s black eyes flashed. "I don’t need to be coddled."

"Fine, Nick. Want to tell me how you need nothing and no one too and then storm out of the house?"

Kyrian offered her a sheepish smile. "Now you know why I tolerate him. Two peas in a pod."

Amanda laughed, even though her heart felt for both of them. "Let me guess, you were just like him at his age?"

"Actually, he’s a lot more tolerable than I was. Not quite as stubborn, either."

Amanda stepped into his embrace and wrapped an arm around his waist. "Come on, let’s go upstairs."

To her amazement, he allowed her to take him back to the guest room and put him back to bed.

As she undressed him, she saw his pink, healing wounds. Taking his arm in her hand, she touched the small nail holes. "I can’t believe you’re up so soon after what happened."

He sighed. "You can’t keep a Dark-Hunter down for long."

Amanda barely heard his words. As she touched the wounds, images flashed through her mind. She felt Kyrian’s rage, his pain. Then she saw a flash of the future. Of Kyrian spread out against a wall and at Desiderius’s mercy.

Of Kyrian dying.

Gasping, she let go and stepped back.

Kyrian frowned at her. "What is it?"

Amanda patted her chest as panic swirled through her. She fought her anxiety attack as hard as she could, but inside she was screaming over what she’d seen.

She couldn’t let him die. Not like that.

Forcing herself to calm down, she stared at Kyrian. "You have to let go of your past. So long as you hold on to it, Desiderius will be able to destroy you."

He looked away. "I know."

"What are you going to do? If you don’t stop remembering it, he’ll have you again."

"I can handle it, Amanda."

"Can you?" she asked, her throat tight as she saw him dying again. Oh, dear Lord, please not that. She couldn’t bear to lose him. The thought of going a single day without feeling his arms around her, hearing his voice…

His laughter.

It was unimaginable. The pain unbearable.

"I can control myself," he insisted.

But she knew the truth. She had experienced his execution firsthand. Worse, she knew he had never dealt with it. Not really. He had only pushed it out of his mind.

All of a sudden, she had an idea how to purge it from him.

At least she hoped it would work.

"I’ll be right back."

Kyrian watched her leave, his emotions churning. Better than anyone, he knew his weaknesses. All Desiderius had to do was spread his arms out and he was lost to panic. Lost to memories so painful that he was powerless against them.

He ran his hands over his eyes. There had to be some way to push it all out of his mind. Some way to face the Daimon with a clear head.

The minutes ticked by as he considered possible solutions.