The Dark-Hunters (180 page)

He turned off the expressway onto an exit ramp. “Got to love those gods. The same loophole that allows Daimons to enter malls and public areas allows them to enter condos and apartments.”

“How so?”

“Malls, apartments, and such are owned by one entity. When that person or company allows their building to openly serve for multiple groups of people, they essentially put out a cosmic welcome mat to everything, including Daimons.”

Oh, this was un-friggin-believable! She blinked in shock. “
Now
you tell me this? Why didn’t someone tell me this before? I thought I was safe all this time.”

“Your bodyguard should have known better. If she really is tied to Artemis.”

“Then maybe she’s not. You know, she could just be a normal person.”

“Yeah, one who holds her arms out and scares off Spathi Daimons?”

He had a point there. Sort of. “She said she didn’t know why they ran.”

“And later she left you there alone to face them…”

Cassandra rubbed her hand over her eyes as she caught his implication. Could Kat be working with the Daimons? Did Artemis want her dead or alive?

“Oh, God, I can’t trust anyone, can I?” Cassandra breathed tiredly.

“Welcome to the real world, duchess. The only person any of us can trust is ourselves.”

She didn’t want to believe that, but after tonight, it seemed to be the only real truth she had.

Could Kat really be a traitor after all they had been through together?

“Lovely, just lovely,” she breathed. “Tell me something, can I go back to bed and have this entire day be a do-over?”

He let out a short laugh. “Sorry, no do-overs.”

She gave him a peeved glare. “Boy, you’re just all chock-f of comfort, aren’t you?”

He didn’t respond.

Cassandra watched the oncoming cars as she tried to think of what she should do. Where she should even begin to try to understand what had happened tonight.

Wulf drove them out of the city to a massive estate outside of Minnetonka. All the homes in the area were owned by some of the richest people in the country.

Wulf turned into a driveway that was so long, she couldn’t see where it ended. Of course the five-foot-high snowbanks didn’t help with that.

He pressed a tiny button in his visor.

The iron gates opened wide.

Cassandra let out a slow, appreciative breath as they proceeded down the driveway and she caught sight of his “house.” “Palace” would be much more apropos, and given the fact that her father’s house wasn’t exactly small potatoes, that said a lot.

It looked very turn-of-the-century with large Greek columns and gardens that still appeared sculpted even in the deep winter snow and frost.

He drove them up the winding driveway to a five-car garage that was designed to look like a stable. Inside, it held Chris’s Hummer (it was hard to miss his vanity plate, VIKING), two vintage Harleys, a sleek Ferrari, and one really cool Excalibur. The garage was so clean inside that it reminded her of a showroom. Everything from the ornate crown moldings to the marble floor said “wealthy beyond your wildest dreams.”

She arched a brow at that. “You’ve come a long way from your little stone cottage by the fjord. You must have decided riches weren’t so bad after all.”

Parking the SUV, Wulf turned to face her with a scowl. “You remember that?”

She ran her gaze from the top of his gorgeous head to the toe of his black biker boots. Even though she was still angry at him, she couldn’t suppress the warm tingle of sexual awareness she felt at being so close to such a hot man. He really was scrumptious, for an ass.

And speaking of that, he had a mighty fine one of those too.

“I remember all the dreams about us.”

His scowl darkened. “Then you really were screwing with my head.”

“Hardly!” she snapped, offended by his tone and the accusation. “I didn’t have anything to do with it. For all I know, it was
you
messing with
me.
”

Wulf got out of the truck and slammed the door.

Cassandra followed suit.

“D’Aria!” he shouted up at the ceiling. “Get your butt down here. Now!”

Cassandra was stunned when a light blue mist shimmered beside Wulf and a beautiful young woman appeared. With jet-black hair and pale blue eyes, she looked almost like an angel.

Her face emotionless, D’Aria stared eye to eye with him. “I have been told that that was rude, Wulf. If I had feelings, you would have hurt them.”

“I’m sorry,” he said contritely. “I didn’t mean to be curt, but I needed to ask you something about my dreams.”

D’Aria looked from him to Cassandra and it was then Cassandra understood. This was one of the Dream-Hunters she had read about on the Dream-Hunter.com Web site. All of the Dream-Hunters possessed black hair and pale eyes. These Greek gods of sleep had once been cursed by Zeus so that none of them were capable of feeling emotions.

They really were beautiful. Ethereal. And even though D’Aria was solid, there was something about her that was also shimmery. Something that let you know she wasn’t as real as everything else in the room.

Cassandra felt a sudden, almost childish impulse to reach out and touch the dream goddess to see if D’Aria was made of flesh or something else.

“You two met in your dreams?” D’Aria asked Wulf.

Wulf nodded. “Was it real?”

D’Aria cocked her head slightly as she thought about that. Her pale eyes held a faraway, fragile look to them. “If you both recall it, then yes.” Her gaze sharpened as she looked up at Wulf. “But it wasn’t from any of us. Since you are under my care, none of the other Oneroi would have interfered with your dreams without telling me.”

“Are you sure?” he asked emphatically.

“Yes. It’s the one code we are all careful to follow. When a Dark-Hunter is given over to one of us to care for, we never trespass without a direct invitation.”

That all too familiar frown creased Wulf’s brow. Cassandra was beginning to wonder if the “real” Wulf was capable of any other expression than that sinister, intense look. “Since I’m under your care, how is it that you didn’t know about the dreams I’ve had with her?”

D’Aria shrugged in a gesture that looked rather awkward for her. It was obvious the shrug was a practiced expression. “You didn’t summon me to your dreams, nor were you hurt or in need of my healing. I don’t spy on your unconscious mind without cause, Wulf. Dreams are private matters and only the evil Skoti go where they’re not invited.”

D’Aria turned to look at her. She held her hand out. “You may touch me, Cassandra.”

“How do you know my name?”

“She knows all about you,” Wulf said. “Dream-Hunters can see right through us.”

Cassandra tentatively touched D’Aria’s hand. It was soft and warm. Human. Yet there was a strange electrical field around it that was similar to static electricity, only different. It was oddly soothing.

“We are not so different in this realm,” D’Aria said quietly.

Cassandra withdrew her hand. “But you have no emotions?”

“At times we can, if we have been recently inside a human’s dream. It’s possible to continue to syphon emotions for a brief time.”

“Skoti can syphon for longer periods,” Wulf added. “They’re similar to Daimons that way. Instead of feeding off your soul, the Skoti feed off your emotions.”

“Energy vampires,” Cassandra said.

D’Aria nodded.

Cassandra had read about the Dream-Hunters extensively. Unlike the Dark-Hunters, there was a ton of ancient literature that survived about the Oneroi. The gods of sleep appeared throughout Greek literature, but there was seldom a mention of the evil Skoti who preyed on people while they slept.

All Cassandra knew about them was that they were highly feared in ancient civilizations. So much so that many ancient humans were afraid to even mention the Skoti by name lest they incur a midnight visit from the sleep demons.

“Would Artemis have done this to us?” Wulf asked D’Aria.

“Why would she?” D’Aria countered.

Wulf shifted slightly. “Artemis seems to be protecting the princess. Could she have sent her into my dreams for that purpose?”

“I suppose most anything is possible.”

Cassandra seized on D’Aria’s words with zeal and a rare glimmer of hope. “Is it possible that I don’t have to die on my next birthday?”

D’Aria’s emotionless gaze held no more promise than her words. “If you are asking me for prophecy, child, that I cannot give you. The future is something each of us must meet on his or her own. What I say now may or may not be truth.”

“But do all half-Apollites have to die at twenty-seven?” Cassandra asked again, desperate for an answer.

“That, too, is an Oracle question.”

Cassandra closed her eyes in frustration. All she wanted was some hope. A little guidance.

One more year of life.

Something. But apparently she was asking too much.

“Thank you, D’Aria,” Wulf said, his voice deep and strong.

The Dream-Hunter inclined her head to them, then vanished. There was no trace of her. No sign.

Cassandra looked around the elegant garage of a man who had lived for untold centuries. Then she looked at the small signet ring she wore on her right hand that her mother had given her just days before she died. A ring that had been handed down through her family since their first ancestor had prematurely crumbled to dust.

All of a sudden, Cassandra burst out laughing.

Wulf appeared bemused by her humor. “Are you all right?”

“No,” she said, trying to sober. “I think I snapped a wheel at some point tonight. Or at the very least stepped over into the realm of Rod Serling’s
Twilight Zone.
”

His frown deepened. “How do you mean?”

“Well, let’s see…” She looked at her gold Harry Winston watch. “It’s only eleven o’clock and tonight I have gone to a club that seems to be owned by shape-shifting panthers, where a group of vampire hit men and one possible god attacked me. Went home only to be attacked again by said hit men, god, and then a dragon. Had a Dark-Hunter save me. My bodyguard may or may not be in the service of a goddess and now I just met a sleep spirit. Hell of a day, huh?”

For the first time since meeting him in the flesh, she saw a hint of a smile on Wulf’s roguishly handsome face. “Just a typical day in the life from where I’m standing,” he said.

He moved closer to her and examined her neck where Stryker had bitten her. His fingers were warm against her skin. Soothing and gentle. The scent of him filled her head and made her wish for a moment where they could go back and just be friends again.

There was very little blood on her shirt. “It looks like it’s closed up already.”

“I know,” she said quietly. There was a coagulating gel in Apollite saliva, which was why they had to continually suck for blood once they opened a wound. Otherwise the wound would close before they had a chance to eat. The gel they secreted could also blind humans if an Apollite spat in their eyes.

She was just grateful that the bite didn’t unite her with Stryker in any way. Only Were-Hunters had that ability.

Wulf stepped back from her and led her into his house. He wasn’t sure why he had been given the task of seeing to her safety, but until Acheron told him otherwise, he would do his duty. Feelings be damned.

As he opened the door, his cell phone rang.

Wulf answered it to find Corbin on the other end. “Hey, did you find Kat?”

“Yeah,” Corbin said. “She told me she only went to take out the garbage and came back to find Cassandra gone.”

He relayed the information to Cassandra, who looked confused by it.

“What do you want me to do with Kat?” he asked Cassandra.

“Can she come here?”

Yeah. When the equator freezes.
He wasn’t about to let Kat near Chris or his home until he knew more about her and her loyalties. “Hey, Bin, can she stay with you?”

Cassandra narrowed her green eyes at him with malice. “That’s not what I said.”

He held his hand up to silence her. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call you once we get settled.” He hung up.

Cassandra bristled at his high-handed manner. “I don’t like being shushed.”

“Look,” he said, clipping his phone back on his belt. “Until I know more about your friend, I’m not inviting her into my home, where Christopher lives. I don’t mind wagering with my life, but I’ll be damned again before I wager with his. Got it?”

Cassandra hesitated as she remembered what he had told her in their dreams about Chris and how much Chris meant to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. So he lives here too?”

He nodded as he turned on a light in the back hallway. To her right was a staircase and on the left was a small bathroom. Farther down the hallway was the kitchen. Large and airy, it was scrupulously clean and very modern in design.

Wulf hung his keys on a small rack by the stove. “Make yourself at home. There’s beer, wine, milk, juice, and soda in the fridge.”

He showed her where the glasses and plates were kept above the dishwasher.

They left the kitchen and he turned the lights off before leading her into an open, inviting living room. There were two black leather sofas, a matching armchair, and an ornate silver box of medieval design for a coffee table. One wall held an entertainment center, complete with large-screen TV, stereo, DVD and VHS players, along with every game system known to mankind.

She cocked her head at the sight as she imagined the large, cumbersome Viking warrior playing games. It seemed completely out of character for him and his overly serious attitude. “You play?”

“Sometimes,” he said, his voice low. “Chris plays mostly. I prefer to veg in front of my computer.”

She refrained from laughing at the image she had of that. Wulf was far too intense to simply “veg.”

Wulf shrugged off his coat and draped it over his couch. Cassandra heard someone coming down the hallway toward the living room.

“Hey, Big Guy, did you see…” Chris’s voice trailed off as he entered the room wearing navy flannel pajama bottoms and a white T-shirt.

His mouth fell open.

“Hi, Chris,” Cassandra said.