The Dark-Hunters (287 page)

The demon tore at him with its claws. Alexion brought his leg up to kick the demon off.

It didn’t work.

He flashed away from it, but somehow the demon anticipated the action, and when he reappeared, it grabbed him again. This time it slammed him facedown on the floor. His teeth rattled as the demon seized him by the hair.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Danger grab a sword that she had hidden beneath her sofa.

“Stay back!” he shouted an instant too late. The demon caught her with his tail and knocked her off her feet. There was no way to win a fight with a Charonte. Not unless you were a god; and though Alexion could call upon Acheron’s powers, they weren’t really his.

That left him with one serious disadvantage.

The demon rolled with him. Alexion flashed out again only to have the demon seize him while he was invisible.

Give it up, Lex. The damned thing can obviously see you transmutate. Damn.

He punched at the demon, who didn’t feel his blows at all. But Alexion did. His hand throbbed as if it were broken. The demon laughed at him as it grabbed him up, dropped him to the ground, and slammed his head painfully against the floor. It felt as if his brains really did rattle in his skull. He could taste the blood in his mouth, feel it running from his nose.

If he didn’t get the demon off him soon, it would kill him. And this time, Acheron wouldn’t be able to bring him back.

Alexion tried to call up the force field to block his blows. It was less effective than a flyswatter against a rhino. No wonder the Greek gods lived in fear of this species. They were horrifyingly powerful. The only real question was, how did the Atlantean gods ever subjugate them?

“Get off me, you lard-ass, halitosis, flea-infested horror-movie reject,” he snarled in Charonte.

That succeeded in another head slam to the floor. The Charonte pulled back and wrapped itself around him like a boa constrictor. And much like the snake, he knew this was its final move before it tore him apart and ended his existence.

Alexion tried to pull its arms away.

Yeah, that’s going to work. Why not spit at him while you’re at it?

What he needed was Simi.

But in lieu of that …

He was pretty much screwed.

Danger was terrified as she watched the demon maul Alexion while Alexion was helpless against it. Until this moment, she hadn’t even known he could bleed. It was frightening to see something do that much damage to someone she’d foolishly assumed was invincible.

She reached for her sword.

The demon let go of Alexion to lunge at her. She grabbed the sword and plunged it deep into the demon at the same time Alexion shouted, “No!”

She quickly figured out why he would say that when the demon snatched the sword out of her hands, removed it from his body, then went after her with it.

She braced herself to fight and die, but just as the demon reached her, Alexion rushed it and knocked it back. The two of them spun away from her.

“Protula akri gonatizum, vlaza!”

She had no idea what those words meant, but the demon immediately released him. To her utter shock, it actually dropped down to one knee, crossed its arms over its chest, and bowed its head reverently.

“Whoa,” she breathed, in awe of what had just quelled the unstoppable. “What did you say?”

He didn’t answer as he gently took her arm and led her toward the door. He wiped his hand against his split lip and bloodied nose, and hurried her through the house.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“Getting the hell out of here while we’re able,” he whispered.

“But it stopped.”

“Yeah, I stunned him with a command I’m sure he doesn’t hear much. The thing is, I’m not the one who actually has the power to make him obey me, and I’m not sure how long it will take him to realize that. Therefore I vote we blow Dodge before that demon breaks us into pieces.”

Fleeing sounded good to her. She looked back over her shoulder to make sure it wasn’t following them through her house. “What was that thing?”

“It’s a Charonte demon.”

“A what?”

He led her to the garage and opened the door to her merlot-red BMW Z4. “Get in.”

She stiffened at his commanding tone. No one told her what to do.

No one.

“Don’t order me around.”

He gave her a bland stare. “Fine. Then stay and fight him on your own. I’m out of here.”

She glared her irritation at Alexion before she complied with his order. Yeah, if the demon could do that to him … Well, if she wanted her face rearranged, she’d call a surgeon.

At least then she’d be unconscious for the worst of it.

It wasn’t until he joined her in the car that a thought occurred to her. “Do you know how to drive?”

He answered her by starting her car without keys and backing it out. Her garage door opened in record time. Alexion did an impeccable J-turn in her driveway, then raced them down the street.

“I guess you do,” she said quietly. He handled the car like a pro. “So, Magellan, where are we going?”

“Away. I’m open to any location, so long as it doesn’t involve returning to your house while Wart-Head is there.”

She couldn’t agree more. “How long do you think the demon will wait before it comes after us?”

“I have no idea. It could depend on who’s pulling his chain or what his orders were. Let us hope that time has no meaning to him and he stays there a few centuries.”

“I don’t know about that. It is my house, you know? I’d like to return to it in a day or two. You don’t really think he’ll still be there for days, or God forbid, longer, do you?”

Alexion expelled a tired breath. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

Great. She now had an image of her house looking like Mrs. Haversham’s from Dickens’s
Great Expectations
—complete with cobwebs and running mice—once she returned to it. She shivered. “Will you at least tell me what you said to him to make him stop attacking you?”

He gave her a wry grin that was strangely becoming on him. “Basically, I said, ‘Bow down before your lord and master, slime-ball.’”

She laughed. Only Alexion would try that one. “What language did you use? I’ve never heard anything like that before.”

“Atlantean.”

That didn’t make sense. He’d admitted to being an ancient Greek, not an Atlantean. “How do you speak the language of a country that was long gone before you were born?”

He gave a low laugh. “I live with Acheron. It’s about all he speaks when he’s at home.”

“Really?”

He nodded.

Wow. She’d love to hear a conversation in Atlantean. The words were odd, but there was a wonderful lyrical quality to the language that was extremely musical.

But she had much more important things to think about than a long-dead language. Such as evicting the demon from her house. She just hoped he didn’t have any friends who wanted to come and party in her living room while using her and Alexion as pogo sticks. “Do you think there are any more of them?”

“I don’t know. I thought Simi was the last of them. It’s what Acheron was told and it’s what he told me. Apparently someone lied.”

“Simi? The imaginary friend you’ve been talking to is one of those scaly, nasty things?”

“No,” he said in an offended tone. “Simi’s precious. She’s beautiful…” He paused before adding, “In a very demon kind of way.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice laden with incredulity. “Does she slam your head against the floor too?”

“Not intentionally … much. She just forgets how strong she is sometimes.”

“Uh-huh. I think she damaged your brain one of the times she slammed your head.”

He glared menacingly at her, and when he spoke, his tone was defensive and angry. “Simi is like a daughter to me, so I expect you to show some respect when you talk about her.”

She held her hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, if you want to claim a scaly demon as a daughter, that’s your business. In the meantime, any idea on how to kill one of those?”

He shook his head. “The only way I know to kill one is to use an Atlantean dagger.”

“Where do we find one of those?”

His grip tightened on the wheel as he drove. “We don’t. Acheron destroyed them all to make sure no one could hurt Simi.”

“Well, that was mighty insightful of him, Yorick. What about the other demons who want to play basketball with your skull? Didn’t he ever think he should keep a dagger handy, just in case?”

“It wasn’t worth the risk to him of someone hurting Simi. Besides, Acheron can kill them without a dagger.”

Well, that would be helpful if Acheron were here, but as it stood … “Lucille certainly picked a fine time to leave us, didn’t he? I just wish our only problem was four hungry children and a crop in the field.”

Alexion slowed the car as he turned his head to grimace at her. “You know, your sarcasm isn’t helping any more than your bizarre and scattered references to literature and bad country songs.”

“Not true, it’s helping me maintain a calm façade that I most definitely do not feel.”

“Well, it’s starting to piss me off.”

“Ooo,” she breathed, “you almost scare me when you say that.”

He growled at her as he whipped the car onto the highway that led toward Aberdeen.

“Where have you decided to take us?”

“I’m here to see Kyros so I figure there’s no time like the present.”

She supposed, but there was one important fact he was overlooking. “Kyros is most likely going to freak.”

“Probably. I’m hoping to shock some sense into him.” He glanced over at her. “You were telling me about Stryker before our rude demon interruption. Care to finish that discussion?”

Danger opened her glove box to pull out her pack of travel tissues. She grabbed two, then gently used them to blot the blood that was still around Alexion’s nose.

He gave her an odd frown before he took the tissue himself to wipe his face clean. There was something almost boyishly charming about the way he moved. It amazed her that he’d taken such a beating and sucked it up without a single complaint.

No matter what he said, it had to hurt badly.

Feeling for him, she ran her hand through his hair, brushing it back from his cheek. He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face showed that he was touched by her tenderness.

Awkwardness consumed her. She dropped her hand away and returned to their conversation. “There’s not much to tell,” she said as she closed the glove box. “He showed up claiming to be Acheron’s brother.”

Alexion burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh,” she said, offended that he was kind of laughing at her since she had briefly bought into the idea of them being related. “He’s got the same black hair and swirling silver eyes like Ash does. Damned if he doesn’t favor Acheron. A lot.”

“No he doesn’t. Trust me.”

“Then why do they have the same eyes?”

“They don’t. Their eyes are very different. Acheron was born with his. Stryker was given his after he scorned his father, Apollo.”

She scowled. “How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “I live with a sfora, an orb that can tell me anything that happens here in the human realm. Not to mention, Simi is a font of information about what happens in Kalosis—the realm where—”

“Stryker is from. He mentioned that to me. So you’re telling me that Ash isn’t his brother?”

“Hell, no. Only in Stryker’s dreams. Trust me.” Alexion grew silent as he considered her words. He slid the tissue into his pocket as he continued to drive them down the dark highway. “So why is Stryker lying to Kyros? For that matter, what the hell is he even doing here? It’s not like him to bother with something like this. He normally takes on Acheron directly.”

She hoped that was rhetorical. “I don’t know. But he has Kyros sold completely on the idea. For a time, he had me too.”

Alexion let out a disgusted breath. “You didn’t know better, but Kyros should.” A muscle worked in his jaw while he kept his gaze focused on the road. “Well, whatever Stryker’s up to, it’s not good. And if he’s the one unleashing and commanding that Charonte back there, we’re in real trouble.”

“You think?”

He shook his head. “Sarcasm aside, you have no idea how much power Stryker wields. You think I’m here to kill you? At least I take no joy in it. Stryker lives to torture people. Last time he was out of his hole, he had a Spathi Daimon possess a Dark-Hunter and they wreaked havoc all over New Orleans.”

“What’s a Spathi?” she asked. That was one term she’d never heard before.

“They’re the ancient warrior class of Daimons who have been around for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. And in that time, they’ve learned to be seriously pissed off. Unlike the younger Daimons you’re used to fighting, these guys don’t run away. They run toward you.”

“Oh, goodie. It just gets better and better. A ticked-off demigod, a demon, and now warrior Daimons out to possess and kill us. Anything else you need to warn me about?”

“Yeah. Can the sarcasm before I decide I don’t need a guide after all.”

*   *   *

Stryker glared at the Charonte who stood before him. He and Trates had been in the great hall of Kalosis, drinking Apollite blood from their goblets as they celebrated the demise of the Alexion.

At least until the demon had returned with news Stryker didn’t want to hear. Trates had stepped back in expectation of Stryker’s wrath, which was already simmering to a boil as he came to his feet to confront the demon.

“What do you mean, you let him go?”

Caradoc’s pupils spiraled as they narrowed on Stryker. “Watch your tone with me, Daimon,” he said in that strange singsongy accent that his kind held. “You are not fit for me to blow my nose on your weak tissue. I only agreed to this because you said you could liberate me from the goddess. You did not tell me that you were sending me after another of her kind.”

Stryker went cold with those words. “What do you mean, another of
her
kind?”

“That was no man you sent me to, but rather something else. He spoke my language and he speaks Atlantean. He knew the command the Atlantean gods gave to mine to control us. No human knows those words. Only the gods do.”