While the great Acheron could take one down without breaking a sweat, a normal Dark-Hunter …
Good luck with that.
“What’s Stryker planning?”
Urian gave him a droll stare. “What he’s always wanted. To kill my grandfather and subjugate the humans while staying beyond Helios’s reach.”
Ash returned his “duh” expression. “I didn’t ask for the goal, Urian. I’ve known that. What I need is the game plan. Why is he converting his people?” Ash’s phone rang. He started to ignore it until he saw the ID.
Sighing, Acheron looked at the bowl of melting ice cream on the counter. He refroze it, then flashed it away.
With an aggravated expression, he flipped open his phone.
“Nick is working with the Daimons.” Urian couldn’t identify the voice on the other end, but he heard those words plainly.
“Nice hearing from you too, Spartan. Care to tell me why you think this?”
“’Cause the little shit tried to kidnap Sam out of Sanctuary. He was there in all his glory, offering her up to our enemies.”
Urian tried to make sense of that. Nick was the current Malachai after the death of his father, Adarian. And after they’d rescued Tory and Nick had killed Satara, they’d discovered that Stryker had somehow tied Nick’s life force to his own.
Ash hung up the phone and met Urian’s curious gaze.
“Get over to the Charonte club and ride herd on Dev and Sam. Anything comes at her, I don’t care who or what, you protect her.”
Great. Protect another Dark-Hunter. Just what he wanted to be assigned. Especially Samia, who’d once been an Amazon who had taken out a large number of his people and who was related to the gods who’d cursed and abandoned them. “Okay. What’s going on?”
“Just do it.”
That tone always flew over Urian and made him want to punch Acheron when he used it. It also made him want to feed Sam to the Daimons.
But the gallu were a whole other matter. They were as big a threat to the Daimons as they were to mankind.
What the hell was his father thinking now?
October 24, 2010
Urian was supposed to meet Davyn at Sanctuary so that he could gather more information about Stryker’s plan. He and Davyn had always tried to pick spots where there was no chance of any of the Apollymians seeing them together. If Stryker ever learned that Urian still talked to his old friend, he’d kill Davyn immediately.
And it wouldn’t be quick. Last thing he wanted was to cause any harm to befall Davyn. He’d sooner cut his own throat.
Instinctively, he rubbed the scar left by Stryker’s attack on him the night Phoebe died. The bitter memory of that night was never far from the surface, and it was carved in blood on his heart.
He’d worshiped his father his entire life—had committed all manner of atrocities to please him.
And for what?
So the bastard could kill Urian’s wife and then cut his throat the first time he displeased him?One day I will have my vengeance.
If it was the last thing he did, he would kill Stryker for what he’d taken from him.
“C’mon, Davyn, have something good for me.” Urian went over to the bar to order a beer while he waited.
Colt Theodorakolpolis—one of the bears who lived and worked here—handed it off to him.
Without a word, Urian drifted around the game area. He checked his watch. Davyn was late. Highly unusual for him.
Fear tightened his gut. Had Stryker found out? The mere thought made his blood run cold.
