Bart elbowed him.
Laughing, Nibo shifted his weight to his other leg as he stood in the corner. “So, we’re good, then?”
Acheron hedged. “Yes and no. Getting Madoc to comply … that’s going to be tricky.”
Nibo frowned at him. “How so? He has no emotions, right?”
Acheron snorted at what should be a really obvious answer. “Because he has no emotions, he doesn’t care. Blow the world up. Or down. No vested interest one way or the other.”
Nibo growled as he realized what Acheron had meant. That was definitely a problem. How did one motivate such an ass?
“But if we use him against Adarian …” Valynda trailed off into thought.
“It’ll definitely be worth it.” Nibo stroked his whiskers as he tried to think of some way to coerce a god who had no emotions and no desires to want to do them a favor.
“Yeah,” Will groused, “this is a tough one. I’ve got nothing.”
Bart agreed. “I’ve wasted me two last brain cells. All they’re saying is to jump ship while we’re able.”
“I did that once.” Kalder grinned. “Worked well for me, but I can breathe underwater. You poor bastards are screwed.”
Acheron ignored his comment. “Are you sure this will weaken him?”
Nibo hesitated as he considered the question in all seriousness. So far, Acheron didn’t seem to know that Madoc was Adarian’s son, which technically made him Acheron’s brother. They needed to keep it that way, as they didn’t need the complication or risk that Acheron might decide blood was thicker than water, and defect to Adarian’s side without warning. Granted, Acheron had never done that in the past, but why risk it?
Acheron had unbelievable powers. There was no need to put any temptation there if they didn’t need to. So he decided to keep the truth from Acheron. Nibo cleared his throat. “It’s his Dream-Hunter powers that we’re after. That and his being one of the oldest of their breed and all …”
Luckily, Acheron believed him. Which was a miracle, given that Acheron normally could sense a lie three leagues off. Which meant Nibo was getting better at this and learning to hide from other immortals.
Acheron nodded. “I can assign Madoc to my newest Dark-Hunter, Jean-Luc. That might work.”
Nibo frowned. “I don’t follow.”
“Whenever one of my Dark-Hunters is created, I usually have one of the Dream-Hunters assigned to him or her for a few hundred years. It helps to siphon off their excess rage over being betrayed, as well as the pain of being alone in the world and cut off from their family.”
Nibo understood that. Since the only way a Dream-Hunter could experience emotion was through someone’s dreams, they lived for such tasks and were perfect for it.
Not to mention, he still wasn’t over Qeenan’s betrayal, and that had been thousands and thousands of years ago. Emotions that intense tended to last. Though he doubted if a Dream-Hunter could handle his.
Acheron scratched his chin. “Madoc won’t think it unusual if I make a request for him to be here for that. But I still don’t see how you think a simple Dream-Hunter can weaken a Malachai.”
Unwilling to share the truth, as it would only lead to somewhere bad, Nibo shrugged. “It’s a theory I’m working on. Something Shadow said about the Primus Bellum and something he observed.”
Acheron stood up. “All right, then. Wish you luck with it.”
So did he. This would either work, or blow up in their faces. Which his past experience said would be the more likely outcome.
But he was ever an optimist … as in absolutely never, yet it didn’t keep him from trying while hoping for a better outcome. He just wasn’t willing to share that with the group. There were some things they didn’t need to know. Near death being the most obvious one.
Acheron pulled out his dark spectacles. “I’ll go see Madoc and try to talk him into the human realm. How long do you think it’ll take to weaken the Malachai?”
Nibo considered it. “If what Shadow said was true and we can keep him here and get him to help us in the battle, should be rather quick. I hope.”
“Then I’ll see what I can do.” He vanished.
Savitar frowned at Nibo with a sinister glare. “What are you hiding?”
But he refused to be intimidated. “How do you mean?”
