Dark Side of the Moon (18 page)

And it was small. It could barely accommodate the full-sized mattress on the floor. The walls were painted a dull gray and the room held a nice, musty odor to it. Nice … like a moldy piece of bread.

“What do they hold in here?” Susan asked as soon as Otto and Kyl dumped Ravyn on the mattress.

“Problem clients,” Otto said, stretching his arm as if he'd pulled it. “If someone or something steps out of line, they have to hold them until they can get a council order to terminate them.”

That didn't sound pleasant. “Order from whom? The Squires' Council?”

Kyl shook his head. “No, the Omegrion. It's the ruling body for the Were-Hunters.”

“By the way,” Otto said, looking at Phoenix. “Thanks so much for helping us get him down here.”

“Fuck you, human.” And then he vanished into thin air.

Susan feigned happiness as she clapped her hands together like a kindergarten teacher before her class. “Wow, boys and girls, they're just so inviting, aren't they? Martha Stewart would be proud.”

Otto laughed while Kyl shook his head at her. Even Leo snorted.

“The Were-Hunters may be fuzzy,” Kyl said, “but they're seldom warm.”

And that was definitely a shame.

Susan looked down at poor Ravyn, who was slumped in an awkward position on the mattress. “Could one of you at least get a pillow and blanket for him?”

Otto nodded. “I'll be back in a few.”

The men stepped past her and left her alone with her charge. Although how he'd come to be her responsibility once more she wasn't sure. Then again, she was almost getting used to this.

Susan sat down beside Ravyn. As she was trying to make him more comfortable on the makeshift bed, she realized that he wasn't completely unconscious. “Ravyn?”

He gave a subtle blink but didn't really respond. He was as helpless as an infant, and that scared her. If he'd been hit with this while alone, he'd have been completely defenseless before his enemies.

It was one heck of an Achilles' heel to have. And now his enemies knew it.…

Her gut tight with that thought, she brushed his hair back from his handsome face. Even though they were half-hooded, those eyes were still breathtaking and disturbing and they melted a foreign part of her. She'd never been the kind of woman who lost her head over good looks. But something in her was definitely drawn to him.

It was hard to believe she hadn't even known him twenty-four hours yet.

Otto came back with a blanket and pillow. “How's he doing?”

“I have no idea.”

He sighed. “I tried to get one of the doctors in here to examine him, but, big surprise, they refused.”

She ground her teeth in fury at that as she very gently placed the pillow under Ravyn's head. “Why do they hate him so much?”

“I killed them all.”

Susan frowned at Ravyn's whispered words. “What?”

“I killed my family,” he repeated, his voice distant and slurred. “Isabeau lied. She told them and they came for us…”

“Who's Isabeau?”

But there was no answer as Ravyn's eyes closed and he went limp. Again.

Otto shrugged. “I have no idea what he's talking about. Any more than I know why they hate him. I'm sure it has something to do with his being a Dark-Hunter, but anything other than that would be a guess on my part.”

Feeling for Ravyn, Susan spread the blanket over him.

“You want me to bring you something to eat while you tend him?” Otto asked. “That is, assuming you intend to stay here with him.”

Where else would she go? Besides, she'd been ill enough times in her adult life to know just how lonely it was. There was nothing worse than to have to tend yourself when you felt like complete crap.

“Yeah, I'll stay with him. And as for food, I'll eat most anything that doesn't bite me back.”

Otto nodded before he left.

No sooner were they alone than Ravyn rolled to his side as if he was trying to sit up.

Susan caught him and pulled him back toward the mattress. “You need to stay down.”

He cringed. “Don't
yell
at me.”

Oh jeez, he was on ketamine. What else would they use on a shape-shifter? She should have known. She'd had a college roommate who'd loved experimenting with all kinds of recreational drugs, and Special K, an animal tranquilizer, in particular had been a favorite. If Susan remembered correctly, it often left her roommate highly sensitive to light, sound, and touch.

Wanting to test the theory, she reached out to stroke Ravyn's hair. Like a cat, he arched his back and actually purred. It was so out of character for him that she wondered what he would say if he weren't under the influence.

He raised his hand up to cup her cheek. “You're so soft,” he breathed. He grimaced as if something pained him. “I don't feel good.”

Susan looked around quickly until she spotted a small trash can near the door. Releasing him, she grabbed it and barely made it back to him before he unloaded the contents of his stomach into it.

She cringed. They must have seriously overdosed him. Her roomie had often been nauseated by the drug, but Susan couldn't ever remember her actually getting sick from it—just very stupid and extremely overaffectionate.

When he was finally finished, he fell back onto the mattress, where he panted and groaned.

Susan sighed wearily as she wondered what to do with the trash can. “What a perfect end to a perfect day.”

*   *   *

Stryker stood in an alley outside of the Serengeti with three of his men and Satara. He glared at Trates, who'd allowed Ravyn to escape them yet again.

Stryker's second in command gave him a sheepish look that said he knew exactly how displeased Stryker was with him. “At least we know the tranquilizer works and it's every bit as fast acting as Theo promised.”

Little consolation that.

Stryker licked his fangs meaningfully. “And where is the good doctor now?”

His face paling, Trates stepped back.

“Grow a ball, Stryker,” Satara said irritably as she cast a glare toward the club. “March in there and take him down already.”

“Grow a brain, little sister. You violate sanctuary and you open a whole can of worms that not even you can deal with.”

“How so?”

Approaching her menacingly, Stryker backed her up against the wall. “I realize that as a handmaiden to Artemis you think you're immune to everything. Lucky you. But the rest of us aren't that fortunate. You go in there after Ravyn and you'll bring the wrath of Savitar down on us all. Not to mention it would become open hunting season on Spathi. We use those places to run to as much as the Were-Hunters do.”

Her nostrils flaring, she pushed him back. “Then what do you want to do? Give up on taking Seattle?”

“No,” he snarled. “We've gained too much ground here, and so far the humans have proven themselves worthy. We will wait them out and kill them when they leave.”

She let out a disgusted breath. “You know what your problem is, Stryker? You think like an eleven-thousand-year-old man.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're too set in your ways. Give me a team of men to lead.”

Yeah, right. Like he would trust her? She was too quick to act and too slow to think. “Are you insane?”

“No, but unlike you, I think outside the box.” She gestured toward the buildings around them. “You want Seattle? I can give it to you.”

Stryker hesitated as he considered her proposition. For centuries, Satara had kept to herself and only visited him whenever Artemis had no need of her. It was only in the last two years that she'd become a more frequent visitor to Kalosis. And with each visit, she seemed to get more and more agitated. Something had happened on Olympus to infuriate her, yet she never spoke of it.

But then, maybe she had a point. He was old and tired. And set in his ways. Maybe she did have an idea that the Dark-Hunters and Acheron in particular wouldn't see coming.

“Fine.” He looked back at his second in command. “Trates, go with her. If she makes a move to compromise any standing treaty, kill her.”

Satara gave him a snide grimace. “I love you, too, Brother.” She pulled the dagger out of her boot. “But don't worry … things are about to go deliciously our way.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ash woke up in a cold sweat as fragmented, displaced images shifted through his mind like a broken kaleidoscope. Sitting up naked in bed, he could hear desperate voices calling out to him with unspoken pleas.…

And then he felt it. The cold, demanding hand on his bare shoulder that jerked his senses away from the nightmare.

“Come back to bed, Acheron.”

Ash raked his hand through his long blond hair as he tried to center his attention on the loudest voice he'd heard. But it was lost now … drowned out by all the others until all the pleas were nothing but a dull roar that rang in his ears. “Something's happening.”

Artemis made a sound of disgust deep in the back of her throat—a sound that was completely unbecoming for a goddess who had created an army supposedly to protect mankind from the Apollites and Daimons her twin brother had fashioned in his own image and then endowed with godlike powers. Then again, she'd immediately abandoned that army into Acheron's care and then used them to tie him to her forever.

“Something's always happening,” she said in an aggravated tone. “When the cat's away, the rodents will scurry.”

He let out an exasperated breath as he turned to look at her over his shoulder. She was lying back in bed, her body covered by the white, gossamer sheet that was softer than the most finely woven silk, and it left nothing of her body hidden from his gaze. Her red hair fanned out around her in perfection, but in spite of being a goddess, she was the furthest possible thing from perfection. “The mice will play, Artie.”

She turned instantly huffy with him as she tried to pull him back into her arms. “Whatever.”

Ignoring her, Ash got up and headed for the French doors that opened onto a golden veranda at his approach. He stepped through them to lean against the cold stone banister and stared out at the rainbow waterfall. It was truly beautiful here on Olympus and yet he cared nothing for it.

His thoughts were on the future that taunted him with scattered images that he couldn't bring into focus no matter how hard he tried.

Something was happening and it would affect those he was close to. He could feel it with every fiber of his being. Damn it.

“What are you up to, Stryker?” he asked in the faintest whisper, knowing there would be no answer from the other side.

Stryker had set something evil into motion. For thousands of years the Daimon lord had remained dormant. But something had happened four years ago to bring him back into the open. Now he was determined to hurt Ash any way he could.

Artemis moved to stand behind him. She placed one cold hand on his right shoulder while she nuzzled his left with her cheek before she nipped his skin with her teeth. “Come back to bed, love.”

That was the last thing he wanted at the moment … well, honestly it was the last thing he wanted period. But long ago, he'd reconciled himself to the fact that he would never be free of the prison Artemis had damned him to.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and counted to ten before he spoke a plea that stuck deep in his craw. He'd never been one to beg for anything and yet she managed to degrade him to this every single time they were together. “Let me go, Artie. My men need me.”

Her nails bit deep into his shoulder blade as her temper flared and singed him. “You promised me a week of service if I let that woman's soul go, although why you wanted the soul of a Shade, I'll never understand.”

That's because she had no concept of compassion and she never would.

“And you can release me from my word.” He turned his head to look down at her uncaring expression.

She raked her nails painfully down his spine, no doubt laying his flesh open in vicious welts. Welts that would close instantly if not for her using her powers to make sure they stayed fresh and painful. His face stoic, Ash stiffened as his back burned. He knew what had always gone unspoken between them. She hated the fact that she loved him, and for the whole of their relationship she'd punished him because, in her mind, she couldn't live without him. Even though he would really, really like her to try.

She wrapped her hand in his long, blond hair and gave a vicious yank.

Bored with her childish games, he sighed. “Are you through?”

She gave another jerk before she released him. “I should have you whipped for your insolence.”

Why not? His back was still sore from her last beating—part of the price she forced him to pay for Danger's soul. She'd always been sadistic that way. The fact that he could take a beating without flinching had always turned her on. But then, he'd been weaned on brutality. Reacting to it had only served to worsen his punishments, so he'd learned early in life to suck it up and move on.

“Whatever makes you happy, Artemis.”

“Then come back to bed with me.” She brushed her hair back from her neck. Her long, graceful hand stroked the only part of her body that held any appeal to him. “I'll let you feed if you do.…”

He could feel his incisors growing at her invitation as his stomach rumbled with need. It'd been almost a month since he'd last eaten. That more than anything else was what had forced him to stay with her for a week. He had to eat from her soon or he'd turn into the very thing he hunted. “Don't tease me, Artemis. I'm too hungry for that.”

She moved closer to him. So close that he could smell the blood that flowed through her icy veins. She nibbled the line of his jaw as she gently cupped him in her hand, and yet his body didn't stir in the least. “Give me what I want and I'll give you a small reprieve to check on them.”