Invision (5 page)

“Other Greek Dark-Hunters.” Shon flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Zoe being one of them. And she's old enough to know … and
was
an Amazon princess.”

Nick considered that. Shon would know. Like Brynna, she came from one of the older Squire families that had been protecting the identities and existence of Dark-Hunters for generations, and providing services and cover for them. Even better, Shon's father was the New Orleans' Council lead historian and archive keeper, and had been for years. So when it came to the history of the Dark-Hunters—what they'd done and who they knew, he was the authority for the region.

“I'd ask Kyrian about it, but he gets cranky when I get too personal with inquiries.… Wonder if Ash knows.”

“Probably.” Brynna pulled her books out of her locker and shoved them in her tote. “He knows everything.”

Not quite. He had no idea Nick was a Malachai. Or that Kody was his niece. For all the powers Acheron commanded, there were a surprising number of things that could be kept hidden from the ancient Atlantean.

But Nick didn't correct her. He was quickly learning that most everyone and everything had a weakness of some sort. Nature tended to build in an off-switch.

Every
Titanic
met its iceberg.

That's what Kyrian had told him the point of
The Iliad
was. Balance and moderation. Regression to the mean.

Every Hector met his Achilles. Every Achilles met his Paris. Every Priam had an Agamemnon and every Agamemnon had a Clytemnestra.

Sooner or later, everyone paid for the wrongs they did to others. And when karma came home to roost, she brought nasty, irritable friends with spears.

It was making the hardest choices at the hardest times, and learning to stand by them and bear out the consequences.

Speaking of …

He turned as he felt the powerful presence of a preter who never failed to put a dopey grin on his face. The minute he saw Kody's bright green eyes and tight red tee, he realized he should have worn looser pants. Thankfully, he had on a really baggie Hawaiian shirt.

“Ca viens, ma bebelle cher.
”

Her gorgeous smile only made his condition worse. “One day, I have got to learn Cajun.” She scowled at him. “For all I know, you could be insulting me with that deep smooth drawl of yours.”

Nick dropped his backpack as casually as he could from his shoulders and pulled it around to the front as an added layer of protection—just in case. “
Non, cher.
I would never do that to
ma belle
.”

Brynna laughed. “I don't know, girl, long as I've been here, I still haven't gotten the hang of it.”

Shon tsked at her. “Y'all break my native heart!”

Nick broke out into his thickest Cajun drawl. “They just don't know,
cher
 … they just don't know. What we gonna do with the likes of them?”

“I vote we feed 'em to some gators later.” Shon winked at him.

Brynna scowled at Kody. “You ever feel like you need subtitles when he does that?”

“No. Unless he's actually speaking Cajun, I can understand it, even when it's thick and fast. But Bubba and Mark … I definitely need subtitles when they get excited and start babbling. I've no idea what language they're speaking.”

“That be middle Tennessee good ole boy,” Nick teased. “Their accents aren't
that
thick.”

“For
you,
” Kody teased. “But you have to remember that English isn't my native tongue, anyway.”

Brynna's eyes widened. “It's not?”

Kody went pale as she realized that she'd slipped up in front of Brynna and Shon. “Um, no. I was born in Greece, and my mother's Egyptian.”

“Really?” Brynna gaped as she passed a glance to Nick. “We were just talking about Greece. So did you learn Greek or Arabic first?”

Nick arched a brow as he waited to hear this.… While the language of modern Egypt was Arabic, Kody's mother was an ancient goddess. So she'd grown up speaking hieratic and demotic Egyptian—languages long dead and forgotten. Even her Greek predated Kyrian's native Koine Greek dialect that was very different from the modern-day spoken language of Greece.

“Greek,” she said quickly.

Nice save.

Kody slid an irritated frown toward him.
Don't take that tone with me. I'll have you know, I'm fluent in Arabic, too. My dad spent a number of years living in North Africa and traveling among the nomadic tribes there.

That was something he hadn't known before. Weird.

“I'm impressed,” Shon said. “You have no trace of an accent. How did you manage to be so lucky?”

Kody shrugged. “Good genes. While my parents pick up languages fast, they never could quite shake their accents. But my brothers did.”

Brynna gaped even wider. “I didn't know you had brothers, too. Why don't they go to school here?”

You are letting out all kinds of secrets today. What? Someone cast a truth spell on you?
Nick shot his thought to her.

I know! Help me!

Nick cleared his throat. “Her brothers are a lot older. Neither of them live in the state.”

“Ah.” Brynna nodded. “Believe me, I get it. My family's huge, and spread all over. It's such a pain.”

The bell rang.

Nick groaned out loud as students scrambled for their classes. “Where's my hemorrhoid? Not like him to not have attached himself to my hip by now.”

“Maybe he's sick,” Brynna offered innocently, not knowing that Caleb, as a demon demigod, couldn't get sick.

Well, he had gotten sick
once,
but there were extenuating circumstances and it shouldn't have happened again.

God, he prayed
that
hadn't happened again.

As they broke away to head for class, Caleb came rushing down the hall toward them.

Nick arched a brow. “Something wrong?”

“My alarm didn't go off.”

“That's odd.”

“Yeah,” Caleb said sarcastically. “You've no idea. Aeron overslept, too.”

That was strange. Lucky Charms Legolas would give Nick's mom a run for her money on his ability to keep accurate time and never be late. Not to mention, he kept a rigid military schedule that was terrifying. Instead of a god of war, he should have been one of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

Nick screwed his face up. “Zeitjägers again?”

“Not funny.”

“Really not trying to be.”'Cause time guardians carrying adamantine sickles they used to behead those who abused the time sequence weren't something to joke about. Especially not when they looked like jacked-up plague doctors that had escaped from some voodoo horror movie on an acid trip.

And they dripped blood all over your only pair of shoes while they followed you around like gruesome shadows you couldn't shake.

Yeah, Nick would
never
joke about that.

Maybe there was a good reason for having more than one pair of shoes, after all. Girls might be on to something with that.

He was still having nightmares and flashbacks from his last encounter with those creepy things.

“You know,” Nick said slowly. “I'm thinking we could all benefit from some therapy. But then given the stuff we deal with … if we ever began to talk about it to an outsider, they'd lock us up and throw away the key.”

“Yes, they would.” Caleb led them into class. “And having lived in a cage, I don't recommend it.”

“Yeah, but in your case, you had demons eating your entrails on a daily basis.”

“True. And your father trying to tear my wings off.” Caleb visibly shivered at the memory. “Have I told you today how much I really hated your father?”

“Nah, but I feel you, brother. He was not on my party list, either.”

Kody shook her head. “You two are so bad.”

Nick choked indignantly. “Oh, like you had any more love for him than we do. As I recall you tried to kill him yourself.”

“Your father was a sadistic beast.”

“Yes,
our
point exactly. No one cried when he died.” Nick let Kody enter the classroom first before he headed to his usual seat.

“Well, you don't have to
say
it.”

He made demon noises under his breath as he cast a disgruntled look at Caleb. “There she goes trying to civilize me again. What is it with women? Gah! Next thing you know, she's going to tell me not to pick belly lint.”

“Nick! That's so gross!”

“See!”

Covering her eyes with her hand, she shook her head. “You're so awful. Thank you, Caleb, for being a gentleman and minding your manners.”

“No, problem. Lil housebroke me for you. But if it makes you feel better, Nick, I was much worse than you when she met me.”

Laughing, Nick took his seat. And as he dug through his bag, a strange image went through his head.

It was of Caleb and Lilliana. The image was so raw and vivid, and potent, that it froze him to the spot.

Agonizing grief and physical pain laced through him.

Malphas had been wounded in battle. He'd taken a spear straight through his side, and been forced into retreat by the Sephirii forces that had fought against the first Malachai's army.

After a long pursuit, Malphas had finally lost his enemies and had found a place with fresh water. Because of the agony of his injuries and the effort it was taking to remain conscious, he didn't have the strength left to waste his powers on concealing his true demonic form. So he lay beside the stream on his stomach with his black wings spread wide and his red skin scuffed and smeared with his black blood.

His breathing labored, he'd been trying to stave off the bleeding when he heard the sharp gasp to his left. Furious, he'd angled his sword at the interloper, intending to murder whoever had dared disturb him.

But the moment his gaze locked onto those two celestial blue eyes that had been filled with fright, he'd hesitated. Those large eyes had dominated the face of an angel—and not the kind he fought against.

Her nose was a bit large for her pixie-like face, but it hadn't detracted from her beauty at all. That small flaw had somehow made her even more beautiful. She'd worn her white-blond hair pulled back into a long, thick braid, yet defiant strands had come free to curl and tease her skin.

Even though she was obviously terrified of him, she'd bitten her lip and approached him very slowly.

Cautiously.

“Are you injured?”

Stunned that she wasn't screaming or running away, Malphas scowled at her.

“Can you understand me?”

He bared his fangs as she came closer, then hissed, hoping to send her fleeing.

Instead, she froze instantly. “I mean you no harm, demon. I'm a healer. I can help you, if you let me.”

Those words baffled him. She was human … why would
she
help him? They were enemies in this war. She had to know that. His kind had slaughtered hers by the hundreds, everywhere they found them.

Without fail. Without prejudice.

Without hesitation
.

Still she stood there with her arms held out at her sides. No guile. No deception that he could sense. She seemed as sincere as any creature he'd ever known. Not that he'd known all that many who were sincere, or any, for that matter. The majority of his acquaintances were backbiting snakes who would betray faster than a heart could beat.

“Please … let me help. If anyone else finds you here, they'll call the others to slay you.”

“Why aren't you calling them?”

“You've personally done me no harm. I don't believe in holding someone accountable for the deeds of others. Only what he, himself, has done.” She moved forward again until she reached the tip of his outstretched sword that was still coated in the red blood of his vanquished enemies.

Only then did she hesitate as she saw it.

Malphas lowered the tip to the ground, and let the sword fall from his hand. He tucked his black wings down by his sides, then hissed as that action caused more pain to slice through his abdomen.

With the most tender expression anyone had ever given him, she knelt by his side and laid a gentle hand on his cheek. It was the first time in his life anyone had given him such a touch. For a full minute, he couldn't breathe as unknown feelings went through him. More than that, her skin smelled of rosewater and honey. A delectable scent that awoke a fierce hunger in his soul.

Yet it wasn't for her blood or bones.

He wasn't sure what he wanted from her.

“You're burning with fever.”

He couldn't believe that she didn't recoil from his unnatural bloodred skin. Or long orange hair. Rather, she cupped his cheek and stared into his yellow demon eyes without flinching as she wiped away the black demon's blood on his cheek and lips.

“Can you stand?”

He nodded.

To his even greater shock, she helped him to his feet. And when her gentle hand brushed against his black wings to help support him, he was lost to her kindness. “There's a cave where I played as a girl, just over that hill.” She jerked her chin to show him the direction. “No one ever goes there. They believe it's haunted. You should be safe to rest within its shelter, and I can tend your wound and bring you food.”

“I still don't understand why you would help me.”

“Because you need it.”

He shook his head. “Aren't you afraid of me?”

“Petrified.”

And she should be. He towered over her frail, fragile human body. It would take nothing to break her into pieces and use her blood and bone marrow to restore his strength and heal his injuries. He'd torn apart men twice the size of her, and those were trained warriors who'd been armed war heroes.