Danger spent a fitful day in her bed, trying to sleep and finding it almost impossible. It was barely six in the evening when she woke up, her heart racing, her mind whirling from horrible images.
Wicked dreams of Alexion had mixed with nightmares of him trying to kill her. No matter how hot the dream started out, it always ended the same way-Alexion locking her into a cramped, dark room that held other Dark-Hunters. Ragged and ill-kempt, barely more than human skeletons, they begged for mercy until they were led outside, one by one, to the Place de Greve where the guillotine in its red-painted frame waited to behead them.
The haunting swoosh of the eighty-eight-pound blade falling down rang in her ears, along with the sound of the crowd of humans and Daimons cheering their deaths.
But the weirdest, most disturbing part of her dream was the image of Alexion sitting to the side of the crowd, a la Madame DeFarge, knitting a list of all their names so that the executioner (Acheron) would know who next to murder.
Damn you, Charles Dickens, for that image! Her own memories of the Revolution were bad enough. The last thing she needed was for someone to add to them.
Danger lay in bed, clutching at her throat. The horrifying screams of the past rang in her ears. Over and over, she saw the faces of the innocents who had been killed by a hungry mob bent on vengeance against an entire social class of people. It had been decades since she'd last recalled her human life.
Her death.
But now it tore through her with stunning clarity and acidity. Even worse, she remembered the time not long after the Revolution when it had been fashionable for Parisians to hold Victim's Balls where the only people who were allowed to attend were those who had family slain by the Committee. The attendees all wore red ribbons tied around their throats in remembrance of Madame La Guillotine's handiwork. It had been gruesomely morbid and had sent her fleeing her homeland, never to return.
She hated these memories. She hated everything about them. It'd been so unfair to lose everything because of one man's greed. A man she, herself, had brought into the family. But for her, her father and his wife and her brother and sister wouldn't have died.
Why had she ever believed Michel's lies? Why?
The guilt and shame of that was still raw inside her.
She had killed her own family because she had fallen in love with a lying, beguiling asshole. Tears gathered in her eyes as her throat closed so tight that she could barely breathe.
"Papa," she sobbed, aching anew for the loss of her father. He had been a good man who had taken care of the people who worked for him. Never once had he neglected either her or her mother. In fact, he had wanted to give up his noble titles so that he could marry her mother when she'd become unexpectedly pregnant.
Had he done so, his life would have been spared... But her mother had refused his suit. Self-reliant and bold, her mother had never wanted a husband to tell her what to do. She was one of the most renowned actresses of her day, and her mother had feared that her father would insist she give up the stage for home and family.
Even after her rejection, her father had pursued her mother, begging her to marry him while he made sure that both of them had everything they needed. It was only after Danger had reached maturity that he had given up hope of her mother ever changing her mind.
It was then he'd found himself a lady to wed.
Even then, both he and his lady-wife had always been kind to her. Her stepmother had welcomed her into their home with open arms. Maman Esmee had swathed her in love and devotion.
Not much older than Danger, the lady had never looked down on her illegitimate status. She'd quickly become one of her dearest friends and confidantes.
Even now she could see their faces as they lovingly teased each other. See Esmee's face as she took her shopping for hats-Esmee's one great weakness in life. Never could she pass by a shop without dashing in to see what they had. She would spend hours in the haberdashery trying on every bonnet and hat they had while her father watched her and laughed.
Danger had loved them both so much...
And then in the dreaded heat of summer, the Revolution had swept through France worse than a plague. Thousands had died in a matter of weeks.
Her brother, Edmonde, had only been four, her sister, Jacqueline, less than a year old, and her countrymen had brutally slaughtered them. None of her family had deserved the deaths they had been granted.
None of them.
Except for her husband. He had earned every wound she had given him for his cruel betrayal. And all because he had coveted her father's home and wanted it for his own. He'd gotten it, all right, and she had seen to it that he hadn't lived long enough to enjoy it.
Shaking with anger and grief, she pushed back her red and gold covers, then parted her gold curtains so that she could leave her antique tester bed.
Alexion could rot in hell before she ever helped him go after the Dark-Hunters or anyone else. She would never be part of such a witch hunt. If Acheron wanted them dead, then he could do it on his own.
She wasn't about to help Alexion judge anyone. She'd seen enough of that in her human lifetime.
With her conviction set, she quickly washed her face, dressed, and went to find him to give him a piece of her mind.
But those thoughts fled when, after a brief search of her house, she found him sitting on the couch in her media room. Perfectly coiffed, he seemed strangely at home. There was a stack of DVDs in front of him. He looked just as he had when she'd left him the night before. If she didn't know better, she'd swear that he hadn't slept.
She paused in the doorway as he literally used his finger to fast-forward the machine to a new scene selection.
How did he do that?
"Where's the remote?"
He turned his head toward her. "Remote?"
"Yeah, you know, the thing you turn the television off and on with?"
He looked at his finger.
Bemused, Danger went to the DVD shelf beside her television and picked up the remote. "How do you control the player without this?"
He waved his hand and the TV turned off.
Completely baffled, she returned the remote to the shelf. "You're a total freak."
He arched a brow at her, but said nothing.
Danger crossed the small space to stand before him. She took his hand into hers, grateful that for once it was warm. It looked like any other hand... well, except it was rather large and well manicured.
It was a man's hand, callused, strong. She pointed it at the television.
Nothing happened.
"Are you sitting on a universal remote?" she asked suspiciously.
He just stared innocently at her.
"Get up," she said, pulling him to his feet so that she could see the cushions.
No, there was no remote.
Frustrated, she glared at him. "How did you fast-forward and turn it off?"
He shrugged. "I wanted it off and off it went."
"Wow," she said, "that's amazing. I guess this makes me the luckiest woman in the world."
"How so?"
"I've found the only man alive who won't ever shout out, 'honey, where's the remote?' then tear my house apart in pursuit of it."
He gave her a puzzled look that most likely matched the one she was giving him. "You know, I don't understand you. You are an immortal creature of the night with fangs and psychic abilities. Why is it that you're having such a hard time accepting me for what I am and for what I can do?"
"Because it flies in the face of every belief I've had up until now. See, we"-she motioned to herself-"Dark-Hunters are supposed to be the baddest things after the sun goes down. Then, in steps you and now I find out that our powers are nothing in comparison to what you can do. It really messes with my head."
She could tell her words baffled him. "Why does that disturb you? You've always known that Acheron was the most powerful being in your world."
"Yeah, but he's one of us."
His face did that blank thing it did every time she said or did something he didn't agree with.
"What?" she asked. "Are you going to tell me now that Ash isn't a Dark-Hunter?"
"He is unique in your world."
"Yeah, I noticed. We all have. It's been the topic of many late-night discussions on the Dark-Hunter bulletin boards."
An evil, mischievous glint darkened his eyes. "I know. I spend many an hour logged on under a pseudonym, leading all of you down murky paths just so that I can watch your minds work out the speculation. I have to say all of you are highly entertaining as you grapple with the puzzle of who and what he is."
The idea of him doing such a thing both amused and irritated her. "You're a sick man."
He shrugged nonchalantly. "I have to do something to alleviate my boredom."
Maybe that was true and it was a rather harmless way to break monotony. Still, she didn't like to be toyed with.
But that was neither here nor there. At the moment she had a much more pressing issue to discuss with Monsieur Oddball. "You know, I've done some thinking."
"And?"
"And I've decided that if you and Ash want to play this... whatever, game-scenario thing that you seem to run every few centuries where you kill some of us off, then you can do it without my help. I don't want any part of judging someone else. I've already seen firsthand where that leads and it's not pretty. I never want to wash innocent blood off my hands."
He took a deep breath as if he were digesting what she said. His gaze was dark and sincere. "We're not the Committee."
She was amazed that he understood what had prompted her decision, but it made no difference. "No, you're judge, jury, and executioner. In my book, that makes you worse. If you want to kill me, then kill me. I'd rather be a Shade than betray one of my friends or even enemies to that end. Believe me, having been betrayed myself, it's not something I would ever do to anyone else."
His eyes turned their eerie glowing green color. "It's easy to be brave when you have no real understanding of what being a Shade means."
"Yeah, I do know. You're hungry and thirsty all the time with no way to sate it. No one can see you, hear you, yada yada yada. It's a fate worse than death because there is no eternal reward, no reincarnation. It's true hell. I got it."
"No, Danger," he said his voice filled with pain. "You don't."
Before she realized what he was doing, he placed his hand on her shoulder. His touch seared her with pain and images. She saw a man she didn't know. He stood in the middle of a crowded New York street, screaming for someone to see him. To hear him.
He tried to reach out to people, but they all walked straight through his body. As they did so, the sensation of their souls brushing through him pierced his phantom body like shards of poisoned glass. It stung and burned so raw that it was an indescribable pain.
She could feel the rancid hunger that gnawed so deep inside of him that it, too, defied description. The thirst that burned his parched mouth and lips like some unquenchable fire that refused to be sated. He was overwhelmed by the unrelenting physical agony, by the mental loneliness that ached for one second of conversation.
Some inner, silent part of him was screaming out, begging for death.
Begging for forgiveness.
Alexion released her. He dipped his head down to speak angrily in her ear. "That is what being a Shade feels like, Danger. Is that really what you want?"
She struggled to breathe through the emotions that choked her. It was beyond even her worst nightmare. She'd never imagined such a hell could exist. Even now the image of that man was still branded in her mind. It hurt her in a way that surprised her. "Who is he?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"His name is Erius and for more than two thousand years he has lived that horrific existence."
Alexion's tone was deep and resonant. He stood so close to her that as he spoke, his hot breath tickled her skin. "At one time, he thought he could be a god. He thought all he had to do was kill humans and suck out their souls like a Daimon. Just like Kyros is trying to do, he gathered together a group of Dark-Hunters to revolt against Acheron and Artemis. He told them that he could lead them to freedom. That all of them had the ability to be gods too. All they had to do was listen to him and follow his example."
Swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat, she looked up at him, searching for the truth that was finally coming to light. "Are you the one who killed him?"
"No," he said, his tone and gaze gentling. "Acheron did. He went to him and tried to explain everything, but Erius refused to listen. He had it in his mind that Acheron had discovered the secret of the Daimons' powers and that Acheron was hoarding the secret from the rest of them. All Acheron's presence did was anger him more, and in the end that was what caused Erius to damn himself. It was the last time Acheron went to a Dark-Hunter to try and save him."
His gaze turned dull, haunted. "After that I took over. I go to them and pretend to be a Dark-Hunter too. I try to explain to them that Acheron hoards nothing and that they are all wrong with their assumptions about the origins of his powers. Usually a majority of them listen to me and go home."
It made sense for Alexion to go in. No doubt if Acheron showed up around Kyros, Kyros would attack him and fight. Ancient men weren't usually known for reasoning their way out of conflict. "They're much more likely to listen to one of their own."
He nodded. "By their very natures, Dark-Hunters are vengeful people. They were wronged in life and to many of them it's easy to believe they were wronged in death. They look for someone to hate."
"Acheron is an easy target."
"Yes. He's more powerful, and all of you know that he hides things from you. So once the kernel of the lie is planted, it takes root and grows into hatred and revolution."
She took a step away from him so that she could think clearly without his presence distracting her, then turned so that she could watch his face. "Then why doesn't Acheron tell the truth? Why does he hide his past from us?"
He shrugged. "When I asked you to have sex with me last night, you rejected me by saying you didn't want to sleep with a stranger. Yet for the first fifty years of your life as a Dark-Huntress, you burned through lovers like-"
She covered his mouth with her hand to silence that sentence. "How do you know that?"
He nipped at her hand with his teeth, causing her to jerk it away. His smile was wicked and warm. "I know many things about all of you. Just as Acheron does."
She didn't like the thought of that. "Did you spy on me?"
"No, but I know you. I have many of the same powers that Acheron has. Just as he can see into your heart and past, I can as well."
Danger tilted her head as she considered that. She wasn't sure she liked being transparent to anyone. Everyone needed to be able to hide parts of themselves. "Then do you know about Acheron's past?"
She saw the shame in his gaze before he moved away from her. "Answer me, Alexion."
He let out a long, tired breath as he returned the DVD boxes to her shelf. "Yes. I discovered his past by accident."
The haunted look on his face told her that he wished he'd never learned it. "It was in the early days when I was first learning to use my powers." He paused shelving the boxes to face her. "I didn't know how to control looking into the past and I stumbled upon his. When he came home, he found the sfora-the scrying orb-in my room. He looked at me and I knew he knew I had seen it."
She'd never known Acheron to be angry, but given the steadfast way he guarded his past, he must have been furious. "What did he do?"
Alexion's gaze dropped to the floor as if he could see that day clearly in his mind. "He came forward and picked the sfora up, then said, 'I guess I should show you how to use this correctly.'"
She blinked in disbelief. "That's it?"
He nodded before returning to put her DVDs up. "I've never spoken of it and neither has he."
"Then what did you's-"
"Ask me nothing about his past," he said, interrupting her before she could ask him that very thing. "Believe me, it's not something you want to know. There are some things that are best left alone."
"But-"
"No buts, Danger. He has good reason for not speaking of his human life. There's no information there that could benefit anyone. But it would hurt him a great deal personally. It's why he doesn't speak of it. He's not hiding some great secret of the Dark-Hunter world. Except for the fact that Artemis doesn't care about any of you. But what good would that do any of you? You're better off with the lie than the truth."
Perhaps that was true. Personally, she could have lived quite happily not knowing Artemis could care less what happened to them. "Then why were we created?"
"Honestly?"
"Please."
He sighed as he put away the last movie. "I already told you. Artemis wanted a hold over Acheron. The only way to get it was to play on his guilt. So she used his own powers against him to create the first Dark-Hunters. She knew Acheron would never turn his back on the innocents who wouldn't have been offered Artemis's bargain had it not been for him."
Alexion pinned her with a menacing glare. "His guilt is what made Acheron went out of his way to make sure that all of you had servants and pay for your work. The Dark-Hunters owe that man everything, and I do mean everything. He pays in blood every time one of you wants to go free, and he suffers every day so that you can all live your cushy little lives of wealth and privilege."
His eyes literally snapped green fire at her. "And I have to say that every time one of you turns on him, it seriously pisses me off. Acheron asks nothing from any of you and that's exactly what he receives. When was the last time one of you even said thank you for his help?"
A twinge of guilt went through her.
He was right. She'd never thanked Acheron for her training or anything else. She didn't think to. If anyone was given thanks for their lives, it was Artemis.
"Why doesn't Acheron tell us the truth?" she asked.
"It's not his way. His ego doesn't require worship or even acknowledgment. All he asks is that you do your jobs and that you don't die."
A tic started in his jaw. "And now to know that Kyros, one of the first who was created, has turned on him... It angers me on a level you can't even begin to comprehend. Of all the Dark-Hunters, he and Callabrax should know that Acheron would never use any of you in his own personal war."
Danger nodded. If Alexion was telling the truth, and to be honest, she was starting to believe him, then it must hurt Acheron to know that Kyros had turned oh him. "Kyros and Brax are legendary."
"Yes, and that is why I have to stop Kyros. More Dark-Hunters will listen to him than anyone else because he's been around for so long."
He made a compelling argument, but she still wanted him to leave her out of it. As she opened her mouth to speak, he got that odd, faraway look again.
"They're back," he said between clenched teeth.
Danger let out a weary breath. "Okay, Carol Anne, enough with the Poltergeist interpretation. If we can't contact them and they're not bothering us, I don't want to know they're watching us, okay?"
He ignored her. "Simi," he growled. "I have serious matters here. I don't need you annoying me. I owe Kyros too much to watch him die, but I can't save him if you distract me."
Danger frowned as two thoughts hit her simultaneously. "You sound like you've been talking to Simi all day."
"I have been. It must be her. She watches for a bit, then goes away only to come back again."
That sounded positively freaky to her, but whatever. "Did you not sleep?"
Again he didn't answer, which played right into her second thought. "You said you owe Kyros. What do you owe him?"
He hesitated before he answered. "I owe him a chance to live."
Yeah, she believed that one... not. It didn't even make sense. The sudden absence of emotion in his face told her he was hiding something.
And in that moment, she knew what it was. "You knew him."
Still the emotionless, blank stare. "I know all the Dark-Hunters."
Maybe, but she sensed more than that in him. "No. It's personal between you two. I can feel it."
He moved away from her.
She followed after him. "Talk to me, Alexion. If you really want my help, give me an honest answer."
"I've been honest with you from the very beginning." He headed for the door.
Danger stopped and waited until he was almost out of the room.
She had a sneaking suspicion of who he might be and it was time to play her hunch. "Ias?"
He stopped to look back at her. "What?" He responded to the name automatically.
Her jaw went slack. She'd been right, and he realized it two seconds later.
His face turned to stone.
"Mon Dieu," she breathed as every weirdness about him suddenly made sense. That's why he couldn't taste food. Why he didn't feel real emotions.
How it was that he knew what it was like to be a Shade...
"It's true," she breathed. "You were the third Dark-Hunter created after Acheron. The first one who died."
"No I wasn't, and Ias is a Shade."
She still didn't believe him. Not about this. "And if I were to take you to Kyros right now, what would he say? What name would he call you?"
Alexion ground his teeth in aggravation at her ability to see through him.
There really was no point in hiding the truth from her. It wasn't like she wouldn't find out the minute Kyros laid eyes on him.
Damn.
"He would call me Ias. But I wasn't the first Dark-Hunter to die," he added, wanting her to know that he was telling her the truth. "There were two before me who were killed by the Daimons before Acheron learned of us."
He sensed that something inside her changed in that instant. For one thing, her face softened. She crossed the room to stand just before him. Her gaze searched his as she reached a hand up to touch his cheek.
That simple touch wrecked him. How could he have such emotions? For centuries he had felt nothing for anyone except Ash and Simi.
To feel such raw emotion now...
It was incredible.
Her dark eyes showed him her heart. "Shades aren't supposed to have human form."
"They don't."
She caressed his cheek. "But you feel real enough to me."
Her touch aroused him to a painful level. In the past his encounters with women had always been brief. They'd lasted long enough for him to sate his lust and then the woman had vanished, never to be seen again. There had never been a tender touch like this one. A touch meant to comfort. It eased him and it burned through him like lava. "I'm different from the others."
"How?"
He pulled her hand away from his face, unable to bear the unfamiliar tenderness any longer. All it did was make him ache for things he could never have. He was beyond human relationships.
Beyond human feeling.
"Acheron held himself responsible for my death," he explained quietly. "Had he not made a fatal mistake in judgment, I wouldn't have become a Shade. For that reason, he gave me form and took me in to live with him and Simi."
"That is why you defend him?"
He nodded. "I assure you, living as a Shade is not something to take lightly. My short time as a true Shade taught me well that there is nothing on this earth or beyond worse. I'm grateful every day for Acheron's mercy."
She could respect his loyalty to the man who had saved him, and yet it added a most macabre twist that he would damn other people to the fate that he'd escaped. "How many others have you and Acheron damned to Shadedom?"
"I assure you, it's not something either of us does lightly. Those who died because they were preying on helpless humans are left to wander. The ones who die in the line of duty are given a paradise of sorts to spend eternity in. They don't suffer. Acheron won't allow it."
Danger frowned at his disclosure. That was something that no one had ever told them before. They were all left believing that if they died in the line of duty, they suffered the same as all the other Shades.
There wasn't supposed to be any way back from Shadedom.
"Why doesn't Ash tell us this?"
"Because a Shade, unlike a Dark-Hunter, can't go back to being human. Any hope of a future incarnation is gone. They have no hope for ever having a normal life again."
That didn't make sense to her. He was real. He had flesh and form. "But you-"
"I'm not in a human body, Danger." He looked down at himself with an anguished grimace. "This form that you see, that you touch, has an expiration date on it. In a few days, I have to return to my realm or perish completely. Acheron is afraid that if the Dark-Hunters ever learned that they could be spared the torment, they would become more reckless and not fear death. But believe me when I say there are things out there far worse than dying."
"Such as?"
The misery in his eyes singed her, and when he spoke, she knew it was from personal experience. "Living out eternity alone with no hope of release. You have no idea how lucky you Dark-Hunters are that in the back of your mind is always the knowledge that one day you might go free again. You still have your hope."
Danger's throat drew tight at his words. He had been one of them once. He was the whole reason they had an out clause at all. If not for him, Artemis would never have made provisions for the rest of them. How awful to know that you had given such an incredible gift to others that was now forbidden to you. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you."
He looked confused by her apology.
"You should have told me you were a former Dark-Hunter."
"Why does it matter?"
"It matters," she said, lightly stroking his arm. "If you're telling me the truth and I'm sure that you are, then I know Stryker was lying."
His face went pale at the mention of the Daimon's name. "Stryker? The Daimon?"
"You know him?"
Alexion cursed. He looked up at the ceiling. "Acheron! If you can hear me at all, get your ass here right now, boss. We've got a serious problem."
When nothing happened, he cursed again. "Acheron!"
"What is going on?" Danger asked.
Alexion looked ill. "I don't even know where to begin explaining to you how fucked we are if Stryker is here and Acheron isn't."
"He's just a Daimon."
"No," he said, in a deep warning tone, "he's a god, a very vicious one who hates Acheron with an unreasoning mind."
Now that didn't sound promising at all. Fear swelled inside her. If someone as powerful as Alexion was afraid of this guy, then there was definitely something to fear. "Are you serious?"
"Do I look like I'm kidding?"
No, he looked all too earnest and that left her cursing too.
Alexion shook his head like someone trying to shake off an annoying insect. "Simi," he snapped. "Stop watching me and go get akri. I need him."
Barely five seconds later, Danger heard a voice that made her sigh in relief.
"Danger? Alexion?" Acheron said from her hallway.
"Thank goodness," she said, moving toward the door.
"No!" Alexion snapped as she reached for the knob. He ran at her and knocked her back at the same time the door splintered. Pieces of it rained all over the room.
Danger's eyes widened in numbed terror as she saw what appeared to be a demon of some sort entering the room. Completely bare except for a small black loincloth, it had deep, dark green skin marbled with black. Probably no taller than four feet, it flew into the room with a pair of large black, oily-looking wings. It held glowing yellow eyes that stared at them with open hatred. The dual set of fangs flashed as it hissed at Alexion.
Danger gulped. "Please tell me that's the Simi person you've been calling."
The creature arced toward the ceiling as if it were preparing to swoop down and attack them.
Alexion's green gaze mirrored the horror she felt. When he spoke, the words went through her like hot shrapnel. "It's definitely not Simi."