"Greetings, brother."
Stryker glanced up to see his half-sister, Satara, standing in the doorway of his office. Because they'd had different mothers Satara had been spared the Apollite curse of death that Stryker bore, but then again, since their father had given her to Artemis to be a permanent servant to the bitch, he wasn't sure which of them had the worse life.
Today, Satara's hair was coal black like his and she wore a tight, red leather dress that clung to every deep curve of her body.
"What brings you here, sister?"
"Auntie Artemis, of course. You said to always tell you when she was in a tizzy over something. She went off on a big one last night."
"Over what?"
"It seems a team of archaeologists stumbled onto Atlantis. The real one. And some of the artifacts, including a pristine journal, were recovered."
Stryker sat back in his chair. "One of Ryssa's journals?"
"Given the way Artemis reacted, my guess is yes."
Oh this was good. The humans had no idea that Apollites and Daimons lived among them and they'd gone to quite a bit of effort to make sure it stayed that way. But if one of Ryssa's journals was uncovered . . .
It could tell everything about them.
It was bad enough he and his Daimon brethren had the Dark-Hunters after them. The last thing they needed was for their food source to get scared and start hiding from them at night. They only had a few hours each night to hunt or die. This could be bad.
"I need you to find that journal."
Satara walked forward to lean on his desk. "Artemis is already one step ahead of you."
He pondered that. Artemis seldom ever bothered herself with anything other than chasing after Acheron. "Why does she want it so badly?"
Satara shrugged. "I guess her fear is someone will learn that it wasn't Apollo who sank Atlantis. Or maybe Ryssa knew about Artemis's relationship with Acheron and wrote about it."
Stryker's mind whirled with other possibilities. "Or maybe there's something in that book that tells Acheron's weakness. Maybe even a way to kill him or Apollo and Auntie too."
Satara's eyes sparked with new interest. "I'll find that book."
"You do that. And if anyone gets in your way—"
"They're lunch."
"Forget Jake Gyllenhaal and Shia LaBeouf, have you ever seen a better looking man in your life?"
Tory frowned as she walked past a group of female students who were giggling and agog over who knew what.
"I don't think he goes here. I've never seen him before, but I'd kill to have him in at least one class."
"I'd kill to have him under me!"
"I've seen him around. He's been at the bar Sanctuary on Ursu-lines a couple of times when I was there partying with friends. I think he's hooked up with that tall blond waitress who has such a nasty attitude."
"Are you serious? How on earth did I miss that? I must have been good and drunk."
Their comments faded out as Tory made her way to her office. But as she neared it, the female student body count got higher and higher or more to the point thicker and thicker. She actually had to push her way through them.
Yeah . . . this wasn't right. She'd never seen so many people this interested in the Anthropology department before.
It wasn't until she neared her door that she realized why.
Ash was there. Dressed in a long black duster that made her wonder just how many ankle length coats he had, he leaned against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. His was a powerful nonchalance that was riveting. She looked down and smiled at his crossed booted feet and the ever present black backpack resting behind them.
Those dark sunglasses were in place and today his long hair was pulled back into a ponytail. And his silver nose stud had been exchanged for one that looked like a small red ruby.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, reaching her door.
"Waiting for you."
She glanced around at the traffic jam he'd caused. "Really, you should have called. I think the Fire Marshal would have issues with this."
A slow grin broke across his face. "Sorry."
She opened the door and stood back. "You better get inside while I hold them off."
Picking up his backpack, he laughed before he complied.
Tory turned toward the collection of students. "See how exciting Anthropology is? He's a leading expert in ancient Greece. Now you should all change your majors so that you can ogle men like him all day long. Or better yet, uncover naked male statues."
She closed the door to find Ash smirking at her. "Was that necessary?"
"Hey, I live to recruit students for the department. If I can make you good for something, then by golly I'm going to do it."
"By golly?"
She shrugged as she put her armload of books down on her desk. "Yeah, like you don't have weird things you say, too. So what can I do for you?"
"I want to go back to that 'make you good for something' statement for a minute . . . Why do you hate me so much?"
Tory squirmed a bit under his hidden scrutiny and pointed question. "I wouldn't say I hate you. The hatred has fallen down to a mild distaste."