"Preying on humans, for one. We have a Code of Conduct that has to be followed. No revealing of our powers before the masses, no association with Apollites or Daimons, et cetera."
It was strangely comforting to know that they had such a thing, but also scary to think of one of these guys turning bad with the powers they possessed. "If Dark-Hunters are forbidden to hurt each other and you drain one another's powers, how can Acheron be an executioner?"
"He doesn't drain our powers." He took a drink of wine. "Ash was the guinea pig Dark-Hunter. Since he was the first, the gods hadn't quite got the kinks out of the system. So he has some… peculiar, shall we say, side effects."
Now she definitely pictured some mutant life-form. A little hunchback Dark-Hunter with a lisp.
"And just how many Dark-Hunters are there?" she asked.
"Thousands."
Amanda's jaw went slack."Seriously?" By the light in his eyes, she could see the answer.
"How often are new ones created?"
"Not often," he said quietly. "Most of us have been around for quite some time."
"Wow," she breathed. "So if Acheron is the oldest, who is the youngest?"
Kyrian frowned as he thought about the answer. "Offhand, I would say Tristan, Diana, or Sundown, but I would have to check with Acheron on it."
"Sundown? Nickname, or did his mother not like him very much?"
He laughed. "He was a gunslinger and that was the name they used on his wanted posters. The authorities claimed he did his best work after dark."
"Okay," Amanda said slowly. Now she pictured some Wild Bill Hickok character. Complete with bowlegs and shaggy beard and a wad of tobacco in his cheek. "I take it you Dark-Hunters weren't merchants or um…"
"Decent law-abiding folks?"
She smiled. "I wasn't implying you were indecent, but you have the gist of what I was going for."
Kyrian returned her smile. "Indecent" would certainly describe the thoughts in his mind that concerned his guest. "It takes a certain demeanor and passion to become a Dark-Hunter. Artemis doesn't want to waste her time or ours by picking someone incapable of hunting. I guess you could say we are all mad, bad, and immortal."
Her smile widened, showing just a very tiny hint of a dimple in her right cheek. How odd he'd never noticed that before. "Bad and immortal I will give you, but are you truly mad?"
"If by mad you mean insane, what then would you say?"
Her eyes flashed wickedly. "That you are definitely mad. But you know, I think I like that about you. There's something to be said for unpredictability."
Kyrian wasn't sure which of them was most surprised by her confession. She looked away quickly, her cheeks turning bright red. She liked him... The words evoked a truly juvenile response inside him. He felt a peculiar urge to run tell someone, "She likes me, she likes me."
Ye gods, what was that? He was two thousand years old. Long past the age for such behavior. Yet there was no denying the satisfaction and happiness he felt. Awkward silence fell between them while they ate. As she finished, Amanda did her best not to think about her house. All she'd lost. She would deal with that tomorrow. At the moment, she just wanted to get through the night.
"Tabitha is staying put," she said as she watched Kyrian take his plate to the sink and rinse it off. "Good."
"You know," she said quietly, "you still haven't told me how you knew so much about my sister the night we met."
He put the plate and silverware in the dishwasher. "Talon and Tabitha have a mutual friend."
Amanda's eyes widened at that. A mole… who would have thought. "One of Tabitha's Zoo Crew?"
He nodded.
"Who?"
"Since this person spies for us, I'm not about to tell you who it is."
She laughed at that, then narrowed her eyes, trying to divine who it was. "I'll bet it's Gary."
"I'm giving away nothing."
It was intriguing, but not nearly as much as the Dark-Hunter before her. Sighing, Amanda continued to eat and glance around the richly appointed kitchen while Kyrian put the food away. There was a marble breakfast counter that vaguely resembled a Greek temple. It separated the table where she sat from the rest of the kitchen. Three tall bar stools were set before it. Everything was crisp and clean and enormous.
"This is a big house for one person. How long have you lived here?"
"A little over a hundred years."
She choked. "Are you serious?"
"There's no need for me to move. I like New Orleans."
She got up and took her plate to him. "You put down some serious roots, don't you? Where did you live before here?"
"Paris for a while," he said, putting the plate aside. "Geneva. London, Barcelona, Hamburg, Athens. Before that I wandered around."
She watched his face while he spoke. There was no telltale sign of his mood. He was hiding his feelings from her and she wondered if there was any way to draw him out. "It sounds really lonely."
"It was okay." Still no facial clues.
"Did you ever have friends in any of those places?"
"No, not really. I've had a few Squires over the centuries, but for the most part, I prefer solitude."