Folding his arms over his chest, Stryker let out an agitated breath. Why would that matter to something like War? It was why Stryker had gone to him to begin with. If Acheron wasn't so damned hard to kill, he'd have done it himself centuries ago. "You were created to kill the Chthonians. That shouldn't be a problem for you."
"You should have warned me."
As if that would matter? "Trivial details. I thought you could handle it."
"I can kill him. It will just take more time."
"And?"
"You neglected to tell me about Nick Gautier."
"What about him? He's a Dark-Hunter. A worthless human who sold his soul to Artemis to serve in her army. Surely the great War isn't afraid of the likes of him."
War scoffed. "Dark-Hunter, my ass. Gautier is a Malachai, you stupid son of a bitch."
Stryker bristled under the insult. "A what?"
"Malachai," Zephyra repeated, her tone reverent. "Are you sure?"
War turned his dark gaze on her and nodded. "In all the universe a Malachai is the only thing that can kill me."
Stryker made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. "You've got to be kidding me. I thought you were the most powerful of beings. Even the gods fear you."
"We all have predators," War growled. "The entire universe exists in a system of checks and balances. I just met my zero balance."
Stryker cursed. "Are you honestly telling me that the most powerful creature on this planet is a pathetic Cajun guttersnipe who offed himself because one of my men killed his mommy?"
His sarcasm was equally matched by War's. "Unless you happen to have a Sephiroth just lying around here someplace sunning himself, yeah."
"What the hell's a Sephiroth?"
Zephyra laughed as she came up behind him to place her hand on his shoulder. "Stryker, you poor baby, you have been living in this hole for far too long."
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean, dear man, is if you want Gautier dead, then come talk to Mama. It seems your negotiating power over me just ended. Oooo, baby, this is going to get good now."
CHAPTER 5
NICK LAY ON THE FLOOR, TREMBLING AND IN A cold sweat as he tried to focus. It was no use. Everything swam before his eyes. His body felt like it was black asphalt at three o'clock on a late August afternoon in the French Quarter. What was happening to him?
"Sh . . ." A tender hand brushed his sweaty hair back from his face. Looking up, he found Menyara there. Tiny and beautiful, her Creole skin was the perfect café au lait color. Her green eyes watched him with concern. "It's all right, mon petit ang," she said in a deep voice that had always reminded him of Eartha Kitt's.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice thick and scratchy.
"I felt your powers unlock and came as soon as I could."
He frowned in confusion. "What?"
Menyara shook her head as she gathered him into her arms and held him like she'd done when he'd been a scared little boy afraid of the neighborhood bullies. "My poor Ambrosius. You've been through so much already. Now there's something I'd hoped I'd never have to tell you . . ."
"I DON'T UNDERSTAND." STRYKER SHOOK HIS head, trying to make sense of what Zephyra and War had told him. "How can Nick Gautier be this supremely powerful creature? He's a worthless gnat."
War took a deep breath before he spoke in an impatient tone. "When the Primus Bellum was fought, the darkest power—the Mavromino—created the Malachai to bring down the Sephirii. Guardians and consorts of the first order of gods, the Sephirii were soldiers who enforced the original laws of the universe. When the Mavromino turned against the Source and thought to end all creation, the Sephirii were unleashed to kill him. Most of them flew into traps. But enough Sephirii survived to declare war on the Malachai, and they would have destroyed them had they not been betrayed by one of their own."
"There's always one, isn't there?" Stryker asked rhetorically. In every house, there was always one malcontent jealous prick out to destroy everyone else just for spite. The entire history of the earth was written in the blood of those betrayed by the very people they'd foolishly trusted.
He looked at War. "So how many Malachai are there now?"
"There should be none. When the truce finally came, both sides agreed to execute their own soldiers. All of the Malachai and Sephirii were then put down."
"Except for one," Zephyra said, stepping forward. "The Betrayer who'd helped Mavromino was to live on to suffer and to see what he'd done. His powers were bound and he was to be forever shamed and enslaved."
War nodded. "Checks and balances. Apparently when they allowed the one Sephiroth to live, the primal order allowed a Malachai to escape as well. And today, I met the last of their breed."
Fucking figured. Stryker should have known it wouldn't be so easy to kill off the two men who aggravated him most. But then, on the bright side, it made him feel better that War was having as hard a time bringing them down as he had. At least it wasn't a question of his lacking skill. The universe just basically sucked and blew.
"Where is this Sephiroth?" Stryker asked Zephyra.
"In Greece. In the last functioning temple of Artemis."
Stryker snorted as realization stung him. He knew instantly who the Sephiroth was and why he'd been so abused. "Jared."