It had been brutal and harsh, as if someone were trying to get back at someone.
Danger shook her head, trying to make sense of everything. "What do I believe?" she asked herself.
The problem was, she didn't know. And it wasn't exactly something she could call Acheron up and ask. "Hi, Ash, this is Danger. I was wondering if you had sucked the soul out of Cherise Gautier and then murdered Nick out of spite? You don't mind answering me, eh?"
Yeah, even if Acheron was innocent, he might get just a tad upset over that one.
Kyros was already sending out calls to DarkHunters he thought were trustworthy. He and Stryker planned on gathering them here in Mississippi to train them to take souls of evil humans, which according to Stryker was what the true Daimon mandate was.
"We never killed innocent humans until Acheron forced us to it. In the beginning, we preyed solely on the dregs of society. Men and women who destroyed or plagued their own kind and who deserved to die. Now there are many times when we have no choice except to kill whoever we can get to, regardless of who or what they are.
"As soon as we show ourselves, one of Acheron's people comes in and tries to shove a knife in our hearts. We have to move fast to feed before one of you kills us. We don't want to hurt anyone, especially not the innocent DarkHunters. Why do you think we run most of the time when we see you, instead of fighting you? We know that the DarkHunters are innocent in this and none of us want to kill you for being blind and foolish. It's Acheron we're after, not his hapless minions.
"All of you have been programmed by him to ask no questions about us. You blindly kill on the assumption that we deserve it, and yet here I stand before you, not a monster trying to kill you. I'm only a person, same as you. I love and I need. All I want is to live in peace and to not be forced to kill the innocent.
"And why has Acheron lied to you? He's afraid one day that you'll all figure out the truth about him. The truth about being a DarkHunter. If you kill humans and ingest their souls, you can have the same powers that Acheron does. You can have the powers of a god."
Surely he was lying. It just couldn't be that easy.
Sighing, Danger pulled into her driveway and did her best to clear her thoughts. There wouldn't be a clear cut answer tonight. Most likely there wouldn't be one tomorrow either.
She saw Keller's green SUV in the garage. Damn. She really wasn't in the mood for his five thousand questions tonight. Not while she was trying to sort through this.
After getting out of the car, she made her way into her house and dropped her keys on the counter. It was eerily quiet. How unlike Keller not to have a radio blasting or be in the middle of a boisterous phone conversation with a friend.
"Keller?" she called, feeling a little nervous as she headed for the living room.
She paused in the doorway to find her Squire sitting in an uneasy slump on the couch across from an unknown man who was seated in her armchair. All she could see was the back of his blond head. Even so, she could tell he was sitting very stiff and formal. It was a pose of command.
"Hey, Danger," Keller said in a nervous greeting as he saw her in the doorway. "We have a guest. He's, um… he's Ash's Squire."
She went cold at his words. Her heart started thumping as adrenaline rushed through her.
The man stood up slowly and turned to face her. Danger's gaze quickly fell to the white coat he wore over his solid black clothes. To the way he stood there in all his arrogance as if he dared her or anyone else to question him.
Everything he wore was black, except the coat… and it belonged to Ash's Squire who was blond like a Daimon…
Chapter 4
Danger's reaction to her "guest" was swift and automatic, and it happened without any premeditation on her part. She pulled out her dagger and threw it straight into the man's heart.
To her shock, he burst apart into a golden dust just like any good Daimon would.
"Mère de Dieu," she breathed.
Kyros had been right. The man was…
Entering the room from the doorway on her right!
Her jaw dropped as he sauntered into the room with an arrogant swagger and a less-than-amused smirk. He pinned her with a droll stare as he moved to stand in front of her. Her dagger shot from the floor, where it had fallen after he exploded into dust, and into his hand.
He held it out to her, hilt first. It was painfully obvious that he wasn't the least bit afraid she'd use it on him again. "Could you please refrain from the theatrics? I really hate doing that. It seriously pisses me off and it ruins a perfectly good shirt."
Danger continued to gape as she stared at the hole in his black turtleneck where the dagger had gone in. There was no blood. No wound. Nothing. Not even a red mark. It was as if he hadn't been stabbed at all.
I'm dreaming…