Stygian (Dark-Hunter #27)

Glorious. Just glorious.

Even better, he could hear Chris grumbling as he came to open the door to let him and Acheron into the house.

Wulf rose to his feet as they entered. He also gasped. Not that Urian blamed him. He knew he looked bad. He was pale, his clothes still covered in blood. And he was madder than ten liters of hell saturated by demon piss and poured down the throats of a starving Charonte. No doubt all of that radiated in his body language and eyes.

The blond Armani-wearing Dark-Hunter who was seated on their right was the first to recover himself and speak. “We were getting worried about you, Ash.”

The surly dark-haired bastard from the club who had a goatee snorted. “I wasn’t. But now that you’re here, do you need me for anything else?”

“No, Z,” Ash said quietly. “Thanks for coming.”

He inclined his head. “Any time you want me to help rip something apart, just give me call. But in the future, could you pick somewhere warmer to do it?” He flashed out of the room before anyone could respond.

The biker blond covered with Celtic tattoos smirked. “You know, it really pisses me off that he’s a god now.”

“Just make sure you don’t piss him off,” Acheron said in warning. “Or he might turn you into a toad.”

The Celt blustered. “He wouldn’t dare.”

Armani snorted. “We are talking about Zarek, right?”

“Oh yeah,” the Celt said. “Never mind.”

Armani stood up with a groan. “Well, since I’m one of the few nonimmortals in the room, I think I’m going to head to bed and rest.”

The Celt flexed his bandaged arm. “Sleep sounds like a plan to me.”

Chris threw the medical supplies back into a plastic box. “C’mon, guys, and I’ll show you where you can crash.”

Cassandra stood up with Erik in her arms, intending to follow after them. “I guess I should—”

“Wait,” Urian said, stopping her. “Can I hold him?”

She hesitated with a worried frown that he knew he’d earned. He’d barely looked at Erik before this. He hadn’t wanted to.

Part of it had been jealousy. Phoebe had wanted a baby desperately, and it had been the one thing he’d never been able to give her. Another had been pure, unadulterated grief. Because when he saw children, it took him back to his youth. Back to the days when his nieces and nephews had been born, and they’d been hopeful of finding an end to their curse.

Before there had been so many deaths. He hadn’t wanted to think about all the times he’d held Geras and Nephele when they were young.

But now …

Cassandra glanced to Ash, who nodded.

Her features reluctant, she handed Erik over to him.

Damn, it’d been so long since he last held a baby that he almost dropped the little squirmy thing. She actually had to show him how to hold one again.

How could he forget something so important as to hold the baby’s head and neck? But then it had literally been hundreds of years. Lucky for them both, it didn’t take long for it to come back to him. And the smell …

That he definitely remembered. That newborn baby smell. Before the world came and tainted them. Scarred them with its brutality and ugliness. Taught them to hate and to hurt. Taught their hearts to bleed.

He would give anything to spare this child the nightmares that were ahead for him. The harsh lessons that would come in the future and bring him to his knees.

“You’re so fragile,” Urian breathed at the tiny boy who eyed him so cluelessly about the misery this world was getting ready to unleash on him. “And yet you’re still alive while my Phoebe isn’t.”

Wulf took a step forward.

Acheron held him back. “Will you stay and guard your family?”

Urian snarled at Acheron for a reminder he despised him for. “My family is dead.” Thanks to Acheron and his mother.

Acheron’s gaze turned sympathetic as he glanced down at the infant in his arms. “No, Urian, it’s not. Phoebe’s blood is in that baby. Erik carries her immortality with him.”

Urian hated him for that reminder that made him feel again. Made him care when he didn’t want to. In his mind, he saw how excited she was every time she talked about Erik and his imminent arrival.

“She loved this baby,” he whispered. “I could tell how much she wanted her own whenever she spoke of him. I only wish I could have given her one.”

“You gave her everything else, Urian.” Cassandra’s eyes filled with tears as she spoke of her sister. “She knew that, and she loved you for it.”

Those words broke him in a way nothing else had. And for the first time, he actually liked his sister-in-law.

Acheron was right. She was his family.

So was this baby.

And that stupid Muppet asshole.

Urian wrapped an arm around Cassandra and pulled her close. He laid his head down on her shoulder and finally gave in to the tears that had been choking him. Clutching him tight, Cassandra sobbed against his shoulder.

After a time, Urian let go and handed her Erik. “I won’t let your baby die, Cassandra. I swear it. No one will ever hurt him. Not as long as I live.”

Cassandra kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

His throat tight, Urian nodded and withdrew from her. He drew a ragged breath and wiped his tears off on the sleeve of his jacket.

“What an alliance, huh?” Wulf asked after Cassandra had left them. “A Dark-Hunter and a Spathi united to guard an Apollite. Who would have ever imagined?”

Acheron snorted. “Love makes strange bedfellows.”

Muppet scowled. “I thought that was politics.”

“It’s both,” Acheron said with a grin.

Urian folded his arms over his chest. “Would you mind if I slept in the boathouse?”

Wulf nodded. “Sure. Consider it yours for as long as you want it.”

Urian inclined his head to him and headed out, trying his best not to think about the last time he was here.

With Phoebe.

For Phoebe.

He’d barely reached it when he felt a strange presence behind him. It was one he knew all too well. He felt his arm heating up as he prepared to hurl a bolt at it.

“Oh now, akri-Daimon, don’t be doing that! You smack the Simi, and the Simi be sad. She not coming to hurt you. I just wanted to come bring you some barbecue chips and make you smiley ’cause you gots the hurts. Now put your arm away.”

What the hell? “Who are you?”

Tall and thin, she stepped from the shadows. Unlike the Charonte he was used to, she didn’t have wings or horns, or mottled skin. Rather she appeared human. Dressed in a short Goth skirt, with striped leggings and a corset top, she was adorable. Right down to her coffin pocketbook and tall, stacked heels. Her black hair had the same odd red stripe in it that Acheron’s did. Only she wore her hair up in pigtails.

Flouncing over to him, she took his arm and led him upstairs.

“You are a Charonte, right?”

“’Course I am. All the demons are.”

“Then why aren’t you in Kalosis?”

She made an adorably cute face. “Mostly ’cause the Simi’s not visiting akra-goddess. That’s why, silly!” She opened the door with her powers and led him in.

“I am so confused.”

She grinned. “Knows whatcha mean. The Simi stays confuzzled most the times. Face it. The world’s just a confuzzling kind of place.”

Suddenly, Urian felt like an idiot as he realized who and what the demon was. “You’re Acheron’s tattoo? From the club.”

She gave him a look that said he was a complete and utter moron. “Well, yeah. You don’t think the Simi would let some ole other Charonte come and lay down on her akri and not eat its head, do you?”

From what he knew about Charonte, no. They weren’t exactly into sharing.

She made him sit on the floor in front of the TV. Then she opened her purse and pulled out two surprisingly large bags of potato chips. “Red meat? White meat?”

“Pardon?”

She cocked her head. “Red meat?” She wagged the bag of barbecue chips in front of his face. “Or white meat?” She rattled a bag of sour cream and onion chips.