He shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't be. My mother might have her faults, but she's a good mom, and a terrific lady. She did her best with what little we had. My father knocked her up when she was fifteen and her father threw her out. So it was just the two of us while my dad hit the revolving door in and out of the penal system. We never had much, but she's always loved me."
Amanda smiled at the love she heard in his voice. It was obvious he worshiped his mother. "So how did you meet Kyrian?"
He paused for a second as if gathering his thoughts. "When I hit my teens, I was sick to death of watching my mom hang her head in shame. Of her doing without food so I could eat a little bit more. I can remember walking to work with her and watching the way her gaze would stare longingly into store windows." He sighed. "She had such hungry eyes."
His stare was hard, penetrating. "My mother is the best-hearted woman God ever put on this planet. And I couldn't stand watching her degrade herself to feed me. Men groping her all the time. Or seeing the look on her face whenever she saw something she wanted and she couldn't afford it. At thirteen, I couldn't take it anymore, so I started stealing."
Amanda's throat tightened. She didn't condone it, but she wouldn't judge him for it, either.
"One night, the gang I was in decided to mug a couple of tourists and I drew the line. It was one thing to shoplift and break into rich people's houses, but I wasn't about to hurt someone."
So, even as a thief, Nick had honor.
"What happened?" she asked.
"The guys were furious at me and decided to get a little practice in by beating the crap out of me. One minute, I was under their feet, getting bludgeoned to death, and the next thing I knew there was this guy holding his hand out to me, asking me if I was okay."
"Kyrian?"
Nick nodded. "He took me to the hospital and paid for them to stitch up my head and knife wounds. He stayed with me until my mom got there. While we were waiting, he asked me if I wanted to go to work for him, running errands after school."
She could just imagine Nick as a smart-mouthed teen. It said a lot about Kyrian's character that he had seen through Nick's caustic personality to find the goodness beneath it all. "You agreed?"
"Not at first. I wasn't sure I wanted to be anywhere near some guy who had all the money in the world. Plus, my mom was very suspicious of Kyrian. She still is. She can't imagine why on earth he pays me so much money to do practically nothing." He laughed. "She's still half convinced I deal drugs for him."
Amanda scoffed at the thought. His poor mother. "What do you tell her?"
"That he's Howard Hughes with a God complex." He sobered and gave her a harsh stare. "I owe Kyrian my life. There's no telling where I'd be if he hadn't found me that night. One thing's for sure, I wouldn't be a pre-law student at Loyola, driving around in a Jag. I know he's a major asshole, but he's really a good guy underneath it all."
Amanda thought about his words as they left the mall and stowed her purchases in the trunk of Nick's silvery-black Jag.
They got in the car and she buckled up. "When did Kyrian tell you what he was?"
Nick started the car, then backed out of the parking space. "When I graduated high school. He offered me a permanent job as his Squire."
"And what exactly is a Squire?"
He pulled out into traffic, and as he shifted gears, she noticed a strange spiderweblike tattoo on his right hand. It held some kind of odd Greek design and she wondered if all Squires held such a mark.
"We were set up to protect the Dark-Hunters during the daylight hours and to procure whatever they need. Food, clothes, cars, maintain their homes, whatever. At one time, we literally stood guard over the special crypts they slept in, which is what started the whole vampires-sleep-in-coffins myth. Since sunlight is deadly to them, they used to sleep in caves or isolated chambers where there was no possibility of sun exposure. In return for our service, they provide financial support to us."
"So each Dark-Hunter has a Squire?"
"No. Some Dark-Hunters prefer to go it alone. I'm the first Squire Kyrian has had in over three hundred years."
She flinched at the thought of Kyrian being alone all that time. She could just imagine him walking the floors of his mansion like some restless spirit in search of comfort and finding none.
"And if you want to quit?" she asked Nick.
He sucked his breath in between his teeth. "It's not really that easy. The Squires have a whole detailed organization that's kind of like the Hotel California-you can check out anytime you want, but you can never leave. Once you get out, they will monitor you until the day you die. If you ever betray them or the Dark-Hunters, you won't live to regret it."
His ominous voice sent a chill down her spine. "Really?"
"Oh yeah. Some of these guys come from a long family history of Squirehood that goes back thousands of years."
"Is it like slavery?" she asked.
"No. I can leave at any time I choose, I just can't breach my Squire's oath. Once taken, the oath is unbreakable and eternal. When I get married, my wife won't ever know what Kyrian is, or what I do for him, not unless she's a Squire, too. After my children reach adulthood, I can decide to let them in on it or not. If I choose to let them in, they have to go before Acheron and Artemis, who will review and hopefully approve their application."
Now that was truly scary, because as he spoke those words, a horrible thought occurred to her. "What about me? Wouldn't they think I pose a threat?"
His face turned deadly serious as he paused at a red light and turned to face her. "If you do, one of the Squires will kill you."
She swallowed. "That's not comforting."
"It's not meant to be. We take our duties very seriously. The Dark-Hunters are all that stand between the human race and slavery or extinction. Without them, the Apollites and Daimons would own us all."
Kyrian lay in bed, trying his best to sleep, but over and over he felt Amanda inside him. She was at the remains of her house. He knew it. He felt her tears, her rage. Her despair.
And he ached for her.
How he wished he could be there with her right now. Comforting her. Never before had the loss of daylight freedom bothered him, but now it did. If he weren't a Dark-Hunter, he would be able to stand by her side and offer her his strength. His support.
Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, trying to stave off the pain. In a fit of anguished rage, he had chosen this course. Now, there was no way out. Artemis guarded her army zealously and had set the bar so high that in all this time, Kyrian had only known three Dark-Hunters to ever regain their souls.
All the others had died trying.
"What do I need with a soul, anyway?" he breathed as he opened his eyes to stare up at the brown and gold canopy over his bed. "All it does is make a man weak."
His life had meaning. It had purpose.
Then why did something within him actually hurt in desperate need for Amanda?
It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in centuries and it was a feeling that had once caused him to betray everyone who had loved him.
"I won't be weak again," he whispered. It wasn't that he thought Amanda would hurt him intentionally. It was himself that he feared, for once he gave his heart or his loyalty, he never revoked it.
It came down to one basic fact. He was scared of himself and the lengths he would go to keep her safe.
After they visited the remains of Amanda's house and her mother's home, Nick drove into the heart of the French Quarter and parked on a side street so that they could walk over to Chartres. He led Amanda down the semicrowded retail area until they reached a small boutique called Dream Dolls and Accessories.
Amanda frowned. They were going to a doll store? How weird was that?
"What are we doing?" she asked as he opened the door for her.
"We're going to see the dollmaker."
Okay, ask a stupid question...
She looked skeptically at Nick. "You know, I don't think they make life-sized Barbies."
He snorted at her as she walked into the shop with Nick one step behind her. "I'm not looking for a Barbie and this trip isn't for me. I'm here for Kyrian."
Now she really was worried. "Why?"
Before he could answer, an elderly lady looked up from her workbench beside the door and caught Amanda's full attention. She held a Barbie doll whose face she was repainting.
The woman wore a strange orange headpiece with a light and a bifocal eye shield. It covered her stark white hair, which was pulled back into a tight bun. Her old, brown eyes were bright and friendly.
"Little Nicky," she said in a motherly tone. "What brings you here this afternoon and with such a beautiful guest? Why, I do believe this is the first time I've ever seen you with a woman." She gestured at him with the tiny paintbrush in her hand. "One worth being seen with, anyway. Why, she's plum nice-looking and I'm not talking about her looks, if you know what I mean."
Nick raked a hand through his hair and shot Amanda an embarrassed glance.
"Liza, my love," he said in a loud tone, flashing her a devilish, charming grin. "Do I really need a reason to come see your shining face?"
She laughed at that. "I may be old, Nicholas Gautier, but I ain't stupid yet." She tapped her head, making her headgear shake. "My old noodle is still up to snuff and it's been more years than I care to remember since a man like you came by to see me for a social call. Now come whisper in my ear and tell me what you be needing."
Nick went to whisper and it was then she realized Liza was a touch deaf. In fact, Nick ended up speaking so loudly, Amanda heard every word clearly.
Even when he ordered plastic explosives.
"Now, remember," he said. "Kyrian wants one just like Talon's."
"I heard you, Nicky," Liza said good-naturedly. "What, you think I'm deaf?" She winked at Amanda.
"When should I come back?" Nick asked.
Liza pursed her lips. "Give me a day or two. Can you?" She held up the doll in her hands. "Barbie waits for no Dark-Hunter."
Nick laughed. "Sure, Liza, thanks."
As they headed for the door, Liza stopped them. "You know," she said to Amanda as she tottered up to her. The old woman barely cleared five feet. She patted Amanda on the arm. "You have a graceful look to you. Like a pretty little angel."
Amanda smiled in gratitude. "Thank you."
Liza tilted the lenses up on her headgear and walked to a shelf by the door. She stood up on her tiptoes and took a custom-crafted Barbie off the shelf. It was all white, with long, curly black hair, and it had faint, wispy angel wings and a beautiful white bead work gown.
Never had Amanda seen anything more beautiful or delicate.
Liza handed it to her. "Her name is Starla. I painted her face like a lady I know who comes in here all the time." She held the doll to her ear as if the doll were talking to her. She nodded, then handed the Barbie to Amanda. "She says she wants to go home with you."