"You're the only thing in my life I ever did right, Nicky, and I thank God every night for giving me you."
It was why he loved her so much.
Nick had never met his grandparents on either side. Hell, he'd only met his father a handful of times and only once that he really remembered. It'd been when Nick was ten and his father had needed a place to crash for the longest stretch of freedom the man had known as an adult-three whole months.
In a bad cliche, his father moved in, drank beer constantly, and knocked the two of them around before one of his felon friends had convinced him to take a stab at bank robbery, where his father had shot four people dead just for the hell of it. His father had been quickly convicted, then died a year later when some inmate had cut his throat during a prison riot.
Cherise Gautier left much to be desired when it came to her taste in men, but as a mother...
She was perfect.
And Nick would do anything in the world for her.
He heard static from his Nextel, which he expected to be Otto screwing with him again.
It wasn't.
Valerius's accented voice broke the stillness. "Nick, are you there?"
Just what he needed tonight. Grimacing, he jerked the phone off his belt. "What?" he snapped.
"I wanted to let you know that Ulric is Desiderius. He's already killed Tia. I don't know who's next, but I think you might want to check on your mother." Suddenly, Valerius's voice changed to one that made his blood run cold.
"Oh, wait..." Desiderius said tauntingly, "she's dead now." He made a sound of smacking his lips. "Hmmm, type O negative. My favorite. Of course, you'll be glad to know her last thoughts were of you."
Nick stopped moving for an instant before he dropped the phone and started running as fast as he could toward his house.
Over and over, he saw images of his mother in his mind. Of her gently teasing him while he grew up. The pride on her face the day he'd told her he was going to college.
His battered ribs ached and throbbed, but he didn't care if he ruptured both lungs.
He had to get to her.
By the time he reached the gate to his driveway, he was shaking so badly that he could barely punch in the code.
"Goddammit, open!" he snarled as the first code was rejected.
He reentered it.
The gates swung open slowly. Ominously.
Panting from fear and exertion, he raced up the drive to the back door.
It was unlocked. Nick entered, ready to do battle. He stopped in the kitchen to pull his Glock.31 out of the drawer by the stove. He checked the mag clip to make sure it was fully loaded with all seventeen rounds.
"Mom?" he called as he slid the mag in. "Mom, it's Nick, are you home?"
Only silence answered him.
His heart hammering, Nick crept through the house, room by room, expecting to be attacked.
He found absolutely nothing, until he reached the upstairs sitting room. At first, it looked like his mother was sitting in her chair like she'd done a million times before when he'd come home to catch her waiting for him.
He'd bought this house just for this room alone. His mother loved to read romance novels. All her life, she'd dreamed of owning a home where she could have a perfect, five-sided room to read her books in peace. The sitting room was lined with custom-made bookshelves.
Every inch of every shelf in here held a paperback that she had lovingly chosen and cherished.
"Mom?" he said, his voice breaking off into a sob. His hand shook as he held the gun out and stared through misty eyes at the blond hair he could see over the top of the leather recliner. "Please talk to me, Mom, please." She didn't move.
He fought back his tears as he moved slowly forward until he could touch her. Still, she was silent.
Nick cried out in grief as he buried his hand in her soft hair and saw the paleness of her face. The vicious bite-wound on her neck.
"No, Mommy, no!" he sobbed as he knelt beside her. "Dammit, Mom, don't be dead!"
Only this time mere was no comfort to be found in her touch. No soft, loving voice to tell him that men didn't cry. They didn't show pain.
But how could any man withstand this kind of brutal agony?
This was his fault. All his fault. He'd been the idiot who had befriended the Dark-Hunters. Had he ever told her the truth... She hadn't stood a chance.
"Mommy," he breathed against her cold face as he rocked her in his arms. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't. Please wake up, please. Oh, please, Mom, don't leave me."
Then his rage took hold. It steamed through his veins and screamed out in shattering waves that tore him apart. "Artemis!" he shouted. "I summon you to human form. Now!"
She appeared almost instantly with her hands on her hips and in a pique.
At least until she saw his mother's body.
"What is this?" she asked, curling her lip as if the sight of death disgusted her. "You're Acheron's friend Nick, aren't you?"
Nick laid his mother back in her chair, brushed the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, and rose slowly to his feet. "I demand vengeance on the Daimon who did this and I demand it now."
She made a rude noise of dismissal. "You can demand all you want to, human, you're not going to get it."
"Why not? You give it to every other asshole who demands it. Make me a Dark-Hunter. You owe it to me."
She cocked her head and arched a brow at him. "I owe you nothing, human. And in case you haven't noticed, you imbecile, you have to be dead before you can become a Dark-Hunter." She let out a disgusted sigh. "Didn't you learn anything from Acheron?"
Artemis took a step back, intending to return home to Olympus, but before she could, the human knelt to the ground and picked up a gun.
"Make me a Dark-Hunter," he snarled an instant before he pulled the trigger.
Artemis froze at the loud, echoing sound of the gunshot. She couldn't breathe as she took in the sight of the man lying dead at her feet.
"Oh, no," she said breathlessly as her heart pounded. Acheron's human friend had just killed himself... right in front of her!
What was she going to do?
Her panicked thoughts raced. "He'll blame me for this." He'd never forgive her. Never. Even though it wasn't her fault, Acheron would find some way to blame it all on her, to say that she should have known and should have stopped him.
She stared in horror at the gore that spattered the front of her white dress. She'd never seen such before.
"Oh, think, Artemis, think..." But she couldn't think straight. All she could hear was the sound of Acheron in her head as he told her why Nick and his mother meant so much to him.
"You'll never understand, Artie. They had nothing but each other and instead of blaming each other for ruining their lives, which many people would do, they bonded. Cherise's life has sucked and yet she's still kind and giving to everyone she meets. One day, Nick's going to marry and give her a houseful of grandchildren to love. Zeus knows, they both deserve it."
Only now Nick lay dead at her feet.
Dead by his own hand, and he was Catholic.
She could smell the sulphur already.
"Acheron!" she called, allowing her voice to travel through all dimensions. She had to tell him before it was too late. Only he could fix this.
He didn't answer.
"Acheron!" she tried again.
Again, he was silent.
"What do I do?" She was forbidden to make a Dark-Hunter from a suicide. But if she left Nick dead, his soul would be claimed by Lucifer and he would spend eternity in hell being tormented.
Either way, she would lose. Acheron would blame her for letting his friend suffer. He would think she'd done this on purpose just to hurt him.
And if she saved Nick...
The consequences didn't bear thinking on.
But as she stood there in indecision, one image came and stayed in her mind. The look on Acheron's face the day she had turned her back on his pain.
It was the only thing in her life that she truly regretted. The one thing she would change if she could.
There was no real choice here. She couldn't hurt Acheron like that again. Ever.
Kneeling down, she pulled Nick's body to her and restored him to what he'd been before the gunshot. She brushed his hair back from his face and spoke the forbidden words of a long-dead civilization.
The stone appeared in her hand. She felt its heat as his soul entered it
Two seconds later, Nick's eyes opened. No longer blue, they were jet-black. He hissed as pain from the light pierced his now-sensitive eyes.
"Why didn't you call for Acheron instead of me?" she asked him quietly.
"He was mad at me," he said, lisping from the fangs that he had yet to grow accustomed to. "He told me I should kill myself and save him the trouble of it."
Artemis winced as she heard those words. Her poor Acheron. He would never forgive himself for this.
Nor would he forgive her.
Nick pushed himself up. "I want my vengeance."
"I'm sorry, Nick," she whispered. "I can't give it to you. You didn't adhere to the course of the bargain."
"What?"
Before he could say anything more, she raised her hand and sent him to a special room in her temple.
"Where are you, Acheron?" she whispered. The world was falling apart and he was nowhere to be heard.
It wasn't like him to be so careless.
Afraid something bad had befallen him, she closed her eyes and searched for him.
Desiderius walked down the street as if he owned it. And why not?
He did.
He held his arms out and leaned his head back as he heard the screams of the innocent in his head.
"You should be here, Stryker," he said with a laugh. Only Stryker could truly appreciate the beauty that was this night.
But time was running out.
He had to return with the Hunter child by midnight or the Destroyer would revoke his body.
"Father?"
He turned at the sound of his son's voice. "Yes?"
"Acheron is still missing, just as Stryker promised, and we've found our way in."
Desiderius laughed. At long last he would have his revenge on Amanda and Kyrian.
And as soon as he delivered up the child, he would finish off the main course with Tabitha for dessert.