Seize the Night (Dark-Hunter 6)

Chapter 14

Dressed all in black lace, Apollymi sat looking to the uninitiated like a beautiful, ethereal blonde angel on her settee. She stared out of the open grand French doors onto her garden, where only black flowers grew in memory of her one true son who had been brutally taken from her.

Even after all these centuries, her mother's heart ached with the loss of him. With the feral, unending need she had to hold her child to her. To feel his warm touch.

What good was it to be a god when she couldn't have the only wish that had ever burned inside her?

This day was the most painful of all days. For this was the very day when she had given birth to her beautiful, perfect son.

And this had been the day they had taken him from her forever.

Tears glittered in her eyes as she lifted the small black pillow from her lap to her face and inhaled the spicy scent of it. Her son's scent. Closing her eyes, she summoned an image of his precious, most beloved face in her mind. Heard the sound of his commanding voice.

"I need you back, Apostolos." But her whisper went unheard and she knew it.

"He is here, Benevolent One."

Apollymi paused as she heard Sabine's voice from behind her. Sabine was her most trusted Charonte servant, since Xedrix had vanished on the night the Greek god Dionysus and the Celtic god Camulus had sought to free her from her prison in Kalosis.

Apollymi returned the pillow to her lap as she dismissed the orange-fleshed, winged demon.

"You summoned me, Mother?" Stryker asked as he came toward her.

She forced herself not to betray the fact that she knew he had turned on her. He thought himself clever.

It was enough to make her laugh.

No one could ever defeat the Destroyer. It was why she was imprisoned. She could be contained, but never annihilated. It was a lesson Stryker would learn one day all too soon.

But not today. Today, she still needed him.

"It is time, m'gios." The Atlantean term for "my son" was bitter as always on her tongue. He was a very poor substitute for the male child she had birthed. "Tonight will be the perfect time to strike. It is a full moon in New Orleans and the Dark-Hunters will be distracted."

And she wanted that human child! It was time to put an end to her captivity once and for all.

Marissa Hunter was a mild sacrifice she needed to return her son to his real, living state. And by all the power of Atlantis, she would restore her son.

No other life, not even her own, was worth one tiny part of his.

Stryker inclined his head. "Indeed, Mother. I've already set loose my Daimons to wreak carnage. Desiderius will return with the child at midnight and when they leave tonight, there won't be a single Dark-Hunter left breathing."

"Good. I don't care how many Spathi die or anyone else. I must have that child!"

She felt Stryker starting to leave.

"Strykerius?" she called.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Serve me well and you will be rewarded beyond measure. Betray me and there is nothing that can save you from my wrath."

Stryker narrowed his eyes on the goddess, who refused to even look at him. "I would never dream of betraying you, Mother," he said, masking the rancor of his tone.

No, he wasn't going to betray her tonight.

He was going to kill her.

After leaving her temple, Stryker summoned his Illuminati together before he opened the bolt-hole that would take his men to New Orleans. There they would do his will while he stayed safely tucked away from the Destroyer's notice. It was time he stopped the age-old conflict between human and Apollite.

A new era was dawning, and mankind...

It was time they learned their inferior place.

As for Acheron, now that he knew what the man really was, he knew how to neutralize him.

After all, not even the great Acheron could be in two places at once, nor could he stand against the assault that was about to begin.

Desiderius paused outside of a small voodoo shop. It was quaint and charming, and to most tourists, it looked like all the others.

The only thing that separated this store from all the rest that occupied designated areas of the French Quarter was the fact that here he sensed real power.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled the rich, musty scent of it. As a Daimon, he'd need her soul to live, but since he was in the body of a Dark-Hunter...

Killing humans was done for simple pleasure now, not for sustenance.

He smiled to himself as he stepped inside to find his target. It only took a second to locate her behind the counter, where she was waiting on a tourist who was buying a love potion.

"Hi, Ulric!" his victim said excitedly as the customer walked out of the store and left them alone.

Ah, good, she knew the Dark-Hunter. It would make killing her all the easier.

"Hi," he said, stepping up to the counter. "How are you tonight?"

"I was just about to close. I'm really glad you came by. After everything that's been happening around here, well... it's good to see a friendly face."

Desiderius's gaze went past her shoulder to a small snapshot hanging on a calendar that advertised scented candles. It was of nine women, two of whom he knew instantly.

His gaze darkened.

"How are Tabitha and Amanda?" he asked.

"They're doing okay. All things considered. Mandy's afraid to leave the house and Tabby... you've probably met her on the street."

Yes, Amanda was afraid to leave her house, which made their getting into it almost impossible.

But there was one way he knew to draw the sorceress out of her home.

He gave the woman behind the counter a tight-lipped smile. "Would you like for me to walk you home?"

"What a sweetie. Thanks, that'll be great. Just give me a sec to grab the money envelope and I'll do the paperwork at home."

Desiderius licked his lips. He could already taste her blood...

The night was eerily quiet as Ash walked alone through the St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 searching for Daimons who often came to claim the souls of the dead who had refused to move on.

The New Orleans natives called these impressive stone cemeteries the Cities of the Dead, a title that was wholly apropos. Because the town was below sea level, no one could bury the dead without the bodies making a most unwelcomed reappearance.

The full moon above cast distorted shadows of the statuary along the brick, stone, and marble crypts-some of which were taller than even he was. Although in places rather haphazard, most of the tombs were arranged into blocks that did in fact strangely mirror the layout and design of a city.

Each crypt was elegantly crafted as a monument to those whose remains it contained. There were three classifications for the tombs: wall vaults; family vaults; and society vaults that were reserved for specific groups, like the round Italian Society tomb, which was the largest crypt there, and one that dominated the cemetery.

Most of the tombs showed signs of their age by having broken pieces of masonry either missing or askew, along with collapsed roofs, and blackened mold that grew all over them. Many held scrolled wrought-iron gates and fences.

It was beautiful here. Peaceful. Although the strategically placed holes in the exterior walls that allowed muggers to come and go at will were a constant reminder of how some of the occupants had come to reside here.

Ash reached out and touched the grave of Marie Laveaux, the famous voodoo maven of the city. Her grave was marked with Xs from those who would pay tribute to her.

She'd been a remarkable woman and in his long life, she had been the only human to know him for what he really was.

Sirens sounded off in the distance as police headed for a new crime scene.

As he turned away, Ash felt a ripple go through him like a debilitating blow. He hissed in pain as he felt a fragile, forbidden doorway opening and felt the evil pouring out of it.

The Illuminati were leaving Kalosis...

Suddenly, his vision became cloudy.

Ash no longer saw anything around him, overwhelmed with sounds and images of souls screaming in agony as they died. It was a sound unheard by mortals, but one that cut through him like shattering glass.

The order of the universe was being altered.

"Atropos!" he called, summoning the Greek goddess of fate who was responsible for cutting the life strands of mortals.

Tall and blonde with furious eyes, she appeared beside him instantly. "What?" she snapped.

The two of them had never gotten along; in truth, none of the Moirae could stand him. Not that he cared. He had far more reasons to hate them than they had to hate him.

Ash leaned back against one of the old crypts as he tried to staunch some of his pain.

"What are you doing?" he gasped.