Dark Side of the Moon (Dark-Hunter 9)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ravyn leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed. His head was throbbing from exhaustion and tension. How could someone trap a public official in the police department without getting burned?

Even if they did catch him, could they clear Susan's name? He wasn't particularly worried about himself. He could be transferred to a remote part of the world for a few decades and then moved back here. But her...

He smelled her the instant she returned to the room. He kept his eyes closed as he savored the scent. There was nothing more soothing to him. Nothing more gentle. Her feet made only the slightest of sounds as she crossed the room and then knelt by his side.

She brushed the hair back from his forehead, firing his body with her careful touch. And then she pressed her lips against his. Ravyn hissed at the taste of her as he returned her kiss.

But when she reached for his fly, he caught her hand in his and moved it away.

He opened his eyes to find her frowning at him. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, love. But we can't have sex until you're sure you want to mate with me. That's how we seal the deal. One tiny penetration, whether intended or not, and you're mine. Forever."

She nipped his mouth with her teeth. "Would that be so bad?"

He teased her lips with his tongue. "No. Not at all. But I already told you that I want you to take a few days to really consider this. Once we're mated there's no way back." Not to mention the fact that as a Dark-Hunter he wasn't supposed to mate at all.

"Okay." She pulled back. "So what's our game plan?"

"That's what I've been trying to think of. I mean, if we're right, and I'm sure we are, we have a motive and a name. It explains why the police are so gung ho to hang us and how they're getting away with all this."

"And if you're right and his sons are both Daimons, he doesn't want them to die like his wife, which explains why he wants to wipe out the Dark-Hunters in Seattle."

He nodded, then had a bad thought go through him. He pushed himself away from the wall. "We have to get Erika out of here."

"What?"

"We need Erika gone. First thing. I don't want them to use her as a hostage."

"Wouldn't all Squires be in danger?"

He shook his head. "Think about it, Susan. I killed his wife."

"He wants your blood more than the others."

"Yeah, and that is how we're going to get him."

Stryker walked into his study on Kalosis to find the clock that marked human hours on his mantel. It would soon be dawn and Trates hadn't returned...

What could be keeping him?

It wasn't like his second in command to stay gone so long. Feeling stupid for even caring, Stryker picked up the sfora from his desk and cradled the small clear crystal orb in his hand. The Atlantean word for "eye," the sfora was a way for those in Kalosis to keep tabs on the humans or anyone else on earth or here.

"Where are you, Trates?" he mumbled under his breath as he searched for him.

He found nothing.

Stryker frowned. "Show me Trates," he commanded the magical orb.

There was nothing but the red and gold swirling mist.

He gripped the ball tight in his hand as he conjured an image of the Daimon he sought in his mind. "Show me what has happened to him."

He relaxed his grip enough so that he could see the mist that was clearing into images of Trates and Paul. At first they seemed to be talking... until Paul staked him in the back.

For a full minute, Stryker couldn't breathe as disbelief soaked him. Finally the numbness that incapacitated him dissolved into rage. Growling deep in his throat, he threw the orb against the wall and it splintered into a thousand shards.

Trates was dead.

Unimagined pain tore through him and he didn't even know why. Sure Trates had been with him for thousands of years and had served him well, but he was a servant to Stryker. Nothing more.

Yet the grief he felt told him the truth. He had cared for the man. Through it all, Trates had been a good friend to him, and now he was gone.

Slain by a human hand.

If there was anything Stryker hated more than a Dark-Hunter, it was a human being. He could at least respect Dark-Hunters as worthy adversaries.

But humans...

They were cattle to be slain and eaten. And now one of the cows had dared to attack them. Fine, if that was the way Paul wanted to play it, then the rules were changed. The truce was over.

His anger raw, he left his study and headed for the hall, where he summoned his soldiers to him. Within seconds the entire room was filled with Spathis.

He glanced to where his elite Illuminati warriors stood on the left of his throne as he ascended the dais to stand before his regal seat. Because of their skills and ruthlessness, the members of his Illuminati had risen through the ranks of the others to be bodyguards to the Destroyer. Or, more to the point, to be the personal entourage and Valkyries of Stryker.

"Davyn," he said to the male who stood in their center. Davyn had once been a close friend to his son, Urian, before Urian had betrayed him and sided with Acheron and his bastard Hunters.

Like Urian, the Daimon had long white-blond hair that he kept tied at his neck with a black cord. Stepping forward, Davyn placed his right fist to his left shoulder and bowed slightly. "My lord?"

"You are my new second in command."

Straightening his spine, Davyn looked about nervously. "My lord?"

"You heard correctly. All of you have heard it. Davyn is to be my new right hand and you will all treat him accordingly. "

Davyn bowed his head with a jerk. "Thank you, my lord. But may I inquire as to what has happened to Trates?"