normal. The Squire looked a bit strained.
Hmm, that was interesting. He'd have to keep Zarek around if the man had that kind of suppression power. It was nice to know Nick had an off switch.
"Any problems with your flight?" Acheron asked Zarek.
"I didn't eat my pilot if that's what you mean. And little Nicky here is still breathing and not bleeding."
"Well," Acheron said, his tone flat. "I suppose that's an improvement over last time."
Talon wasn't sure if Acheron was joking or not, but knowing Zarek's reputation, he didn't really doubt it was true. Rumor had it that Zarek had cut up and eaten the last Squire Acheron had sent for him.
Talon swept a glance around the five of them.
Were they a motley bunch or what? The only thing they had in common was height. Collectively, they must look like refugees from the NBA since they ranged in height from Nick's six feet four to Acheron's six feet eight.
Nick was dressed in jeans, a dark green sweater, and bomber jacket—the perfect image of a rich college student. Talon looked like a biker who had just left Sanctuary,
New Orleans's premier biker bar. Acheron looked like a refugee from the Dungeon—the local underground goth hangout. Valerius was the professional contingent, and Zarek…
Zarek just looked like he was ready to kill something.
"So why are we congregating?" Zarek asked.
The repugnant hatred in Valerius's eyes was searing. "Did anyone speak to you,
slave
?'
Acheron barely caught Zarek's hand before his claw sliced Valerius's vulnerable throat. Never before had Talon seen Acheron struggle so hard to hold someone back. It spoke a lot for Zarek's power.
And his temper.
"Cease!" Acheron ordered Zarek. "I know it's been a long time since you were around another Dark-Hunter, Z, but remember, whatever you do to him,
you
will feel it tenfold."
Zarek's face hardened. "Pain I can take, it's him I can't."
Valerius still had his lips curled. "I don't see why we need a whipping boy for the Daimons to play with. You know, he was so worthless in his lifetime that my father had to pay a slaver to take him off our hands."
Zarek let out the snarl of a wild beast. An instant later, Acheron was thrown clear of him and Zarek bolted at Valerius. He caught the Roman around the waist and the two of them hit the street. Hard.
Before Talon could pull him off Valerius, Zarek got in a number of solid punches and one last kick to the Roman's ribs as Talon hauled him up.
Just as Acheron had said, Zarek's face showed every blow he had given to Valerius. His nose and lips were bleeding profusely. Zarek didn't seem to notice and if he did, the satisfied gleam in his black eyes said the ex-Roman slave thought it well worth the cost.
Valerius was only slightly more subdued as he regained his feet. "You should be beaten for that."
Talon tightened his hold on Zarek.
Angrily, Zarek shoved him away. "Get your fucking hands off me, Celt." Then he turned back to Valerius. "Try beating me, you sorry piece of shit, and I'll force-feed you that black heart of yours."
"Enough!" Acheron roared. "Another word from either one of you, and I swear I'll rip both your hearts out."
Valerius wiped the blood from his lips.
Zarek raked his hand across his face, removing the blood, while he glared murderously at Valerius.
Acheron was a man of infinite patience and Talon had never seen Acheron exasperated before. But he saw it now.
Acheron glared at the Dark-Hunters. "Next time I'll just send the three of you e-mails. What was I thinking when I decided to have this meeting?"
Nick spoke up. "Oh, I know. That men who are a couple of thousand years old could actually behave like grownups?"
Zarek elbowed Nick in the stomach.
"Oops," Zarek said to Acheron. "Involuntary arm spasm."
Acheron cursed under his breath. "I swear, Daimons or not, if you don't behave, Z, I'm going to send you to
Antarctica and leave you there to rot."
"Ooo," Zarek breathed in a bored tone. "I'm terrified. Those killer penguins
Hmm, that was interesting. He'd have to keep Zarek around if the man had that kind of suppression power. It was nice to know Nick had an off switch.
"Any problems with your flight?" Acheron asked Zarek.
"I didn't eat my pilot if that's what you mean. And little Nicky here is still breathing and not bleeding."
"Well," Acheron said, his tone flat. "I suppose that's an improvement over last time."
Talon wasn't sure if Acheron was joking or not, but knowing Zarek's reputation, he didn't really doubt it was true. Rumor had it that Zarek had cut up and eaten the last Squire Acheron had sent for him.
Talon swept a glance around the five of them.
Were they a motley bunch or what? The only thing they had in common was height. Collectively, they must look like refugees from the NBA since they ranged in height from Nick's six feet four to Acheron's six feet eight.
Nick was dressed in jeans, a dark green sweater, and bomber jacket—the perfect image of a rich college student. Talon looked like a biker who had just left Sanctuary,
New Orleans's premier biker bar. Acheron looked like a refugee from the Dungeon—the local underground goth hangout. Valerius was the professional contingent, and Zarek…
Zarek just looked like he was ready to kill something.
"So why are we congregating?" Zarek asked.
The repugnant hatred in Valerius's eyes was searing. "Did anyone speak to you,
slave
?'
Acheron barely caught Zarek's hand before his claw sliced Valerius's vulnerable throat. Never before had Talon seen Acheron struggle so hard to hold someone back. It spoke a lot for Zarek's power.
And his temper.
"Cease!" Acheron ordered Zarek. "I know it's been a long time since you were around another Dark-Hunter, Z, but remember, whatever you do to him,
you
will feel it tenfold."
Zarek's face hardened. "Pain I can take, it's him I can't."
Valerius still had his lips curled. "I don't see why we need a whipping boy for the Daimons to play with. You know, he was so worthless in his lifetime that my father had to pay a slaver to take him off our hands."
Zarek let out the snarl of a wild beast. An instant later, Acheron was thrown clear of him and Zarek bolted at Valerius. He caught the Roman around the waist and the two of them hit the street. Hard.
Before Talon could pull him off Valerius, Zarek got in a number of solid punches and one last kick to the Roman's ribs as Talon hauled him up.
Just as Acheron had said, Zarek's face showed every blow he had given to Valerius. His nose and lips were bleeding profusely. Zarek didn't seem to notice and if he did, the satisfied gleam in his black eyes said the ex-Roman slave thought it well worth the cost.
Valerius was only slightly more subdued as he regained his feet. "You should be beaten for that."
Talon tightened his hold on Zarek.
Angrily, Zarek shoved him away. "Get your fucking hands off me, Celt." Then he turned back to Valerius. "Try beating me, you sorry piece of shit, and I'll force-feed you that black heart of yours."
"Enough!" Acheron roared. "Another word from either one of you, and I swear I'll rip both your hearts out."
Valerius wiped the blood from his lips.
Zarek raked his hand across his face, removing the blood, while he glared murderously at Valerius.
Acheron was a man of infinite patience and Talon had never seen Acheron exasperated before. But he saw it now.
Acheron glared at the Dark-Hunters. "Next time I'll just send the three of you e-mails. What was I thinking when I decided to have this meeting?"
Nick spoke up. "Oh, I know. That men who are a couple of thousand years old could actually behave like grownups?"
Zarek elbowed Nick in the stomach.
"Oops," Zarek said to Acheron. "Involuntary arm spasm."
Acheron cursed under his breath. "I swear, Daimons or not, if you don't behave, Z, I'm going to send you to
Antarctica and leave you there to rot."
"Ooo," Zarek breathed in a bored tone. "I'm terrified. Those killer penguins
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