Page 47 of Dance With the Devil (Dark-Hunter 3)
Jess laughed. He liked a woman with gumption.
And a deadly aim.
"So," she said, turning around and eyeballing the lot of them. "I've been chasing a group of Daimons for the last four days as they headed toward Fairbanks. Bjorn followed a tribe of them up from Anchorage. That explains why we're here. What about the rest of you? Jess, did you trail Daimons from Reno to Alaska?"
Otto moved out of the group of Squires and paused in front of Syra. "We've come to kill Zarek of Moesia, and if you get in our way, little girl, we're going to kill you!"
"I'll be damned," Jess said, pulling his sunglasses down low on the bridge of his nose to stare at Otto. "He speaks. Or rather growls."
"But not for long if he doesn't watch his mouth." Syra gave Otto a mean and lethal glare. "For the record, Squire, it would take more man than you to even scratch me."
Otto returned her glare with a flirtatious smile. "I live for a woman who scratches. Just make sure you keep it on the back, baby. I don't like scars."
Otto brushed past her.
"I really hate Squires," Syra snarled. She pulled another flat bolt out and loaded it, then shot it at Otto.
Moving so fast he could hardly be seen, the Squire turned around and caught it without flinching. He held the bolt up to his nose and inhaled it lovingly. "Mmm," he said. "Rose. My favorite."
Jess exchanged a knowing look with Andy. "Perhaps we should leave you two alone."
"Yeah," Allen said with a short laugh, "this does remind me a bit of the mating rites of the mean and the surly. All we need now is Nick Gautier."
Otto slung the bolt at Allen who grunted as it made contact with his stomach.
Syra's face was beet red as she glared at Otto, who ignored her and sauntered toward the cabin.
"Do you have a Squire, Jess?" she asked as she and Bjorn walked beside him.
He nodded toward Andy. "Raised that one from a whelp."
"Does he listen?"
"Most days."
"You're lucky. I shot my last three." As she headed toward the cabin, Syra added, "And it wasn't with the flat bolt."
Well, at least things were a mite more amusing with the two new additions to their crew.
But as Jess entered Zarek's cabin behind Bjorn, Syra, and three of the Squires, his humor died.
The rest of the group had to wait outside since no one else would fit in the small square space.
This wasn't a case of the cabin being bigger inside than it looked outside. It was just the reverse.
Inside, the place was well kept, but cramped and dismal.
The Squires held halogen lanterns up, illuminating the stark interior. There was a pallet on the floor with an old, worn-out pillow and a few threadbare blankets and furs. The television was set on the floor and the walls were lined with bookshelves. The only pieces of furniture in the house were two cupboards.
"Good Lord," Allen said. "He lives like an animal."
"No," Syra said as she walked over to the bookshelves to skim the titles. "He lives like a slave. For him, this would be a step up from what he was used to."
She met Jess's gaze. "You know the man?"
"Yeah and you're right." Jess had to duck out of the ceiling fan's way as he moved around the room. He remembered that Zarek was a full two inches taller than him.
"Damn," he said as he turned the fan blade with his finger and remembered another thing Zarek had once told him.
"What?" Bjorn asked.
Jess looked back at the Alaskan Hunter who was inspecting Zarek's pantry, which contained only a few cans of food and a ton of unopened vodka bottles. "How hot does it get up here in the summertime?"
Bjorn shrugged. "In the heart of the summer it can get in the high eighties and nineties. Why?"
Jess cursed again. "I remember talking to Zarek once. I asked him how he was doing. He said, 'Baking.' " Jess nodded at the small ceiling fan. "I just now realized what he meant. Can you imagine being trapped in this place in the dead of summer with no windows and no air-conditioning?"
Syra let out a low whistle. "We have round-the-clock sunshine. You're lucky if you can leave for more than ten minutes a day."
"What does he do for a bathroom?" Allen asked.
Syra indicated a small chamber pot in the left corner.
"How long has he been here?" she asked Jess. "Eight, nine hundred years?"
Jess nodded.
She let out a low whistle. "No wonder he's insane."
Allen scoffed. "With the money he gets paid, the idiot could have built himself a mansion."
"No," Jess said. "It's not his way. Trust me, when you're used to nothing, you expect nothing."
Syra walked over to the corner where a mountain of carved figurines were piled. "What are these?"
Jess frowned as he noticed the walls of the cabin and realized every single inch of them was covered with intricate carvings that matched the figurines.
Suddenly he recalled the wood sculptures he'd seen in the convenience store.
The ice sculptures he'd seen in town.
Poor Zarek must have gone loco time and again from boredom during the months he was confined to this tiny shed.
Hell, Jess had a bigger garage at home. "I would say it's Zarek's attempt to maintain a shred of sanity while he's locked away up here."
Bjorn picked up a painted figurine that looked like a polar bear with its cubs. "These are incredible."
Syra nodded. "I've never seen anything like them. It hardly seems right that we kill someone who's had to live like this all these centuries."
Allen snorted. "It hardly seems right that he was allowed to live after he murdered everyone in the village he was charged with watching."
Otto passed an interesting look to the Squire. If Jess didn't know better, he'd suspect the man had second thoughts about killing Zarek.
Their gazes locked.
Nope, no doubt. In fact, he suspected Otto might have been sent along for other reasons... as he had been.
"Well, guys, it's been fun," Bjorn said. "But my powers are waning from Jess and Syra and we still have a small matter of the Daimon migration to sort out. Anyone have any ideas why they would do this?"
They all looked to Syra who was the oldest.
"What?" she asked.
"Have you ever seen or heard of anything like this?"
She shook her head. "I've heard of Daimons teaming up. Back in the centuries before you guys were born, they used to have warrior Daimons. But no one has seen a Spathi in at least a millennium. All this beats me. It's a pity we can't reach Acheron. He might have more information."
Bjorn headed out of the cabin.
Jess pulled up the rear and looked back inside the shack one more time.
Damn. He felt real sorry for his friend and the life Zarek had been given.
He couldn't imagine being stuck out in the woods all alone in temperatures that ranged from forty below to ninety.
No wonder Ash took such pity on Zarek.
Six of the squires went to the SUVs and unloaded gasoline containers.
"What are you doing?" Jess asked suspiciously.
"Burning him out," a redheaded Squire said. "You want to hunt, you-"
"Like hell!" Jess grabbed the container from the man's hand and slung it toward the woods. "This is all he has in the world. No way I'm going to let you take it from him."
Allen sneered at him. "He beat up that woman."
Jess narrowed his gaze. "You have yet to prove it to me."
Allen rolled his eyes, as if unable to understand how he could defend his friend. "If Zarek didn't do it? Who did?"
"I did."
