Page 6 of One Silent Night (Dark-Hunter 15)
CHAPTER 3
"MOTHER," STRYKER REPEATED UNDER HIS breath an instant before Kessar grabbed Zephyra's daughter. The demon opened his lips to taste her throat. Stryker barely had time to call out to the demon before he killed her. "Stop!"
The demon's red eyes flared bright before he curled his lip and released her with a snarl. "Let them tear into you then. Not like I give a shit if you live or die."
Zephyra ran at Stryker, drawing a hilt that she extended to a sword to stab him. Stryker took a step back as he used his powers to manifest a sword of his own. He caught her blade with his. The sound of steel rang out, echoing through the room as she met him stroke for stroke. Every parry, every thrust. She was there as if she knew exactly what he was going to do.
Stryker smiled. It'd been too long since he'd fought someone other than Acheron who could match his skills. Yet here she was, the daughter of a peasant, fighting with the expertise of a trained soldier. He wondered who had taught her so well. "I always knew you were good at handling a man's sword, love, but I had no idea that extended to those made of steel, too."
She growled an instant before she kicked at him, catching him in the side.
Stryker grunted at the pain that simple move caused. But to be fair, she held her temper.
"At least this sword doesn't disappoint. I don't have to worry about it going soft on me."
"I never went soft on you."
She rolled her eyes as she blocked his slice. "Trust me, baby, you weren't that good. I was just a better actress than you were actor."
"Ew!" her daughter groaned as she gave them more room to fight. "No offense, Mum, I don't want to know who you've slept with. Kill the sexual bantering and him before I go deaf from it."
Zephyra's eyes darkened as one side of her mouth quirked up into an evil smile. "You shouldn't be so prudish, Medea. After all, you've always wanted to meet your father. Happy Birthday, baby. Sorry the reunion's so short. But trust me, he's no loss."
Stryker staggered under the weight of the news. His attention deflected from the fight, he glanced at his daughter and her startled expression to take in the subtle differences in her features from her mother's. That lapse cost him, as Zephyra stabbed him straight in his chest, narrowly missing his Daimon's mark. . . . Had she been a single millimeter up, he would have burst into dust.
As it was, it hurt like hell.
"Stop!" Medea cried as she ran at her mother and pulled her back.
Stryker cursed as he covered the wound with his hand and tensed against the pain.
Zephyra shoved Medea away, moving back toward him. He brought the sword up, ready to fight. Medea shot between them again and forced her mother back.
"Is he really my father?"
Zephyra threw the sword at him. Stryker quickly moved out of the way. He felt the heat of the blade as it skimmed his cheek to bury itself in the wall behind him.
Furious, he went at her.
Medea turned on him with an expression so purely Urian that it stunned him completely.
Urian. His most trea sured child. The one son who'd meant everything to him, and in that moment he knew that Zephyra wasn't lying.
Medea was his.
That one reality slammed into him and almost drove him to his knees. He had a daughter and she was alive. . . .
Medea swallowed as she studied him. "Are you Strykerius? The son of Apollo?"
Stryker nodded.
She started for him only to have her mother grab her arm and pull her to a stop. "Don't you dare embrace him. Not after he left us for dead."
"I never!" he snarled. "You're the one who lied and told me you'd lost the baby."
"Because I didn't want to tie you to me. I wanted you to stay because you loved me. But I alone wasn't good enough for you, was I? You went belly-crawling to your father and for what? So he could curse everyone who held a drop of Apollite blood in their veins? I told you then your father didn't give a damn about you. You should have listened to me."
She'd been right, but that didn't excuse her lie. Her betrayal was every bit as great as his father's.
"You kicked me out."
She rolled her eyes. "You were always such an idiot."
Kessar laughed out loud. "Finally, someone who agrees with me."
Stryker glared at the demon, whose presence he'd completely forgotten about. "Why are you still here?"
"The entertainment value of this is beyond mea sure. I've never seen a man get his ass kicked so badly by a mere woman." He'd barely finished the words before Medea slung her arm out. Something black flew from her hand and it wasn't until it wrapped itself around Kessar's throat and dropped him to the floor that Stryker realized what it was.
Asfyxen. Reminiscent of a bolo, it was much smaller and much deadlier.
Medea stalked toward the demon with a warrior's lope. She snatched one of the golf-sized black balls and pulled the demon toward her while he choked and gasped, trying to loosen the wire that was strangling him. "Never underestimate a woman, demon. In this world, we rule."
Stryker felt a chill go down his spine. She was Urian . . .
Only female.
He couldn't be prouder.
Shoving Kessar back, she jerked the wire free with a graceful arc. "Next time, think before you lose your head."
Kessar's eyes glowed with his fury. "You and me, little girl, are going to dance again. One day soon."
She tucked the asfyxen back down her sleeve. "I'll bring the music."
Kessar vanished.
Medea turned back to face them with a satisfied smile.
Stryker hid his amusement. "You do know he is the most dangerous of his kind."
"He's nothing to her," Zephyra said proudly. "Medea has powers you can't conceive of. Not that it matters to you."
Before Stryker could open his mouth to respond, she head-butted him. He saw stars an instant before darkness took him under.
ZEPHYRA DREW THE DAGGER OUT OF HER BOOT as she knelt on the ground beside Stryker, intending to kill him. But as she plunged the knife down, Medea caught her wrist.
"What are you doing?"
Medea's determined gaze locked with hers. "He's my father. Could I at least speak to him before you kill him?"
Zephyra snorted. "Your father's an asshole, honey. Take it from someone who used to sleep with him. You're not missing anything, and if you don't let me kill him now, you'll only do it yourself later."
"Then let me do it later. I want to have at least five minutes with him."
Zephyra snatched her hand out of Medea's grasp. "Don't be ridiculous. Artemis wants him dead. But for her, you and I wouldn't be here now. Your father," she spat the word, "abandoned us."
"I know. You've told me that enough that it's permanently seared into my brain. Still, he's a part of me and I'd like to have closure."
"You really need to stop watching Oprah. You're an abbadonrani, girl. Act like it."
In one swift, graceful move Medea twisted the dagger from her hand and had it pressed against Zephyra's throat. "You're right, Mum. Get up and step back. I'm taking custody of him."
Zephyra smiled proudly. Then she disarmed her daughter. "Just remember, sweetie, while you may command demons, you don't command this one." She tilted her head down as she felt her eyes shift from those of a Daimon to vibrant orange.
STRYKER CAME AWAKE TO A DEEP THROBBING ache in his head. For a moment, he couldn't remember what had happened to cause it. But as he opened his eyes to find himself chained to a wall, he had complete clarity.
His first wife had returned with a vengeance.
Furious, he pushed himself to his feet and yanked at the thick chain that held him to a steel anchor in the wall. There were bands on each wrist and ankle, and while he had freedom of movement, he couldn't go far.
But that was infinitely better than the man who was chained to the wall across from him. Tall and lithe, he looked like someone had put him through hell. Literally. Dirty, matted dark auburn hair fell just past his shoulders. Completely naked, his body was covered with bruises and bite marks. The fact that they were visible through the thick black tribal tattoos that marked his torso, arms, and thighs attested to just how deep and vicious they were. Unlike Stryker, he was held standing up, with his arms stretched high above his head. His finely boned face was covered by a thick, unkempt beard.
"What the fuck did they do to you?"
The man laughed as he twisted his hands in the chains holding his wrists and leaned his head back against the wall to stare at Stryker, who drew his breath in sharply at the sight of the man's yellow eyes ringed by a narrow band of bloodred. "They feed from me. My guess is you're their next course."
