"Someone's killing Dark-Hunters."
Jess Brady scowled as his Squire, Andy, burst into the obscenely huge kitchen, huffing and puffing, with his dark hair sticking out all over his head as if the boy had been wringing at it-a habit Andy had whenever he was duly stressed.
Much less excited, especially since he'd been up only a few, Jess blew his breath across his steaming coffee. "Settle down, pup. I ain't had my caffeine yet." And he wasn't a morning person, even though his mornings were what most people called early evening.
Still the boy jumped about like a filly around a rattlesnake. Had he ever been that nervous about anything?
The answer hit him hard in the chest and did nothing to improve his irritability.
Jess quickly turned his thoughts away from that memory and focused on the boy he'd known since the day Andy was whelped.
Even though Andy was nearing thirty now, he was about as high-strung as anyone Jess had ever met. Times like this, he missed the old calmness of Andy's pa. Nothing had ever rattled that man.
Not even the time he'd landed in a nest of scorpions.
"Sundown ... you don't understand. It's-"
He held his hand up to stop the boy midsentence. "I get it, kid. Case you haven't noticed, Dark-Hunters are on almost as many menus as humans are. Having something trying to kill us is about normal. Now, why you more flustered than a preacher in a whorehouse?"
"I'm trying to tell you." Andy gestured toward the door as if expecting the bogeyman to charge through it. "There's a human out there who is killing off Dark-Hunters, and someone needs to stop them."
Jess took a slow drink before he spoke. Ah yeah, that hit the spot. Little more, and he'd be as close to human as a deadman could come. "Well, that's just plain rude."
All that did was frustrate Andy more. "I really don't think you understand what I'm trying to tell you."
Jess scratched at the whiskers along his jaw. "And my mama drowned the dumb ones. I hear everything you're saying. There's a group of Buffys thinking we're the bad guys. Ain't my first rodeo, pup. It's been happening so long, they were called Helsings long before your daddy was a gleam in your granddaddy's eyes. Thank you, Hollywood and Stoker for that. Not like being undead didn't suck before. They just made it worse for us by cluing the rest of the world in that we exist. Now every goth with a thirst for immortality is cruising for us, begging us to bite them and turn them. Did I ever tell you about that time when-?"
"Sundown," Andy snapped. "I-"
"You need to check that tone, boy. Remember, I used to kill people for a living, and I ain't been up long enough to have much tolerance right about now. Knock it down a notch before I forget I'm supposed to actually like you."
Andy let out a long sigh. "Fine, but answer me this."
Dang, when had the kid turned into the Riddler? He should have curtailed all those Batman reruns when Andy was a boy.
"Did any of those others ever come after you guys in the past leading a Daimon entourage?"
Now, that got his attention. While it wasn't unusual for Daimons to use humans as servants or tools from time to time, it wasn't normal for them to follow one.
Jess set the coffee down on the stainless steel counter. "Come again?"
"Yeah ... this one travels in a pack of Daimons, and has been slaying every Hunter they can find. She's taken out three here and four others in Arizona and Oklahoma."
Jess took a full minute to digest that. "How do you know about this?"
"I was contacted by Tawny, who got it from her mother." Now, to most, that'd sound bizarre. But like Andy, Tawny was a multigenerational Squire. A few thousand years back, the Squire network had been set up to provide a "normal" cover for the nocturnal Dark-Hunters during the daylight hours when they were sleeping. The Squires helped them to pass for humans, and most of all, the Squires shielded their existence from the rest of the world and took care of their day-to-day necessities so that they could focus on their job. Killing Daimons and freeing the human souls they'd stolen before those souls died and were forever lost.
But the best part about the Squires was that some of them were Oracles who could speak directly to the gods and get information from them that the Dark-Hunters could use to track and kill Daimons.
Tawny's mother happened to be one of those Oracles.
Deciphering what the gods said, however, was another matter.
Jess leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me exactly what her mother said."
"She said that there's an ill wind coming and that you should guard your back. Lionel didn't fail to make it home before dawn. He was murdered and that his killer, a human leading a Daimon guard, was on the hunt for more of his kind."
Lionel was another Dark-Hunter who'd been assigned to Las Vegas. He died three nights ago, after he'd failed to make it to shelter before the sun rose-at least that was what they'd been told. Immortality had its price, and while the things that could kill them were few, those few were an ugly way to die.
Jess rubbed his thumb against his brow. "And the gods spoke that plainly?"
Andy hedged. "Well ... not exactly. You know how they are."
Yeah, they always spoke in riddles that were tougher to unknot than a two-headed cobra. "So how-?"
"It's taken them days to decipher it, but she swears she's right and that you need to watch your back."
That, he'd been doing since the day the goddess Artemis resurrected him. Bart had tutored him well on guarding every angle of his body and staying alert no matter what or who. Jess wasn't about to ever be a victim again.
"Andy-"
"Don't Andy me. I believe her. She's one of the best Oracles we have."
He was right about that. But ...
"We all make mistakes." And Jess had made more than his fair share.
A tic started in Andy's jaw. It was obvious he wanted to throttle Jess, but he knew better than to even try.
"Fine," he said, finally relenting on the matter. "Whatever. You're the one they're after, so it's none of my business. Plenty of other Dark-Hunters to work for. They're probably a lot less irritating, too." Then he changed the subject entirely. "I repaired your tracker and phone." He held Jess's iPhone out to him. "Try not to get it wet tonight."
"Not my fault the Daimon I was chasing decided to run through a water fountain." Damnedest part about living here in Vegas, there were huge fountains all over the place, and for some reason, Daimons seemed to think Dark-Hunters were allergic to water. Or maybe it was their way to piss them off before getting killed.
Andy ignored his comment. "Mom overnighted some of her oatmeal cookies for you. They're in the jar by the sink." He pointed to the container that looked like a Conestoga wagon, which was really out of place in the commercial-grade kitchen designed to feed a large army.
The thought of those cookies perked him up a lot. Cecilia made the best in the world. That was what he missed most about Andy's pa working for him. C used to have a fresh batch cooling on the stove every evening when he came upstairs for coffee.
Andy continued his report. "I picked up your laundry and hung it in the hall closet. I checked with the company, and your horses will be transported out here next week from your ranch, so you can quit pouting every time you pass the saddles."
Wow, he had no idea he'd done that. Huh ... he'd have to keep an eye on his expressions. He hated to be that obvious to anyone.
Andy gestured toward the door. "The boots you ordered are in the box on the hall table, as are the throwing knives Kell sent to replace the ones you broke the other night. I couldn't get the black Stetson reblocked, so I have a new one on order. Your bike is fully gassed, and Sin has offered all of you free valet parking at his casino while you hunt. He'll have his staff leave the bike parked in front so that you can grab it and go when you're ready to head home, and if you get trapped in the city and can't make it back here before dawn, you can hole up in one of his rooms-they'll have a key at the concierge with your name on it. Is there anything else you need?"
That was the best part of Andy. Like his father, he was as efficient as the devil's desk clerk. "Nope. Can't think of anything."
"All right. I'll have my cell phone if you need anything." The boy always said that.
Jess moved toward the cookies. "Have a good night."
Andy nodded before he went to the door. He paused as if he wanted to say something else-then he quickly took his exit to head to his apartment over the garage. For some reason, as the kid left, Jess had an image of Andy as a little boy chasing after his father. He could still see Andy's chubby cheeks, wide eyes, and freckled face. Hear him asking in that youthful tone if Jess would teach him how to ride, and then picking the boy up from the dirt the first time Andy was thrown by the Shetland pony Jess had bought for him. Little booger had gotten right back up, dusted himself off, and then climbed into the saddle like a trouper.
Now that little boy was a man strangers thought was older than Jess.
That was the hardest part of being immortal. Watching people he cared about be kids, grow old, and die while he never changed. And just like with Andy, he'd known the boy's father from the moment Ed was born. The Taylor family had been his Squires from the beginning of his Dark-Hunter life.
Even so, he'd kept a wall between him and them. Never letting them in too close. At least not until Andy. He didn't know why, but that little shit had wormed his way past Jess's best defenses. In many ways, Andy was like his son.
There was only one other person in his long life that Jess had felt that way about.
He winced at another memory he wished he could purge.
Aching with remorse and grief, Jess pulled his watch out of his pocket to check the time. The moment he opened it, he paused to stare at Matilda's face in the worn-out sepia photograph that had been kept inside his watch since the day he was reborn. No matter how many years passed, he still ached over the loss of her.
That had been the only thing he truly hated about his rebirth. Knowing she was alive and not being able to see her. Dark-Hunters were forbidden from having families, and they were never to let anyone from their past know that they'd come back. It was part of what they swore to when Artemis created them.
Still he'd kept tabs on her while she lived and made sure that she never once wanted for anything. She'd gone on to marry and have six kids.
Without him.
To the day she died, she'd never known who her benefactor was. The Squires told her it was a trust fund set up by a distant uncle who'd died and left it to her. She never knew that money came from a pact he'd made with a goddess to even a score that no amount of violence could tally.
Sometimes dead wasn't dead enough.
His throat tightening, he closed his watch. There was no use thinking about what should have been. He'd done what he'd had to. Matilda had probably been better off without him, anyways. Sooner or later, his past would have caught up to them, and the result would have been the same.
At least that was the lie he told himself to make it all bearable. But inside, he knew the truth. No one could have loved her more than he had.
More than he did to this day.
"I miss you, Tilly." He always would. No one would ever again make him feel like she had.
Worthy.
Cursing, he curled his lip at his melancholy thoughts. "I'm turning into an old woman. Might as well start knitting and bitching about soap operas, gas prices, and rude drivers."
That wasn't what Sundown Brady did.
Nope. It was killing time, and he was in the mood to bathe in blood tonight.