Inferno (9 page)

Great. Just what he wanted to hear. More creatures out to kill him. Yee-flippin’-haw.

“Would someone ever hunt a Malachai?”

“Oh yeah. Everyone hunts the Malachai. He is the grand prize of all time. There’s not a demon in existence that carries a heftier price on its head than he does. Not to mention, if you enslave the Malachai, you have absolute evil at your disposal, and there’s nothing you can’t conquer.”

Oh great, slavery? And here Nick thought being Kyrian’s Squire was inhibiting and degrading.

“How do you enslave a Malachai?” he asked, wanting to know what to avoid.

“With a really big army.”

“I’m serious, Ash.”

He flashed a taunting grin. “You’d have to weaken him first.”

“And you do that, how?”

Ash scowled. “Why are you so intent on this?”

Nick didn’t dare tell him the truth. “Scholarly curiosity. You talk about the ultimate evil. I want to know how to defeat it. ’Cause you know how my luck runs. And in case it goes south one night when you’re not around to help me fight, I’d like to know how to hurt it.”

Ash arched a shocked brow. “Well, since scholarly curiosity is such a novelty for you…”

Nick ignored his sarcasm.

“Easiest way is if he has a son destined to inherit his powers, put them together. The younger Malachai starts sucking the power out of him immediately. But the drawback to that is, once the father’s dead, the child will then have his powers and his father’s. So if you’re smart, you’ll kill one and enslave the other before the child develops fully. You might not have as strong a Malachai that way, but you will have one, and not die in the process.”

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t appealing. So whatever he did, he couldn’t let anyone get him in the same room with his father again. No matter what.

“And the hardest way?” Nick asked.

“You go full-on and try to collar him. And good luck with that.”

Nick frowned. “I don’t understand. Collar him, how?”

“The three primal gods who once controlled him have a special collar that restricts his powers and it keeps him from harming them. That was the slavery he escaped. You get the collar, which the gods who own it have to allow you to do, and you place it on his neck before he kills you. That’s definitely the hardest way.” Acheron paused. “So are you writing a book with all of this?”

Nick laughed nervously. “No. But I think I will use it for my next D&D quest. How cool would that be, huh?”

Acheron shook his head. “Happy dragon hunting, kid. Don’t get lost in the labyrinth.”

As Ash left, Nick headed upstairs to install the RAM in Kyrian’s computer while his thoughts churned over Ash’s information. It was a lot to chew on and made him wish he had Acheron’s knowledge base. What would it be like to have the brain of an encyclopedia?

Live long enough and you’ll have that answer, too.

True. Ambrose was just like Acheron. He knew everything—past, present, and future.

As Nick reached the staircase, he hesitated. An odd electrical sensation went through him. It felt like someone was watching his every move.

“Rosa?”

She didn’t answer, which meant it wasn’t her.

“Kyrian?”

Again, no answer.

Nick took a step, then paused. “Harvester?”

Deep in his mind, he heard a sinister laugh that made him jump.

Yeah, okay, creepy didn’t even come close to describing what he felt. There was a chill to his blood that rushed through him and made the hair on his arms stand up again.

“What are you?” he breathed.

Death.
The whisper was so faint that at first he thought he imagined it.

“Yeah, right. I happen to be on a first-name basis with Death, and you’re not him, buddy.”

He’s not the only one, and he’s not the one who’s come for you. Your life will be mine soon.

Instead of scaring him, that threat set fire to his temper. No one threatened Nick Gautier.

“I’m not afraid of you. You want to fight … bring it.”

Something struck the wall by his face. Hard. It was so close to him that whatever it was grazed his nose.

In spite of his bravado, that actually scared him blind. Hard to fight something when you couldn’t see it … Jack-rabbiting up the stairs, he went into Kyrian’s training room instead of his office.

Nick slammed the door and threw himself against it, arms wide to keep it shut.

Kyrian looked up from his punching bag with a curious brow. He stepped away from it. “You all right, kid?”

No. But he had too much dignity to admit that out loud. “Question. Is this house haunted?”

With an even deeper scowl, Kyrian shook his head. “No. Believe me. Before any Dark-Hunter moves into a new location, it is thoroughly checked for any and all ghosts.”

There was another thing Nick hadn’t been told. How much were they holding back? “Really? Why?”

“We’re soulless creatures, Nick. So those who have souls and no bodies tend to want to take up residence inside us. It’s actually not hard for them to take over. That’s why Dark-Hunters don’t go into cemeteries. It’s too dangerous for us, and no one wants a possessed Dark-Hunter on the loose.”

That added another chill to him. “Can demons possess Dark-Hunters?”

“No. They’re not the same thing as a human ghost. Whenever they use those powers against us, it conflicts with ours and backfires on them. It was a safeguard Artemis put in place to keep the living Daimons from taking us over and controlling us.”

“Ah … okay.”

Kyrian returned to punching his heavy weighted bag. “Did you get my RAM installed?”

“No, not yet. I’ll … uh … I’ll go do it.” But Nick didn’t want to leave the safety of Kyrian’s presence.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have any choice. Not without looking even more ridiculous to his boss. And a total weenie, to boot.

Sighing, he forced himself to leave and head back down the hall, to Kyrian’s office. As soon as he was inside, he locked the door … Just in case. Then rethought the action, since Kyrian would think him nuts if he found it that way. Nick unlocked it. And still the feeling of being watched stayed with him.

Whatever it is, it’s still here.

Aggravated at himself for being chicken, Nick pulled the case off Kyrian’s PC. He set the RAM on the desk, then reached into his back pocket to pull out his grimoire. The size of a small paperback novel, it’d been a gift from Ambrose to help him understand some of the madness that surrounded him, and to answer some of the “other” questions that came up.

“All right, Nashira,” Nick said in a low tone. “Talk to me. What the heck is watching me?”

He slid his knife out of his pocket, opened the book, and pricked his finger, allowing three drops of blood to touch a blank page.
“Dredanya eire coulet,”
he whispered, waking the female spirit who lived inside the enchanted pages. The moment he finished speaking, his blood began swirling until it formed words:

Do not fear that which cannot be seen.

For they are lost in between.

’Tis the ones who come alive

That your blood will allow to thrive.

Nick snorted at the cryptic stanzas. “Not really useful, Nashira. Doesn’t answer my question.”

His blood crawled over to the next page.

Answer, answer, you always say,

But it doesn’t work that way.

In time, the truth you shall find.

And then you will understand my rhyme.

“I’m such a masochist to even try talking to you.”

Underneath the words, a picture of an obscene gesture formed.

“Oh very nice, Nashira. Very nice. Wherever did you learn that?”

In your pocket I reside.

Ever privy to your deride.

But more than that, I can see.

And that includes bathroom stall graffiti.

Nick screwed his face up in distaste. “Oh my God, no. Tell me you haven’t been spying on me in the rest room. You perv!”

Calm yourself, you evil troll.

My job is not to console.

But if it is privacy you seek,

Leave me in your backpack so I can’t peek.

Now he understood why other people got so aggravated with
his
attitude disorder. He wanted to strangle his book.

Or burn it. Where were Bradbury’s firemen when you needed them?

“Thanks for the comfort, hon. ’Preciate it.” Nick returned the grimoire to his pocket and finished sliding the RAM into Kyrian’s PC.

But as he did so, he mulled over Nashira’s words.
Do not fear that which cannot be seen … they are lost in between
. What did that mean?

Was the entity just messing with his head?

Kyrian had told him it couldn’t be a ghost in the house. Which left a lot of other possibilities. None of which were good for his health.

Or sanity.

Stop dwelling on it. You’re safe.

Determined to ignore the weird, icky feeling in his gut, Nick started for the door. Just as he reached the center of the room, he heard something snap. Pausing, he looked around for the source of the sound.

An instant later, the huge chandelier over his head fell down on him.

CHAPTER 5

Nick jumped back, narrowly escaping the chandelier arms. But his foot caught in the fringe of the Persian carpet, sending him to the ground as it crashed down beside him. Shards of crystal and glass showered his body and hair. He barely had time to turn his head away and shield his eyes.

The door burst open.

“Nick?”

Lowering the arm he had over his face to protect it, he opened his eyes to find a sweating Kyrian towering over him, pulling off his boxing gloves. Nick shook his head to loosen shards from his hair. “I’m all right.”

With an expression that said he wasn’t buying it, Kyrian knelt down to investigate Nick’s condition. Gently, he took Nick’s chin in his hand and examined him. “What happened?”

“No idea. I heard something snap and the next thing I know … your light fixture tried to kill me. I saw my whole life flash before my eyes, boss. It was horrific. I haven’t done anything to regret yet and it’s been way too brief. I at least want a license before I check out, you know?”

Kyrian rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re all right. Thank the gods. I’d hate to have your mother coming after me again because I let you get hurt on my watch.” He helped Nick to his feet.

Then he went to study the chandelier remains. Nick paused at the sight of it … all over the room. He’d never seen anything splinter into so many pieces.

He was still dusting fragments off his clothes and hair. “I hope that wasn’t expensive.”

“Probably around sixty to eighty thousand dollars.”

Nick sucked his breath in sharply. “I hope you mean Jamaican dollars and not U.S. Dude, seriously? It’s a light fixture, not a supercar … or a house.”

Kyrian picked through some of the broken pieces with the toe of his boot. “Quit hyperventilating. It came with the house, but it is an antique Waterford crystal chandelier. Back in the day, this room was a formal ballroom, and this was its showpiece.”

“Oh.” Still … who paid
that
for a light?

Kyrian looked up at the ceiling where the silk cord hung from the ornate medallion like a jungle snake. “I guess the chain wore out. I should have had it checked.” He met Nick’s wide-eyed stare. “Call for an electrician to look into it and see if any of the wiring poses a shock or fire hazard, and make an appointment for him to install another one as soon as he can, and to check the rest of the fixtures in the house.”

He said that like they grew on trees. “Where do I get a chandelier?”

Kyrian gave him a dry stare. “We live in New Orleans, Einstein. You can’t blow your nose on Royal Street that your germs won’t land on a crystal chandelier in an antique store. Just pick one that’s roughly the same size and design.”

Nick returned Kyrian’s stare with one equally insulting. “You know, boss, while I realize it wouldn’t pose a problem for you, the cost of one of these definitely exceeds my card limit. How you want me to pay for it? ’Cause no offense, I ain’t that good-looking.”

Oh yeah, that was an awesomely vicious look. “I’ll have you added to my AmEx account, and they’ll overnight a card for you.”

“Limit?”

“Not one. But don’t go hog-wild. While your mother scares me, I do know how to bury bodies in places where they’ll never be found.”

Rosa rushed into the room and gaped at the mess.
“Madre de Dios!
What happened?”

Nick pointed at the chandelier remains. “It tried to turn me into a pancake.”

She grabbed him into a fierce hug. “
M’ijo!
Are you hurt? It didn’t hit you, did it?”

“It just assaulted my ego. Physically, I’m good.”

“No,” she snapped. “You’re bleeding.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “Bleeding? Where?”

“You cut your cheek,” Kyrian answered. “It’s not bad, though.”

Nick gaped at him. “Since when is bleeding ever a good thing?”

Kyrian made a sound of disgust.

Rosa ignored him as she draped her arm over Nick’s shoulders. “Come downstairs, Nick, and let me tend you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t bleed on my floors,” Kyrian called after him.

Nick couldn’t let that pass. He stuck his head back in the door. “Don’t worry, boss. It’s the counters and rugs I’m going for.”

Dodging out of the room before Kyrian forgot about his fear of his mother, Nick followed Rosa to the stairs, but he couldn’t shake the bad feeling inside him that the source of the disembodied voice had a lot of power.

Enough to almost drop a chandelier on me.

Yeah, that’d been a little too close. He’d report it to Caleb later. Maybe C might have some insight as to what could have done that to him.

Maybe I shouldn’t walk home.…

If the harvester could get to him here, where Kyrian had all kinds of protection against supernatural beings, it’d be a thousand times easier to assault him on the street where there was nothing.