Sherrilyn Kenyon - Dream Chaser

She smiled at his concern. "It's an alley, Tate. There are a million of them in this city. I'll be fine."

He nodded at her before he headed toward his office.

Simone took a second as that weird feeling came over her again. She'd never understood those odd sensations. But one thing she remembered clearly . . . the first time she'd had it.

"I'll be right back, baby. You wait in the car and don't move." Those were the last words her mother had said to her before she took her brother into the store.

And died.

Simone flinched as unbridled grief tore through her. In one instant, everything can change . It was the mantra she lived her life by and a lesson she'd learned all too well when she was only ten years old.

Never take anyone or anything for granted.

In one blink, life altered and sometimes all you could do was hang on as; tightly as; possible while it did its best to sling you off.

Trying not to think about that, she headed down the hall, toward the door that led to the parking lot.

Kalosis (the Atlantean Hell Realm)

Stryker walked down the dark hallway that led from his bedroom to the throne room where he held court over his Daimon army. There shouldn't be anyone in it this time of day . . .

Or night. Whichever it was. Let's face it, here in hell it didn't really matter.

In Kalosis, it was always dark since any amount of daylight was fatal to his people. That had been a curse from his father, Apollo, who in the midst of a hissy fit had condemned everyone of the Apollite race that Apollo had created to be banished from the sun.

And to die painfully at age twenty-seven. The only way an Apollite could survive past his or her twenty-seventh birthday was to take a human soul into their body. From that moment on, the Apollite mutated into a Daimon—a demonlike creature who had to continue to swallow human souls in order to stay alive.

Sure it was a crappy, cold existence, but it was so much better than the alternative.

Besides, Stryker had survived eleven thousand years as a Daimon—their existence was definitely not without its benefits. And its rewards.

Highly entertained by the thought, he paused in the entrance of his throne room as he caught sight of his sister, Satara, surrounded by a reddish haze while she sat perched on his throne. Her hair was black—something she seldom chose as a color. She mumbled words in ancient Greek as she swayed to a silent song.

Yeah . . .

He cleared his throat, but she ignored him. Unamused by her actions, he crossed his arms over his chest and closed the distance between them.

What she was chanting amused him even less than her ignoring him. "Why are you summoning a demon?"

One eye, bloodied, opened to pin him with a feral stare. "I'm not summoning. I'm controlling."

He cocked a single brow. "Really? And who has you so angry that you're sending a demon for them?"

"What do you care?" She closed her eye and continued her chant.

If they'd had a loving relationship, Stryker might have left her to it. But he was far from a loving brother and she was ever his bane. Snapping his fingers, he made the light in the hall blinding. "If you want to kill someone, I know a few gallu demons who are dying to eat."

She let out a shrill scream before she opened her eyes and stood up from his throne, "Like they'd do anything I ask. You're an idiot for allowing the gallu to stay here. It's the same as sleeping with a pack of feral wolves at your feet. Sooner or later, they will attack and you'll be dead."

As if he were afraid of some Sumerian castoffs. "Kessar and crew don't frighten me." His sister's insatiable ambition did. There was nothing she wouldn't do to get what she wanted and he knew it. "Who Are you after?"

"Hades let that bastard Xypher out of his hole."

The name was vaguely familiar, but for his life, he couldn't remember who it was. "Xypher?"

Satara rolled her eyes. "Oh, how could you forget him? He was the first Dream-Hunter I coaxed away from his duties and turned."

Stryker shook his head as he remembered the god who'd been a handful the instant he started sniffing around Satara’s heels. It'd taken a number of gods to run the bastard down and kill him. "Speaking of wolves at your throat. Did I not warn you about him?"

"Oh shut up."

Stryker rudely moved her aside so that he could take his seat on the throne. "You know, little sister, I'd be playing nice right now if I were you. After all, you're the one in hiding ... in my house."

"I'm not in hiding."

"No? Then why are you here? Shouldn't you be on Olympus at the beck and call of Auntie Artemis?"

The fury in her eyes told him he'd struck a chord. Good. He lived to piss off people.

"Xypher has to be stopped. He will kill me if he has a chance."

"You think? You coaxed the man from his cushy god-life, caused him to be limited and then killed and tortured for eternity. I can't imagine why he's not bringing you roses and lasses."

She curled her lip at him. "Well, at least I didn't slit open the throat of

my own son."

Stryker thrust his hand out and brought her into his grasp with his demigod powers. He tightened his hold on her throat until her eyes bulged and he felt her larynx start to crush. "Xypher isn't the only man you should be afraid of." He shoved her away from him.

Satara caught herself and choked while she glared furiously. "I've given everything to you, Strykerius. I’ve spied for you and told you things no one else would. Now I ask for a modicum of protection and what do you do? Threaten me. Fine. I'll leave, and when Xypher kills me, I hope you'll think back on this and remember that you're the only reason you're alone in this world."

Stryker rubbed his brow, grateful he couldn't get a headache from her whiny tirade, "Oh, stop the dramatics. I've never been one for the theater. You're welcome to hide out here and release as many demons into the human world as you like, But before you completely annihilate my food source, might I offer a suggestion to you?"

"What?"

Stryker manifested a set of golden bracelets in his hand—one of three pairs that had been uncovered just two years ago. One of his generals had found them and brought them to him, not knowing what they were.

But Stryker knew, and he was reserving one pair for a very special "friend."

He held the bracelets out to her.

Taking them, she grimaced as if they were made of coal and not Atlantean gold. "What do I do with these?"

He sighed in weariness. There were times when she was brilliant and other times when he had to lead her about as if she had the intellect of a five-year-old goat. "How do you kill a god?"

"You strip his powers."

He nodded approvingly. "If you can't do that?"

"You seduce a Chthonian and tell them that the god attacked you then laugh while the Chthonian sucks the life out of him. But I don't have time for that. Xypher is one step away from storming his way down here and killing me."

Stryker growled at her in irritation. "Stop thinking like a whore for a minute. The best way to take out an enemy is to attack his weakest point."

She put her hands on her hips. The bracelets dangled precariously from her right hand as if they were cheap knockoffs and not worth more than a human kingdom ... or her life. "He doesn't have one."

Stryker narrowed his eyes on the bracelets. "You put one of those on him and he will."

Finally interested in what he'd put in her hands, she inspected them. "What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying, Themis, is those little gold bracelets in your hands are his Achilles' heel. Pass those along to one of my Spathi Daimons and have him secure one to Xypher and the other to a mortal and all your troubles are over."

She smiled as she finally Understood the significance of the bracelets. "They bind them . . . Kill the mortal and Xypher dies."