Sherrilyn Kenyon - Devil May Cry

Reaching for her cell phone on the nightstand, she flipped it open and noted the time. It was one A.M. for her, but in Minneapo­lis it would be midnight. She pressed the 6 button and waited until she heard a soft, feminine voice answer.

Kat smiled at the sound of her friend's greeting. "Hi, Cassan­dra, how ya doing?" At one time, she'd been Cassandra's protector for Artemis. But since Cassandra had become immortal and was married to the ex-Dark-Hunter Wulf, Kat had been reassigned... and then traded off to the Atlantean goddess Apollymi.

Even so, Kat was still close friends with Cassandra and made it a habit of visiting her friend whenever she could.

"Hey, baby girl," Cassandra said with a laugh. "We're fine. We were just finishing up a movie. But I can tell by the tone of your voice and the time of this call that you've got something more on your mind than checking in with me."

Kat smiled at her friend's intuition. "Okay, I'm busted. There was a point to this call. Can you put the big guy on the phone for me? I have a couple of Dark-Hunter questions for him."

"Sure. Hang on a sec."

Kat raked her hand through her tousled curls as Wulf came to the phone. When she'd first met him, he'd been a Dark-Hunter. They were immortal protectors who'd sworn their service to Artemis in exchange for an Act of Vengeance. Their job was to kill the Daimons who preyed on human souls and to spend eternity in Artemis's service protecting mankind.

But Wulf had been granted his freedom and now he lived hap­pily with his son and daughter and wife in Minneapolis. And he policed the Daimons only when the Dark-Hunters in his area needed an extra hand.

"Hey, Kat. You wanted to speak to me?" Even after all these centuries, his voice still held its thick Nordic accent.

"Yeah. Do you happen to know the Dark-Hunter named Sin?"

"I know a couple who have that name. Which one are you referring to?"

"Sumerian."

"The fallen god?"

"That would be he."

Wulf let out a speculative breath on the other end. "Personally, no, I don't. But I've heard rumors about him. They say he's crazy as hell."

"They who?"

"Everyone. Any Dark-Hunter who's ever been in his area. Any Squire who ever made the mistake of crossing his path. He's a vicious bastard who tolerates absolutely no one near him."

Well, that didn't sound promising. But it did corroborate Artemis's fear. "You know anyone I can call who knows him per­sonally?"

"Ash."

Yeah. There were two problems with that. One, Artemis would flip out if Kat ever went near the Atlantean god, and two, Artemis would flip out if she ever went near the Atlantean god.

"Anyone else?"

"No," Wulf said firmly. "Let me reiterate that he's completely antisocial and will not interact with anyone. They say he once let a Dark-Hunter die at the hands of a Daimon and laughed while he watched it happen. You can log into the Dark-Hunter bulletin boards at dailyinquisitor.com/bbs and see if you can find someone he might have let into his inner circle. I seriously doubt that from what little I know about him, but that would be your best bet."

Great. Just great. "Cool. Thanks for the help. I'll let you get back to your movie. You guys take care."

"You, too."

Kat hung up the phone and then grabbed her laptop from un­der the bed and followed Wulf's advice, but after a couple of hours on the bbs and on the Dark-Hunter.com Web site reading profiles, she gave up. They didn't tell her anything except Sin was a loner and a psycho.

Apparently, he didn't even go after Daimons. According to one story, he'd walked past a group of them once while they were feed­ing and didn't even grimace. There were also numerous stories of him inflicting burn wounds on himself and cursing anyone who came near him.

Boy, he sounded like a warm, fluffy bunny. She couldn't wait to meet him. Obviously he wasn't a people person, which was fine by her. As an only child, she didn't always play well with others ei­ther.

But the tales of his self-mutilation concerned her. What kind of creature was he that he'd continually do such a thing? Had his san­ity been lost when he'd be en drained of his god powers or had he always been like that?

Sighing, she closed her laptop and forced herself to get up out of her comfy bed and dress. It was only three in the morning... still a couple of hours before sunrise, which meant Sin was proba­bly on the streets, wandering about aimlessly as he bypassed Daimons in need of death.

Kat closed her eyes and concentrated until she found what she was looking for...

Sin's essence.

But it wasn't where she'd expected to find him. Instead of being in Las Vegas, he was in New York... Central Park to be precise. She frowned at the sight as she shimmered in the shadows in a transparent Shade form. No one would be able to see her, but if the light were to hit her just right, it would catch a luminescent outline of her body. That was why she was keeping to the shadows—out of sight and reach of an insane ex-god.

Her research had said that Sin was stationed in Las Vegas.

About half an hour outside of town.

What was he doing in New York in the middle of the night? How had he gotten here and when?

But that wasn't the really important part. It was the way he walked through the dimly lit area of the park. "Stalking" would be a more apropos term. He was like a bloodthirsty beast trailing af­ter the scent of its prey. He had his head bent low, his eyes barely more than a slit as he skimmed the area around him. Dressed in a long black leather coat that rippled and flared with his movements, he was an impressive sight. His shoulders were wide and his short, curly jet-black hair barely brushed the collar. Unlike other Dark-­Hunters, his eyes weren't black. They were a golden brown—like the color of a lion's eyes. Topaz. And they glittered like ice against his darkly tanned skin.

His features were perfect in form, but since he'd been born a god, it was expected. As a rule, gods weren't ugly people. And even if they were, they usually used their powers to fix that. It went with the whole god-vanity thing that could be quite off-putting at times.

Appearing no older than his mid-thirties, Sin moved with a fluid, timeless grace. His black eyebrows were drawn together in a stern frown, and at least two days' worth of whiskers dusted his face.

Truly, he was exquisite, and a part of herself that she wasn't ac­quainted with took extreme notice of his dangerous masculine lope. Something about the way he moved went through her like a hot, heady wine. It made her dizzy and breathless.

Made her want to reach out and touch the very creature she knew would kill her if he had a chance. He was mesmerizing and engaging.

Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks and cocked his head in her direction. Kat held her breath as trepidation pierced her heart. Had he heard her? Sensed her? He shouldn't be able to, but then he was a god... or at least had been one before.

Maybe he did have that power.

But as she saw the slight shadow to her left, she realized that he wasn't focused on her Shade form. He had his attention firmly rooted to the trees in front of her. And whatever was there was whispering in a language she'd never heard before. It was low in tone, with a sinister sound that was like some strange combination of grinding gears and a bone-chilling screech.

" Erkutu," Sin whispered in a voice that was laden with power.

In one fluid motion, he dropped the coat from his shoulders to show a body so corded with power that it actually sent a shiver over her.

He wore a sleeveless black T-shirt and black leather pants with buckled biker boots. But what stood out even more than the deep, perfect indentations of his muscles was the set of knives strapped to his biceps and the ancient hilt of the dagger in his left boot. He had a silver vambrace on each forearm, and as he approached the shadows he unwrapped a long cord from his right wrist. On each end of the cord was a metal ball about the size of a golf ball. The balls flashed in the light and made a slight tink in the night as he walked.