Zeke shrugged. "Don't know. The PTB aren't big on specifics."
"PTB?"
Ravenna answered for him. "Powers That Be."
"Great. So what do I do? Just hang out and hope the demon leaves or that his summoner just happens to fling himself under my bike?"
Ravenna let out a sinister laugh. "Fasten your seat belts, buddy. It's going to be a bumpy ride."
"Thanks, Bette. I personally would like something a little more concrete."
Zeke picked his helmet up from the ground. "Well, that's the best we can do for now. Sorry."
Sorry? That was a word Fang would love to make that man eat. "You mentioned a Malachai. What is that?"
Zeke kicked to scatter the dust of the Reapers who'd finally stopped burning. "Easiest explanation is to think of them like an army of fallen angels. Demonic, cold-blooded, and capable of tearing apart anything that got in their path."
"But you said there was only one left."
Zeke nodded. "At one time, there were two armies. The Sephirii who fought for good and the Malachai who were pure evil. Now we're down to one of each. The last Sephiroth is enslaved and the last Malachai vanished. We assumed him dead until a few months back when there was a rupture in the ether."
"A rupture?"
Zeke nodded. "Adarian, the last Malachai, had a son we didn't know about. Somehow the little bastard was born off our radar. When he came into his powers, it made an unmistakable clamor."
"Where is this last Malachai?"
"That's the kicker. We don't know. We're trying to find him, but whoever is hiding him is determined to keep him under wraps and we don't know why."
"I'm sure it can't be good."
"Yeah . . . at any rate, you've consigned yourself to a tenuous post. Watch your back, wolf." Zeke tossed his sword into the air. It transformed back into his motorcycle.
Ravenna returned to her raven form and flew off while Zeke started the bike.
"I will try to keep an eye on you, wolf. Just be wary of shadows and keep your eyes open for Phrixis to control you."
Disgusted over this new turn of events, Fang waited until they were gone. He still had no clarity about last night or his future, but one thing was sure, he had no intention of allowing the police to question him until he knew more about what had happened.
And most of all, not until he knew more about what was going on.
Over the next few months as he avoided the cops and his family, Fang learned exactly what Zeke had meant about having a target on his back. He felt like he was back in the Nether Realm as demon after demon pursued him.
But the worst part were the blackouts he kept having where he couldn't remember what he'd done.
Where he'd been.
He was still alive, but that was the only thing he knew for certain. And as the blackouts became more frequent, he was afraid to go near Aimee. He would wake up with all manner of injuries that he couldn't explain. Bite marks, wounds, bruises.
If only he knew what they were from.
More people and Were-Hunters were dying and he was beginning to think he was to blame. Every morning, he woke up covered in blood with no explanation for what had caused it.
Fang moved deeper into the swamp, hoping that if he stayed away from everyone he wouldn't hurt them. Thoughts of harming Vane or Bride, or most important, Aimee, tortured him.
Why couldn't he remember what he did at night? He wanted desperately to go to Aimee and tell her what was going on, but he didn't dare. For one, he was evading custody. And two, he was afraid he might inadvertently hurt her during one of his blackouts.
He'd come so close that last time he'd seen her. Had she not kneed him . . .