Aimee faced Vane. "I know what Carson said about Fang, but . . ."
"What?"
She looked past him to where Fang lay in his stupor. "I don't know. This just doesn't seem like Fang to me. He's not the kind of person to simply withdraw into himself like this and not come out of it."
Vane scoffed. "You don't know my brother. He's not used to anyone getting the better of him. Ever. He took a hard blow to his ego in the swamp, but he'll be fine. I know it." Vane looked over his shoulder at his brother. "He'll be better by the morning."
Aimee didn't respond to that. It was what Vane had been saying since they arrived. She didn't believe it any more than he did.
But she did sense something was greatly wrong. She couldn't put her finger on it. . . .
Yet the feeling persisted.
"Good night," she said, offering Vane a smile before she left them.
Still unsettled, she made her way to her room where she readied herself for bed. As she washed her face and brushed her hair, she couldn't shake the feeling deep inside her. It was like Fang was calling out to her. Like there was something he wanted her to know.
Frustrated, she went to her nightstand and grabbed her cell phone. She'd never dialed Acheron before, but she couldn't think of anyone else who might be able to help her.
He answered on the first ring.
"Hey, Ash, it's Aimee Peltier. How are you?"
"Confused. How did you get my number?"
Aimee raked her hand through her hair as she paced over the Oriental rug in her room. "Dev gave it to me when you gave it to him. Just in case."
"Ah. Sorry for my abruptness. I'm not used to you guys calling me. It's usually one of the Dark-Hunters whining."
She laughed. "Yeah, I guess so."
"So what can I do for you?"
"I . . ." She hesitated at what to say. He'd probably think her insane. How could she explain the feeling to him when even she didn't understand it? "What do you know about Daimon attacks?"
His rich laughter filled her ear. "Not a single damn thing. Why?"
She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. Yeah, it was a stupid question given the fact he'd been fighting them for more than eleven thousand years. "I don't know if you've ever met Fang Kattalakis, but he was attacked by Daimons a couple of days ago and-" Her words died as Ash appeared beside her dressed all in black. His long hair matched his clothes except for the deep burgundy stripes in it. Though he was the oldest of the Dark-Hunters in age, physically he looked only twenty-one.
"What happened?"
Aimee was too busy gaping at his unexpected entrance in her bedroom to answer his question. Standing a mean six foot eight, the man took up a lot of space in her room and possessed a raw aura of power and an unnatural sexual appeal. "How did you do that? I didn't know Dark-Hunters could teleport."
"Some of us can. Now what happened to Fang?"
She closed her phone and returned it to the table. "He was attacked in the swamp and now he's comatose."
"But not dead?"
"No, he's not dead."
He let out a relieved breath. "Where is he?"
Aimee led him from her room down the hall to where Fang had been given his own room. She knocked on the door and waited for Vane's sharp growl before she pushed it open to find them where she'd left them.
Vane shot to his feet the moment he saw Acheron. "What are you doing here?" His tone was accusatory and cold.
"I heard about Fang. What happened?"