It'd been close to sixty below and she had been crying, huddled under blankets, afraid that she and her baby would die before help arrived. Her seven-month-old daughter had been sick with asthma and Sharon had been trying to get her to the hospital for a breathing treatment, but they had refused her admittance since she didn't have any insurance and no money to pay.
She had been given directions to a charity clinic and had gotten lost while trying to find it.
Zarek had taken them back to the hospital and paid for the baby's care. While they waited, he'd found out Sharon was being evicted from her apartment and couldn't make ends meet.
So he had offered Sharon a bargain. In exchange for a house, car, and money, she provided him with someone friendly to speak to whenever he came into Fairbanks, and a few home-cooked leftovers or meals-whatever she had lying around.
Best of all, in the summertime when he was completely locked inside his cabin during the twenty-three and a half hours of daylight, she would swing by the post office or store and bring him books and supplies and leave them outside his door.
It had been the best deal he'd ever made.
She'd never asked him anything personal, not even why he didn't leave his cabin in the summer months. No doubt she was just too grateful to have his financial support to care about his eccentric ways.
In return, Zarek had never taken any of her blood or asked her anything personal. They were just employer and employee.
"Zarek?"
He looked up from plugging in his block warmer on the snowmachine to see her sticking her head out of the front door of her ranch-style house. Her dark brown hair was shorter than it had been a month ago when he'd last seen her-she had a blunt cut that swung around her shoulders.
Tall, thin, and extremely attractive, she was dressed in a black sweater and jeans. Most any other guy would have probably made a move on her by now, and one night about four years ago, she had insinuated that if he ever wanted something more intimate from her she would gladly give it, but Zarek had refused.
He didn't like people getting too close to him, and women had a nasty tendency of viewing sex as meaningful.
He didn't. Sex was sex. It was basic and animalistic. Something the body needed like it needed food. But a guy didn't have to promise a steak he was going to date it before he ate it.
So why did women need a testament of affection before they opened their legs?
He didn't get it.
And he would never become involved with Sharon. Sex with her was one complication he didn't need.
"Zarek, is that you?"
He lowered the scarf over his face and shouted back. "Yeah, it's me."
"Are you coming in?"
"I'll be back in a minute. I have to go buy a few things."
She nodded, then went back inside and shut the door.
Zarek made his way to the store down the street from her house. Frank's General Store had some of everything in it. Best of all, it had a wide variety of electronics and generators. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to use the shop much longer. He'd been a fairly regular customer for about fifteen years now, and though Frank was a bit dense, he had started noticing the fact that Zarek hadn't aged in all that time.
Sooner or later, Sharon would notice it too and he would have to give up his only contact in the mortal world.
That was the big drawback of immortality. He didn't dare hang around anyone for long or they'd find out who and what he was. And unlike the other Dark-Hunters, every time he had requested a Squire to serve him and protect his identity, the Council had denied it.
It seemed his reputation was such that no one wanted the duty of helping him.
Fine. He'd never needed anyone anyway.
Zarek entered the store and took a minute to pull his goggles and gloves off and unbutton his coat. He heard Frank in the back talking to one of his clerks.
"Now listen up, kid. He's kind of a strange man, but you better be nice to him, you hear me? He spends a ton of money in this store and I don't care how scary he looks, you be nice."
The two of them came out from the back. Frank stopped dead in his tracks to stare at him.
Zarek stared back. Frank was used to seeing him with a goatee or beard, his sword-and-crossbones earring, and the silver claws he wore on his left hand. Three things Acheron had ordered him to abandon in New Orleans.