He fell into the snow.
Zarek lay there waiting for the others to grab him. Waiting for Thanatos to finish what they had started, but as the seconds ticked by, he realized he must have escaped them.
Relieved, he tried to rise.
He couldn't. His body just wouldn't cooperate anymore. The best he could manage was to crawl forward three more feet where he caught sight of a large cabin-style house in front of him.
It looked warm and cozy and in the back of his mind was the thought that if he could just make it to the door the person inside might help him.
He laughed bitterly at the thought.
No one had ever helped him.
Not once.
No, this was his fate. There was no use fighting it, and in truth, he was tired of struggling alone in the world.
Closing his eyes, he drew a long, ragged breath and waited for what was inevitable.
Astrid sat on the edge of the bed as she checked the wounds of her "guest." For four days now, he had lain in her bed unconscious while she watched over him.
The tight muscles under her hands were firm and strong, but she couldn't see them.
She couldn't see him.
Her eyesight was always forfeit when she was sent to judge someone. Eyes could deceive. They judged things very differently from the other senses.
Astrid must always be impartial even though at the moment she didn't truly feel that way.
How many times had she gone in with an open heart only to be fooled?
The worst case had been Miles. A rogue Dark-Hunter, he had been charming and amusing. He had dazzled her with his vibrancy and ability to make everything a game. Whenever she had tried to push him to his limits, he had laughed off her tests and shown himself to be a good sport about everything.
He had appeared the perfect, well-balanced man.
For a time, she had even fancied herself in love with him.
In the end, he had tried to kill her. He had been completely amoral and ruthless. Cold. Unfeeling. The only person he had been able to love was himself, and while he was nothing but scum, in his mind, he had been wronged by mankind so it was okay to do whatever he wanted to them.
And that was Astrid's biggest problem with Dark-Hunters. They were humans who were usually recruited from the sewers. Spat upon by others from the cradle to the grave, they were hostile to the world. Artemis never took that into consideration when she converted them. All she wanted was a soldier under Acheron's command. Once they were created, Artemis washed her hands of them and left them for others to monitor and maintain.
At least until they crossed whatever line Artemis had drawn. Then the goddess rushed to have them judged and executed, and though she had no proof, Astrid suspected Artemis only followed that protocol to keep Acheron from being angry at her.
So Astrid had been called multiple times over the centuries to find some reason to allow a Dark-Hunter to live.
She never had. Not once. Every one she had judged had been dangerous and raw. A menace who threatened mankind more than the Daimons they pursued.
Olympian justice didn't operate quite the way human justice did. There was no assumption of innocence. On Olympus, once accused, the defendant must prove himself worthy of mercy.
No one ever had.
The closest Astrid had ever come to clemency had been Miles, and look how that had turned out. It terrified her to think of how close she had come to judging him innocent and then having him set loose on the world again.
That experience had been the last straw for her. Since then, she had pulled herself away from everyone.
She wouldn't let a man's beauty or charm trick her again. Her job now was to get to the heart of this man on her bed.
Artemis had said Zarek had no heart whatsoever. Acheron had said nothing. He had only given her a piercing look that told her he was depending on her to do the right thing.