While Sasha had been taking care of Zarek, she had placed a small dab of Lotus serum into Sasha's drink.
It took a little longer for the serum to work on him. Because of their metabolism, Were-Hunters were always harder to drug than humans.
"Astrid, tell me you didn't do this?" Sasha said a short time later as the drug started to take effect. She heard the faint electrical crackle that heralded a change in his form.
Astrid felt her way over to him. He was already a wolf again and was sound asleep.
Alone now, she walked through her house making sure the lights and stove were turned off and the heat was set to a comfortable level.
She went to her room and pulled out the Idios serum. Holding it in her hand, she went to Zarek's room.
She took a sip, then snuggled down to sleep by his side, to learn more about this man and what secrets his heart harbored...
Zarek was in New Orleans. Distant music filtered out through the cool night air while he paused near the Old Ursuline Convent in the French Quarter.
A group of tourists were gathered around a tour guide who was dressed much like Anne Rice's Lestat, while a second "vampire" dressed in a long black cape and fake fangs stood back, watching him.
The tourists were listening intently as the guide recounted a famous murder in the city. Two bodies had been found on the front steps of the convent, completely drained of blood. The old legends said that the convent was believed to have once housed vampires who came out at night to prey on the city.
Zarek snorted at the absurdity.
The guide, who claimed to be a three-hundred-year-old vampire named Andre, looked over at him.
"Hey," Andre said to his group as he pointed to Zarek. "There's a real vampire, right there."
The group turned as one to look at Zarek who stared evilly at them.
Before he could think better of it, Zarek bared his fangs at them and hissed.
The tourists shrieked and ran.
So did the tour guides.
Had Zarek laughed, he would have laughed at the sight of them tearing down the street as fast as they could run. As it was, he could only appreciate the mayhem he'd caused with a cynical twisting of his lips.
"I can't believe you just did that."
He looked over his shoulder to see Acheron standing in the shadows like a dark specter, dressed in black and sporting long purple hair.
Zarek shrugged. "Whenever they stop running and reflect on it, they'll think it was part of the show."
"The tour guide won't."
"He'll think it was a prank. Humans always explain us away."
Acheron sighed heavily. "I swear, Z. I was hoping you'd use this time here to show Artemis that you can mingle with people again."
He looked at Acheron drolly. "Sure you were. Why don't you cover me in shit and tell me it's mud while you're at it?"
He started to walk off.
"Don't walk away from me, Z."
He didn't stop.
Acheron used his powers to pin him to the side of the stone wall. Zarek had to give the head Dark-Hunter credit. At least Acheron knew better than to touch him. Not once in two thousand years had Acheron laid a physical hand on him. It was as if the Atlantean understood how much mental anguish such contact caused.
In a weird way, he felt as though Acheron respected it.