"Yeah," he whispered. He knew it would be. He was going to make damn sure of it.
Wulf got in and drove them back toward the city. His first stop would be his house. Or what was left of it. He wanted to be fully armed for this conflict.
They drove for well over an hour before they reached his estate. Wulf pulled into his driveway and hesitated. There was no sign of battle here anymore. His garage, his windows were all intact.
Even the front gate was standing.
"Did Stryker repair it?" he asked Kat.
She burst out laughing. "Not his style. Believe me. He never repairs the damage he does. I have no idea what happened here. Maybe your Squires' Council?"
"No. They didn't even know about this."
Wulf keyed the lock for his gate, then pulled toward the house slowly, expecting the worst.
As he neared the front door, he stopped suddenly.
There in the shadows beside his house, he saw movement.
The mist from the lake was thick, swirling. He cut the lights so that his vision wouldn't be impaired by them and reached for the retractable sword under his seat.
There were three very tall men dressed in black walking toward them slowly, arrogantly, as if they had all the time in the world. They were united in power and strength, and their eagerness to fight bled from every pore of them.
All of them were blond.
"Stay here," he warned Kat as he got out, ready for battle.
The fog swirled around the three men as they came closer.
Probably no more than six feet three, one of them was dressed in trousers, sweater, and wool overcoat. One side of the coat was pulled back to show an ancient scabbard and sword of Greek design. The one in the middle was two inches taller. He, too, wore wool trousers and a sweater along with a long black leather coat.
The third one had short hair, a shade darker than the other two. Dressed all in biker leather, he had two braids that fell down from his left temple.
And in that instant, Wulf remembered him.
"Talon?"
The biker broke into a wide grin. "From the way you're holding that sword, I was wondering if you were going to recall me or not, Viking."
Wulf laughed as his old friend drew near. They hadn't seen each other in over a century. He gladly shook the Celt's hand.
Wulf turned to the man in the middle and remembered him, too, from the brief time he had spent in New Orleans over one hundred years ago during Mardi Gras.
"Kyrian?" he asked. The ancient Greek general had changed quite a bit since the last time he had met him.
Back then, Kyrian's hair had been cropped short and he had worn a beard. Now it was shoulder length and his face was clean-shaven.
"Nice seeing you again," Kyrian said, shaking his hand. "And this is my friend Julian of Macedon."
Wulf knew the man only by reputation. Julian had been the one who had taught Kyrian everything he knew about fighting and battle. "Glad to meet you. Now what the hell are the three of you doing here?"
"They're your backup."
He turned to see Acheron Parthenopaeus joining their group. He didn't know what stunned him most, their presence or the sight of the infant Ash had strapped into a baby harness, facing his chest.
Wulf was aghast. "Kyrian? Is that your baby?"
"Hell, no," Kyrian said. "No way I would bring Marissa into this. Amanda would geld me first and then kill me if I even considered it." He inclined his head to Acheron. "That's Ash's baby."