"Bullshit. I heard you order coffee. You ran out again, didn't you?"
"Shut up, Viking."
Wulf shook his head. "You really need to get yourself a Squire."
"Yeah, right. I'll remind you of that the next time you're bitching about Chris and his mouth."
Wulf leaned back in his chair as he read through the postings of his fellow Dark-Hunters. It was comforting to know he wasn't the only one who was bored out of his mind in between assignments.
Since Dark-Hunters couldn't gather together physically without draining each others' powers, the Internet and phones were the only way they could share information and stay in touch.
Technology was a godsend to them.
"Man," Wulf said, "is it just me or do the nights seem to be getting longer?"
"Some are longer than others." Talon's chair squeaked over the phone. No doubt the Celt was leaning back in it to scope out some woman walking past his table. "So, what has you down?"
"I'm restless."
"Go get laid."
He snorted at Talon's stock answer for everything. Worse, he knew the Celt really believed sex was a cure-all for any ailment.
But then as his thoughts turned back to the woman at the club, Wulf wasn't so sure it wouldn't work.
At least for tonight.
However, in the end, a night with another woman who wouldn't remember him didn't appeal to him.
It hadn't in a long time.
"That's not the problem," Wulf said as he scanned the messages. "I'm aching for a good fight. I mean, damn, when was the last time you really had a Daimon fight back? The ones I took out tonight just laid down on me. One of them even whimpered when I hit him."
"Hey, you should be glad you got them before they got you."
Perhaps...
But then Wulf was a Viking and they didn't look at things the same way the Celts did.
"You know, Talon, killing a soul-sucking Daimon without a good fight is like sex without foreplay. A total waste of time and completely un... satisfying."
"Spoken like a true Norseman. What you need, my brother, is a mead hall filled with serving wenches and Vikings ready to fight their way into Valhalla."
It was true. Wulf missed the Spathi Daimons. Now, they were a warrior class that put the fun in war.
Well, from his way of thinking anyway.
"The ones I found tonight knew nothing about fighting," Wulf said, curling his lip. "And I'm sick of the whole 'my gun will solve all' mentality."
"You get shot again?" Talon asked.
"Four times. I swear... I wish I could get a Daimon up here like Desiderius. I'd love a good down-and-dirty fight for once."
"Careful what you wish for, you just might get it."
"Yeah, I know." In a way Talon couldn't even begin to imagine. "But damn. Just once can't they stop running from us and learn to fight like their ancestors did? I miss the way things used to be."
There was a pause on the other end as Talon let out a slow appreciative breath.