The chances of her being in the same place tonight were next to impossible.
Still, he went. He couldn't help it. It was as if he had no control over himself, but was being driven by some unseen force.
After parking his car, he walked down the quiet street like a silent phantom in the cold frigid night. The winter winds whipped around him, biting his exposed skin.
It had been a night much like this one that had brought him into service for Artemis. He'd been on a quest then too. Only then the nature of the quest had been different.
Or had it?
You're a wandering soul, looking for a peace that doesn't exist. Lost you will be until you find the one inner truth. We can never hide from what we are. The only hope is to embrace it.
To this day, he didn't really understand what it was the old seer had tried to tell him the night he'd sought her out, wanting her to explain to him how Morginne and Loki had swapped their souls.
Perhaps there was no real explanation. After all, it was a freaky world he lived in and it seemed to get stranger by the minute.
Wulf entered the Inferno. Painted black inside and out, it had iridescent flames painted inside and out, as well, that sparkled eerily under the muted, dancing lights of the club.
The club's owner, Dante Pontis, met him at the door where he and two other "men" were taking cover charges and checking IDs. In human form, the Katagari panther was ironically dressed like a "vampire." But then Dante thought such things were funny-hence the name of the club.
Dante wore black leather pants, biker boots that sported red and orange flames, and a black poet's shirt. The panther had left his shirt unlaced and the ruffled collar curled around his neck while the silk laces fell down his chest. His long black leather coat had a nineteenth-century look to it as well, but Wulf knew it to be a copy-one of the advantages to having been alive then was that he well remembered the fashions of that time period.
Dante's long black hair fell freely about his shoulders. "Wulf," he said, flashing a set of fangs Wulf knew weren't real.
The panther only had teeth like that in his true animal form.
Wulf cocked his head at the sight. "What the hell are those?"
Dante smiled wider, displaying his teeth. "Women love them. I'd tell you to get a set, but you already come well equipped."
Wulf laughed at that. "I'm not going there."
"Please don't."
Still, bad double entendres aside, it always felt good to come to the Inferno, even if the Were-Hunters didn't really want him there. It was one of the few places where someone remembered his name. Yeah, okay, so he felt like Sam Malone on Cheers, but there was no Norm or Cliff sitting at the bar here. More like Spike and Switchblade.
The "man" beside Dante leaned over. "Is he a DH?"
Dante's eyes narrowed. He grabbed the man beside him and shoved him toward the other bouncer. "Take the friggin' Arcadian spy out back and deal with him."
The man's face went pale. "What? I'm not Arcadian."
"Bullshit," Dante snarled. "You met Wulf two weeks ago and if you were really Katagaria, you'd remember him. Only a fucking were-panther can't."
Wulf arched a brow at the insult that none of the Katagaria used lightly. The root of the term "were" meant human. To place that term before their animal name was a gross insult to the Katagaria, who prided themselves on the fact that they were animals who could take human form, not the other way around.
The only reason they were tolerant of being called Were-Hunters was the fact that they did in fact hunt and kill the Arcadians, who were humans capable of taking animal form. Not to mention the fact that the male of their species often hunted human females for sexual purposes. Apparently, sex was much more enjoyable to them in human form than in animal, and the males had voracious appetites in that department.
Unfortunately for Wulf, the female Were-Hunters who could remember him never looked outside their species for partners. Unlike the men, the females had sex in hopes of finding mates. The men were simply after the pleasure of it.
"What are you going to do to him?" Wulf asked as Dante's bouncer dragged the Arcadian away.
"What's it to you, Dark-Hunter? I don't screw with your business, you don't screw with mine."
Wulf debated what to do, but then if the other man really was an Arcadian spy, most likely he could handle the situation on his own and wouldn't relish the thought of help, especially from a Dark-Hunter. The Weres were extremely independent and hated for anyone or anything to interfere with them.
So Wulf changed the subject. "Any Daimons in the club?" he asked Dante.
Dante shook his head. "But Corbin's inside. She came in about an hour ago. Said it was slow tonight. Too cold for the Daimons on the street."