"My name is Valerius." Valerius straightened his coat with a regal, arrogant jerk. "And I do take offense to him."
Yeah, well, what was new? The man seemed to take offense at everything.
As usual, whenever two or more Dark-Hunters came together, Talon felt his powers weakening. It was a safeguard Artemis used to ensure her Dark-Hunters couldn't combine strengths and go after the gods or prey on mankind. The only exception to that was Acheron. As the designated trainer and the eldest of their breed, his presence didn't drain their powers, but everyone else's did.
They wouldn't be able to stay together much longer or they would be depleted for the night.
Talon glanced past Valerius's shoulder to see Nick and Zarek walking past the bakery on the corner and heading toward them. "Look unalive, men," he said to Acheron and Valerius, "here comes our reinforcement."
Valerius turned around and let out a vulgar curse that seemed at odds with his regal Roman air of refinement and good breeding.
"Back at you," Zarek snarled as he paused beside Acheron.
Disgust was evident on Valerius's face. "Not another friggin' Greek."
"What's the matter, Roman?" Talon asked. "Greeks bother you?"
His nostrils flared, Valerius raked a sneer over Zarek. "Trust me, had I been at Troy when they left the horse behind, there would have been roasted Greek on the beach that day."
Talon hissed in mock sympathy. "Damn, T-Rex, he really hates your ancestors."
Acheron gave him a droll stare. "No offense, Talon, I was around before they were."
"Oh yeah, sorry." Talon exchanged glances with Nick, who was much quieter than normal. The Squire looked a bit strained.
Hmm, that was interesting. He'd have to keep Zarek around if the man had that kind of suppression power. It was nice to know Nick had an off switch.
"Any problems with your flight?" Acheron asked Zarek.
"I didn't eat my pilot if that's what you mean. And little Nicky here is still breathing and not bleeding."
"Well," Acheron said, his tone flat. "I suppose that's an improvement over last time."
Talon wasn't sure if Acheron was joking or not, but knowing Zarek's reputation, he didn't really doubt it was true. Rumor had it that Zarek had cut up and eaten the last Squire Acheron had sent for him.
Talon swept a glance around the five of them.
Were they a motley bunch or what? The only thing they had in common was height. Collectively, they must look like refugees from the NBA since they ranged in height from Nick's six feet four to Acheron's six feet eight.
Nick was dressed in jeans, a dark green sweater, and bomber jacket-the perfect image of a rich college student. Talon looked like a biker who had just left Sanctuary, New Orleans's premier biker bar. Acheron looked like a refugee from the Dungeon-the local underground goth hangout. Valerius was the professional contingent, and Zarek...
Zarek just looked like he was ready to kill something.
"So why are we congregating?" Zarek asked.
The repugnant hatred in Valerius's eyes was searing. "Did anyone speak to you, slave?'
Acheron barely caught Zarek's hand before his claw sliced Valerius's vulnerable throat. Never before had Talon seen Acheron struggle so hard to hold someone back. It spoke a lot for Zarek's power.
And his temper.
"Cease!" Acheron ordered Zarek. "I know it's been a long time since you were around another Dark-Hunter, Z, but remember, whatever you do to him, you will feel it tenfold."
Zarek's face hardened. "Pain I can take, it's him I can't."
Valerius still had his lips curled. "I don't see why we need a whipping boy for the Daimons to play with. You know, he was so worthless in his lifetime that my father had to pay a slaver to take him off our hands."
Zarek let out the snarl of a wild beast. An instant later, Acheron was thrown clear of him and Zarek bolted at Valerius. He caught the Roman around the waist and the two of them hit the street. Hard.