Talon froze as an odd noise on the wind intruded on his thoughts. It sounded vaguely like a Daimon feeding...
He pulled his Palm Pilot out of his jacket pocket and opened up his tracking program. Designed to pick up traces of the Daimons' elevated neuron activity that came from their psychic abilities, the tracking program allowed Dark-Hunters to pinpoint any concentration of Daimons after dark. During the daylight hours while the Daimons rested, their brain activity was too human for the trackers to be of any use.
But once the sun set...
Those little brains of theirs started snapping and humming.
Talon frowned at his findings.
It showed nothing and his Dark-Hunter senses didn't pick up a Daimon either, but his gut instinct was off the radar.
He headed toward a dark alley. A woman stumbled out, falling against him. Her eyes were glazed as she glanced up at him. There was a small bite wound on her neck that was healing even as he looked at it and the collar of her blouse held traces of blood.
"Are you okay?" he asked as he righted her.
She smiled a smile that was delirious and vague. "I'm fine. Never better." She stumbled away from him and headed into the building to his right.
In that instant, he knew what had happened.
Unmitigated rage descended on him as he stalked farther into the alley where she'd been. He saw the dark shadow and knew it in a heartbeat.
"Damn you, Zarek. You better lay off the feeding crap while you're in this city."
Zarek wiped the blood away from his lips with his hand. "Or what, Celt? You going to hit me?"
"I'll rip your throat out."
He laughed at that. "And kill yourself in the process? You don't have it in you."
"You have no idea what I'm capable of. And you better pray to whatever god you worship that you never find out."
His expression pure evil, Zarek smacked his lips in a way Talon knew was designed to piss him off thoroughly.
It worked.
"I didn't hurt her. She won't even remember it in three minutes. They never do."
Talon moved to grab him, but Zarek caught his hand. "I warned you not to touch me, Celt. No one touches me. Ever."
Talon shrugged off his hold. "You swore an oath, just like the rest of us. I won't have you preying on innocents in my town."
"Oooo," Zarek breathed. "How cliche, little partner. Wanna tell me to be out by sunup, or better yet, this town ain't big enough for the two of us?"
"What is your problem?"
Zarek started past him.
Unwilling to let him prey on someone else, Talon shoved him against the wall. His own back throbbed viciously as if he'd been slammed against the wall too, but he didn't care.
He wasn't about to let Zarek have free rein over the lives of innocent people.
Zarek's eyes flared with hatred. "Let go of me, Celt, or I'll rip your arm off. And you know what? I don't care if I lose both of mine in the process. That's the difference between us. Pain is my friend and ally. You fear it."
"Like hell I do."
He shoved Talon away from him. "Then where is it? Hmmm? You buried your pain the night you left your village in flames."
Talon paused at the words, wondering how Zarek knew that, but his anger overrode it as he thought about Zarek judging him. "At least I don't wallow in it."