Zarek laughed at that. "Do I look like I'm wallowing? I was having fun with her until you showed up." He licked his lips again as if resavoring the feeding.
"You should try it sometime, Celt. There's nothing like tasting human blood. Haven't you ever wondered why the Daimons feed before they take human souls? Why they don't just kill the human quick? It's because it's better than sex. Did you know you can see straight into their minds when you do it? Feel their emotions? For one instant, you actually bond with their life force. It's one hell of a high."
Talon glared at him. "Nick's right, you are psychotic."
"The correct term is sociopathic and yes, I am. But at least I have no delusions about myself."
"Meaning?"
He shrugged. "Take your meaning wherever you can find it."
The man was disgusting. Insufferable. "Why do you have to make everyone hate you?"
Zarek snorted at that. "What? You want to be my friend now, Celt? If I clean up my act, will you be my buddy?"
"You're such an asshole."
"Yeah, but at least I know what I am. I have no pretensions. You don't know if you're a Druid, a Dark-Hunter, or a playboy. You lost yourself a long time ago in the dark hole where you buried the parts of you that once made you human."
Talon was aghast at such a low, self-serving life-form trying to play sage with him. "You are lecturing me on humanity?"
"Ironic as hell, isn't it?"
Talon's jaw ticced. "You don't know anything about me."
With his silver claws flashing, Zarek slowly pulled a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and lit it with an old-fashioned gold lighter.
Putting the lighter back in his pocket, he took a long drag on the cigarette, exhaled the smoke, then cast Talon a sardonic, lopsided sneer. "Ditto."
With one last, parting grimace, Zarek walked slowly away from him, out of the alley and back toward the street.
"Lay off the feeding, Zarek, or I will kill you myself. I swear it."
Zarek raised his clawed hand and flipped him off without breaking stride or looking back.
Talon growled low in his throat as Zarek vanished into the night. How could Acheron stand dealing with him? That man could try the patience of a tree.
One day, Artemis was going to have to put Zarek down. In truth, Talon was astounded the order for Zarek's execution hadn't already been handed out. But then maybe that was why Artemis had sent him here. In Alaska, Zarek was on his home turf where he knew the terrain better than anyone and he would be able to avoid an executioner.
Down here, Zarek was at the mercy of Acheron, who knew these streets like the back of his hand. If the order came down, Zarek would have nowhere to hide.
It was definitely a thought.
Talon shook his head to clear it of Zarek. The ex-slave was the last person he wanted on his mind tonight.
His cell phone rang. Talon answered it to find Acheron's thick Atlantean accent.
"Hey, I'm down on Commerce Street in the Warehouse District. There's a murder scene here that I would like to confer with you about."
"I'm on my way." Talon hung up and headed to where he'd left his motorcycle.
It didn't take long to grab his bike and make his way over to the scene. Cops were everywhere, questioning witnesses, marking off the area, and taking notes and pictures.
A large crowd of locals and tourists had gathered to watch the spectacle.
His eyes aching from all the bright police lights, Talon parked his bike and made his way over to Acheron, whose hair was now blond.
Jeez, the man changed hair colors more often than most people changed socks.