She arched a brow at him.
Hunter smiled. "He travels to a new location every few days."
"How? Why?"
He shrugged. "I guess when you're eleven thousand years old, things get rather boring. As for how, he has a custom-built helicopter that can break the sound barrier."
Amanda digested the news and tried to imagine what this oldest Dark-Hunter must look like. For some reason, Yoda came to mind. Some small, gray-green-skinned ancient who walked around stooped over, spouting broken words of wisdom to the others.
"Have you ever met Acheron?" she asked.
Kyrian nodded. "We all have. He trains all the new Dark-Hunters and in a way he is our unofficial leader. There's also the theory that he's the hit man the gods call in to execute us when we step over the line of propriety."
She didn't like the sound of that at all. "Step over how?"
"Preying on humans, for one. We have a Code of Conduct that has to be followed. No revealing of our powers before the masses, no association with Apollites or Daimons, et cetera."
It was strangely comforting to know that they had such a thing, but also scary to think of one of these guys turning bad with the powers they possessed. "If Dark-Hunters are forbidden to hurt each other and you drain one another's powers, how can Acheron be an executioner?"
"He doesn't drain our powers." He took a drink of wine. "Ash was the guinea pig Dark-Hunter. Since he was the first, the gods hadn't quite got the kinks out of the system. So he has some... peculiar, shall we say, side effects."
Now she definitely pictured some mutant life-form. A little hunchback Dark-Hunter with a lisp.
"And just how many Dark-Hunters are there?" she asked.
"Thousands."
Amanda's jaw went slack. "Seriously?"
By the light in his eyes, she could see the answer.
"How often are new ones created?"
"Not often," he said quietly. "Most of us have been around for quite some time."
"Wow," she breathed. "So if Acheron is the oldest, who is the youngest?"
Kyrian frowned as he thought about the answer. "Offhand, I would say Tristan, Diana, or Sundown, but I would have to check with Acheron on it."
"Sundown? Nickname, or did his mother not like him very much?"
He laughed. "He was a gunslinger and that was the name they used on his wanted posters. The authorities claimed he did his best work after dark."
"Okay," Amanda said slowly. Now she pictured some Wild Bill Hickok character. Complete with bowlegs and shaggy beard and a wad of tobacco in his cheek. "I take it you Dark-Hunters weren't merchants or um..."
"Decent law-abiding folks?"
She smiled. "I wasn't implying you were indecent, but you have the gist of what I was going for."
Kyrian returned her smile. "Indecent" would certainly describe the thoughts in his mind that concerned his guest. "It takes a certain demeanor and passion to become a Dark-Hunter. Artemis doesn't want to waste her time or ours by picking someone incapable of hunting. I guess you could say we are all mad, bad, and immortal."
Her smile widened, showing just a very tiny hint of a dimple in her right cheek. How odd he'd never noticed that before. "Bad and immortal I will give you, but are you truly mad?"
"If by mad you mean insane, what then would you say?"
Her eyes flashed wickedly. "That you are definitely mad. But you know, I think I like that about you. There's something to be said for unpredictability."
Kyrian wasn't sure which of them was most surprised by her confession. She looked away quickly, her cheeks turning bright red.