Stryker arched a brow at that. "No?"
"No. I would much rather kill you myself."
MENYARA PAUSED AT THE PICTURE OF CHERISE holding Nick on his first day of school. The frame was set on his nightstand next to his bed. "Your mother was so proud of you."
Nick didn't speak.
Turning, she watched as he grabbed a bottle of Scotch and opened it. "Did you learn anything tonight?" she asked.
"Such as?"
"How much you need to know your powers."
He took a deep swig before he answered. "I knew that before the fight, Mennie."
"Yes, but are you willing to learn now?"
He paused. "What do you mean?"
Her resolve shone in her eyes as she cornered him. "You are part demon and part human. In order to function in this world, you will have to be taught by someone who has powers similar to yours."
"And that is?"
"Acheron."
Nick scoffed. "Ash is a god."
"Yes, but before he was a god, he was half human and half Charonte. Only he has the powers to help you."
Stunned, Nick dropped the bottle straight to the floor where it shattered.
Two Weeks Later
ZEPHYRA SAT IN STRYKER'S CHAIR AS SHE LIStened to the sound of faint music playing. For the last fortnight, she and Stryker had been after the gallu to use them to convert more Daimons, but they were proving difficult.
In the meantime, there were only a few dozen gallu Daimons while the rest of their army needed to continue to feed on the humans.
"We will get you," she whispered. Like Stryker, she had no intention of watching their people die while Apollo lived so blithely on. Especially given the fact that if Medea were to ever marry again, her children would be born Apollite.
And they, too, would be cursed . . .
The door opened.
She glanced up to find Stryker there with a sword in his hand. Scowling, she watched him as he crossed the floor and placed it on the desk in front of her. Without a word, he knelt by her side.
"What are you doing?"
"I promised that at the end of two weeks I'd allow you to kill me." He looked pointedly at the sword. "I'm keeping my word."
She arched one brow at that. "Really?"
He inclined his head to her. "You own my life, Phyra. I lay it in your hands."
She pulled the sword from the desk, then rose with it in her hand. She angled the perfectly balanced sword and admired the gleaming edge. "You would allow me to kill you?" She placed the point directly over his heart.
His gaze locked with hers. "On my honor."
She pressed the tip into his shirt, but not deep enough to pierce his skin. "Would you die for me, Stryker?"