Holiday Gatherings

New Orleans

Hunter Household

Kyrian Hunter looked around at his friends and family who were gathered for Christmas dinner. His son, Nicky, and daughter, Marissa, were playing under the tree with his mother-in-law while his best friend, Julian, and his wife Grace were helping their kids open the last of their presents.

His wife's family, the Devereaux clan, were all here, laughing and celebrating.

He had to be the luckiest bastard on the planet. It seemed like only yesterday he'd been alone in the world with no one to love. No one who cared about him.

And one night a lethal enemy had almost taken the very people who were now crowded into his home.

His sister-in-law, Tabitha, stood up and clanked her glass to get everyone's attention. "Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to take a second and say Merry Christmas to all of you."

A shout went up, but Tabitha motioned them to silence. "You know, my Romanian grandmother always said that enemies and lovers make strange bedfellows."

Kyrian met Valerius's gaze over Tabitha's head. The two of them had spent centuries hating one another. But for the sake of their wives who were twin sisters, they'd buried the ax—just not in Valerius's head as Kyrian had wanted. He raised his glass in a silent toast to Valerius who returned the gesture before his gaze went to his brother, Zarek, who was holding hands with his wife, Astrid. Like Kyrian, Zarek had spent eternity hating Valerius, too.

Now the brothers were reunited.

Miracles did happen. The people in this room were living proof.

"To family," Tabitha said, holding up her glass. "And to those we've lost, but who we still hold in our hearts, I'd like to propose a moment of silence for them…"

Everyone bowed their heads in respect.

But it wasn't sadness Kyrian felt, it was gratitude that all of them were here tonight, alive and well.

He lifted his head at the same time Talon and Sunshine did. Kyrian smiled at them, remembering a time when he and Talon had been the only two Dark-Hunters to patrol New Orleans. Boy, how things had changed from that fateful day when he'd awakened handcuffed to his wife, Amanda.

And thank the gods for it.

Nick stepped back from the window as he watched the group inside lifting their heads from prayer. He placed his hand against the window and remembered Christmases past when he and his mother had been in Kyrian's house, celebrating.

Every year his mother had demanded he attend midnight mass with her. Every year until she'd been brutally murdered.

Now Nick had no one.

You could tell them. Kyrian and Amanda would welcome him back. But he couldn't allow them to. He'd sold his soul to the devil for vengeance and whatever he saw, Stryker saw.

And Stryker wanted Kyrian's daughter.

No matter how much Nick might hate Acheron for allowing his mother to die, he couldn't let Kyrian suffer. He owed Kyrian too much for that.

Closing his eyes, Nick turned away from them and pulled his collar up higher on his neck to block the chill. There really should be some kind of do-over for mistakes. But there wasn't. Life was cold, and it was brutal.

For him, there could never be forgiveness. There was no way back to the life he'd once had.

No way back to the mother he'd once loved more than his own life. He'd screwed everything up royally.

His heart broken, Nick left Kyrian's home and crossed the street to where he'd parked his Jag. After getting inside, Nick paused to stare at Kyrian's house. The red and white lights sparkled in the night and he could hear the laughter that came from the party inside.

"Merry Christmas," he breathed before he started his car and drove it over to the St. Louis Cemetery on Basin Street. He parked at the gas station across from it and crossed the empty street until he was at the locked gates. Nick looked to his right and then his left before he leapt to the top of the ten-foot wall and then jumped to the ground inside.

It was pitch black, but as a Dark-Hunter, he could see better at night than in full daylight. He ignored the hungry souls that reached out for him as he made his way to his mother's tomb. Because of his ties to Stryker, he was immune from possession by their souls.

Nick parted his coat and pulled out the roses he'd brought for her. Shattered by the tragedy of his life, he knelt down before her tomb and placed his forehead against the cold stone. "I miss you, Mom. And I'm sorry."

And there in the darkness for the merest sliver of a moment, he thought he could feel her presence. But he knew better. She was as lost as he was.

Falling to his knees, Nick curled up against the tomb and squeezed his eyes shut as overwhelming grief racked him.

Stryker rolled his eyes as he saw the image of Nick at his mother's grave in his mind. "Why did I make him my servant again?"

His sister, Satara, looked up from her corner. "What?"

Stryker sighed as he shifted himself on his throne. "Your pet. He's whining again. Go get him."

Satara let out a loud sound of disgust. "Why don't you kill him already?"

Stryker considered it. "Because he will be my tool to kill Acheron. Trust me."

"Trust you…" She blew him a raspberry. She lifted her hand to form a ball so that she could see Nick. "Oh, just leave him. Let him wallow in his grief. The more he feels her loss, the better for us."

Perhaps his sister was right.

Even so, watching Nick with his mother reminded Stryker of the loss he'd once suffered, and it pained him to see Nick grieve like that. But more than his loss, he thought of his own son.

Urian.

The pain of his son's death still burned deep inside him, and it made him hate the goddess he served who had demanded he kill his own child.

"One day, Apollymi, I will serve to you what you have served to me." And he would laugh while she cried over the death of her precious Acheron.