Prologue

To help tide over until the book is released next Tuesday, here's the prologue for Infamous:

First SPOILER WARNING: If you haven't read Infinity or Invincible, there are spoilers in here. Do not proceed further onward unless you want to have the story spoiled or know certain facts before you read those two CON books.

Are you sure you want to go onward?

Last chance to turn back.

Okay then...

Prologue

It wasn't every day you learned that you were the son of a ferocious demon and that your destiny was to end the world. Or that the guy you thought was your whacked-out uncle was actually you from the future trying to prevent not only your death, but that of basically everyone else...

Literally.

All in all, being that he was only fourteen years old, Nick Gautier was handling it pretty well.

Yeah, not really. Stunned into complete silence, which very seldom happened, Nick couldn't breathe as brutal reality sucker-punched him. Hard. Mercilessly.

Right where it hurt most. Well, not physically there. But mentally it felt like his gonads had been stomped straight into the ground. His head swam from nausea.

Trying to get a handle on everything, he clutched at the broken stones on the stoop where he sat outside his new apartment building on Bourbon Street. Ambrose—the future him—stood to his left, towering over him with a pitiless sneer.

How was it possible that he was Ambrose?

Or more to the point, Ambrose was what he would become...

How could he, an average kid roaming the backstreets of New Orleans, be the ultimate evil? He didn't feel particularly evil. Most days, he didn't feel anything except stressed out by school, or tired of his mom nagging at him about everything from the clothes he wore, to the length of his hair, to how late he stayed up. Some days, it felt like she was looking for a reason to be ticked off at him.

Boy, if she knew this about him, he'd never hear the end of it. She'd probably ground him until he was at least three or four thousand years old. Yeah, it sounded ludicrous even to him, until he looked at Ambrose standing all bad ass and tough at his left.

Ambrose is me from the future...

He glanced around the section of Bourbon Street where his new apartment was located. Everything looked the same. The broken sidewalks that made up the French Quarter. The cars parked in a line on both sides of the street. The row of shotgun houses that led to stores and restaurants...

But nothing was the same.

Most of all, he would never be the same again.

I am a demon.

"No, no, no," Nick repeated as he tried to come up with some other explanation. One that made a little more sense and that didn't leave him as a tool for the darkest forces in the universe.

Unfortunately, there wasn't one. Not that any of this made sense. It was all pretty farcical when you thought about it.

Him. Nicholas Ambrosius Gautier—smart-mouthed, streetwise kid. Typical teenager. Gaming guru. Anime and manga obsessed otaku. Socially awkward around any girl his age.

Total evil.

Dang, his principal had been right all along...

He really was demonspawn. Too bad Peters had gotten eaten by zombies before he found out the real truth of Nick's parentage. Old fart would have been proud to be proven right.

Nick really was destined for a life of total destruction.

Even though he wanted to, he couldn't deny it. Ambrose had the same exact blue eyes and dark brown hair he had. The same sneer that he often wore when things ticked him off—the one that got him grounded every time his mom saw it. More than that, Ambrose had the identical scar on his palm that Nick had been given when Xenon cut his hand for blood.

A scar that hadn't been on Ambrose's hand the last time he'd seen him.

I'm in a flippin' Twilight Zone episode.

He had to be. Nothing else made sense.

So where was his voice-over, telling the audience how he'd screwed up and taken a wrong turn down some suburban street or some such crud? C'mon, Rod Serling. Don't let me down. I need you to come in and tell me that I'm in a nightmare. Tell me about this new dimension of sight and sound.

But there was no reprieve. Not from this skewed reality.

And not from the fact that he was the hated and hunted son of a demon...

"I'm evil." He tried to accept that and still he couldn't. If it were true, how could he go to Mass all the time with his mom? Shouldn't he burst into flames when holy water touched him? Feel a burning sensation or something when he took communion? For that matter, he'd been an altar boy for years.

But he'd never once experienced the slightest bit of discomfort from any of that. The worst thing that had ever happened to him in church was when the priest had fallen asleep during his last confession—which said it all about how boring his life had been prior to all of this.

Yeah, okay, and then there was the time when he'd tripped going down the center aisle and spilled incense all over the place. But that hadn't been a result of his birthright, unless you counted clumsiness and the fact his thrift store shoes had been too big for his feet.

"I am evil," Nick repeated one more time.

Ambrose shifted his weight to one leg as his dark scowl intensified. "No, Nick. We're evil. We were bred to be soldiers for the darkest of powers." He said that so lackadaisically—Like, Hey, the sun's shining. Look, the neighbor's dog is in your trash again. Dude, you're wearing one ugly shirt.

Oh, and by the way, you're a demon in human form.

Yeah...

Much like the tacky Hawaiian shirt Nick was wearing, it just didn't fit.

"Then why are you trying to help me?" he asked Ambrose.

Ambrose snorted. "I ask myself that every day, and I have no answer. Part of me wants to tell you to just embrace your birthright and go with it. To let the evil have its way and carry you to the Nether Realm for your enemies to use as they see fit. God knows, fighting it never gave me any peace or comfort. Not once. Just a giant sized ulcer. You want the honest truth? Caring about others has made my entire life suck from beginning to end. When you don't care about anyone or anything, nothing can hurt you. When you do..."

Your enemies had you by your stones. He'd already learned that lesson.

Still...

"You haven't answered my question."

Ambrose sighed. "Because I don't have an answer, kid. Contrary to what you think, we're all mice lost in a maze. No one really knows what they're doing. You go left for whatever reason, but you don't know if it's the right direction or not until you're either electrocuted or you get the cheese. By the time you find out which it is, it's too late to turn back. You're either dead or you're fed. There's no third option."

"I have to say then, that I prefer fed over dead."

Ambrose laughed bitterly. "So do I. Some days, anyway." He glanced skyward as if looking for divine guidance of some kind. "I seriously hope I'm not about to make another mistake." He rubbed his hand against his forehead as if he had a pain there, then leveled a piercing stare at Nick. "Fine. I'll tell you the truth. All of it. For better or worse. Let's put the cards on the table and see how we screw things up this time, shall we?"

Nick wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. But either way, he wanted to know exactly what was going on and what he was up against.

Ambrose faced him. "This isn't my first rodeo, but it is most definitely the last. You, Nick, are the only hope I have of getting it right. I've tried three times before this and each one was worse on the outcome than the last. When I started tampering with our lives, I had more humanity in me. I've all but lost it now. My last attempt burned out something inside me, and I'll be honest, it scares me. And I don't scare. Ever. Not after everything I've been through. But the degree to which I don't care anymore—about anything—is a frightful thing. At times, I want it all to end. Because when it does, my pain will stop and I'll have some degree of peace. Finally. It'll seriously suck for everyone else. But like I said, I'm to the point where I really don't care anymore. I'm holding on to my humanity by the thinnest thread imaginable, and any day now, I expect it to break. God help us all when it does."

A chill went down Nick’s spine. He didn’t want the bleak, lonely future Ambrose described. Most of all, he didn’t want to become Ambrose. While he was jaded and suspicious by nature, there was still a part of him that honestly believed people were good and decent. Most of them, anyway.

He glared at Ambrose as he absorbed those words. “Then why should I listen to anything you tell me? For all I know, you’re setting me up so that you can have your peace and end the world. . . . And what do you mean you’ve tried three times? How?”

“I forgot how ADD I once was.” Ambrose shook his head. “No wonder Kyrian was so sharp with me so many times.” He took a deep breath before he answered Nick’s question. “I’ve mentored three different Nicks before you. Four if you count my original childhood.”

“Ooooriginal?” He dragged the word out as that thought played through his mind. Did that mean. . . ?

Ambrose let out a bitter laugh. “My life was slightly different from yours. Not much. Little things. But it’s those little things that can make a huge difference in what happens to us later.”

Yep, it was exactly what he’d suspected. And that truthfully terrified him.

Never underestimate a man’s ability to screw up the best laid plans- that was one of his friend’s favorite sayings.

“Such as?” Nick asked.

“The first attempt I made at correcting the past, I had that Nick tell our mother about the Dark-Hunter world as soon as he was dragged into it.” He winced as if the memory was unbearable. “I really thought that was the perfect solution. I did. All these years, I kept telling myself that if only she’d known about the paranormal, she’d have been wary of it and not—” He broke off to curse under his breath. Then he turned back to Nick. “But she couldn’t handle it or believe it . . . It was a total disaster. Because of our father, she thought it was a mental defect—schizophrenia to be precise. That first Nick ended up medicated in an asylum with no one to protect him from our enemies. I’m still scarred by what was done to him. Worse, without us living at home, Mom never stopped working at her club and she was shot dead during a robbery.”

Nick wanted to vomit at the mere thought. “Are you serious?”

Ambrose nodded. “There’s nothing like watching multiple outcomes play out before your eyes and then live in your memory. I now understand why Savitar sits on his island, away from everything.”

Who? Nick had never heard of such a person. “Savitar?”

“A being you’ll meet one day. For now, it’s not important. Just remember, you can’t talk to your mother about any of this. She doesn’t want to know, and she’ll never accept the fact that she had the son of a demon.”

Who could blame her for that? He personally couldn’t think of any woman who would welcome that news. Hey, hon, guess what? Your son that you nurtured in your body for nine months and then sacrificed your life and dignity to raise is destined to end the world. Aren’t you proud?

Yeah, that just didn’t work.

All right then, he wouldn’t tell his mother about himself, his father or his Dark-Hunter boss Kyrian. Truthfully, he’d been tempted to let her know why Kyrian was different, why he worked so late at night and wasn’t around in the daytime. But every time he’d thought about it, his gut had kept him silent.

Score one for the gut. Too bad his brain wasn’t as smart.

For the very reason Ambrose had named, he’d been afraid of how she’d react. There were times when he felt like his mother was looking for a reason to have him committed or institutionalized. Like she feared him becoming his father so much that she was itching for some sign to confirm that he was every bit as violent and awful, and lock him up for it before it was too late and he hurt someone.

“What happened with the other attempts?”

“Next we were sucked into the Nether Realm at age seventeen where . . .” His voice broke off and he visibly cringed as if that memory was even worse than the one before. “Whatever you do, kid, stay away from Azmodea. Don’t believe any demon who tells you lies about how great it is. Because for you, it’s not, and I can’t stress the not part enough. Whatever you do, avoid creatures named Azura and Noir. Only slavery waits for you there. A slavery so brutal, you can’t even conceive of it. And it would give even Quentin Tarantino nightmares.”

That was an impressive thought and he took Ambrose’s warning to heart. “Never heard of that place, but will add it to my ‘under no circumstances’ list.” Like eating broccoli, doing laundry, or feeding Mark’s “dog” that was actually a thirteen foot gator with a nasty attitude and a taste for Cajun. “And the Nick after that?”

He let out a slow breath. “Suffice it to say, it didn’t go well either.”

“How so?”

Ambrose gave him an arch stare. “I’m you, Nick. Trust me when I say you don’t want to go there, and let’s leave it at that. There are some memories no one needs to have. And I’d give anything to purge it.”

“Yeah, but if you know me, then you know—”

“Nick!”

Gah, he hated that exasperated tone adults used.

Fine. Whatever. He wouldn’t press the issue. There were plenty more questions he had. And he dreaded the next one, but he had to know. “And with me?” I.e. how’s it going in comparison to the others?

Please don’t add me to the nightmare list. He wanted life to get better, not worse.

“It’s different this time, too. But in unique ways. Some things are the same and others . . .”

“Name some,” Nick prodded when he didn’t continue.

Ambrose paused in his pacing before Nick’s stoop. “You already know about the Dark-Hunters and Squires. I didn’t find out about them until I graduated high school. You met Simi at fourteen. In my original past, I met her just before I became a Dark-Hunter.”

Nick sucked his breath in at that unexpected bomb. “I become a Dark-Hunter like Kyrian?”

Ambrose nodded.

That wasn’t good. Thoughts whirled through his mind. Dark-Hunters were immortal warriors who protected mankind from the preternatural evil that preyed on them. While each DH came from a vastly different culture and time, the one thing that united them all was that something horrific had happened to them. Something so bad that they sold their souls to the goddess Artemis for an Act of Vengeance against the one who hurt them.

Nick wasn’t sure he wanted to know what would happen to him that was so awful that he’d do such a thing, especially if he couldn’t see it coming.

Or stop it.

“Did you get shot the night you met Kyrian?”

Ambrose hesitated. “Stabbed but nothing else about that event changed. It played out for you basically the same way it played out for me and the others. For some reason that is lynchpin event and it never alters. It’s what happens after that, that goes in varying directions.”

Nick let that rattle around in his head. What would be worse than being shot by a friend? I mean yeah, I want revenge on Alan and Tyree for that, but not so much I’d sell my soul to get it.

So most likely, he wasn’t the one who died. Who else would be in his life in just a few years that he’d care that much about them?

Girlfriend?

Wife? Would he be married by then?

Possible, he supposed. His wife’s betrayal was what had made Kyrian a Dark-Hunter. Talon became a Dark-Hunter after his wife died and his sister was killed.

Who do I lose?

Not wanting to think about that right now, he returned to quizzing Ambrose. “What else is different?”

“You’ve already met Tabitha Devereaux—” A smile played at the edge of his lips that made Nick wonder what caused it. “I didn’t meet her until I was out of school and working for Kyrian. But the change that concerns us most is that my father died when I was ten.”

Nick frowned. “My dad’s still in prison. And alive as far as I’ve been told.”

“Yeah. This is the first time that’s happened. Damned if I know why. He should be dead by now. Because he’s not, it’s allowing enemies to find you sooner than they should be able to.”

Nick definitely didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is there are currently two Malachais using their powers here in New Orleans—you and our father—and there should only be one in existence at a time. Once a new Malachai is born and reaches puberty, the other dies—usually violently so—”

“Are you telling me that if I ever have a kid, it’s going to grow up and kill me?”

A cruel smile twisted Ambrose’s lips. “You can have them. But it’s like playing Russian roulette. If they don’t inherit your powers, the human part can’t handle your Malachai demon blood and they die before they’re ten. The one who reaches ten and lives . . . that’s the one who will replace you.”

That explained so much about his father’s attitude toward him. No wonder he hated him so. “Meaning I’ll die around their tenth birthday?”

Ambrose sarcastically touched his nose to let Nick know that he was correct. “That’s the way it’s always worked in the past. One of the beautiful things about us . . . Until we use our powers, we are invisible to almost all other gods and preternatural creatures. If they try to see our future, they see one that looks human. Kids, grandkids, the whole package. They have no way of knowing who and what we are until we evolve and flex our powers. But the one thing that has always held true—there can only be one Malachai demon with full powers at a time.”

“Why?”

“It was a bargain made after the Primus Magnus—the first major war of the gods. Both sides were required to put their soldiers down.”

Nick grimaced at what he was sure was a euphemism. “You mean kill them?”

Ambrose nodded. “But the commander of each side was spared. One Malachai. One Sephiroth. They exist in balance and so long as the truce holds, there can be no more than the one.”

“So what changed?”

“No idea. With our luck, by coming to the past as a Malachai, I screwed the pooch to the point it’ll never walk again. It’s the only thing I can think of. But since you didn’t have powers yet, I didn’t think it would be a problem. Whatever the cause, something is out of synch here, and no one knows what it is. All we know for sure is that your power is concentrated with Adarian’s. So long as your father lives, there’s a cosmic bounty on your head so steep it’s staggering.”

“Why?” Nick asked.

“Whoever kills you, gets to take your powers as a bonus. It’s why you’re in the worst sort of danger imaginable. No one, except you, can kill Adarian, so no one will try for him.”

Which meant it was open season on Nick.

“If I die, can’t my father have another child?”

“You don’t have to die for it. He can have another kid at any point- but only one of you can have the Malachai powers and only one of you will live to adulthood- that’s the theory, anyway. However, death isn’t the worst fear you should have, kid. There are many things a lot worse, and those things are after you right now. You can’t trust anyone . . . except me. I’m the only one who truly has your back.”

“You said earlier that I could trust Kyrian.”

“You can. He’s a good man, but he’s not powerful enough to fight what’s coming for you. No one is, except you.”

That reignited Nick’s temper as he remembered the fact that Ambrose had left him alone to face one demon already when the jerk could have helped him. “And you’re not going to help me?”

“I can’t.”

“Yeah, right. Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you already screwing with cosmic law by being here?”

“This isn’t about cosmic law, kid. It’s about survival. Our mutual survival, and saving the people we both love more than ourselves.”

“Then help me.”

“I am.”

Nick was aghast at his simple answer. Sitting on the bench wasn’t helpful. He needed a teammate, not a water boy. “By doing nothing?”

“Exactly. If I use my powers here to fight, that will be three Malachais using power in a single location. Even you know what that means.”

Yeah, triangulation. With three points, anything could be located.

Ambrose gave him a droll stare.“You don’t want me to do that. Really.”

True, but that meant he was going this alone and he wasn’t learning things fast enough. Most of all, it meant he had a giant target on his back. “Man, this is so screwed up.”

“Welcome to our life,” Ambrose said bitterly.

“Yeah, well, no offense, you can take it and put it where the sun doesn’t shine.” Nick sneered in disgust as he digested everything Ambrose was telling him. “And how do I know you’re not lying anyway? You say to trust you, but trust is earned, not demanded, and I don’t think enough of you to give it to you.”

Ambrose grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him up from the stoop. “Listen to me, you little punk,” he snarled in Nick’s face. “I hate you. You understand? I hate you with a passion that burns brighter than the hottest star in the universe. If I could, I’d tear your throat out and end everything right here and now. But the one thing I know is if we die, something a lot worse than us will take our place and the tiny handful of people I still love will suffer unimaginable agony. That I cannot allow to happen. Even if it means stomaching you for a little longer. We, who were born to end the world, are the only hope there is for saving it.”

Nick tried to break free, but it was impossible. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Ambrose shoved him back. “Tell me about it. But that’s where we are. I can guide you and advise you. That’s it. I can tell you where and how I screwed up and what the other Nicks did wrong, but you will have to live this life and—”

“I’m so confused. How can you remember everything? Do my actions not affect you?”

Ambrose laughed. “My powers are infinite and beyond your comprehension. Some days, they’re even beyond mine. But this particular one that allows me to come back to the past and talk to you, I borrowed. And I had to bargain hard for it. The demon gave me three chances to set the past right. When I failed and he came for me, I killed him and took his blood. That’s what’s allowing me to help you now. Once I’m out of his blood—which is why I can’t always come back to save your ass—you’ll be totally on your own and I won’t have any memory of ever tampering with the past. Whatever you do will be my final memory and the rest will be gone forever.”

“Dude, that’s so messed up. You drink blood?”

Ambrose gave him an irritated grimace. “Is that all you got out of what I just said?”

“No, but that’s so disturbing. How can you drink someone’s blood?” Nick shivered in revulsion. “Gah, I can’t believe I’d ever be that gross.”

“Son, you’ll do a lot more than that before all is said and done.”

Nick made gagging noises.

Ambrose cursed. His expression said he was imagining Nick’s neck in his hands and Nick’s eyes bulging as he choked the life out of him. “I can’t believe my fate is in your hands.”

Now that was just rude and it thoroughly riled him. “Yeah, well, from what you just said, it’s not like you did any better yourself. I can’t believe your ugly butt is what I have to look forward to becoming. Talk about a letdown. You know, I had plans. I was going to be a lawyer. Do some good in the world. Not become,” he gestured at Ambrose, “some self-absorbed dickweed.”

His expression turned even colder. “If I were self-absorbed, I wouldn’t be here. But it’s easy for you to judge me. You haven’t been betrayed. . . . Yet.”

“Not true. I was shot by my best friends.”

“Alan, Tyree, and crew . . . that wasn’t betrayal, kid. Deep inside you knew who and what they were. What you were in for when you threw in with them. What to expect. You can’t fault a snake for biting you when it’s the very nature of the beast to do so.”

Ambrose narrowed his gaze on him. “No, Nick. I’m talking real betrayal. The kind you don’t see coming. The kind that tackles you to the ground and kicks your teeth in, and forever ruins your life. The kind that stays with you for decades after it’s over. By the time you graduate, you’ll consider what Alan did to you a favor. It got you off the street at a time when you were headed in the wrong direction, and it made your mother’s dreams come true.”

His mother.

A bad feeling went through Nick as everything came together in his mind. As another realization groin kicked him. While Ambrose looked tired, he wasn’t that old. Probably not even as old as his friend Mark, and definitely not as old as his mother, who was only twenty-eight.

In less than ten years, I’ll become a Dark-Hunter. . . .

There was only one thing he could think of that would make him do something so drastic in that amount of time.

“Mom dies, doesn’t she? That’s why you became a Dark-Hunter, isn’t it?”

In that instant, Ambrose’s eyes changed from blue to the same black color as Kyrian’s. The wind blew his long coat out from his legs and swept his hair back from his face. A double bow and arrow—the mark of a Dark-Hunter—appeared on his cheek and his fangs flashed in the fading daylight.

Dark-Hunters die in sunlight.

But not Ambrose . . .

How could he be outside and on the street when he shouldn’t be able to? How was he able to hide his Dark-Hunter traits?

The wind sent a chill down Nick’s spine that he felt all the way to his soul.

“Because of you,” Ambrose sneered that word, “and your stupidity, your mother, Bubba, Mark, and . . . others close to you die horribly. That is the landscape we’re trying to repaint. And if you fail them this time, it’s over. For all of us.”

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

If banging your head against a brick wall burned a hundred and fifty calories an hour as they said it did, then Nick should be emaciated. ’Cause he’d been banging it so hard these last two days that he should have a concussion by now.

“Mom, please . . .”

“I said no and I meant it. You’re too young to date.”

Fifteen? Really? Since when was fifteen too young to date? If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was from the Dark Ages. Heck, for that matter, Kyrian was more open-minded and he really was from the Stone Age, or Iron Age, or one of those boring ages that they tried to force feed him in school.

That man had actually dated in a chariot. . . .

Nick had to stop himself from rolling his eyes—that was like throwing gas on a roaring fire while wearing kerosene soaked clothing when his mom was in this mood.

I’m old enough to death match demons and zombies, stop the apocalypse, deal with Death on a daily basis, and hold down two jobs, but I can’t meet my girl for a movie. . . .

Yeah, that made all the sense in the world.

He sighed irritably. “I’m a year older than you were when you had me.”
She narrowed those beady little blue eyes at him and lifted her chin to glare up at him. He still wasn’t used to looking down at his mom, who barely reached mid-chest on him these days.

The fact that someone so incredibly tiny could cow him with nothing more than an arched brow didn’t sit well with him. But regardless of arguments and differences of opinion, he loved his mother and wouldn’t do anything to hurt her or her feelings.

Which was how she cowed him with a single glance. . . .

I’m such a wimp.

“Precisely my point, Nicky. You see what kind of trouble you could get into? Are you ready to be a father at fifteen? No, I don’t think you are. You can’t even remember to take out the trash without me reminding you three times a day. Which, for your information, is the amount of times a day a child demands food.”

It wasn’t that he needed reminding so much as the fact that he hated doing it and kept hoping she’d forget about it.

Better not mention that. It’d get him into more trouble. So he went in to attack her first argument. “Technically, if I got a girl pregnant right now, I’d be sixteen when the baby was born.”

Pulling her blond hair back into a ponytail, she glared at him. “Not funny, Nick. How dare you make a joke about this. I am not amused.”

“Well, personally, I think you’ve done a great job with me, Ma. And that was with no help whatsoever. I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

She put her hands on her hips and glared furiously. “And you’re trying to distract me with flattery. It won’t work. You can’t date until you drive, and that’s that.”

There was another sore topic for him. “I keep begging you to teach me.”

“Not in my brand spanking new car. It’s the only new car I’ve ever owned and it’s the only one we have. If you wreck it, we won’t have a way to evacuate during hurricane season.”

Nick growled low in his throat. He had more than enough money in savings to buy a car, but because of his age, he couldn’t sign for one, and his mother refused.

That money’s for college, not a car you don’t need. There ain’t no place you need to go that your feet or a streetcar can’t carry you to.

Ugh! His mother frustrated him on so many levels.

He gave her a sullen pout. “So basically, I’ll never learn to drive, and therefore will never date.”

She smiled proudly before she turned around to get her shoes from her bedroom. “Now you got the picture, Boo.”

He mocked her words. Until she snapped around to face him as if she knew what he was doing.

Nick gave her his most charming grin. “C’mon, Ma. Everyone else in my class is dating. Even Madaug.”

“And if—”

“Everyone jumped off the Ponchartrain would you join them?” he asked in falsetto before she had a chance.

Yeah, that got him another hostile glare. “Don’t mock me, boy.”

“Sorry.”

She jerked her shoes on. “No, you’re not. But if you do that again, you will be.” She straightened. “Now, I’m off to work. I’ll be home around midnight. Are you going to the Halloween haunted house your school’s sponsoring?”

Nick snorted. “Oh yeah, Mom. Just what I want to do. Wet my pants in front of my classmates and scream like a girl. It’s another attempt of yours to make sure I never have a date as long as I live, isn’t it?”

He could tell by the way her lips twitched that she didn’t want to be amused. In the end, she lost the fight and laughed. “You’re terrible.”

Kissing his cheek, she ruffled his hair. “Be a good boy and I’ll see you in a little bit.”

She opened the door, then shrieked.

Nick braced himself, ready to fight whatever was out there.

Until his mother stepped back, laughing. “Goodness, Mr. Grim, you scared at least ten years off my life. Nick didn’t tell me his tutor was coming over tonight.” She cast a chiding look at Nick who was as surprised by Grim’s appearance as she was. But since they were dealing with Death, he didn’t respond.

As always, Death came unexpectedly. . . .whenever it wanted too.

“Next time, Boo, warn me about potential company.” Smiling, she stepped past Grim. “You two have a good night. Sorry I have to rush off, but I’m late for work.”

Grim shut the door behind her. To Nick, he looked like any other young man in his late teens, early twenties, with tousled dark blond hair and gray eyes, dressed in a black hoodie that had a skull and crossbones on the back. But the Grim Reaper could project to others any form he wanted them to see and so Nick’s mother interpreted him as someone in his early thirties.

Someone who was respectable.

She would literally die to know she’d just let the Grim Reaper into her house.

Laughing, Grim turned to face Nick. “Your mother is so oblivious it kills me. I just love that about her. Most people, even though they can’t see my real form, have some reservations in my presence. But not your mom. She honestly believes me to be human. Priceless.”

“Yeah.” And that was one of the things that concerned him most about her. She lacked any kind of ability to sense the preternatural. “She still thinks Kyrian’s a drug dealer. You wouldn’t believe how much grief she gives me about working for him.”

Death curled his lip. “Don’t mention your boss to me. People who cheat Death piss me off. I hate that whole thing Artemis does with bringing the dead back. Really, there shouldn’t be a loophole.”

Nick clamped down on mentioning the fact that one day, he’d be another one who would cheat Grim. That day should prove interesting, given their relationship. “How does Artemis do that, anyway?”

Grim scoffed. “Like I’m dumb enough to tell a Malachai? Do I have ‘stupid’ tattooed on my forehead?”

Knowing better than to answer that sarcastic jab- only a fool lipped off to Death, Nick scratched at the back of his neck.

Grim, who was extremely OCD and couldn’t stand foreign germs, tucked his hands into his pockets and closed the distance between them. “So how’s my least favorite pupil?”

“Not dead yet.”

“Unfortunately, I know.” Grim released a heavy sigh. “Pity that. I keep waiting for something to get ahold of you and not let go, but no such luck. . . . Yet.”

“Love you, too, Grim. I so look forward to our get-togethers.”

“I’m sure you covet them as much as I do.”

Yeah, it ranked up there with root canals and losing limbs. Without commenting, Nick went to get his box of “toys” for their lesson, but Grim stopped him.

“We’re taking a break from the divination for a while. I think you’ve mastered most of it.”

Nick would argue that since the last time he’d tried to use his pendulum, it’d swung up at him and almost put out his eye. The bridge of his nose was still tender from it and that’d been a week ago.

As for the rest, it came and went with no rhyme or reason. But he was always up for learning something new. “What are we doing, then?”

“Silkspeech.”

Nick arched his eyebrow at a term he didn’t understand. “I’m going to learn to talk to fabric. Wow. Awesome power there, Grim. Just what I always wanted to do. Can’t wait to get started.”

Grim let out an aggravated growl at Nick’s sarcasm. “It pains me so that I can’t kill you.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? Not everyone gets to rankle Death and live. I relish my role in your world.”

Grim mumbled something under his breath that sounded vaguely like a threat. “Silkspeech is the power of influence and control.”

Oh, now that sounded like a power he could really use. Finally, a power worth having. “Influence?”

“The ability to sway other people to believe what you want them to believe or to do what you want them to.”

“Like mind control?”

“Yes and no. Mind control won’t work on those who are really hardheaded. You know. . . . Creatures like you.”

Well, if it only worked some of the time- “Then what good is it?”

“Fine.” Grim headed for the door. “If you don’t want to learn it.”

“Wait, wait, wait. I didn’t say that. I want to influence others.” Especially if it could change his mom’s attitude about dating, driving, chores . . .

Yeah, it had a lot of possibilities. With luck, he might not ever have to take out trash again!

Grim turned around slowly. “Word to the wise, short stack, when you do use this power, you have to be careful. Like all the others, it can sometimes come with a devastating side effect.”

“Like what?”

“It could cause someone to kill themself. Alter their fate. Impact you in ways you won’t know about until it’s too late.”

Oh goodie. Another power he couldn’t count on. Just what he wanted.
At this rate, he wasn’t sure why he was being trained. It was like giving nuts to a squirrel who had no teeth.

Nick let out a heavy sigh. “All these powers and the only one that actually works is the ability to call for help—and that one only so long as Caleb isn’t in the shower or with a woman. Why can’t one. . . just one power work the way it’s supposed to?”

Grim’s expression was wicked and cold. “Technically, they do. The problem is every human is different and they react to stimuli in ways unique to them. That’s what you can’t count on and it’s what makes your powers appear to misfire. Before you use them, you have to take time to know your target.”

Nick frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do. It’s instinctive in you, and it’s why you gravitate toward some people and run from others.” Grim picked up one of the porcelain dolls Nick’s mom collected and studied it as he talked. “Let’s take the term ‘redneck.’ Some people think of it as a badge of honor. Others as the ultimate insult.” He returned the doll to its shelf. “Originally, the word had an entirely different association and meaning. Back in the day, rednecks were union coal men from Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and eastern Kentucky- a far cry from the Deep South where most people mistakenly believe all rednecks live. They were from all races and creeds, and proudly wore a red bandana around their neck as a way of identifying themselves to others, and as a mark of solidarity of the working man standing up against the big corporations who exploited them. In short, they were folk heroes and admired.”

Nick widened his eyes. When Grim and Kyrian talked about history, it was interesting. When his teacher did it, it put him to sleep. “Really?”

Grim nodded. “It took decades before it was twisted into a derogatory term. Happens a lot with language. The word ‘war’ once meant to be cautious, as in ‘warning.’ ‘Precocious’ originally meant ‘stupid.’ But I digress. The point is, Slim, people have triggers. Words or images that cause a surge of negative emotion to run rampant through them. If I were to call your friend Bubba a redneck, he’d laugh and agree. If I were to call your friend Mark that, he’d be extremely offended and probably, to his detriment, try to punch me. Whenever you attempt silkspeech, you have to understand how it might adversely affect your target. If you accidentally hit on that person’s trigger, then you could end up with a violent response instead of a positive one. Or vice versa.”

Nick nodded as he followed Grim’s teaching. It was something he’d been doing for years, especially with jerks and bullies like Stone at school. “So what you’re saying is I have to learn what buttons to push.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s basic psychology, Grim. How’s that supposed to be a power?”

His eyes flashed red, then black. “You’ll be able to do it without saying a word to them. One thought from you and you’ll be able to push those buttons.”

Oh, now that was cool. “So I’ll be like Obi Wan Kenobi with my Jedi mind tricks.” He held his hands up and fanned them around like he was conjuring the Force. “‘These are not the droids you’re looking for.’ ”

Grim let out a long breath in frustration before he glanced up at the ceiling. “It’s like trying to train an ADD cat in a mouse factory.”

“Hey, now. I’m focused.” Especially compared to how he was in a real classroom.

Grim scoffed. “I only have about thirty percent of your attention twenty percent of the time. The rest of your brain is off on gaming strategies, scantily clad women, and all the things you intend to do once you’re grown and out on your own.”

Okay, Death had a point. But what was wrong with that? Nick felt like he had a noose around his neck. Physically and mentally, he was grown, and yet everyone still treated him like a kid. A fact that was really beginning to annoy him. At his age, his mother had been out on her own with a baby. Kyrian had been a veteran Greek soldier, fighting against Roman occupation. And who knew what all Grim had been in to at his age.
For all of his mom’s acting like he was mentally defective and couldn’t tie his own shoes, he’d been taking care of her most of his life. Helping pay bills. Doing chores. Watching out for her. Helping Menyara with her car.
Over the last year, he’d been shot and had battled preternatural enemies from every corner. The only people who didn’t treat him like a five-year-old were Kyrian and Acheron.

And Grim.

If you want respect from others, you have to give it. His mother’s words came back to haunt him. Sobering, he gave a curt nod to Grim. “All right. You have my undivided attention.”

“That’ll last three seconds,” Grim said under his breath. “Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear you’re not the Malachai. It mystifies me that something as worthless as you could have any power whatsoever. You were born white trash and that’s all you’ll ever be.” He raked Nick with a scathing sneer. “You’re nothing.”

Rage darkened Nick’s gaze. Blood rushed through his veins so fast that his entire body heated up to the level of molten lava. “I ain’t nothing, boy. You about to find out just what I can do.”

Grim laughed. “That’s it. I finally do have your attention, and you’ve just learned the first lesson of influence. You use your divination and clairvoyance to strike the nerves of the person you’re trying to manipulate. Even someone with a will as strong as yours can be influenced. Not with your mind, rather with your mouth or actions. I can’t control you, but I can set you off and manipulate you to have the emotional or physical response I want you to. That is one power no one is immune to.”

Nick scowled as he tried to understand all the nuances of Grim’s lesson. “You didn’t mean what you said?”

“Oh, I meant it. But I used your triggers to get the response I wanted. However, what I did wasn’t subtle. It’s the subtle you have to master, and that is what will make you truly dangerous. The best influence is always the one that goes undetected. The one that your target thinks was their idea.”

“It sounds impossible.”

“You would think, but it’s not. People are very simple, and you’ll be amazed at how easy they are to sway, no matter who they are or where they come from.”

And Nick didn’t like how easy it’d been for Grim to rile him. Kyrian, Menyara and his mom were right. He was way too hotheaded for his own good. “Is there any way to detect it when someone is trying to use it on me?”

Grim nodded.

“Then teach me, Great Master. For I don’t want to be nobody’s bitch.”

A dark light shined inside Grim’s spooky eyes. “Aw, Nicky-baby, therein is the problem. Sooner or later, we’re all somebody’s bitch. And there’s a power heading for you right now that is going to test every part of you. One you’re not going to see coming until it pins you to the wall and guts you. Oh happy day for me, eh?”

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Nick grimaced as Stone Blakemore drove his over-developed muscular shoulder into Nick’s in the hallway of his high school. Pain exploded down his arm, making him want to pummel the beast with his two-hundred-pound backpack until Stone begged him for mercy.

"Watch where you’re going, trailer park!” Stone snapped as he shoved at Nick and kept walking toward his locker. Stone’s pack of ubiquitous idiots followed in his wake, laughing about it. Yeah, okay, ’cause running into a guy in the hallway was such a hoot. Oh to have the intellect of a Cro-Mag so that something as innocuous as picking belly lint could be amusing. . . .

Nick turned to answer that insult with one of his own, but that thought fled as Nekoda appeared in front of him from out of the crowd. Dressed in a tight cream sweater and jeans with her brown hair pulled into pigtails, she took his breath away and instantly vaporized all thoughts of Stone.

Forget his powers, hers were much more impressive. She could turn a guy’s brain into mush with nothing more than a single smile. One touch and he was completely helpless before her. Her mere presence could suck out every part of his intelligence and leave him a drooling loser, trailing after her, desperate to do anything she asked of him. . . even carry her shiny pink purse.

“Hi, handsome. Where were you last night?”

Not where he’d wanted to be. That was for sure. He’d have much rather been holding hands with her in a dark movie theater than listening to Grim tell him what an idiot moron he was.

Man, he could stare into Kody’s green eyes forever, especially when she looked at him like she was doing right now. Like he mattered to her. “My mom wouldn’t let me go. Sorry.”

She frowned. “Why?”

Shifting his backpack to the shoulder Stone hadn’t bruised, Nick sighed. “She considers anything I do with you to be dating, which she thinks I’m too young to do.” Then under his breath, he mumbled, “Don’t get me started.”

Her scowl deepened. “I don’t understand. We’ve done plenty of things together. Why would she object to a movie?”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “She doesn’t really know about those other things. I didn’t exactly tell her I was meeting you for them.”

She tsked at him. “Lies of omission are still lies, Nick.”

“I know, Kode. I do.” But telling your mom that you were being pursued by demons out to kill you and that this hot girl in your school was helping to fight them off wasn’t something he wanted to do. Especially not after Ambrose’s dire warning months ago. “Don’t nag at me, okay? I’m over it for the day.”

Her concerned expression went a long way in making him feel better. “Did something attack you this morning?”

Nekoda and Caleb were the only two people in his high school who knew who and what he really was. While Caleb was his demonic bodyguard sent to keep him from dying prematurely, Nick still wasn’t sure what Kody was.

She wouldn’t say and he had yet to guess.

Talk about lies of omission. . . .

But the two of them had bled for him. So until they did something against him, he trusted them implicitly.

“The mother beast sank her fangs into my hide for everything from forgetting to take out the trash last night to not brushing my hair enough this morning.” He didn’t bother mentioning the toilet-seat-was-left-up-again and pick-your-underwear-up-off-the-floor lecture. No need to horrify his girlfriend with anything that personal. “I’m still smarting from it.”

Her smile made his stomach jump. “Gotcha.” She tugged at the lapels of his hideously orange Hawaiian shirt that had oversized bottles of Tobasco sauce all over it. Another thing his mother insisted he wear because she had this mistaken belief it looked respectable and . . . brace yourself . . . “rich.”

“New shirt, huh?”

He growled in response.

Laughing, Kody rose up on her tiptoes to lay a quick kiss on his cheek, in spite of the “no public displays of affection” laws that governed St. Richards. “Consider this a nag-free zone, and you rock the tacky shirt look in a way no one else can. Trust me. Only you could be that hot in something that foul. But you better hurry or you’ll be late for homeroom again.”

The bell rang a heartbeat later.

Nick cursed his luck as he dashed down the hall with Kody leading the way to their classroom. Just inside the door of their drab tan early morning prison cell, Kody pulled up short, causing him to skid to a halt.

Ms. Richardson, the meanest troll this side of the Nether Realm, clucked her shrewish tongue at them. With a sneer on her ugly face, she tapped at the cheap watch on her wrist. “I see you’re both late again. This is what? Your third tardy, Mr. Gautier? You know what that means.”

Oh yeah. After-school detention. And even better, more quality time spent with Richardson. Just the thing he wanted to add to his Christmas list- right after a vicious attack of intestinal misery.

Why couldn’t a demon come for him now and gut him? Suck him into some grisly hellmouth . . . That he’d actually welcome. Heck, after the morning he’d had, he might not even fight it.

Closing his eyes, he summoned his silkspeech powers for a solo try. “But the bell hasn’t rung yet.”

Richardson froze for a full second. Then she blinked. “I’ll see you at three o’clock.”

Crap. It hadn’t worked. Big surprise there. And it offered further proof that Richardson wasn’t human.

Irritated, he took the slip of paper from her hand while she glared at Nekoda.

“And you, Ms. Kennedy. One more and you’ll be joining Mr. Gautier’s after-school detention.”

“It’s pronounced ‘Go-shay,’ ” Nick said, correcting her “Gah-tee-aaa.” He hated whenever people mispronounced his name.

“Of course it is.” Could her tone be any more snide? “How could I forget that backwoods Cajun is a corruption and affront to the beautiful French language.”

And she despised Cajuns with a passion. Something she let everyone know, which begged the question of why the woman lived in New Orleans, home of the Cajuns. One of his ancestors must have run over her cat or something when she was a kid . . . nine hundred years ago by the looks of her.

At least that was probably the last time that thing she wore for a dress was in fashion.

In spite of the fact he knew he’d pay for it later, Nick gave her his most charming grin. “ Quoi d'autre?, cher.” What else, dear? “Laissez les bons temps rouler!” Let the good times roll. The motto of New Orleans and his own personal credo.

He winked at her. Richardson was now fuming at him as he went to his seat behind Caleb, who was rolling his eyes at Nick.

Nick set his heavy backpack down on the floor, and couldn’t resist one last taunt. “ Ain’t no Bouki here, cher. Me and my bele gonna pass a good time at lunch. It don madda to moi. I done brought me a boucanée gator po’ boy and some fraîche beignets for eats. Yum!”

The hideous grimace on her face was something she must have copied from a gargoyle. “That’ll be enough, Mr. Go-chay. Or I’ll add another day to your detention.”

Don’t do it. Sit down and shut up, Caleb said in his head.

But Nick couldn’t stop himself. “Go-shay,” he corrected her pronunciation again.

“What was that?” Richardson asked haughtily. “Oh, I know.” She narrowed her mousy eyes on him through her dark-tinted glasses. “The sound of another detention day added. I’m so glad I’ll have someone to clean my room for me tomorrow afternoon, too.”

Oh, he wanted to shove that smug smile down her throat.

Grinding his teeth, he sat down.

I told you. Didn’t I tell you?

He glared at Caleb.

Kody patted his shoulder before she went to her seat on the opposite side of the room. Stone turned around in his desk to mock Nick with silent laughter.

One day, you crotch-sniffing freak, I’m going to have the powers to send a shock bolt at you and watch as you lose control of your form. Yeah, that would be hilarious. Stone lying naked in the hallway, flashing back and forth from human to wolf form. And with any luck it’d make Richardson have a coronary.

Talk about a twofer . . .

Nick returned Stone’s glare. Though he physically appeared to be fifteen, Stone was a werewolf who, in actuality, was in his late twenties. Since Stone’s people didn’t age the way humans did, they were kept at home a lot longer before being sent to school, which was supposed to teach them how to interact with humans. But even with those extra years of home training, Stone wasn’t any more mature than a human teen.

Wait. What was he saying? Stone functioned on the level of a socially stunted five-year-old.

And Stone, because of his father’s money and the fact that he played on the football, basketball, and baseball teams, thought he was above everyone, and that all should bow down to him. In particular, he and the other animals he ran with had singled out Nick as the omega wolf to be picked on and belittled. In part because Nick, until he’d started working for Kyrian, had been a poor scholarship student. However, lately, Stone’s animosity stemmed from the fact that his on-again off-again girlfriend, Casey Woods, had been making advances at Nick.

But Nick had never been Stone’s willing victim, and it was not in his genetic code to back down from anyone or anything. As a result, their fights were the stuff of legends among the student body and faculty.

As Richardson started calling roll, the door opened to admit two unfamiliar students with their principal, Mr. Head. Taking them to Richardson’s desk, the principal spoke in a low tone to her while the boy and girl swept nervous glances over the room.

“Must be new meat,” Stone whispered loudly to his friend Mason.

Mason nodded. “He don’t look like much, but the girl’s edible.”

“Mason!” Casey snapped as she turned around in her seat to grimace at him. “Stop it! You’re so gross. Both of you.” She paused to pass a hot look at Nick, who did his best to not react to it or let Kody see it.

Too late. He got that what-are-you-doing-Nick glare from Kody right before she shot a girl-I’m-going-to-pull-you-bald-headed-if-you-don’t-leave-my-boy-alone sneer to Casey.

Casey rolled her eyes at Kody before she flounced around in her seat and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

Oooo, not something he’d advise her doing, since he’d seen Nekoda handle a sword. His girl had no qualms about beheading things she saw as a threat.

Too bad Casey didn’t know that.

He still didn’t know what game Casey was playing with him. As the head cheerleader, she’d been Stone’s girl off and on for the last three years. But for the last year, every time Nick turned around, she was in his face, making passes at him.

“Class!” Richardson clapped her hands together to get their attention. “We have two new students. A brother and sister transferring in. Joey and Jill Becker.” She pushed her glasses back up on her crooked nose. “Take your seats, children.”

Joey grabbed the seat up front by Richardson’s desk- poor dude. He’d soon learn. Jill took her time skimming the room before she smiled at Nick and made her way to the empty desk on his left.

Kody turned to give him an arch stare.

Nick held his hands up in surrender. I’m innocent, he sent his thought to her.

The look on her face said she didn’t believe him.

How do I get into these things? More important, how could he get out of them?

He certainly couldn’t help it if his hotness attracted the opposite sex. Yeah, okay, that was a joke. He didn’t know what was in the water lately, but no man wearing his hideously orange shirt, and possessing his teen clumsiness caused by his ever lengthening body could ever seriously attract anything but flies and mosquitoes.

Jill held her hand out to him. “Hi, I’m Jill.”

Feeling the daggers Kody was shooting at him, Nick reluctantly shook her hand. “Nick.” Then he quickly let go.

“You wouldn’t mind showing me to my next class, would you, Nick?”

Help me. . . . Where, oh where art thou, hellmouth? Why have you forsaken me in my hour of desperation? Open quick and I’ll throw myself in.

Caleb turned to face her. “I’ll be happy to show you. I’m Caleb, by the way.”

“Mr. Malphas?” Richardson snapped irritably. “Do you have something to share with the class?”

Caleb grinned at the condescending shrew. “No, Ms. Richardson. I was merely offering to help our new student not get lost or be late to her next class.”

“While that is nice of you, you need to listen for your name.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Gah, that had to irritate Caleb. Thousands of years old, he was more powerful than anyone Nick had ever met, except for Acheron. He had no doubt the demon could fry Richardson in her seat.

And to think, he’d once been jealous of Caleb’s Hollywood-slick good looks, perfect body, great wardrobe, and money. Until he’d learned the truth about him. Now Nick knew there wasn’t enough money in the universe to compensate Caleb for what he’d been through, and for having to put up with Nick’s cranky butt all the time. While the demon wasn’t big on sharing anything about himself or his past, there was no missing the haunted shadows that darkened Caleb’s eyes whenever he thought no one was looking.

It made Nick wonder if his own scars were that visible whenever he let his guard slip.

Not soon enough, the bell rang, liberating them from Richardson’s whiny drone. Thank goodness he didn’t have her for English anymore. Last year had been the longest of his life.

Nick had just slung his backpack over his shoulder when Jill planted herself firmly in front of him. He passed a nervous glance to Caleb, then to Kody, who seemed less than pleased by the attention Jill was giving him.

“My first period is in room 214. Can you help me find it?”

Nick stepped back so that Caleb could slide in.

“I’d be more than thrilled to show you,” Caleb said in his deepest drawl.

Jill frowned. “I’d rather Nick guide me, if you don’t mind.”

The expression on Caleb’s face was priceless. With his fashionably cut, black hair and dark good looks, he wasn’t used to taking second to anyone when it came to a female’s attention.

Kody wrapped her arm around Nick’s and brushed her hand through his dark brown hair. “I’m sure Caleb doesn’t mind in the least. However, I do have a bit of a problem with it. I’m Kody. Nick’s girlfriend. Nice meeting you.” She all but hauled him out of the room.

Because of her tight grip on his arm and his unwillingness to hurt her, Nick was still stumbling in the hallway as they made their way to first period.

“Easy, Kody. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

She loosened her hold. “I know you weren’t. While you are absolutely gorgeous, in spite of what you think, it’s that demon glamour you have that attracts every female you meet.”

Further proof Richardson wasn’t a female.

“The older you get and the more you access your powers, the stronger it becomes. I wish we could find something to turn it off.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t Caleb have it, too?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s a different type of beastie. His kind were bred to fight, not serve.”

“Serve” was a polite term for demon slavery. Something his father had been bound by for thousands of years until he’d either convinced or tricked, or probably both his way out of it. No one was sure how Adarian had broken free since everyone who’d made the mistake of asking him that had been gutted.

As for Caleb, even though he wasn’t a “servant” class demon, he was now enslaved to Nick, but again, Nick had no idea how or why. Caleb wasn’t into sharing any more than his father was.

Nick paused in the hallway next to Kody’s locker so that she could drop off her sweater. “You still haven’t told me how it is you know so much about me and my powers.”

“I know.” She bent down to unlock the door.

Yeah . . . after a year, he should be used to her dodging his questions about her, her powers and her ability to know him so well.

Nick jerked to attention as he saw a shadow run across the wall, then vanish into a crack above the bathroom door. “Did you see that?”

Kody stood up immediately. “What?”

Nick turned his head and used his powers to try and sense whatever had been there. But he didn’t pick up on anything. “Must have been my imagination.”

Spinning her lock, Kody narrowed her eyes. “Last time you said that, we almost got slaughtered by a mortent.”

True, and he still had that tight feeling in his gut that usually signaled some form of demon species was nearby.

His gaze went to a flash of pink approaching them. It was Brynna Addams—one of the first friends Nick had made at St. Richards and an all-around sweetheart.

Smiling, she touched Kody on the arm. “Hey hon, I was wondering if I could borrow you after school? LaShonda and I got drafted to do the decorations for the Fall Out Dance, and I could really use some help.” She turned her pitiful begging look to Nick. “You, too, Gautier. Want to help a sister out?”

“I would love to, but I have to work today. Kyrian has some returns I have to make, and a pickup from Liza’s.”

Brynna pouted before she turned back to Nekoda. “Please, Kody?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

Squealing, Brynna hugged her. “You’re the best!” She dashed off, vanishing into the crowd.

Nick laughed. “Thank goodness she grabbed you. I don’t want to be in the dog house anymore.”

“You’re still not in the clear, buddy.”

Nick sighed. “Story of my life.”

The warning bell sounded.

“You better go,” Kody said. “I don’t want to see you get another detention.”

“You? At this rate, I should just make a bed on the floor of Richardson’s room. Tell me again why she couldn’t have gotten eaten by a zombie?” Nick fell silent as he contemplated a way to facilitate that happening. It wasn’t too late. “I wonder if Madaug has any more copies of that game laying around.”

Kody paled. “Don’t even joke about that. Now go.”

Saluting her, he turned and headed toward his first period, where Caleb was waiting at their computer lab table.

Either Caleb or Kody was with him in every class—something they’d both insisted on. After what had happened last year with the coach who’d sold his soul for victory—literally—the two of them were paranoid something would grab him in the middle of the day if one of them wasn’t nearby.

Nick’s home was considered a safe zone since they’d set up protection symbols and sealed the apartment. However, the school was a public building with hundreds of people in it- including some known preternaturals who were supposed to be there, and who posed no threat to him. There was no way to make it completely safe without banning them, too.

Nick sat down at the same time Caleb shot to his feet. “Something wrong?”

Caleb narrowed his eyes as he made a slow circle around his stool, scanning every corner of the room. “There’s something here. Can you feel it?”

“I thought I saw a shadow in the hallway a few minutes ago.”

As he cursed under his breath, Caleb’s eyes flashed orange.

Nick glanced around to make sure no one else had seen him do that. “Yo, D, the freak eye thing? Dead giveaway, man. Sit down before the wings pop out, and we both end up in a real science lab, under the microscope.”

“Malphas?” their teacher snapped. “You have trouble finding your seat?”

Caleb turned at Mr. Tendyk’s question. “No, sir.” He sat down beside Nick.

The bell rang.

After closing the door and dimming the classroom lights, Tendyk turned on the overhead projector that displayed his desktop for everyone in the class to see. Nick sucked his breath in sharply while the rest of the room erupted into chaos.

Instead of the boring icons they were used to staring at on a vomit green background, Tendyk’s desktop wallpaper was a montage of Brynna Addams naked, doing extremely lewd things.

Tendyk almost broke his computer as he fumbled to turn it off. “Who’s responsible for this?” he demanded angrily.

Utter silence rang out.

Until Stone laughed again. “From the looks of it, I’d say Brynna Addams. Who knew that was hidden underneath all those high buttoned shirts and sweaters?”

Laughing, Mason high-fived him.

Pandemonium returned as everyone had a foul or gross comment to make. Everyone except Nick and Caleb. Nick was too horrified by how Brynna would react once she found out about it. And he was sure some snotwit would beeline right to her with the news. There was nothing to goobs in his school loved more than to be the bearer of really bad news, especially to the person it related to. It was like they enjoyed seeing the misery it caused, firsthand.

He turned to Caleb. “That wasn’t Brynna, was it?”

Caleb shook his head. “That was someone’s idea of a sick joke.”

Speaking of sick, Nick felt ill over it. His stomach heaved in sympathetic agony for her. “Can you tell who?”

He did that weird head cock move as if he were listening to a song only he could hear. “No idea. But it was done for sheer malice.”

“Brynna will die when she finds out.”

“I know.” A tic started in Caleb’s jaw. “Can you feel the hatred behind it?”

“Now that you mention it . . . is that what the icky tickling is down my spine?”

Caleb nodded.

Nick sighed heavily. Well at least he knew what was causing that symptom. “Is it demonic?”

“No. This is human evil. Demon hatred comes with a distinctive odor to it.”

“Yeah, well, this stinks, too.” Nick was repulsed by whoever had done something so vicious to someone so kind. Why would anyone hurt Brynna so? In all the years he’d known her, he’d never heard Brynna say a mean thing about anyone.

Not even him.

“All of you!” Tendyk snapped. “Line up in the hallway and be silent. Stone, I want you to go to the office and tell Mr. Head that I need him down here, pronto.”

Laughing, Stone went to obey.

Nick reached for his backpack.

“Leave it, Gautier,” Tendyk snapped. “No one is to take anything out of here.”

Nick hesitated. His grimoire and pendulum were in his backpack, along with his Malachai dagger. If his bag was searched and they happened upon those. . .

It would get ugly, especially since his grimoire was written in blood. Granted, it was his blood. But adults didn’t seem discriminating when it came to kids bleeding on things during school hours.

I’ve got it covered, Caleb said in his head.

Releasing a relieved breath, Nick headed outside with everyone else.

Caleb crossed his arms over his chest as they lined up against the wall of bright red steel lockers. “You know what the only thing worse than an evil demon is?”

“My mother when she’s really ticked off at me, especially when it’s justified.”

Caleb snorted. “No, Nick. Human cruelty. All the centuries I’ve lived, I’ve never understood it. Instead of banding together, your kind seems ever determined to tear each other down. And for what? Jealousy? I just don’t get it.”

And coming from a demon, that pretty much said it all. “You’re not seriously telling me that demons are never cruel?”

“Some are. But you know who they are, and you see them coming. You can smell them from days away. Humans, on the other hand, are insidious. You don’t see it coming until they’ve stabbed you in the back and through the heart.”

Nick wasn’t sure what he meant by that. “What are you saying, Cay?”

“I can’t tell who did this, but I can tell why they did it. This was meant to shame Brynna and hurt her to the deepest level.”

And as those words left Caleb’s lips, Nick became aware of the conversations around him.

“I told you Brynna was a slut. My mother said her mama was one, too.”

“I always knew her goody-two-shoes persona was an act.”

“Man, I wish I’d known she’d do that. You think she’s busy Saturday night?”

Nick cringed at their ugliness. “It wasn’t Brynna,” he said defensively.

Mason scoffed at him. “You’re an idiot, Gautier.”

“Yeah,” another student concurred, “didn’t you see that in there?”

“With farm animals, too! Oh my God, I’m disturbed.”

“You are? Imagine how that horse felt.”

They all burst out laughing.

Nick started to respond, but Caleb stopped him.

“Let it go.”

That was easier said than done. “Brynna’s my friend.”

Before Caleb could comment, the principal stalked past them and into the room. Nick stood on his tiptoes so that he could see Tendyk show the principal the horrific montage.

His pocket started vibrating. Nick pulled out his Nokia 9000 and flipped it open to see he had a new e-mail. As he tried to access it, his phone blew up with texts about Brynna and the photographs. Apparently, their classroom wasn’t the only one spammed with that filth.

An instant later, a door down the hallway opened. Brynna ran out, sobbing hysterically. Laughter from her classroom rang in the hall and mixed with the laughter of the jerks around him. Laughter that was only drowned out by a few dickweeds making offers to her.

His heart aching, Nick started to go after her and calm her down.

Caleb caught his arm in a tight grip. “I can’t stress enough to you that you need to stay out of this.”

“Why?”

“Use your powers, Nick. Look at what’s about to happen.”

Nick glanced around until he found something shiny enough to use for scrying . . . the silver on the water fountain. It wasn’t very big, but it was enough that he could focus his powers with it.

And there in that small, two-inch strip, he glimpsed the horror that was about to become Brynna’s life over this single act of cruelty.

In that moment, he completely disagreed with Caleb. “She needs a friend.”

“Yes, she does. But right now, the administration is looking for someone to blame for this. You walk in there too soon and this will be hung around your neck. Trust me.”

That would be his luck, too.

Even so, Nick would deny it if not for the fact that Caleb had a lot more life experience to draw from. You didn’t argue colors with Picasso. Car facts with Richard Petty. And you definitely didn’t question human behavior with Caleb.

Standing down, Nick felt that strange sensation again. While Caleb had assured him this was human in origin, he wasn’t so sure.

There was something else here. Something dark. Cold.

Lethal.

And it wasn’t Caleb.