After a minute, Gillian opened her eyes.
"Feel better?" he asked.
She appeared surprised. "Yeah. I do."
"How's your arm?"
She looked at it, knitting her brow. "It doesn't hurt anymore and the bleeding's stopped."
"Good."
Gillian narrowed her eyes. "Who are you really?"
"I'm called the Huntsman. It's my destiny to kill Cadamus or be killed." His gaze didn't waver from hers. "And if Charlie's right, it's your destiny to help me."
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Do you, like, have special powers or something?" Gillian asked.
"No." Nick chuckled. "I'm a regular guy. Not faster than a speeding bullet, and I can't leap tall buildings with a single bound."
"You did a pretty impressive job with the female creature. I couldn't move, couldn't even breath, and you tossed it around like a beach ball." "Adrenaline rush. I was highly motivated:" "Seriously."
"Seriously, I've had some training." "What kind?"
"Martial arts, mostly. Street fighting. Kick boxing." He didn't elaborate on the other training he'd received or the skills passed down to him from Charlie, the only other living Huntsman.
"That's it?"
"You sound disappointed."
"Well, Cadamus can fly. Smell you from far away. Connect psychically with his prey. And he's got the strength of five men."
"I'm smarter."
"Okay, but ..."
"No buts about it. His biggest weakness is his limited brain capacity. He can't think his way out of a paper sack."
"You're exaggerating."
"Only a little. Cadamus has three drives, and they rule his every waking moment. Survive, procreate, and kill me. In that order."
"He won't kill you."
Her fingers squeezed his, and when Nick turned toward her, he was met with a small, yet resolute, smile.
The city spread out before them, a glittering, shimmering landscape of multicolored lights. To their right loomed the distinctive silhouette of CamelbackMountain. Straight ahead, downtown Phoenix with its myriad skyscrapers clustered together like bean stalks reaching for the night sky.
At another time, Nick would have taken advantage of the romantic moment, leaned over, and kissed Gillian.
Squeezing her fingers in return, he let the moment pass, promising himself if they were ever in a similar situation, he'd taste her lips over and over again.
"No, he won't kill me," Nick reiterated, returning his gaze to the incredible view. "I come from a very long line of Huntsmen. We're as old as the creatures and just as enduring. After the final battle, I'll spend the next twenty-five years training my successor, whoever that may be."
"Are you saying that in all the millennia the creatures have been on Earth, the thousands of cycles, no Huntsman has ever died?"
"I'm not saying that at all. The final battle is to the death."
Nick stared at the horizon. He saw not the city but the still, lifeless body of Jonathan, his predecessor, a man he'd known only a few days. The same man who'd rescued Nick from Radium's grasp moments before the alpha male would have killed him.
"I'll defeat Cadamus," Nick said. "I have to. He and his kind can't be allowed to multiply." Nick sat back, lifted their clasped hands to his mouth, and kissed the underside of Gillian's wrist. It was the only liberty he'd allow himself to take. "But you have to understand, I may not walk away."
"What are you saying?"
"My predecessor died from his wounds within hours of his battle with Radlum."
Gillian paled.
"Charlie trained me. He was Jonathan's teacher and mentor."
"Charlie's a Huntsman, too?"
Nick nodded. "He's dedicated his entire life to saving mankind."
"I should have guessed." Gillian didn't speak for several moments. When she did, it was to voice Nick's greatest fear. "Charlie's old. If you should di ... don't win the battle with Cadamus, who will train the next Huntsman?"
"No one. Which is why I can't lose."
"Oh, Nick," Gillian said on a sob. "I've been so stupid. All this week I was in a snit because I felt you and Charlie were underutilizing me."
"Underutilizing you?"
"Yes. You and Charlie wouldn't give me any work more challenging than tracking down lost-pet notices. But here you are, fighting these alien creatures ... okay, alien-like creatures," she said when he opened his mouth to object, "and trying to save lives, your own included. Could I be any more selfish?"
"It's no big deal." He stifled a laugh.
"I'm sorry." Tears filled her eyes.
Nick resisted the impulse to wipe them away. Barely. She was pretty damn cute all tore up with misery. "What happened in the garage?" he asked, changing the subject before she started blubbering. "Why'd you go down-there when Charlie told you to wait in front of the building?"
She looked chagrined. "My nose was out of joint about the underutilizing thing, and I thought I could help with the investigation."
"I see." He'd be amused if he didn't feel responsible for the female creature's attack on her.
"Why do you think the female attacked me? Are they territorial?"
"Not especially. I suppose she could have considered you an intruder or ..."
"Or what?" Gillian pressed.
"Or the females have adapted and become more aggressive."
Her eyes widened. "I really hope you're wrong."
"Me too. But if I'm not, we'll need to change the focus of our efforts in locating the remaining two."
"Explain something to me," she said.
"I'lI try."
"What happened to the female? Granted, I was a bit foggy, but I swear I saw it dissolve into all these particles and just disappear."
"Divine intervention."
"What?" Gillian's eyes lit as if waiting for the punch line. When none came, her expression faltered. "You're kidding."
"We call them the Ancients but they're known by other names in other cultures."
"The Ancients?" she repeated with a trace of skepticism.
"Most religions, from the very old to the very new, include good and evil counterparts. God and Satan, for example. The Ancients are the oldest form of good and evil. They're constantly at war, vying for control of man, and have been since the beginning of time. You need only examine history to see their influence. Hell, just look at what's happening today. Gangs, drugs, organized crime, terrorists."
"You can't blame the world's problems on an ageold war between divine entities."
"No?"
"I'm a psychologist, remember? People are good and evil. They choose and are responsible for the consequences."
"Whether good and evil resides inside us or outside us, the end result is the same. Terrible things are always occurring and probably always will."
"I won't disagree," she said, clearly not convinced. "But I'm not sure what this debate on man's goodness, or lack of it, has to do with the creatures."
"The war among the Ancients, their good and evil factions, is fought in different ways and on different planes. Here in Phoenix, the conflict takes place every twenty-five years between a winged creature of darkness and a mortal warrior."
"So ... what? Cadamus is the champion for evil, and you're the champion for good?"
"In a nutshell."
"And this final battle, it's symbolic of the war between good and evil?"
"Not symbolic at all. The battle is very real and to the death." Another image of Jonathan's dead body appeared to Nick. "Many Huntsmen have died from injuries sustained during the final battle."
"The Ancients don't protect the Huntsmen?"
"There are casualties in every war."
She appeared to digest, if not accept, what he was telling her.
"Until the last few hundred years," he gestured to encompass the city, "this was an empty desert for hundreds of miles in any direction. As Phoenix has grown, become populated, the battle, its participants and strategies, have chan
ged."
"These Ancients, they're what caused the female creature to dissolve and disappear?"
"Yes. There's never any evidence left behind for mankind to ponder over."
"What about the bodies of the victims? Aren't those considered evidence?"
"Dead humans can be explained. Dead creatures can't."
"Why hide the existence of the creatures? What purpose would it serve?"
"To level the playing field. The battle is fought by the alpha male and the Huntsman alone."
"Why alone?" She raised one eyebrow.
"There's a natural balance of power between good and evil. Any interference will disrupt that balance and result in chaos."
"Forgive me for saying so," she said with a hint of humor, "but you sound a little melodramatic. I'm half expecting ominous music to swell in the background."
"This isn't a joke," he said sharply.
"Okay, okay. But you're asking me to accept an awful lot on faith."
"Not faith. You have proof."
"The existence of the creatures," she said. "Yes. And yourself."
"Me?"
Nick touched her throat. "When you were concentrating on your injuries earlier, I sent a prayer to the Ancients,, asked for their help. Afterwards, you said you felt better."
"I'm supposed to believe the Ancients are responsible for my spontaneous recovery?"
He gave her an arch look. "How else would you explain it?"
"Mind over matter. The power of suggestion. Wishful thinking."
"Okay."
"You're mad because I'm not automatically buying into everything you've said."
"I'm not mad. You don't believe in the Ancients, and that's your prerogative." The lines around his mouth tightened. "But you know the creatures exist. You witnessed Radium kill your mother, and were attacked by a female. How do you think people will react if they find out the creatures are real and not an urban legend?"
"Outraged. Scared."
"Which will lead to ... ?"
"The creatures will be hunted down and destroyed by whatever means possible."
"That can't happen. If Cadamus is killed by someone other than me, life as we know it will end."
"You can't convince me that the destruction of the creatures is wrong."
"It's not wrong. We just have to go about it the right way."
"A battle between you and Cadamus?"
"Yes. Conventional weapons might kill him, but only the ritual dagger will send him to hell."
"That's the knife you used to slay the female?" "It's been passed down from Huntsman to Huntsman for generations."
She thought for a moment. "Is there any way to permanently end the creatures' existence?"
"We can if we find and destroy all three females be fore Cadamus has a chance to mate with them." "How hard can that be? I stumbled on the first one pretty much by accident."
"It was no accident."
"What then? Divine intervention again?" "Charlie would say so." "Don't go all mystical on me, Nick."
She might have been teasing him, but he noticed she hadn't let go of his hand. It was possible she believed more than she let on.
"Like in any war," he said, "each side has its advantages and disadvantages. Good may have dominated thus far, but it hasn't conquered evil. Not by a long shot. Evil simply retreats for a while, regroups, and returns to fight another day."
"What's my part in all of this?" she asked. "My destiny?"
Nick resigned himself to the inevitable. Though he'd been slow to admit it, deep down he'd known Gillian was an integral part of what was happening and had been from the beginning. A player in an ageold drama having a brand-new run.
For her sake, he hoped her participation would have a better outcome than her father's.
"Each Huntsman has a helper," he said. "Sometimes two. A person not his predecessor or successor. They're called Synsars."
"Synsars?" she repeated, her tongue tripping over the pronunciation.
"It's a very old word."
"Sounds Egyptian or Middle Eastern."
"Much older than that. The literal translation is `loyal servant,' but Synsars mean much more than that. The relationship between a Huntsman and his Synsar is a strong one, deep and abiding and lasting a lifetime. A Synsar's role differs with each Huntsman, but it's always vital and directly contributes to the eventual outcome."
"Am I your Synsar?"
"That's what Charlie thinks."
"What do you think?"
He stared straight at her. "Until tonight, I disagreed with him."
"What changed your mind?" Her voice had gone low and breathy and a tiny bit scared.
"The female creature's attack on you." With his free hand, he reached over and lightly brushed her neck, just above the bruises. "And these marks."
She didn't flinch. If anything, she angled her chin to give him greater access. "I don't understand."
Nick unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and tugged the material aside. Gillian let out a small gasp. He felt heartened that she didn't cringe like some women who viewed his gnarled and disfigured flesh.
"Jesus, Nick!"
"Radium attacked me. I was nine years old."
"You escaped?"
"I was saved. By Jonathan, my predecessor. Charlie's successor."
"The one who died," Gillian said.
Nick took a moment to rein in his emotions. Even after twenty-five years, talking about that night was hard for him. "Each cycle, a child is chosen to become the next Huntsman."
"By the Ancients?"
"Yes."
"How do they choose?"
"I'm not sure what dictates their decision. I do know the child is always an orphan whose family has been slaughtered by the alpha male."
"That's a rather gruesome selection process."
"We both carry scars from our attacks," Nick said. "Emotional and physical." Her eyes sought his and a flicker of awareness passed between them. "And now we can add an attack by the creature to the list."
"Is that why you think I'm your Synsar?"
"The creatures don't leave many survivors."
Nick kept the most compelling reason to himself. It wasn't his place to tell her about their longeststanding tie. That privilege belonged to her father.
"This must have hurt like the dickens." She turned the tables on him by reaching out and touching his exposed chest.
Nick closed his eyes and concentrated as she explored the ugly bumps, dents, and ridges left when Radium had ripped out chunks of his flesh. He wanted nothing, not even the sound of his own thundering heart, to distract him from the enjoyment of her caress.
She didn't hurry, her strokes alternating between curious and bold. When her fingertips dipped lower to run through his chest hair, his concentration slipped and with it his ability to restrain his desire. She need only to divert her attention to his lap to see just how much he wanted her.
"You must be tired." He sat up, ignoring the excruciating discomfort caused by the change in position. "I should get you home."
She withdrew her hand, but slowly. Nick clenched his jaw. He hadn't wanted her to stop either, but another minute of her sweet torture and he'd explode.
"What's next?" she asked, absently smoothing the front of her jeans. "Now that we've eliminated one of the females?"
"A more concentrated effort. I'm off work for two weeks starting Monday. Everyone at the station thinks I'm going on a fishing trip to a remote spot in Mexico."
Gillian brightened. "I'm finished with classes on Friday. I'll be able to spend every day with you. And Charlie, too," she added.
"Great." Nick forced a grin, unable to think of anything else he wanted more than to spend every day with Gillian.
Of course, he wanted to spend every night with her, too. And not hunting creatures.
Nick pulled up to the curb in front of Gillian's condo and came to a stop.
"Aren't you coming in?" she asked.
Her innocent questio
n triggered a burst of anticipation in him that was anything but innocent.
Down boy.
"I don't think so," he said. "You look beat."
"I could use the company, if you're up to it."
She had no idea.
Nick hadn't been alone with Gillian since the night in his kitchen when Charlie walked in on them-and with good reason. He couldn't be trusted to keep his hands off her. Snug inside the privacy of four walls, the temptation to see where things led would be impossible to resist.
"Um..."
"Please."
He was no match for the pleading blue eyes she turned on him. "Just for a few minutes. I need my beauty sleep."
"Parking's around back," she instructed.
Five minutes later they were riding the elevator to her unit on the tenth floor.
Juggling three different keys, she opened one lock and two dead bolts. "Ignore the mess. My housekeeping's not up to par with yours."
On the other side of the door, she deactivated a beeping security alarm system by entering a code on a wall-mounted key pad.
"City living." She shrugged in way of apology and made a beeline for the kitchen. "Would you like anything to drink? Wine, coffee? Sorry, but I don't have a cappuccino machine."
"Water's fine. Don't trouble yourself."
"I'll just be a second. Make yourself comfortable."
Since a briefcase and stack of textbooks occupied the overstuffed chair in the corner, Nick chose the end of the couch nearest the door. The room, while far from spotless, wasn't the mess she'd hinted at. Tastefully decorated in a classically modern style complementing its academic owner, the condo was small, yet cozy and comfortable.
"Read a lot?" he called to her, craning his neck to glimpse a title or two among the hundreds off books shoved into a pair of side-by-side, floor-to-ceiling bookcases.
"When I have time." He heard the grind of an automatic ice dispenser and a refrigerator door open and close. "Most of my books here are for research."
"Into the creatures?"
"No." The echo of her laughter carried into the living room. "Psychology. I store my research material on the creatures in the spare bedroom. There's some interesting stuff in there you might want to look at sometime."
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