Daybreak was coming.
Damn. He should have ridden his Mach Z in. It was sleeker and faster than the MX Z Rev that he was on now, but not nearly as much fun.
Zarek was cold, hungry, and tired, and in a weird way all he wanted to do was get back to things that were familiar.
If the other Squires wanted to hunt him down, so be it. At least this way he was forewarned.
And as the helicopter and shed had shown, forearmed.
If they wanted to take him on, then he wished them luck. They were going to need it and a whole lot of reinforcements.
Looking forward to the challenge, he flew his snowmachine over the frozen terrain.
It was just before sunrise when he reached his isolated cabin. More snow had fallen while he was away, blocking his door. He pulled the snowmachine into the small shed that was attached to his cabin and covered it with a tarp. As he started to plug in his warmer for the engine, he realized there was no power in the outlet for either the MX or the Mach that was parked beside it.
He snarled in anger. Damn. No doubt the block for the Mach had been cracked from the subzero temperatures, and if he wasn't careful the MX's engine would crack, too.
Zarek rushed outside to check his generators before the sun rose over the hills, only to find both of them frozen solid and not working.
He snarled again as he struck one with his fist.
Well, so much for comfort. Looked like it was going to be him and the small wood-burning stove today. Not the best source of heat, but it was the best he was going to get.
"Great, just great," he muttered. It wasn't the first time he'd been forced to endure a cold sleep on his cabin floor. No doubt it wouldn't be the last.
It just seemed worse this morning because he'd spent the last week in New Orleans's mild climate. It had been so warm while he was there that he hadn't even needed to use the heat at all.
Man, how he missed that place.
Knowing his time before sunrise was growing critically short, he trudged back to his snowmachine and packed its engine with his parka to help keep as much of the heat around it as he could. Then he retrieved his duffel bag from the seat and went to dig his door out so that he could get inside his cabin.
He ducked as he came through the door and kept his head bent down. The ceiling was low, so low that if he stood up straight the top of his head would brush it, and if he wasn't paying attention, his ceiling fan in the center of the room would decapitate him.
But the low ceiling was necessary. Heat in the heart of winter was a valuable commodity and the last thing anyone wanted was the bulk of it gathered under a ten-foot ceiling. A lower ceiling meant a warmer place.
Not to mention that nine hundred years ago when he'd been banished here, he hadn't had very long to build his shelter. Sleeping in a cave during daylight, he'd worked on the cabin at night until he had finally constructed Home Crappy Home.
Yes, it was good to be back…
Zarek dropped his duffel bag beside the wood-burning stove. Then he turned and placed the old-fashioned wooden bolt into its cradle over the door to bar it from the Alaskan wildlife that sometimes ventured too close to his cabin.
Feeling his way along the carved wall with his hand, he found the lantern that hung there and the small box of lucifer matches that was attached to it. Even though his Dark-Hunter eyesight was designed for nighttime, he couldn't see in complete darkness. With the door closed, his cabin was sealed so tightly that no light whatsoever could permeate its thick wooden walls.
Lighting the lantern, he shivered from the cold as he turned around to face the interior of his home. He knew every inch of the place intimately. Every bookshelf that lined the walls, every hand-carved, ornamental notch that decorated it.
He'd never had much in the way of furniture. Two tall cupboards; one for his handful of clothes and one for his food. There was also a stand for his television and his bookshelves, and that was pretty much it. As a former Roman slave, Zarek wasn't used to much.
It was so cold inside that he could see his breath even through the scarf and as he looked around the small space he grimaced at his computer and television—both of which would have to be defrosted before he could use them again.
Provided no moisture had gotten into them.
Unwilling to worry about that, he made his way to his food pantry in the back where he kept nothing but canned goods. He'd learned a long time ago that if the bears and wolves smelled food, they would quickly pay him an unwanted visit. He had no desire to kill them just because they were hungry and stupid.
Zarek grabbed a can of pork and beans and his can opener and sat down on the floor. Mike had refused to feed him during their thirteen-hour trip from New Orleans to Fairbanks. Mike had claimed that he didn't want to chance exposing Zarek to sunlight to feed him.
In reality, the Squire was a jerk, and starvation was nothing new to Zarek.
"Ah, great," he muttered as he opened the can to find the beans frozen solid inside. He considered pulling out his ice pick, then changed his mind. He wasn't so hungry that a pork and beans popsicle appealed to him.
He sighed in disgust, then opened the door and tossed the can as far into the woods as he could.
Slamming the door shut before he let the dawn light in, Zarek rooted through his duffel bag until he found his cell phone, MP3 player, and laptop. He tucked the phone and player down into his pants so that his body heat would keep them from freezing. Then he set his laptop aside until he could get the wood-burning stove lighted.
He went to the corner across from the stove and grabbed a handful of the carved wooden figurines he had piled there and moved to place them inside the stove.
As soon as he swung open the small iron door, he paused.
There was a tiny mink inside with three newborn kits. The mother, angry at being disturbed, hissed a warning to him as they stared at each other.
Zarek hissed back at her.
"Man, I don't believe this," Zarek mumbled angrily.
The mink must have come down the stovepipe and moved in while he'd been gone. It had probably still been warm when she found it and the stove was an extremely safe place for her den.
"The least you could have done was bring about fifty of your friends with you. I could use a new coat."
She bared her teeth.
Aggravated, Zarek closed the door and returned the kindling to the pile in the corner. He was a dick, but not even he would toss them out. Being immortal, he would survive the cold. The mother and young wouldn't.
He picked up his laptop and zipped it inside his coat to keep it warm and went over to the far corner where his pallet was. As he lay down, he thought about going to sleep underground where it was warmer, but then, why bother?
He'd have to move the stove to reach his hidden basement and that would just upset the mother mink again.
This time of year daylight was short. It would only be a few more hours until sunset, and he was more than used to this frozen wasteland.
As soon as he could, he would go to town for supplies and a new generator. Pulling the quilts and furs over him, he expelled a long, tired breath.
Zarek closed his eyes and let his mind wander over the events of the past week.
"Thank you, Zarek."
He ground his teeth as he recalled Sunshine Runningwolf's face. Her large dark brown eyes were incredibly seductive and she was a far cry from the skinny model types most men favored; she had a lush, round body that had made him hard just to be around her.
Man, he should have taken a bite of her neck when he'd had the chance. He still wasn't sure why he hadn't tasted her blood. No doubt it would have kept him warm even now.
Oh, well. Chalk it up to another regret he had on an infinite list of them.
His thoughts returned to her…
Sunshine had shown up unexpectedly at his New Orleans town house while he had been waiting for Nick to take him to the landing site to leave.
Her black hair had b
een braided and her brown eyes had held a friendship in them that he'd never seen before when someone looked at him.
"I can't stay for long. I don't want Talon to wake up and find me gone, but before you left I had to thank you for what you did for us."
He still didn't know why he'd helped her and Talon. Why he had defied Dionysus and fought against the god while the god had sought to destroy the two of them.
For their happiness, he had consigned himself to death.
But as he had looked at her yesterday, it had seemed somehow worth it.
And as he allowed sleep to overtake him, he wondered if he would still think it was worth it when the Squires found his cabin and burned it to the ground with him inside.
He snorted at the thought. What the hell? At least he'd be warm for a few minutes before he died.
Zarek wasn't sure how long he'd slept. By the time he awoke, it was dark again.
Hopefully, he hadn't slept so long that his snowmachine would have had a chance to freeze. If he had, it would be a long, cold hike into town.
He rolled over and grimaced in pain. He'd been lying on his laptop. Not to mention the phone and MP3 player that were biting into something even more uncomfortable.
Shivering against the frigid cold, he forced himself up and grabbed another parka from his wardrobe. Once he was dressed for the weather, he went outside to his makeshift garage. He put the laptop, phone, and MP3 player into his backpack and slung it over his shoulders, then straddled the snowmachine and unwrapped the engine.
Luckily it started on the first try. Hallelujah! Maybe his luck was turning after all. No one had toasted him while he slept and he actually had enough gas to make it into Fairbanks where he could get some hot food and thaw out for a few minutes.
Grateful for small favors, he headed across his land and turned south for the long, bumpy trip that would take him into civilization.
Not that he minded. He was just too damned grateful there actually was civilization now to head into.
Zarek arrived in town shortly after six.
He parked his snowmachine at Sharon Parker's house, which was walking distance from the town's center. He'd met the ex-waitress about ten years ago when he'd found her inside her broken-down car late at night on the side of a seldom-traveled back road in North Pole.
It'd been close to sixty below and she had been crying, huddled under blankets, afraid that she and her baby would die before help arrived. Her seven-month-old daughter had been sick with asthma and Sharon had been trying to get her to the hospital for a breathing treatment, but they had refused her admittance since she didn't have any insurance and no money to pay.
She had been given directions to a charity clinic and had gotten lost while trying to find it.
Zarek had taken them back to the hospital and paid for the baby's care. While they waited, he'd found out Sharon was being evicted from her apartment and couldn't make ends meet.
So he had offered Sharon a bargain. In exchange for a house, car, and money, she provided him with someone friendly to speak to whenever he came into Fairbanks, and a few home-cooked leftovers or meals—whatever she had lying around.
Best of all, in the summertime when he was completely locked inside his cabin during the twenty-three and a half hours of daylight, she would swing by the post office or store and bring him books and supplies and leave them outside his door.
It had been the best deal he'd ever made.
She'd never asked him anything personal, not even why he didn't leave his cabin in the summer months. No doubt she was just too grateful to have his financial support to care about his eccentric ways.
In return, Zarek had never taken any of her blood or asked her anything personal. They were just employer and employee.
"Zarek?"
He looked up from plugging in his block warmer on the snowmachine to see her sticking her head out of the front door of her ranch-style house. Her dark brown hair was shorter than it had been a month ago when he'd last seen her—she had a blunt cut that swung around her shoulders.
Tall, thin, and extremely attractive, she was dressed in a black sweater and jeans. Most any other guy would have probably made a move on her by now, and one night about four years ago, she had insinuated that if he ever wanted something more intimate from her she would gladly give it, but Zarek had refused.
He didn't like people getting too close to him, and women had a nasty tendency of viewing sex as meaningful.
He didn't. Sex was sex. It was basic and animalistic. Something the body needed like it needed food. But a guy didn't have to promise a steak he was going to date it before he ate it.
So why did women need a testament of affection before they opened their legs?
He didn't get it.
And he would never become involved with Sharon. Sex with her was one complication he didn't need.
"Zarek, is that you?"
He lowered the scarf over his face and shouted back. "Yeah, it's me."
"Are you coming in?"
"I'll be back in a minute. I have to go buy a few things."
She nodded, then went back inside and shut the door.
Zarek made his way to the store down the street from her house. Frank's General Store had some of everything in it. Best of all, it had a wide variety of electronics and generators. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to use the shop much longer. He'd been a fairly regular customer for about fifteen years now, and though Frank was a bit dense, he had started noticing the fact that Zarek hadn't aged in all that time.
Sooner or later, Sharon would notice it too and he would have to give up his only contact in the mortal world.
That was the big drawback of immortality. He didn't dare hang around anyone for long or they'd find out who and what he was. And unlike the other Dark-Hunters, every time he had requested a Squire to serve him and protect his identity, the Council had denied it.
It seemed his reputation was such that no one wanted the duty of helping him.
Fine. He'd never needed anyone anyway.
Zarek entered the store and took a minute to pull his goggles and gloves off and unbutton his coat. He heard Frank in the back talking to one of his clerks.
"Now listen up, kid. He's kind of a strange man, but you better be nice to him, you hear me? He spends a ton of money in this store and I don't care how scary he looks, you be nice."
The two of them came out from the back. Frank stopped dead in his tracks to stare at him.
Zarek stared back. Frank was used to seeing him with a goatee or beard, his sword-and-crossbones earring, and the silver claws he wore on his left hand. Three things Acheron had ordered him to abandon in New Orleans.
He knew what he looked like beardless and he hated it. But at least he didn't have to look at himself in a mirror. Dark-Hunters could only cast a reflection when they wanted to.
Zarek had never wanted to.
The elderly man smiled a smile that was more habitual than friendly and ambled toward him. Even though the people of Fairbanks were exceedingly friendly, most of them still tended to cut a wide berth around Zarek.
He had that effect on people.
"What can I get for you today?" Frank asked.
Zarek glanced at the teenager, who was watching him curiously. "I need a new generator."
Frank sucked in his breath between his teeth and Zarek waited for what he knew was coming. "There might be a bit of a problem there."
Frank always said that. No matter what Zarek needed, it was going to be a problem to get it, hence he would have to pay top dollar for it.
Frank scratched the gray whiskers on his bearded face. "I've only got the one left and it's supposed to be delivered to the Wallabys tomorrow."
Yeah, right.
Zarek was too tired to play Frank's haggling game tonight. At this point, he was willing to pay anything to get the electricity back on in his house. "If you'll let me have it, there's an extra six grand in it for you."
Frank scowled
and continued to scratch his beard. "Well now, there's another problem. Wallaby be wanting it real bad."
"Ten grand, Frank, and another two if you can get it over to Sharon's house within the hour."
Frank beamed. "Tony, you heard the man, get his generator loaded up." The old man's eyes were light and almost friendly. "You be needing anything else?"
Zarek shook his head and left.
He made his way back toward Sharon's and did his best to ignore the biting winds.
He knocked on her door before he shouldered it open and entered. Oddly enough, the living room was empty. This time of night, Sharon's daughter Trixie was usually running around, playing and screaming like a demon or doing homework under extreme protest. He didn't even hear her in the back rooms.
For a second, he thought maybe the Squires had found him, but that was ridiculous. No one knew about Sharon. Zarek wasn't exactly on speaking terms with the Squires' Council or other Dark-Hunters.
"Hey, Sharon?" he called. "Everything okay?"
She walked slowly down the hall from the direction of the kitchen. "You're back."
A bad feeling settled over him. Something wasn't right. He could sense it. She seemed nervous.
"Yeah. Is something up? I didn't crash a date or anything, did I?"
And then he heard it. It was the sound of a man breathing, of heavy footsteps leaving the kitchen.
The man came down the hall with a slow, methodical walk—like a predator taking its time getting the lay of the landscape while it patiently watched its prey.
Zarek frowned as the man stopped in the hallway behind Sharon. Standing only about an inch shorter than Zarek, he had long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and he wore a Western-style outback duster. There was a deadly quick aura around the man and as soon as their eyes met, Zarek knew he'd been betrayed.
This was another Dark-Hunter.
And there was only one out of the thousands of Dark-Hunters who knew about Sharon and him…
Zarek cursed his own stupidity.
The Dark-Hunter inclined his head toward him. "Z," he drawled in a thick Southern accent Zarek knew only too well. "Me and you need to talk."
Zarek couldn't breathe as he stared at Sharon and Sundown together. Sundown was the only person he had ever opened himself up to in his entire two thousand plus years of living.
DANCE WITH THE DEVIL Page 3