"Welcome to kolasi," Stryker said under his breath, speaking the Atlantean word for hell as he surveyed the leaders of his Daimon army that was ever ready to attack at his command.

For eleven thousand years, he, as the son of the Atlantean Destroyer, had led them.

Handpicked by the Destroyer herself and trained by Stryker, these Daimons were all elite killers. Their own brethren referred to them as Spathi Daimons. A term that had been bastardized by both the Apollites and Dark-Hunters who didn't understand what a true Spathi was.

Instead they applied the term to any Daimon who fought them. But that wasn't right. The true Spathi were something else entirely.

They weren't the children of Apollo. They were Apollo's enemies, just as they were the enemies of the Dark-Hunters and humans. The Spathis had long ago forsaken whatever Greek or Apollite heritage they might have had.

They were the last of the Atlanteans and were proud of it.

Unbeknownst to the Dark-Hunters and humans, there were thousands of them. Thousands. All far older than any pathetic human, Apollite, or Dark-Hunter dared dream. While the weaker Daimons lived in hiding on earth, the Spathis used laminas or bolt-holes to travel from this realm to the human one.

Their homes existed in another dimension. In Kalosis, where the Destroyer herself resided under imprisonment and where the lethal light of Apollo never shone. They were her soldiers.

Her sons and daughters.

Only a very select few of them could summon the laminas on their own-it was a gift the Destroyer didn't bequeath often. As her son, Stryker could come and go at will, but he chose to stay near his mother's side.

As he had for the last eleven thousand years...

All this time, they had planned well for this night. After his father Apollo had cursed them and left Stryker and his children to die horribly, Stryker had embraced his mother willingly.

It was Apollymi who had shown him the way. She who had taught them to take the souls of humans into their bodies so that they could survive even though his father had damned them all to die at twenty-seven.

"You are my chosen ones," she had told him. "Fight with me and the world shall belong to the Atlantean gods once more."

Since that day, they had recruited their army with care. The three dozen generals who lounged around him in the "banquet" hall were the best fighters among them. They all waited for word from their spy as to when the missing heiress would reappear.

She'd been out of their reach all day. But now that the sun had set, she was within reach once more.

Any moment now and they would be free to ran the night and rip her heart out of her.

It was a precious thought Stryker cherished.

The doors to the hall opened and from the darkness outside came Stryker's last surviving son, Urian. Dressed all in black like his father, Urian had long blond hair that he wore in a queue secured by a black leather cord.

His son was more handsome than any other, but then all of their race were beautiful.

Urian's deep blue eyes flashed as he walked with the pride and grace of a lethal predator. When Stryker had first brought his eldest son over, it had been strange to play father to a man who was physically the same age as him, but that aside, they were father and son.

More than that, they were allies.

And Stryker would kill anyone who threatened his child.

"Any word?" he asked his son.

"Not yet. The Were-Hunter said he has lost her scent, but that he will pick her up again."

Stryker nodded. It had been their Were-Hunter spy who had brought the news to them last night of the fight where a group of Daimons had died in the bar.

Normally such a fight would be meaningless to them, but the Were-Hunter had told them that the Daimons had called their victim "the heiress."

Stryker had been searching the earth for her. Five years ago, in Belgium, they had almost killed her, but her bodyguard had sacrificed himself to them and allowed her to escape.

Since then, there had been no sightings of her. No telltale encounters with any of their people. The heiress had proved herself to be every bit as crafty as her mother.

So they had played the game.

Tonight, that game would end. Between the patrols Stryker had out in St. Paul and the Were-Hunter who served him, he was sure she would be found tonight.

He clapped his son on the back. "I want at least twenty of us standing by. There's no way she'll escape us all."

"I'll summon the Illuminati."

Stryker inclined his head in approval. The Illuminati comprised him and his son, as well as thirty others who were the bodyguards of the Destroyer. Each of them had taken a blood oath to his mother to see to it that she would be free of her netherworld so that she could rule the earth once again.

When that day came, they would be the princes of the world. Answerable only to her.

That day was finally upon them.

Wulf didn't know why he was headed for the Inferno tonight, other than he felt a compulsion inside him that wouldn't listen to reason.

He suspected it was from his insane need to feel closer to the woman who haunted his dreams. Even now he could see the beauty of her smile, feel her body welcoming his.

Or better yet, taste her.

Thoughts of her tormented him. They opened up feelings and needs that he had cast aside centuries ago without ever looking back.

Who needed it? Yet there wasn't anything he wanted more than to see her again.

It didn't make sense.

The chances of her being in the same place tonight were next to impossible.

Still, he went. He couldn't help it. It was as if he had no control over himself, but was being driven by some unseen force.

After parking his car, he walked down the quiet street like a silent phantom in the cold frigid night. The winter winds whipped around him, biting his exposed skin.

It had been a night much like this one that had brought him into service for Artemis. He'd been on a quest then too. Only then the nature of the quest had been different.

Or had it?

You're a wandering soul, looking for a peace that doesn't exist. Lost you will be until you find the one inner truth. We can never hide from what we are. The only hope is to embrace it.

To this day, he didn't really understand what it was the old seer had tried to tell him the night he'd sought her out, wanting her to explain to him how Morginne and Loki had swapped their souls.

Perhaps there was no real explanation. After all, it was a freaky world he lived in and it seemed to get stranger by the minute.

Wulf entered the Inferno. Painted black inside and out, it had iridescent flames painted inside and out, as well, that sparkled eerily under the muted, dancing lights of the club.

The club's owner, Dante Pontis, met him at the door where he and two other "men" were taking cover charges and checking IDs. In human form, the Katagari panther was ironically dressed like a "vampire." But then Dante thought such things were funny-hence the name of the club.

Dante wore black leather pants, biker boots that sported red and orange flames, and a black poet's shirt. The panther had left his shirt unlaced and the ruffled collar curled around his neck while the silk laces fell down his chest. His long black leather coat had a nineteenth-century look to it as well, but Wulf knew it to be a copy-one of the advantages to having been alive then was that he well remembered the fashions of that time period.

Dante's long black hair fell freely about his shoulders. "Wulf," he said, flashing a set of fangs Wulf knew weren't real.

The panther only had teeth like that in his true animal form.

Wulf cocked his head at the sight. "What the hell are those?"

Dante smiled wider, displaying his teeth. "Women love them. I'd tell you to get a set, but you already come well equipped."

Wulf laughed at that. "I'm not going there."

"Please don't."

Still, bad double entendres aside, it always felt good to come to the Inferno, even if the Were-Hunters didn't really want him there. It was one of the few places where someone remembered his name. Yeah, okay, so he felt like Sam Malone on Cheers, but there was no Norm or Cliff sitting at the bar here. More like Spike and Switchblade.

The "man" beside Dante leaned over. "Is he a DH?"

Dante's eyes narrowed. He grabbed the man beside him and shoved him toward the other bouncer. "Take the friggin' Arcadian spy out back and deal with him."

The man's face went pale. "What? I'm not Arcadian."

"Bullshit," Dante snarled. "You met Wulf two weeks ago and if you were really Katagaria, you'd remember him. Only a fucking were-panther can't."

Wulf arched a brow at the insult that none of the Katagaria used lightly. The root of the term "were" meant human. To place that term before their animal name was a gross insult to the Katagaria, who prided themselves on the fact that they were animals who could take human form, not the other way around.

The only reason they were tolerant of being called Were-Hunters was the fact that they did in fact hunt and kill the Arcadians, who were humans capable of taking animal form. Not to mention the fact that the male of their species often hunted human females for sexual purposes. Apparently, sex was much more enjoyable to them in human form than in animal, and the males had voracious appetites in that department.

Unfortunately for Wulf, the female Were-Hunters who could remember him never looked outside their species for partners. Unlike the men, the females had sex in hopes of finding mates. The men were simply after the pleasure of it.

"What are you going to do to him?" Wulf asked as Dante's bouncer dragged the Arcadian away.

"What's it to you, Dark-Hunter? I don't screw with your business, you don't screw with mine."

Wulf debated what to do, but then if the other man really was an Arcadian spy, most likely he could handle the situation on his own and wouldn't relish the thought of help, especially from a Dark-Hunter. The Weres were extremely independent and hated for anyone or anything to interfere with them.

So Wulf changed the subject. "Any Daimons in the club?" he asked Dante.

Dante shook his head. "But Corbin's inside. She came in about an hour ago. Said it was slow tonight. Too cold for the Daimons on the street."

Wulf nodded at the mention of the Dark-Huntress who was also assigned to the area. He wouldn't be able to stay long then, not unless Corbin was ready to leave.

Going inside, he went to say hi to her.

There was no band on stage tonight. Instead a DJ played loud, operatic music he vaguely remembered Chris calling Goth Metal.

The club was dark with bright strobe lights flashing. It played havoc with his Dark-Hunter sight, an attempt on Dante's part to keep Dark-Hunter interference at a minimum while they were in the club. Wulf pulled out his sunglasses and put them on to help alleviate some of the pain it caused him.

People danced on the floor, oblivious to everything around them.

"Greetings."

He jumped at the sound of Corbin's voice in his ear. The woman had the power of bending time and teleportation. She lived to surprise people by sneaking up on them.

He turned to see the extremely attractive redhead behind him. Tall, lithe, and deadly, Corbin had been a Greek queen in her human lifetime. She still had that regal bearing and a look of such haughty supremacy that it could make anyone feel like they should wash their hands before they touched her.

She'd died trying to save her country from invasion by some barbarian tribe who were no doubt the forerunners to his own people.

"Hi, Binny," he said, calling her by a nickname she only allowed a chosen few to use.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You okay? You look tired."

"I'm fine."

"I don't know. Maybe I ought to send Sara over to replace Chris for a few days and take care of you."

He covered her hand with his, warmed by her concern.

Sara Addams was her Squire. "That's all I need. A Squire who can't remember she's supposed to serve me."

"Oh, yeah," Corbin said, wrinkling her nose. "I forgot that one drawback."

"Don't worry. It's not Chris. I just haven't been able to sleep well."

"Sorry to hear that."

Wulf noticed several of the Weres were staring at them. "I think we're making them nervous."

She laughed as she looked around the club. "Maybe. But my money says that they sense what I do."

"Which is?"

"Something is going to happen here tonight. It's why I came in. Don't you feel it too?"

"I don't have that power."

"Be grateful then, it's a bitch." Corbin stepped away from him. "But since you're here, I'll step out for a breath of fresh air and leave the club to you. I don't want my powers drained."

"Later, then."

She nodded and in a flash vanished. He only hoped no human had seen her do that.

Wulf walked through the club feeling odd, detached. He didn't know why he was here. It was so stupid.

He might as well leave too.

Turning around, he froze...

Cassandra had felt so weird being in the Inferno tonight. Her mind kept flashing back to the night before. Even Kat was sensing her discomfort.

There were two warring voices in her head. One telling her to leave immediately and one telling her to stay.

She was beginning to fear that she might be schizophrenic or something.

Michelle and Tom came up to them. "Hey, guys, I hate to bang out on you, but Tom and I are going someplace quiet to talk, okay?"

Cassandra smiled at them. "Sure. You two have fun."

As soon as they left, she looked at Kat. "No need in us staying, huh?"

"Are you sure you want to leave?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Cassandra got up from her chair and grabbed her purse. Shrugging on her coat, she wasn't paying attention to anything until she walked into someone who was standing as still as a wall.

"Oh, I'm sor-" Her words broke off as she looked up a good four inches into the face that had haunted her dreams.

It was him!

She biblically knew every inch of that solid, gorgeous male body.

"Wulf?"

Wulf was stunned beyond comprehension as he heard his name on her lips. "You know me?"

A becoming blush stained her face and it was then he knew...

Those hadn't been dreams.

She started away from him.

"Cassandra, wait."

Cassandra froze as she heard her name on his lips.

He knew her name...

Run! It sounded like her mother's voice in her head, but the order was drowned out by the part of her that didn't want to run away from him.

He reached his hand out toward her.

Cassandra couldn't breathe as she stared at it, wanting his touch. His real touch.

Before she could stop herself, she reached out to him.

Just as she was about to touch him, a shimmer over his shoulder caught her eye.

She looked past him to see a strange mirrorlike image appear on the dance floor. Out of its midst stepped a man who was evil incarnate.

Standing at least six feet eight, he was dressed all in black with short ebony hair that framed the face of perfection. He was every bit as handsome as Wulf. And like Wulf, he wore a pair of dark sunglasses. The only color on him was a bright yellow sun with a black dragon in its center that was painted on the front of his motorcycle jacket.

In spite of his black hair, he was a Daimon. She knew it with every Apollite instinct she possessed. What's more, he was followed through the opening by more Daimons. All of whom were blond and dressed in black.

They oozed an unnatural attraction and virility. Most of all, they oozed deadly precision.

They weren't here to feed. They were here to kill.

She stepped back with a gasp.

Wulf turned to look at what had startled Cassandra. He felt his jaw go slack as he watched the Daimons coming through a bolt-hole in the center of the club.

Dante came running from the front in human form that shifted to panther as he ran. Before he could get near them, the Daimon with black hair shot a god-bolt straight at him.

The Katagari hit the ground with a yelp as the electrically charged bolt shifted him from panther to human and back again.

The bar went wild.

"Mind-shield the humans!" the DJ shouted over the intercom, alerting the Katagaria who were present that the humans needed to be gathered and their memories of the night reorganized and/or purged, just as they routinely did anytime something "strange" happened in their club.

Most of all, the humans needed to be protected.

The Daimons fanned out, circling the club and attacking any Katagari who came near them.

Wulf rushed through the crowd to attack.

He caught the Daimon with a blond ponytail and swung him around. The Daimon jumped back out of his reach. "This isn't your fight, Dark-Hunter."

Wulf pulled two of his long daggers out from his boots. "I think it is."

He attacked, but to his amazement, the Daimon moved like lightning. Every move Wulf made to attack was countered and returned.

Holy shit. He'd never in his life seen Daimons move like this.

"What are you?" Wulf asked.

The blond Daimon laughed. "We're Spathis, Dark-Hunter. We are the only thing that is truly deadly in the dark of night. While you..." He raked a repugnant look over Wulf's body. "You're just a pretender."

The Daimon caught him by the neck and threw him to the ground. Wulf hit the deck hard. His breath left his body with a vicious woof as his knives flew out of his grasp.

The Daimon jumped on top of him, slugging him as if he were a helpless babe.

Wulf knocked him off, but it was hard. There were fights all over the room as the Were-Hunters engaged the Daimons.

Worried about Cassandra, he looked to see her hiding with a blond woman in a far corner.

He had to get her out of here.

The Daimon he was fighting looked to where Wulf had glanced. "Father," he called out. "The heiress." He pointed straight at Cassandra.

Wulf took advantage of the distraction to kick the Daimon back.

As one cohesive unit, the Spathis disengaged their opponents and jumped from their locations to where Cassandra and the blond woman were hiding.

They literally dropped out of the sky and landed in formation.

Wulf ran for them, but before he could reach the women, the blonde with Cassandra came out of her crouch.

The Daimon leader froze instantly.

The blonde held her arms straight out as if to bar the Daimons from Cassandra. Suddenly, a wind of unknown origin whipped through the club.

The Daimons froze.

Another shimmery doorway opened on the dance floor.

"It's the laminas," the Daimon who had been fighting Wulf said, sneering. He turned toward the blond woman and glared.

Their faces angry, the Spathis disengaged the formation and walked one by one back through it.

Except for the leader.

His gaze unwavering, he glared at the blond woman. "This isn't over," he snarled.

She didn't move or flinch. It was as if the woman were made of stone. Or comatose.

The Daimon leader turned around, and walked slowly through the portal. It vanished the instant he was through it.

"Kat?" Cassandra asked as she rose to her feet.

The blond woman staggered back. "Oh, God, I thought I was dead," Kat breathed, her body trembling. "Did you see them?"

Cassandra nodded as Wulf joined them.

"What were they?" Kat asked.

"Spathi Daimons," Cassandra breathed. She stared in disbelief at her companion. "What did you do to them?"

"Nothing," Kat said, her face innocent. "I just stood here. You saw me. Why did they leave?"

Wulf looked at Kat suspiciously. There was no reason for them to leave. They had been winning the fight.

For the first time in his life, he had actually felt a momentary doubt in his ability to defeat them.

Corbin came up to them. "Did you get any of them?"

Wulf shook his head, wondering when Corbin had returned. He hadn't even noticed the drain on his powers but then, given the way the Spathis were kicking his ass, it was no wonder.

Corbin rubbed her shoulder as if she'd been injured in the fighting. "Neither did I."

The impact of that statement wasn't lost on either of them.

The two of them turned to Cassandra.

"They were after you?" Wulf asked.

Cassandra looked extremely uncomfortable.

"You see to Dante and his crew," Wulf told Corbin. "I'll handle this one."

Corbin headed off while Wulf turned back to the women. "How can you remember me?"

But then the answer was so obvious that he already knew. "You're Apollite, aren't you?" She damn sure wasn't a Were-Hunter. They had an unmistakable aura to them.

Cassandra dropped her gaze to the floor as she whispered, "Half."

He cursed. It figured. "So you're the Apollite heiress they have to kill to lift their curse?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you've been fucking with my dreams? You thought I'd protect you?"

Offended, she raked him with a furious glare. "I haven't been doing anything to you, bud. You're the one who's been coming to me."

Oh, that was a good one. "Yeah, right. Well, it didn't work. My job is to kill your kind, not protect you. You're on your own, princess."

He turned and stalked away.

Cassandra was torn between the desire to slap him and to cry.

Instead, she went after him and pulled him to a stop. "Just for the record, I don't need you or anyone else to protect me, and the last thing I would do is ask the Satan of my people to help me. You're nothing but a killer and not a bit better than the Daimons you hunt. At least they still have their souls."

His face hardening, Wulf jerked his arm free of her grasp and left.

Cassandra wanted to scream at the way this had turned out. And it was then she realized some part of herself had actually started to like him. He'd been so tender in her dreams.

Kind.

So much for her thoughts of asking him about her people. He wasn't the same man she'd dreamed about. He was horrible in the flesh. Horrible!

She looked about the club where tables were overturned and the Katagaria were trying to clean up the mess.

What a nightmare all of this had turned into.

"C'mon," Kat said. "Let's get you home before those Daimons come back."

Yes, she wanted to go home. She wanted to forget this night had ever occurred and if Wulf came to her tonight...

Well, if he thought the Spathis were tough on him, he hadn't seen tough.

Stryker left his men in the hall and went to see Apollymi. He alone of the Spathis was allowed in her presence.

Her temple was the grandest building in all of Kalosis. The black marble glistened even in the dim light of their netherworld. Inside, the temple was guarded by a pair of vicious ceredons-creatures with the head of a dog, the body of a dragon, and the tail of a scorpion. The two of them snarled at him, but stayed back. They had learned long ago that Stryker was one of four beings the Destroyer allowed to come near her.

He found his mother in her sitting room with two of her Charonte demons flanking her couch. Xedrix, her own personal guard, was to her right. His skin was navy blue in color, his eyes vibrant yellow. Black horns stood out from his equally blue hair and his wings were a deep blood red. He stood unmoving with one hand near the Destroyer's shoulder.

The other demon was of a lesser order, but for some reason his mother favored Sabina. She had long, green hair that complemented her yellow skin. Her eyes were the same color as her hair and her horns and wings an odd deep shade of orange.

The demons watched him closely, but neither moved nor spoke while his mother sat as if lost in thought.

Her windows were open, looking out onto a garden where only black flowers grew, in memory of his dead brother. The Destroyer's other son had perished untold centuries ago and to this day she mourned his death.

Just as she rejoiced in Stryker's continued life.

Her long white-blond hair fell around her in waves of perfection. Even though she was older than time, Apollymi had the face of a beautiful young woman in her mid-twenties. Her black gauzy gown blended into the black of her couch, making it hard to see where one ended and the other began.

She was motionless as she stared outside, holding a black satin pillow in her lap. "They are trying to liberate me."

He paused at her words. "Who?"

"Those stupid Greeks. They think I will side with them in gratitude." She laughed bitterly.

Stryker smiled wryly at the very thought. His mother hated the Greek pantheon zealously. "Will they succeed?"

"No. The Elekti will stop them. As he always does." She turned her head to look at him. Her pale, pale eyes had no color. Ice glittered on her eyelashes and her translucent skin was iridescent, giving her a delicate, fragile appearance. But there was nothing fragile about the Destroyer.

She was as her name declared, destruction. She had consigned every member of her family to the death realm from where they would never return.

Her power was absolute and it was only through betrayal that she had ended up imprisoned here in Kalosis, where she could see the human world, but not participate in it. Stryker and his fellow Daimons could use the bolt-holes to come and go out of this realm, but she could not.

Not until the seal of Atlantis was broken, and Stryker had no idea how to do it. Apollymi had never disclosed that to him.

"Why did you not kill the heiress?" she asked.

"The Abadonna opened the portal."

Again his mother was so still as to not appear real. After several seconds, she laughed. The sound was soft and gentle, ringing through the air like music.

"Good one, Artemis," she said out loud. "You're learning. But it won't save you or that scabby brother you protect." She pushed herself up from her couch, put the pillow down, and walked over to Stryker. "Were you hurt, m'gios?"

He always felt a rush of warmth whenever she referred to him as her son. "No."

Xedrix moved to whisper into the Destroyer's ear.

"No," she said out loud. "The Abadonna is not to be touched. She has torn loyalties and I will not take advantage of her kind nature, unlike some goddesses I can name. She is innocent in this and I will not have her punished for it."

The Destroyer drummed two fingers on her chin. "The question is, what is that bitch Artemis planning?"

She closed her eyes. "Katra," she breathed, calling out to the Abadonna.

After a few seconds, Apollymi let out a disgusted noise. "She refuses to answer... Fine," she said in a voice Stryker knew could transcend this realm and be heard by Katra. "Protect Artemis and Apollo's heiress if you must. But know you can't stop me. No one can."

She turned back to Stryker. "We will have to separate Katra from the heiress."

"How? If the Abadonna continues to open the portal, we are powerless. You know we must step through it whenever it opens."

The Destroyer laughed again. "Life is a chess game, Strykerius, haven't you learned that yet? Whenever you move to protect the pawns, you leave your queen open to attack."

"Meaning?"

"The Abadonna can't be everywhere at once. If you can't get to the heiress, then attack something else the Abadonna cares for."

He smiled at that. "I was so hoping you would say that."