Born of Night by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  She rolled her eyes. "By whom? His boyfriend?"

  He scoffed. "Cruel isn't stupid enough to hook up with someone who'd beat him and if anyone ever made that mistake, he'd hand their heart to them. You know . . . Nykyrian style."

  She cringed at his cruelty in reminding her of what Nykyrian had done. "Then what happened to him?"

  He flipped a switch, then banked. "You know anything about the Caronese?"

  "Not much."

  "Yeah, well, they're a strange race. Their male children aren't considered adults until they're thirty. Four more years for Darling. In the meantime, he falls under the guardianship of his uncle, who can't stand the fact that Darling isn't interested in women. Anytime he catches Darling associating with men, Darling gets a visit from his fists."

  She winced at that. "Why does he tolerate it?"

  "His uncle happens to be their Grand Counsel. Darling causes any trouble or pisses him off and he can have him put in jail or a mental facility, which he's done in the past, or have him executed. If he tries to leave, Arturo has him dragged back in chains. Believe me, we've tried to extract him from there many times. It always backfires on Darling."

  Kiara sighed. Syn had been right. She couldn't fathom their backgrounds. The brutality and horror.

  Her mother had died trying to keep her safe and her father wouldn't hesitate to do the same. The worst thing her parents had ever done was yell at her. "What about his mother? Can't she do something?"

  "On Caron, women have no authority and are considered perpetual children. While she loves Darling, there's nothing she can do, and so long as she stays out of it, Darling's younger sister and brother are left alone. If she interferes, it goes worse on Darling. Not to mention, she then becomes the one abused. So Darling has told her to do nothing and let the beatings fall as they may. As he said, better him than his frail mother."

  She ground her teeth at the injustice of that. "So he pays the price for all of them?"

  "Yep. The world sucks, doesn't it?"

  But that knowledge made her even more curious about Darling's friendship with them. "If his uncle is so controlling, how is it he works for The Sentella?"

  "His uncle doesn't know that. The man's a bit thick. He thinks he's hired Kip to guard Darling and that we're keeping him out of trouble."

  "But if he's hired private investigators--"

  "They report what they find, and if there's one thing we're all good at, it's manipulating things. No one knows what goes on inside The Sentella."

  "You mean falsifying documents?"

  "You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to."

  "Aren't you afraid I'll report this?"

  "You have to live first, and even if you do, you have to find the real files to prove the existing ones are false. Trust me, you won't."

  She stared at the back of his head. "What about Nemesis?"

  "What about him?"

  "How does he figure into all of this?"

  "Do you really think I'm going to answer that?"

  No, she didn't. So she switched to something she might have more luck with. "Where are you taking me?"

  "Kip's house."

  Kiara couldn't have been more shocked had Syn turned around and shot her. "I'm surprised he'd allow me near it."

  "Me, too." Syn shifted in the seat.

  She frowned in confusion. "Then why are you taking me there?"

  "Because he told me to."

  "You always do what he tells you to?"

  "Absolutely."

  With that simple statement of loyalty, she remained quiet and watched the stars zoom past outside as she thought about everything she'd seen and learned today.

  It wasn't even noon yet and she felt battered and weary. How could so much happen in such a short period of time?

  And how much worse would it get? She was almost afraid to ask that question even in her head for fear of the powers that be dumping more down on her.

  But in spite of it all, she found herself relaxing a bit as she tried to come to terms with the two polar extremes of the men around her.

  Fierce protectors and vicious killers.

  How could they be both?

  It didn't take long to reach Nykyrian's planet. Kiara stared at the swirling orange and yellow mists. It seemed so peaceful and isolated. An untouched piece of heaven.

  Syn landed outside a floating house that was almost as large as her entire housing building. He docked in the bay and pressed a button.

  "We have to wait for the bay to pressurize and a breathable atmosphere to mix."

  She didn't say anything as she glanced about the bay where another fighter was parked. The engine to it was in pieces around it. From the condition of the fighter and the way everything was laid out, she figured it must be a long-term project of Nykyrian's and it made her wonder if he'd restored the fighter he flew, too.

  The bay itself was large enough to accommodate six ships and, aside from that organized mess where he was working on the other ship, everything was sparkling clean and unbelievably orderly.

  After a couple of minutes, Syn lifted the hatch and helped her down.

  As soon as he reached the door and gave a palm scan, he held her back. "Careful." He opened the door.

  Expecting a booby trap or alarm, she was stunned as they were bombarded by a huge lorina. The animal jumped up on her, licking her cheek with its large, rough tongue. Three more danced around them.

  "I hate these things." Syn pushed them away from him. "They think they're lap pets. Down, Ilyse." He extricated himself from the smallest one. "Down!"

  Kiara smiled, petting the one licking her arm. "Are there just the four?"

  "Yeah. Believe me, four's plenty. Come on in and make yourself at home. There's no telling when Kip'll return."

  Syn walked through the house, switching on lights with a hand control. "This is the kitchen," he said, showing her the huge, gleaming white area to the right of the door. It was a chef's dream, with an industrial steel stove, huge cooling unit, and a full array of gourmet pots and pans hanging from hooks in the ceiling. His knives were lined in perfect symmetry along the wall on a magnetic strip.

  Syn moved toward the shining black staircase. "Kip's room is up those stairs." He held up his remote to show the controls to her. "Everything in the house is wired to this. You can lighten the ceiling to see the sky, and the same for the upstairs wall where Nykyrian sleeps." He held down a button and, sure enough, the ceiling became transparent to let her see the bright stars twinkling in the heavens.

  How absolutely beautiful.

  Syn led her through the main room that was flanked by a media room on one side and an exercise room on the other. A study and computer rooms were in the back, along with two bathrooms, two more bedrooms, a massive library, a weapons room, and a tribal court. Everything was pristine and top of the line. No expense had been spared in building or maintaining the house.

  "This is an impressive place," she breathed, awed by the heated marble floors and gold-leaf trim. "I didn't realize he had so much money."

  Syn shrugged. "Murder's a profitable business."

  Kiara stiffened at his obvious dig at her. "Why are you being so cruel?"

  "Honestly? Because I believed your bullshit lies when you spewed them and I don't often make that mistake. I should have listened to myself and known that in the end, you're just like every other sanctimonious ass out there who dares to call us callous and unfeeling."

  She felt struck by his unwarranted condemnation. "I never lied to you."

  "Of course you did--you said you could see the real us--that we weren't as bad as we claimed. But you didn't and, just like everyone else, so long as we risk our lives to protect and save you, we're okay. But the moment we have to make a choice not ours, the moment you see what our pasts have made us, you're horrified by the truth and hate us for it like we had some kind of choice in what we are."

  "Everyone has a choice."

  He scoffed coldly. "No, princess, they don't. Choi
ces aren't always up to us. Life and circumstances can shred even the stoutest soul. No matter how pure and untainted you think you are, I promise you that you, too, can be shoved into the darkness just like we were."

  She didn't buy his excuses. Everyone had control of what they did. It was the one principal her father had raised her on. All choices were those of the people who made them and the least they could do was be men enough to accept responsibility for the monsters they'd become. "Nykyrian left The League. He could stop killing any time he wanted to."

  "And had he done that, princess, you'd be dead right now and so would I." His eyes blazed with indignant fury as he took a step toward her. "Believe me, baby, no one ran harder or faster from their past than I did. And in one moment, one fucking whore brought it all home and laid it back at my feet. Even though I'd clawed my way out of the gutter, turned my back on everyone and everything I'd ever known and become respectable. Even though I'd buried my past so deep that I thought I was untouchable. It didn't matter. I was still shit to the world and the moment the woman I'd sold my soul to saw me for what I was, she ruined me and left me with nothing except the drunken bitterness you see now. You want to know why I drink? It's because I can't escape my past and I hate what I am. What I was forced to endure just to survive."

  He raked a scathing glare over her body. "I hate this fucking life and, most of all, I hate people like you who can't see past the surface. You judge us on one deed alone without seeing all the other things we are. Damn you for that, Kiara Zamir. Had I known you were just like everyone else, I would have left you chained in Chenz's ship." Curling his lip in repugnance, he turned and headed back down the hallway. "Do whatever you want. But stay away from me."

  Those words struck her like blows. Kiara wanted to chase him down and apologize, but he was too angry at her for that. Besides, she'd done nothing wrong. Anyone would have been horrified at the way Nykyrian mowed down those men.

  And since she didn't know what Syn was capable of--if he was worse than Nykyrian--she decided it would be best to give him room.

  So, instead, she went into the library to see if Nykyrian had something she could read. Turning the light up, she was stunned by the number of languages represented on the black shelves that lined all four walls from floor to ceiling. She dragged her finger down the leather spines until she reached the trophy cabinet.

  Her jaw went slack. There were trophies for sharpshooting, flying, and archery, knife throwing, language translations, and commendations for his service to The League. But the one most stunning was his commission certificate.

  To the youngest being to ever reach the rank of Command Assassin.

  The words leapt out at her. But more than the words was the fact that it, along with all the other awards, had no name listed on the certificate. They were all given to Hybrid Andarion.

  Hybrid Andarion . . .

  Not even that cold piece of paper recognized the fact that Nykyrian was human . . .

  Hybrid Andarion was also listed on his certificate of completion for The League's prestigious Pontari Academy. A sad smile curved her lips as she saw a notation that he'd graduated with honors and at the top of his class.

  But it made her heart ache to know that no one had thought enough of Nykyrian to give him a name.

  Wincing at that harsh reality, she turned and left the library. In the hallway, she paused outside the clear door that showed his weapons room. She'd never seen a more comprehensive collection. A testament to his brutal trade.

  She clenched her teeth and moved up the hallway toward the media room.

  Syn was in the office on the computer.

  Deciding to avoid him, she ducked into the media room and closed the door. Maybe she'd be able to find something to occupy her mind and allow her to forget the nightmare of this day.

  Completely windowless, the room was painted dark brown, trimmed in black. Black speakers lined the walls, but there were no pictures anywhere--in fact Nykyrian had nothing on any of his walls. What a strange thing, given how much art Syn collected.

  A long, dark brown couch was set before the huge screen. The media case and player were to the right.

  With a heavy sigh, she walked to the cabinet, opened the glass door, and flipped through Nykyrian's vid collection.

  A half smile curved her lips as she realized several discs were of her past performances. He hadn't been lying when he said he was a fan. For some reason that made no sense, a small thrill went through her.

  And since she couldn't stand to see herself perform, because all she could do was find fault with everything she did, she pushed them aside to see what else he had.

  Most were action or horror movies and true crime programs she couldn't stand to watch.

  But under those . . .

  It was a box labeled private. Opening it up, her heart stopped. The overhead light made the discs sparkle in a bright rainbow of colors. Her conscience told her to put them back, that she had no right to pry into his past, but she was too compelled to see what they contained. Her private discs were recitals and birthday parties. What were his?

  Tucking her conscience away, Kiara inserted her handful into the machine. She picked up the control and switched on the viewer. She plopped down on the sofa to see just what his horrible secrets were.

  The first vid was in a sterile hospital room. She wasn't sure who or what was lying on the bed with padded restraints around wrists and ankles. She couldn't even tell the gender or age of the patient. The patient had a leather mask fastened around the face, obscuring everything except the eyes. The patient's head was bald and a doctor was making notes on a ledger while the tense patient watched her with wary eyes.

  The doctor went to touch the patient's leg. A shriek of rage was followed by the patient trying to move the leg away from her grasp.

  "It's all right, boy. I'm not going to hurt you."

  He screamed and fought like a wild animal, regardless of her assurances.

  "Why don't you sedate him?"

  The doctor turned as Huwin Quiakides entered the room. Tall and slender, he was younger than Kiara had remembered him. His handsome face was marked with a cold, calculating look.

  "I tried earlier and he had some . . . interesting side effects."

  Horror filled her as she realized this was Nykyrian as a child.

  The commander moved forward to look down at the leather mask. "I thought you were going to remove that."

  "We tried."

  "But?"

  "He's worn it for so long that parts of it have fused with his skin. It's literally grown into his face." She moved closer to show the commander. "As you can see, part of his skin around it is also infected. Removing it will require minor surgery and right now, we can't figure out a way to put him under with normal anesthesia."

  Kiara felt sick as she realized now what the scars on Nykyrian's face had come from.

  "Then cut it off while he's conscious."

  Kiara's stomach jerked in response to the heartless order.

  "Yes, sir." The doctor made a note.

  Huwin moved to touch Nykyrian's face.

  Nykyrian thrashed about, trying to get away or to attack. It was hard to tell. But there was no denying his ferocious anger.

  Huwin smiled. "Look at him. Like some wild animal trying to tear me apart. I couldn't ask for a better specimen."

  Kiara gasped at the sick pride in the commander's voice. It was a child he spoke about, not some specimen.

  The doctor swallowed. "Commander, I'm not sure about your plans where he's concerned."

  He turned on her with a scowl so severe, she took a step back. "What do you mean?"

  "He's really . . ." The doctor paused as if trying to find the correct word. "Damaged."

  "And you will repair him."

  The doctor looked skeptical. "Sir, I don't think you realize the extent of what's been done to him. He's had multiple compound fractures over a period of years and none of them were ever set. His right arm alone wi
ll have to be rebroken in eight places and reset. It might never work right again."

  The doctor lifted Nykyrian's fingers even while he struggled against her. "They've crudely torn his nails out. I assume the nails must have been Andarion hence the removal, but for an Andarion taking the nails is like amputating a limb. His fingers are completely deformed now. And I can't even begin to count how many times his hands have been broken. It looks like someone stomped on them repeatedly. As you can see from his movements, he can't even make a fist."

  While Kiara was ill from the disclosure, the commander appeared completely unaffected. "All of that can be fixed. Is there anything else?"

  "Just the severe malnutrition, dehydration, and starvation."

  Just? Kiara shook her head at the woman's blase tone.

  Huwin handed the doctor a small collar. "Make sure you put this on him as soon as you can."

  "What is this?"

  "It's a training collar we use on League soldiers. It'll make it so that we won't have to restrain him." He handed over a small silver box. "And I want him tagged as soon as possible, too--just in case he tries to run."

  The doctor bowed. "Yes, sir." Then she left him alone with Nykyrian.

  Huwin picked up the ledger from the bedside table. He smirked at the notes. "Parents unknown. Age unknown. Name unknown. Hmmm . . . I wonder if you know any of that?"

  Nykyrian didn't answer. He merely stared at him with raw hatred.

  The commander smiled cruelly. "You, hybrid, are going to be the greatest legacy I can give to The League. When I finish with you, you will be unrivaled in skill and savagery." He reached for Nykyrian's mask.

  Nykyrian bucked and fought.

  The commander laughed. "Just look at you. You're already halfway there."

  Cringing and unable to take it, Kiara clicked to the next disc.

  It showed Nykyrian in his mid-teens, at school. He sat alone outside under a tree, reading from an electronic reader. There were other kids all around him, socializing and laughing. Dressed in plain black clothes and with this white hair cropped short, Nykyrian looked beautiful except for the left side of his face, which was discolored from healing bruises. The scars on his face from the leather mask were a bit more prominent then than they were now.

  A boy was shoved down not far from him.

  "C'mon you little nadico, give us your credits." Kiara flinched at the harsh condemnation of the boy's manhood.