All the forces of good and light had aligned themselves against Cyprian’s demonic army. The primal sources of evil and night-shadow were ready and more than willing to finally take them all to their graves.
“Remember,” Cyprian’s mother had whispered in his ear as she prepared herself for war, “your father isn’t as strong as he appears. Your mere presence here weakens him with every breath you draw while it strengthens you so that you can defeat him. Not to mention, half his army still thinks that he’s betrayed them. It will take nothing for them to turn against him now.”
Because they had no idea that Cyprian had been born. Or that he and his mother had been playing havoc with all of their lives by masquerading as his father. He’d been having quite the time playing Ambrose at all their expenses. None of the poor fools had been the wiser.
Not even his father.
Unable to tell the two of them apart, the sheep had followed after him and done his bidding. They’d been duped without knowing. He made fools of them all, and he’d laughed at them the entire time.
Because they didn’t know better.
For all his powers, the Ambrose Malachai wasn’t impervious to everything. He had a great blind spot whenever it came to those he trusted and called friend and family. And Cyprian’s mother was an ancient goddess of supreme power and vengeance. She’d promised Cyprian long ago that this day of reckoning would come.
And here they were.
Here they were …
Facing off so that he could rise to power and his father could die by his hand and exact revenge for her.
That was the way of the Malachai curse. The father perished whenever the son came of age and killed his father to take his place.
Only one Malachai could live at a time.
Today Ambrose would die and Cyprian would rise.
Embrace your fate.
And Cyprian had gleefully seized it that day on the field when he’d killed Ambrose.
Now he was in the past to make sure that day in the future came.
One way or another. And there was nothing Nicholas Gautier could do to stop him.
CHAPTER 1
This was a stupid idea. But then stupid ideas were Nick Gautier’s specialty. In fact, when God had been giving them out, Nick had gone back not only for seconds, but thirds and fourths. Probably fifths, too.
Just ask anyone.
They’d all agree.
Especially his mother and friends. And none more so than his girlfriend, who was currently staring at him as if he’d lost his last three remaining brain cells.
He probably had.
Not that they’d ever worked particularly well whenever Kody was around. What with her tight jeans that hugged a very nice posterior, and those soft shirts she fancied that drained every last bit of blood from his teenaged Cajun mind and left it quite unable to function at full capacity. So even if he’d been a NASA rocket scientist, he’d have been rendered a blubbering idiot around her anyway.
He took comfort with that knowledge. Little bit though it was.
“Oh, Nick! You can’t be serious.” Nekoda Kennedy crossed her arms over her ample chest and blinked those gorgeous green eyes at him as if to say—Son, you’re a flaming moron.
Yeah, of course he was. And dang it anyway. How could she be so attractive while calling his meager intelligence into question?
Yet there was no getting around it.
He loved her. Every inch of that tanned, delectable caramel skin that tempted him a lot more than he ever wanted to admit. Every bit of those cupid’s bow lips he could spend the rest of his life kissing. Provided his mama didn’t catch him, that was. No boy needed a lecture that stern.
Not to mention all her soft, curly brown hair he always wanted to bury his face in …
No doubt about it. He would always be a fool where his Kody was concerned.
And he was willing to die to keep her safe. Whatever it took. Running into burning buildings. Dodging traffic and irate Madre phone calls. Even facing ticked off demons, and the Apocalypse, with nothing more than his meager wits as weapons.
“I’ve got to do this, cher. It’s a moral imperative.”
“It’s a grand stupidity!”
He touched her chin and grinned roguishly. “Nah! It’s a matter of honor.”
Rolling her eyes, she let out a long-suffering sigh that probably had to do with the fact that she’d been hanging with him all afternoon without a break— he couldn’t blame her there as a lot of people made that exasperated sound around him whenever they spent this much time in his presence. Especially his maternal unit and his ancient Greek boss, Kyrian Hunter.
And no one more so than the Dark-Hunter Acheron, and Nick’s demon bodyguard, Caleb. They both swore he could test the patience of Job and Ghandi.
Kody growled at him. “Fine. Go on and do it, you stubborn Cajun beast. Not like anyone can ever talk you out of anything so stupid once you’ve set your mind to it, anyway. But when you get a bellyache, I don’t want to hear it. So don’t come crying to me for Pepto Bismol later. I don’t care how cute and sexy you are. I will not allow you to wear me down for any sympathy this time. Not over something you know better than to do. You can just suffer in silence. Alone.” She stepped aside, clearing the way for him. “If you really think you can out-eat a Charonte demon … go for it.”
Nick tsked as he stepped around her to slide into the empty folding chair, and inclined his head to Simi who was already waiting with a dozen plates of beignets for each of them. “Oh, I’m ready. You ready, Ms. Simi?”
Decked out in her black leather corset and purple ruffled skirt, the Goth demon grinned. “I’s born ready, half-demon boy! The Simi done gots her barbecue sauce dugged out and is rearing to go. Less do this!”
Nick adjusted a plate and a glass of milk. “A’ight! And dang be he who first cries halt! Enough! I plan to eat till I snap the button off my jeans and make it a deadly weapon!” He popped his knuckles in preparation.
Off to the side of their table, Kody continued to growl at both of them. It was quite the impressive noise.
“What’s going on?” Caleb asked as he came up to stand behind Kody on the sidewalk that looked out toward Jackson Square from the Café Du Monde where Nick sat with Simi, who’d already jumped the gun and started chowing down.
Kody gestured at them. “They’re actually having an eat-off. Can you believe this?”
Caleb laughed. “He’s an idiot if he thinks for one yoctosecond he can compete against a Charonte.”
“Don’t I know?”
“And yet you’re dating him? Good job, woman. Way to raise those expectations. Yesterday, or in your case, years in the future, you were a demigod warrior, saving mankind from the demonic hoard out to annihilate them. From that to baby Malachai sitter. You didn’t just fall off your high-and-mighty pedestal, Highness, you hit the ground and splintered to pieces, like Humpty Dumpty.”
“Yeah … thanks.”
Caleb held his hands up. “Hey, I don’t judge. I fell just as far. Besides, I found a woman willing to actually marry my cantankerous demonic hide. After that, I will question no one’s intelligence for the man in their life. Ever. My Lil really got the short end of it all.”
Nick swallowed his beignet whole before he glared at his demon bodyguard, who was also supposed to be his best friend. At least that was what Caleb claimed and how the theory went. Though on days like this, he definitely wondered.
At well over six feet, Caleb Malphas had hair as dark as Simi’s and skin the same color of caramel as Kody’s.
Yet the one thing that irritated Nick about his running-mate—aside from Caleb’s rather caustic and biting barbs he never kept to himself and that were usually directed at Nick—were those Hollywood good looks that always left Nick feeling extremely inadequate. ’Course that was just a front. While Caleb might appear tall, dark, handsome and composed, his natural state of being was as an orange-fleshed, fanged demon.
Yeah, he was a total freak when he didn’t have his human disguise up.
“Don’t you have something better to do like raze a village? Haunt a house? Torment the damned? And I don’t mean me. This is New Orleans, you know? There’s a lot more condemned folks here than just my little Cajun hide. Look around. I’m sure you can find a lot more worthy target for your venom. Surely?”