Disclaimer: This is a Fanfic, therefore most characters belong to their respective owners (not me). Sherrilyn Kenyon owns the DH's and all that goes along with that. The song "Papercut" is by Linkin Park ©2000. The Pretender characters belong to so many people, I'd rather not list it here…takes up more space that I could use for my story. So nyah :P

Synopsis: Two years ago Jarod was introduced to the world of Dark-Hunters. He's changed drastically from the ever innocent genius we've always loved. But is he something evil or something wicked? (BTW, that lil catch phrase belongs to Sherrilyn too)

Papercut

Why does it feel like night today?
Something in here's not right today
Why am I so uptight today?
Paranoia's all I got left
I don't know what stressed me first
Or how the pressure was fed but
I know just what it feels like
To have a voice in the back of my head
It's like a face that I hold inside
A face that awakes when I close my eyes
A face watches every time I lie
A face that laughs every time I fall
[And watches everything]
So I know that when it's time to sink or swim
That the face inside is hearing me
Right underneath my skin
It's like I'm paranoid lookin' over my back
It's like a whirlwind inside of my head
It's like I can't stop what I'm hearing within
It's like the face inside is right beneath my skin
I know I've got a face in me
Points out all the mistakes to me
You've got a face on the inside too and
Your paranoia's probably worse
I don't know what set me off first but I know what I can't stand
Everybody acts like the fact of the matter is
I can't add up to what you can
But everybody has a face that they hold inside
A face that awakes when they close their eyes
A face watches every time they lie
A face that laughs every time they fall
[And watches everything]
So you know that when it's time to sink or swim
That the face inside is watching you too
Right inside your skin
The sun goes down
I feel the light betray me

*******

Jarod growled as a Daimon grabbed his arm, whirling him around, and ripping a hole in his brand new leather jacket. This was turning out to be a bad night for hunting. He quickly dusted the inkblot by grabbing a knife from inside of his now-ripped-brand-new-custom-made-just-for-him leather jacket, and stabbing the bastard in the chest.

Having their leader disintegrate before their eyes, the rest of the pack of Daimons fled quickly, making Jarod wish he'd brought his throwing stars with him. There were only three Daimons left however, so their little group was broken up for the night since Daimons oddly enough only hunted in packs of four or six.

Bending his head over, Jarod inspected the damage done and cursed mildly under his breath. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford to buy a new one. Thanks to Artemis and her unusual method of payment, Jarod was a very rich man. He chuckled, remembering how last time, the Goddess had sent his "paycheck" right into his toilet. It'd been hell to clean all those jewels and gold pieces up, but after he'd calmed down he had howled with laughter. After aeons, you'd think the Gods would have heard about direct deposit.

Jarod headed back to his motorcycle. After two years as a Dark-Hunter, he'd begun to get bored with the monotonous routine he'd acquired. In the beginning there'd been a definite adrenaline rush every night as he went out to save the world. But now, it was the same old, same old. His mind needed a challenge. He was dissatisfied with sleeping during the daytime and hunting or prowling the night.

He couldn't imagine doing this for another year, let alone eleven thousand like ole T-Rex. Talon had shared that particular nickname with him and Jarod had truly begun to like it when he noticed how much is irritated the ever calm Ash. There was something to be said about causing a flush of irritation across the man's cheeks. It certainly made life a little more interesting, but even annoying Ash didn't hold that much appeal for Jarod anymore.

He sighed in frustration. It was pretty pathetic when being an immortal for only two years started to get on your nerves.

What Jarod needed was something to divert his attention from the lonely nights he spent on-line at the website with his Dark-Hunter brethren and sisters. How much he missed Parker and his late night calls that always infuriated her. Parker had always been a formidable opponent, but even that simple pleasure was denied him.

No one must know of our existence, Jarod. No human must ever know what we are or what we do night after night.

Since Jarod was supposed to be dead, he couldn't call Parker up anymore and irritate her or even send her on another wild goose chase. If he did, she'd probably pass out, and as appealing a thought that was, he was bound by his Dark-Hunter oath.

He climbed onto his bike and started it up, dawn was approaching in a few hours, and unless he decided he wanted to end up extra crispy Jarod, he'd better call it a night and head home.

He took off at a roar, and only his heightened senses allowed him to see the tall leggy, brunette walking down the street. Was that…? No, Jarod decided, it couldn't be Parker. What were the chances she'd come to New Orleans now, after all this time? But never having been able to resist his insatiable curiosity, Jarod parked his bike a block from where he'd originally parked it for the night and started off down the street after his own Goddess of the Hunt, his own Parker. Hoping against hope, all the while knowing it couldn't be.

********

Parker was pissed and in a very foul mood. She'd been in New Orleans a whole damn week and nothing so far. Where the hell could Frankenstein be? She thought angrily. She'd personally checked out every news story about some hapless, pathetic victim needing an angel of justice, but nadda. As in nadda damn sighting of the Pretender.

Besides, if she had to spend anymore time with Lyle, she'd personally castrate him and send his balls back to "daddy" she thought with a sneer. If she had thought Lyle strange before, it was nothing compared to now. How was it possible the same people who'd created her had in the same womb, spawned him for god's sake? She'd watched him carve a "Y" shaped incision in his sirloin the other night.

Any day now, she expected him to come back to the hotel with some sort of piercing or tattoo. He was morbid and sadistic in a way she couldn't understand. Shaking off her thoughts, Parker wracked her brain for some way to find Jarod. She was still angry that he'd been alive for the last two years and hadn't contacted her in some way. A freaking red notebook saying goodbye would have sufficed, damn it.

She wasn't really watching where she was going, until she ran straight into a very hard chest. Gasping, she looked up as strong arms engulfed her and her balance was restored.

"Good evening, Miss Parker. Nice night for a stroll," Jarod greeted her drolly.

The moment Parker recognized him, a small spark of happiness lit up her blue eyes, but then that spark turned to fury. She pushed away from his chest and pulled her gun in a typically Parker move.

"You son of a bitch, I've been combing the streets of this city searching for you, and I just happen to run into you? How long have you been following me?" she demanded.

Jarod laughed, never so glad to see anyone, as he was to see Parker, "What? No Jarod I'm so glad you're alive, I'm sorry I shot you in the back?" he quipped.

Parker paled, making Jarod notice just how thin and pale her face was already. Her entire body was thinner than he remembered. She had had a wonderfully curvaceous body from what he remembered, but this woman was almost skin and bones. Her cheekbones were more prominent than they should have been, there were smudges underneath her eyes, and the skirt she was wearing was decidedly baggy around her waist.

"If I had been thinking clearly, I would have shot you in the heart, you bastard," she snarled.

Jarod had to laugh at the familiar acidic tone. It was almost a relief to see that some things would never change. At least not as long as she was working for the Centre and wielding her 9mm with the wrath of an avenging Goddess. That reminded Jarod how much he would have liked to see Parker confront Artemis. He'd never met two bigger bitches in his life, and wouldn't he like to see who would get the best of the other?

"As always Parker, you give me this warm and fuzzy feeling where my heart should be. Have you ever considered volunteering for the suicide hotline? Don't, there'd be a rise in the suicide rate by a hundred percent."

That succeeded in shutting Parker up for the moment. Jarod had never spoken to her that way. Jarod had always been kind and courteous, helping her uncover the secrets so vital to both their pasts. She looked up into the eyes of the man and noticed how dark they were, how empty. She suddenly realized this was not the same Jarod she'd always known.

Jarod opened his mouth and laughed loudly at the astonished look on Parker's face, managing to keep his fangs hidden from her view. Wasn't this just what he'd wanted? A verbal spar with Parker, the only other human being who was capable of keeping up with him in that department.

He was certain that before this night was over, he'd find that clichéd warning about being careful what you wish for, a dire warning for him. Last time he'd been with this woman, she'd shot him in the back. She was a hundred times as pissed off tonight, who knew what kinds of torture she had planned for him. Although he knew one for certain, being dragged back to the Centre, which was not an option. For one, he was a Dark-Hunter now and had a higher calling than being the Centre's favorite toy. And two, he'd put a wooden stake through his own black heart before he let the Centre get their hands on him and dissect him for scientific study. There was no way in Tartarus.

Uncertain of herself for the first time, and not knowing why, Parker lowered her gun and just seemed to be studying Jarod. Maybe for the first time in years did she really look at him.

"You're not the Jarod I remember," she whispered.

Snorting, Jarod raised an eyebrow mockingly, "Funny, you're not the Parker I remember either. The Parker I remember would have not hesitated in kicking my ass for being so cheeky with her. Or at least giving me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve," Jarod leaned closer to her, a hint of a smile on his lips, "And trust me baby, I really deserve a tongue lashing," he murmured suggestively.

Blue eyes widened in shock. Oh god, this was definitely not the Jarod she'd known most of her life. She wasn't sure whether she should slap him, shoot him or… flirt with him. More confused than ever, Parker took a step back in panic. This was not supposed to happen. Jarod was not supposed to talk to her like this. She wasn't supposed to be actually considering his suggestive offer. And she sure as hell wasn't supposed to be gawking at the man she was trying to capture, like an idiot!

He was her prey, he should be intimidated by her. She was the bitch, the ice queen damn it! He wasn't supposed to be leering at her and staring at her with the most intense expression she'd ever seen on the man.

"Knock it off," she demanded feebly, "I'm taking you back to the Centre with me."

Jarod crossed his arms, another annoying mocking smile curving his lips, "Really? You and what mob of sweepers, Parker?"

Gritting her teeth, Parker raised her gun again, "I don't need a mob of sweepers, Jarod. Just this, and we both know that I will not hesitate to use it, if need be."

"Haven't you hesitated already? If you're taking me back, why haven't you done it already?" Jarod clucked his tongue and shook his head, dark hair flying about his face, "You're losing your grip, Parker, how shocking."

Flushing with anger, Parker wanted to give in to a ridiculously childish urge to stamp her foot and pitch a fit. This was not going as she'd planned it. But before she could open her mouth, she heard a voice calling her from down the street.

"Parker, I was worried…" Lyle trailed off, almost just as she had one night two years ago.

Jarod and Lyle stared at one another before Lyle pulled a gun on him, his face blanched of all color, his hand trembling noticeably.

Quirking his mouth in an odd little grin, Jarod shifted his weight to rest on his right side and stared straight into Lyle's haunted eyes, "My, I'm suddenly overcome with a sense of deja-vu. Doesn't this seem familiar, Lyle?"

"Get away from him, Parker," Lyle whispered urgently.

"Not a chance," Parker hissed, "I was ordered to bring him back, and I refuse to let you get credit for this one, Lyle."

Snorting in exasperation, Jarod rolled his eyes, "Children, please. No one is getting credit for my capture because I refuse to be captured. Now if you'll please excuse me–" Jarod turned to go, but both guns were suddenly trained on him and almost in unison, the Parker twins switched their safeties off.

"I don't think so, Jarod," Miss Parker told him.

Sighing in utter frustration, Jarod put both hands up and turned slowly, "Boy, you two are certainly denser than I remember. I told you…" Jarod moved with lightening speed, he knocked the gun from Parker's hand, causing her to stumble backwards. Then, before Lyle could even blink, Jarod had flipped through the air and managed to kick the gun from his hand as well, "…I am not going back to the Centre!"

Recovering, Miss Parker reached for her gun again, but Jarod was there once more to knock it form her grasp. He picked her up and hauled her over his shoulder, throwing a warning glare at Lyle before taking off into the darkness.

The last thing Lyle heard coming from Miss Parker's mouth was her shrill scream, "PUT ME DOWN YOU NEADERTHALIC IMBECILE!"