Tristan's Peace - Chapter 17
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters that you may recognize from King Arthur. Nor do I own any that you may recognize from the Dark Hunter Series by Sherrilyn Kenyon. I am merely playing with them for a time. So please don't sue me, I have no money. Nada, zippo, zilch.
First, I want to thank two reviewers: C.J. and Cardeia. For these past two weeks you two hav listened to me gripe and moan about how this chapter has given me fits. Both of you were kind enough to read over it and give your much needed imput. Through e-mails and chats, you have nudged me forward. And for this, I am eternally grateful.
op - Here's more for you. I hope you continue tolike it.
dellis - Smut. I've debated that along time.I've decided that it really isn't needed for thisstory. So. When the time comes for that part in this story, I will again be taking special requests through e-mail.
Little Raven-Hawk - I'm glad that this one is your fave of the three parts. It is mine too. It's just so frustrating and so muchfun towrite. And I'm glad that you think it original. I'm trying. And as to being vague, this onewill be too. It isthe first part ofwhat turned out to be a VERY long chapter. I had so much going on, that I needed to split it up.
KnightMaiden - You, my dear have been one of my most faithful reviewers. And for that I thank you so very much. So, to be kind to you (unlike how you were to Lancelot grin), I will not be splitting them up anymore. And as for Lancelot, I think you need to make it up to him.
2005
Tristan had his head back against the seat, his eyes closed. He took in a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing mind. It had been an eventful few days. And it was only going to get worse.
His hair was flying about his head, one of his braids knocking him in the nose every few moments in the wind. He had his right leg propped up on the doorframe of the red Jeep, one of his long arms holding onto the roll bar. Teagan had taken off the canvas top and doors to her Jeep, saying that it was lovely weather.
For now it was. Tristan smelled rain. His eyes flicked to the canvas seats of the Jeep. They'd be alright if it rained.
"Can we stop a minute?" Tristan asked Teagan as they neared a 7-Eleven. "I'm hungry." His stomach grumbling for effect. He grinned at her as she looked at him with her eyebrow up into her hairline.
As they were headed to Nick Tahoe's she really didn't want to eat now. But knowing the appetite of the Dark Hunters, she figured that Tristan was probably the same. Most of the men that frequented her house usually ate her fridge bare. And she knew that it had been a long time since he ate last.
Thinking this, Teagan pulled into the parking lot, not bothering to get out. "Get me a coffee, will you?" She rested her head against the seat. It had been an incredibly long day. And the night was just beginning.
She could just imagine what Acheron could want now. So the thought of liquid fortification sounded good right about now.
Tristan nodded as he stepped out of the Jeep. His leather boots thudding as he dropped from the taller height. He got as far as the door before he turned around, making his way back to Teagan's side of the jeep. Teagan watched with utter amusement as he started taking out weapons, then deciding that it was to much trouble to take all those weapons off individually and instead took off his leather trench.
"You have any money?" He asked her as he handed the trench over. "I didn't think to convert before I came over." He leaned his head into the window, his senses taking her in.
It felt good having her here.
Teagan reached over to the glove box, pulling out a small roll of bills. Unrolling it, she handed Tristan a handful of bills. She didn't count it fully, only knowing that it was over three hundred dollars in smaller bills. It didn't matter how much she gave him. To the Hunters, Artemis paid well. In Teagan's case, Acheron. Money was no object.
She didn't need to live off Acheron's paycheck anymore. Wise investments had served her well. Or rather, paid accountants who knew what they were doing served her well. But the Atlantean still put money into her accounts all the time.
Tristan raised his eyebrow. "All this?" Teagan only shrugged. He quickly cupped the back of her neck before pocketing the cash.
Teagan watched with her head resting against the seat as he again walked to the convenience store's door. She quite liked him in these different clothes. The black jeans certainly put his derriere in a flattering view. And his choice of white t-shirts flaunted his upper body very nicely in her opinion. He wasn't as obviously Adonis-like as some of the others, but he was just as she remembered him. He looked thin on the outside, but underneath...Oh my.
He even walked with the predatory grace she remembered in him.
Tristan didn't walk, he stalked.
Even with the no windows or doors, Teagan turned on the jeep's air conditioning. It was suddenly getting hot. She closed her eyes again, letting the air cool her off.
Hearing Tristan coming back, Teagan lifted her head away from the seat, her eyes opening. Yup, he had gotten her coffee. 'Good man.' She muttered to herself as she flipped the air conditioning off.
Teagan started the Wrangler as he slid into the passenger seat, handing her the coffee. She was watching him out of the corner of her eye as she took that first sip of the hot liquid. Something he took out of the bag caught her attention causing her to turn her head.
Teagan watched in amazement as pulled out a package of Slim Jims. "You're gonna eat that?" She asked him as he opened the package. Her lips curled in distaste. She liked jerky, but those things just made her stomach roll. They held more preservatives than perfectly preserved cadaver.
Tristan took a bite, taking half the stick of meat, smiling with his mouth full. He held out the other half to her.
She couldn't help but snort with laughter, some of the coffee hitting the steering wheel. Tristan was seeming less and less of his old uptight self. He had been this way with her before, but not quite like this. Something in him was changing. And she was beginning to like this in him.
"That thing is older than you are." Her eyebrow raised at him.
It was Tristan's turn to smile, meat bits sticking in his teeth. He shrugged his shoulders, stuffing the other half in. "It's not like it's going to kill me." He said in between mouthfuls.
0o0o0o
Arriving in a parking lot that Tristan assumed was this Nick Tahoe's, his senses prickled immediately with the feelings of others. He'd always been one to be able to sense the presence of other hunters. It usually served him well, that way he could avoid the others. It wasn't often that they gathered in close proximity to each other. For him, he just didn't want to be bothered.
Being with others like him was tedious. It was forever draining on his powers, being so close to the others. Except Ash. But, then, that man wasn't like the rest. Nor was Teagan. He glanced at her. She wasn't a hunter. She was more like Acheron.
And he couldn't sense her powers. She didn't drain on him and he'd been closer to her these past few days than he had anybody in years. He couldn't feel her.
No, that wasn't right. He did. But not in the way that he would had he been with other hunters.
Closing his eyes, he took in a big breath. He felt Teagan's comforting aura. The calmness he had always felt around her. That void that had been created with her death, filled.
Tristan's eyes opened, watching as her hands effortlessly shifted the gears on the jeep. He watched as her eyes scanned the parking lot, settling on a small group of men standing in the furthest corner of the parking lot. Away from the lights, he noticed.
Two Dark Hunters. One Were-Hunter. And he could feel the stolen souls of a Daimon. More than one, but could only see one. A female. He could almost hear the screaming of those doomed ones stuck in her chest. The clammering noise started a headache in the back of his head.
He looked at the group, seeing a face he recognized.
Spurius. The arrogant, Roman Dark Hunter whom he had had the unpleasantness of meeting prior. It wasn't that he didn't like the man. He didn't. Add that and the fact that Spurius was an overconfident fool. Thinking that he was invincible. There had been more than one time when Tristan had saved Spurius from his mouth.
Tristan pushed Spurius and the others into another part of his mind, taking in his surroundings. He didn't completely block out everything, it was more background noise.
No, this was his mind's way of putting the threats in order of importance.
The other Dark Hunters and the Were-Hunter were non issues. As was Teagan.
At the moment, they were not the enemy.
Right now he was concerned about the Daimons. Years of hunting the creatures caused his sword arm to twitch. He went through his mind, thinking which weapon would be the best and quickest. Wondering at why the others hadn't destroyed it yet. One part of his brain was thinking that there was a valid reason to keep it alive. The other, the one born of centuries of use, was saying to find it and destroy it.
This was what he was born to do. What he was created to do. Kill the enemy before it kills you.
Unconsciously, he moved closer to Teagan, judging her position in relation to his.
It looked as though the dark haired hunter was holding the female Daimon, with it's arms held behind it's back. If Tristan was seeing right, it looked as though the Daimon was afraid of something. Her eyes were huge, almost begging to be let go.
Tristan was itching for some action, but held his hand, waiting to get closer to the group.
He took in more of his surroundings.
Along with the smell of the oncoming rain, he could also smell what he could only describe as disgusting. It was a mix of human sweat, cigarette smoke, stale beer and lard. He looked around, not seeing a garbage dumpster, he assumed it must be coming from inside and around the restaurant.
He couldn't help his nose wrinkling at the smell.
His senses also picked up the smell of humans, a lot of humans. And along with the smell of humans, came the smell of blood.
The pit of his stomach tightened with that smell. The tangy, metal taste. The way it tingled as it flowed over his tongue...
Tristan growled low in his throat. He needed to get his mind off that. There was no way on this earth that he was going to subject Teagan to his hunger.
So he pushed it down deep within himself. He'd become a shade before he let that happen.
TBC...