Night's Pretend Chapter One, a pretender fanfic

The Dark-Hunters are © by Sherrilyn Kenyon. You can visit her website @ www.hunterlegends.com

Synopsis: An angsty crossover between The Pretender and Dark-Hunters (a series of books by the aforementioned author). Major character deaths, so don't hate.

*Dark-Hunter's Creed
**Bring Me to Life
*I am Darkness. I am Shadow.
**How Can You See into My Eyes like
Open Doors Leading You down Into My Core
*I am the Ruler of the Night.
**Where I've become so numb
Without a Soul My Spirit Sleeping Somewhere Cold
Until You Find it there and Lead It Back Home
*I, alone, stand between mankind and those who would see mankind destroyed.
**(Wake Me Up)
Wake Me Up Inside
(I can't wake up)
Wake Me Up Inside
(Save me)
Call My Name and
Save Me from the Dark
*I am the Guardian.
**(Wake me up)
Bid My Blood to Run
(I can't wake up)
Before I Come Undone
(Save me)
Save me From the Nothing I've become
*The Soulless Keeper.
**Now That I Know What I'm without
You Can't Just Leave Me Breathe Into Me and
Make Me Real Bring Me to Life
*Neither Human, nor Apollite, I exist beyond the realm of the Living, beyond the realm of the Dead.
** (Wake me up)
Wake Me Up Inside
(I can't wake up)
Wake Me Up Inside
(Save me)
*I am the Dark-Hunter.
**Call My Name and Save Me from the Dark
(Wake me up) Bid My Blood to Run
(I can't wake up)
Before I Come Undone
(Save me)
Save me From the Nothing I've become
(Bring me to life
I've been living a lie
There's nothing inside Bring me to life)
*And I am Eternal…unless I find the one pure heart who will never betray me.
**Frozen Inside without
Your Touch without Your Love Darling
Only You Are the Life among the Dead
*The one whose faith and courage can return my soul to me and bring me back into the light.
**All This Time I Can't Believe I Couldn't See
Kept In the Dark but You Were There In Front of Me
I've been Sleeping a Thousand Years It Seems
Got To Open My Eyes to Everything
Without A Thought without a Voice without a Soul
Don't Let Me Die here there must be something More
Bring me to life

~*~*~*~*~

Chapter One

Jarod couldn't believe it.

"Who should be first, do you think, Jarod? Charles? Sydney?" the psycho who had not only captured him, but his family as well asked as he shot both through the heart with the gun he held in his hand. Both died almost instantly.

"Which was more of a father to you, Jarod? Whose death is more painful to you?" he asked, knowing Jarod wouldn't answer.

Jarod screamed in agony, then hung his head, and tried not to cry.

Emily and Ethan were the next to go. The gunshots echoed strangely in his head. This time he couldn't stop the tears from streaming down his face.

"Oh god, Jarod," his mother whispered as the gun swung in her direction, "I love you," she murmured as the shot rang out and she slumped over, the blood staining her shirt.

"You sonofabitch!" Jarod screamed.

Angelo looked Jarod straight in the eye and smiled softly at him. In that moment, Angelo was never more beautiful or more out of touch with reality, Jarod thought.

"Don't cry, Jarod. The goddess is coming," he mumbled softly as the gun was pointed at his chest. The shot exploded out of the barrel and Angelo slumped over, a small, enigmatic smile still on his face.

"I swear to God I will kill you, you psychotic bastard," Jarod swore softly as he was suddenly looking down the barrel of the gun, watching his death in the eyes of his killer.

"I want you not only to die, but to suffer as no other has suffered. I hope you rot in hell, you arrogant asshole!"

When the shot rang out, it hit Jarod in the stomach. The pain was blinding and unreal. He gasped, but couldn't catch his breath. He felt his own blood slowly oozing out of him, along with his life.

Rage darkened his vision, which was already being swallowed by death itself. His soul cried out for vengeance. Ever since his escape, he had been claiming revenge for those unable to claim it for themselves. It couldn't end like this for him!

Or for his family.

"This isn't over between us," he swore, gasping for his last breath, "This… isn't… over…"

The pain disappeared as his soul separated from his body and he watched his killer check his pulse. Satisfied that Jarod was indeed dead, he walked away from all of the destruction and death he had wrought.

Jarod walked over to each of the victims of this tragedy. His rage building, his pain increasing, as he knew each of his loved ones had found peace at last. But never for him. There would never be any peace for him. A flash appeared to his left as he bent over his mom and kissed her cooling brow. His final goodbye.

"I will give you one night of vengeance if you will promise to give me your soul for eternity and become one of my Dark-Hunters," a beautiful woman told him. She was wearing a long, flowing, white gown and her auburn hair was piled on top of her head and cascaded down her back in a classic Grecian style.

He was stunned; "Who are you?" Jarod wondered.

The beautiful woman regarded Jarod a moment; "I am Artemis, the Goddess of the Hunt."

It was Jarod's turn to frown, "THE Artemis? Of ancient Greek mythology?"

"I am not a myth," she told him archly.

His mind reeled. More than a little curious and not to mention very confused, he asked, "What is a Dark-Hunter?"

"A Dark-Hunter is a soulless warrior who walks the darkness, protecting the humans from the Daimons, mortal. Will you accept my bargain, or not? One night of vengeance on your murderer and I hold your soul for all of eternity. What will it be?" she demanded.

He thought of his loved ones who had been murdered in front of his very eyes. The impotent rage he felt returned. He ground his teeth with the agony of knowing his family and friends were forever out of his reach.

"All right," he nodded slowly, "I agree to give you my soul for one night of vengeance," he paused, "But I also want to know exactly what I am agreeing to," he added a moment later.

"All will be explained to you, mortal. Tonight you may take your revenge against your murderer," she told him. She walked over to the empty shell that was his body and touched the mortal wound that had killed him.

Instantly he was pulled back into his body. They were in another room. An empty room. There was no pain in his body now he noticed, only in his heart.

"Stay away from the sun, Dark-Hunter," she commanded him, "Rest until the darkness calls you," she murmured, waving her hand over him and causing him to fall asleep.

*******

He could feel the sun setting; feel the strange energy coursing through his veins. He opened his eyes to the darkened room and could see perfectly in the darkness, it comforted him. Instinctively he knew where to find his murderer, could sense him, smell him and taste him. His legs ate up the ground to the door. He smiled in anticipation, and then stopped. His canines were elongated; he put a finger against the left one to test it. It was sharp and more like a predator's than a mere humans.

What kind of bargain had he struck?

He shook away the strange emotions he was feeling. All he wanted was to hunt down his killer and take his revenge. Not only for himself, but also for his family. His keener senses told him where to find that man. He stalked through the halls of the Centre and all he could think about was wrapping his hands around his killer's neck and squeezing until there was no more life left in that body.

He crept past Broots' office, seeing the Tech was still hard at work. Almost there.

He rounded a corner and saw the closed door that would bring him to his killer. He slowly turned the handle so there was no sound as he crept into the office and looked down at the man who had destroyed any happiness he might have found, any peace he may have sought. It was all his fault.

"Lyle," Jarod growled so menacingly, that Lyle turned green before finally turning paler than the paint on his walls.

Lyle managed to jump up out of his chair and scramble backwards before Jarod literally jumped over his desk and tackled the man to the ground.

"You sick bastard, you killed everyone I ever loved," Jarod hissed, all he wanted was to end the man's life right then, snap his neck like a twig. "Why?" he demanded hoarsely, "Why won't you people leave me the hell alone?"

Lyle looked up into the black, soulless eyes of the man he had shot and killed only four hours before. A man whose body had disappeared not twenty minutes later. He had thought that the Triumvirate had sent someone to retrieve the Pretender's body. He never dreamed that when Jarod had whispered with his last breath that it was not over, that he would somehow achieve the impossible and come back from the dead to kill him.

Holy shit, what the hell was going on?

"How did you come back?" Lyle almost whimpered, more terrified than he had ever been. He now realized that this was what all his victims had felt, all those Asian women he had tortured then murdered and cannibalized, this was the terror they must have felt before they died.

"Do you remember Angelo's last words? The Goddess came," was all Jarod whispered before wrapping his hands around Lyle's throat and squeezing ever so slowly.

"I don't just want you to die, Lyle, I want you to suffer as no other has suffered," Jarod ground out ominously as lights began to flash in Lyle's peripheral vision.

"Lyle, I can't get a hold of Sydney…" Miss Parker trailed off as she barged into his office, seeing Jarod on top of her twin and trying to choke the life from him. "What the hell is going on here?" she demanded, pulling her 9mm on Jarod.

Jarod turned and snarled at her for interrupting him, "Get out of here, Parker. This is between Lyle and me. I am finally going to finish what I started the night he killed Kyle."

"Jarod, I don't know what is going on, but I want you to get off Lyle and come with me," Miss Parker told him softly, a voice she seldom ever let anyone hear, especially not to him in front of Lyle.

"No," Jarod refused.

She cocked her gun and took up a defensive stance. "Get off of him, Jarod, NOW!" she told him in that tone that brooked for no argument. In a tone that normally would have had him jumping to his feet once, because he knew she meant business.

Only he wasn't the Jarod she had known all those years ago. Not anymore. He wasn't the Jarod she had chased for so long, danced around. He had died and come back something else entirely. What didn't matter at this moment, all he knew was that the voice in his head was telling him to snap Lyle's neck and be done with it.

"I can't Parker," he whispered before turning back to Lyle to finish him off.

"I'm warning you, Jarod. I will shoot you if you don't get off my brother," there was a pleading in her voice that Jarod had never heard before. It was unlike Parker to plead for anything.

"And I'm warning you, Parker. Turn around and forget everything you saw here tonight. Let me do what I have to, what I must," Jarod warned her.

"I can't," she whispered the moment before she pulled the trigger and shot him in the back.

Jarod roared in pain, he whirled on Parker and almost attacked her, but he saw the naked pain in her eyes, the shock of having actually shot him. All he could think was to get away from her and this place as quickly as he could. His blood was running down his skin for the second time that day. He snarled at her, but she had already dropped the gun and was staring at him in dumbfounded shock and looking somewhat relieved.

He looked around, almost in a panic before taking a dive out of the window. It was a four story drop from Lyle's office window. He barely managed to land on his feet. He glanced back up at the broken window to see Parker staring after him. She was crying.

He took off at a dead run and ran until he couldn't breathe anymore, couldn't see straight from the pain. Until exhaustion tackled him to the ground. He wasn't sure how far he had gone, but he did know that he had covered a lot of ground, even with the shot in his back. He lay there for several minutes trying not to let another kind of darkness claim him once again.

"An unconscious Dark-Hunter is a dead Dark-Hunter," a strangely accented voice said from behind him.

Jarod turned quickly, seeing a man with fuchsia hair and a stud in his chin and nose. He wore a pair of sunglasses in the middle of the night. The man was a giant hovering over Jarod like a bird of prey.

"Who are you?" Jarod croaked, feeling as if he were part of a horrible nightmare. Except he couldn't wake up from it.

"I am Acheron Parthenopaeus," he answered removing the sunglasses, showing Jarod a set of eerily glowing metallic eyes that danced and flowed like time itself, "I was sent by Artemis to train you for your new life."

Jarod wanted to ask more questions, but the pain was too much for him at the moment.

Acheron pulled Jarod to his feet and supported him as they walked over to a jet-black jaguar. "Come, Jarod, once you have recovered your strength, I will show you how to hide your fangs from the humans when you speak. I will show you how to hunt the Daimons and everything else you will need to know to survive as a Dark-Hunter."

All Jarod managed was a nod before he was settled into the leather seat of the jag and Acheron started the engine, then leaned over and touched Jarod's shoulder gently, immediately the wound in Jarod's back was gone. Healed.

"How did you-"

Acheron cut him off, "All in good time Jarod, for now, let's get as far from Blue Cove as we can."

Jarod nodded again relieved to know that for this moment in time, he wasn't running alone in the dark, away from some unknown evil. He wasn't alone anymore, and he had a feeling that if he were ever to come face to face with the Centre and any of its employees once again, they would find that he was now the unknown evil.

********

When Jarod woke up hours later, it was to find himself in a new city completely. How long he had slept, he didn't know, nor did he care. He looked around and found Acheron staring down at him from the shadows.

"Where are we?" Jarod wondered.

"New Orleans," the giant of a man told him negligently.

Instinctively, Jarod knew that it was daylight and he was pent up inside this house. He cringed at the thought, hating to be trapped by anything.

"Why don't you start by telling me exactly what Daimons are and what exactly I am," Jarod raised one of his brows.

Acheron smiled in spite of himself. With Jarod's intelligence, his "pretending" abilities, he would definitely be an asset to the Dark-Hunters, and kick some Daimon-ass.

"How much Greek History do you know?" Acheron began; knowing it would be much easier to explain if Jarod had some handle on his Greek Myth 101.

Jarod shrugged, "What do you want to know?" thinking it odd how cyclical everything was. He had once left Sydney a clue as to what and where he was going, an origami figure of Onisius, the Greek God of Retribution.

"Aeons ago, Apollo created a superior race called the Apollites. They were faster, stronger and more powerful and thought they should rule over the humans because of it. They began a war and in the process killed Apollo's mistress and son. Furious, Apollo destroyed Atlantis, the Apollites' home and cursed them to drink each other's blood to survive and to never walk during the daylight hours so Apollo would never have to see them again.

"Because Apollo's mistress was 27 when she died, all Apollites die a horrible death on their 27th birthday. The only way to survive their fate is by killing themselves the day before, or by draining the soul from a human. The stronger the soul, the longer they live. Once they begin draining souls, they are no longer simple Apollites, they become Daimons," Acheron explained.

"So Daimons are like vampires," Jarod asked slowly, not sure if he was buying into all this crap.

Acheron nodded, "Exactly, except they've existed much longer than the term vampire has."

"So, the Dark-Hunters are like vampire slayers?" Jarod wondered incredulously.

"Precisely, we are Darkness, we are Shadow. We hunt those that would prey upon the weak."

That appealed to Jarod, since it was essentially what he'd been doing since he escaped from the Centre in 1996, but all this supernatural crap, he wasn't so sure that he hadn't taken a tumble down a rabbit hole somewhere. Shit, he could be dead somewhere and this was his eternal punishment.

"What exactly is a Dark-Hunter," Jarod asked pointedly.

Sighing, Acheron smiled, "When Artemis found out what had happened she began creating Dark-Hunters, warriors who had the strength and powers to defeat the Daimons. She gave us animal senses, elongated fangs, and dilated eyes that can clearly see during the nighttime. Heightened sense of hearing and smell. In every way, we are just as strong and powerful as the Daimons are. We fight them, free the souls and then sleep during the daylight hours when Daimons cannot prey on the weak. We are Immortals, Jarod."

Jarod shivered at the word. He had thought living a lifetime of hell was being subjected to the Centre's every whim concerning him, but this was possibly a hundred times worse.

Acheron had gotten up and was staring off into the distance, looking preoccupied. Jarod had one more question to put to him, and seeing the wisdom of the ages in the younger-looking man's eyes, he knew he was the one to ask this question to.

"Is it worth it, Acheron?" he asked quietly.

For the longest time, Acheron stood silently, unmoving as if he had never heard Jarod's question. Then he looked straight at Jarod with his eerie eyes, "That is a question I cannot answer, Pretender, for every man is different, the price we each pay is different," he ended, a strange note in his voice.

After the longest time of silence, it occurred to him that he had sold his soul for an act of vengeance and hadn't even gotten the satisfaction of carrying it through.

*******

Hours later before the sunset, Jarod was introduced to his new life as a Dark-Hunter. He was given a new cell phone and a PDA; access to the Dark-Hunter website where he could link up with the many Dark-Hunters' worldwide and new set of clothing tailored to fit his body.

Ironically enough, his new clothing wasn't much different than what he was normally used to wearing, except it came with a few extra perks. His boots were equipped with inset blades that could be triggered and used to kill Daimons, and free the stolen souls. The long, black leather jacket also could hide his weapons, whatever he chose to use. He found he liked the custom-made leather pants and shirt he'd been given. They hugged his body and gave him a heady sense of pleasure in the richness of the material.

Along with his new clothing, he was offered a Squire, though he declined that offer. Ash also informed him that once his DH powers peaked, he would find out what his unique set of abilities would be.

For every Dark-Hunter it was different. Some had control over the weather, some had psychic abilities, and it all depended on where their strengths lie when they were mortal humans. But Jarod sensed that Ash was different. For one thing, he was the very first Dark-Hunter, for another, there was something truly frightening about the things that Ash seemed to know or be able to do. His youthful appearance was part of his gift and his curse.

Before they left after the sun set, Ash gave Jarod his choice of weapons. There were guns, swords, srads, and daggers, not to mentions several sets of intricately designed throwing stars. All were beautifully crafted and lethal in the extreme. Jarod caressed several things before his eyes found a Katana. He had always been fascinated by them and once he saw it, he knew he wanted the use it and master it.

Picking up the sword, he twirled it about his wrist. Ash merely watched him, an eyebrow raised.

"This should prove … interesting, Pretender. Tonight you and I will hunt some Daimons and kick their pretty-boy asses," Ash told him as he pulled on his black, leather coat that hung down to his ankles. He put on his Ray bans and walked to the door, not bothering to wait for Jarod to follow him.

Anticipation stole over Jarod as he caught up to the taller man, who looked as if he should have been on some college campus somewhere, or on some rock stage someplace screaming about his painful life instead of going out into the darkness to save the world. But all this hero shit appealed to Jarod. Why wouldn't it? He still had sins to atone for, mistakes to pay for, and this was as good a way as any, wasn't it?

Jarod glanced around, looking for the black Jag he had seen the other night, instead all he saw were two motorcycles parked on the street. They both climbed onto one and when Ash looked over in Jarod's direction and grinned in such a boyish way, Jarod couldn't help but grin back.

"I think you are going to enjoy this, Jarod, let's get the hell outta here and find us some Fabios to kill, shall we?" Ash asked him, kicked up his kickstand and took off down the street.

Jarod followed suit, wondering what exactly Ash had meant by "Fabios", but finding that he liked the freedom the bike afforded him as he roared down the street after Ash better than wondering about Ash's strange comments.. For the first time in a long time, he wasn't looking over his shoulder. He was no longer the prey in some twisted game of the Centre's choosing. He was now the hunter, a Dark-Hunter.

They drove into the French Quarter and parked the bikes in a darkened parking lot and began roaming the streets on foot. Ash wasn't very talkative, he just merely prowled the streets, waiting and watching for something Jarod couldn't even begin to guess at.

When Ash pulled out a PDA, Jarod was more than a little intrigued until Ash began to explain to him. "Because the Daimons have psychic powers, we can track their signatures with a special tracking system only Dark-Hunters use. This allows me to see if there are any Daimons in the nearby vicinity."

For a long time, Jarod and Ash simply walked around the French Quarter. It seemed to be a slow night and since there were no distractions, Jarod began to do what he did best. Indulge his curiosity.

"How long have you been doing this?" he began.

Ash glanced down at his watch, "About three hours now," he quipped sarcastically, making Jarod want to both laugh and roll his eyes.

"Don't be obtuse, you know what I meant," Jarod threw back.

He had to admire Jarod's guts. Very few people were allowed to talk to him like that. Smiling, Ash did what he did best, keep his own secrets.

"Since time immemorial, my friend."

Knowing he wouldn't get a more definitive answer than that, Jarod raised one of his eyebrows, "I'm assuming we're talking longer than several hundreds of years. So, isn't there any way for Dark-Hunters to finally find peace?"

Ash stopped and seemed to be considering Jarod's question before he finally turned to Jarod and stared at him fixedly with his strange, glowing eyes; even covered by the sunglasses, Jarod knew they were looking straight into his own soulless eyes.

"There is one way, but it requires you to put your soul in someone else's hands and trust them absolutely with your life. It requires you to drain your Dark-Hunter powers and die. Artemis jealously guards the souls of her Hunters and does not give them up easily." Ash paused here and an eerie hand print appeared across his neck and then disappeared before Jarod could really see it, "Whatever you do, Pretender, be certain the pure heart you entrust your soul to will not betray you, else you will find yourself in a hell beyond your imaginings. You will know thirst, but never be able to quench it. You will hunger, but never know food. You will be nothing more than a shade." Jarod had to suppress the shiver that threatened to run up his spine at Ash's tone.

A distant scream interrupted Jarod before he could question Ash further. With a sigh of relief, Acheron followed the sound of the screaming. They entered a darkened alley where Daimons always trapped their prey.

Six tall, blond males were circling one lone man. They were tall, all handsome and muscular, while their prey was forty-ish and balding, but he was brandishing his briefcase like a weapon, which made the Daimons around him merely laugh at him.

A sudden cold breeze disturbed the still, oppressive air around them. The Daimons all looked up and saw two shadowed figures standing at the entrance of the alleyway.

"Well, well, what have we here? Cheesy horror movie rejects, that's what," Ash tsked and sounded disappointed in his prey.

The Daimons looked at each other nervously, but they seemed to find confidence in their numbers. "Oh look," the leader of the Daimons began, "It's a Dark-Hunter. Ooh, I'm so-o scared," he sneered.

Four of the six broke formation and began stalking towards Jarod and Ash. Ash didn't seem in the least bit apprehensive that they were outnumbered six to two, but hell, even Jarod had been in worse situations than this one, that he had to admit reminded him of something out of Evil Dead.

The only reaction the Daimons' leader got was another tsk and a shake of Ash's outrageous hair. Before anyone could move or speak, Ash attacked the four Daimons. Jarod watched in awe for a moment before noticing that the other two Daimons were moving in for the kill on the innocent man they were supposed to be protecting.

He stalked over to the two who had finally managed to get the man's brief case from his grip and were now just beating him senseless. Jarod tapped the taller of the two on the shoulder, and quipped, "Guess who?"

The Daimons attacked him, not bothering to play fair. He kicked one of them in the stomach as he tried to rush Jarod. He pulled the Katana out of his jacket and stabbed the Daimon in the stomach. The Daimon staggered, but Jarod didn't have time to wonder why he didn't die because the other Daimon grabbed him by the shoulder and whirled him around and sucker punched him right in the nose.

Jarod was stunned a moment before he heard Ash's voice, "In the chest, Jarod, that's where the souls are trapped."

Recovering, Jarod wiped the blood running from his nose away, "That wasn't very nice, now was it?" he asked rhetorically before he attacked the one who had just punched him. He hit him, and then used the sword to stab him in the chest. The Daimon screamed as he disintegrated into dust right before Jarod's eyes.

Without pausing, Jarod then toed the release in his left boot, releasing the blade and kicking the other Daimon in the chest. He too died quickly, leaving Jarod feeling a rush of adrenaline. He grinned, thinking he could definitely have no problems with this existence. Until he saw the older guy cowering beside a pile of trash.

Before he could reach him, Ash was already by his side mumbling words to the man, who looked rather dazed. Jarod picked up the discarded briefcase and handed it to the man who just began walking away without even looking back.

Confused, Jarod pointed at the guy and opened his mouth to ask Ash what was wrong, but Ash was already walking in the opposite direction. Jarod had no trouble catching up to Acheron.

"What did you say to him?" he wondered.

Ash merely sighed heavily, "No one must know of our existence, Jarod. No human must ever know what we are or what we do night after night. I merely made certain he would not remember us or the Daimons."

There was so much Jarod didn't know and he hated that feeling. But Ash suddenly stopped and looked down at Jarod, "Don't worry, Jarod. I will teach you everything. Give it time and you'll be kicking serious pretty-boy ass all night long."

To that, Jarod merely chuckled. Having seen Daimons in person, all those snide comments Ash had made, well, they made more sense to him now. Each Daimon male had been perfectly beautiful, blond and extremely pretty-boyish. No wonder Ash had called them Fabios.