Author's Notes: I'll keep this short and sweet. This is my first attempt at writing something Dark Hunter. I love the books and I couldn't resist this plot bunny when it attacked me. Thanks, huge thanks really, to my awesome beta, ARedheadThing. Without her, this story never would have happened.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Hunter characters or world. I'm just playing in it.

Chase The Night

Chapter One

It was just another day in New Orleans. Well, night really. The sun had already sunk down below the horizon. New Orleans was a city of parties. No matter where you went, what day it was, excluding Sunday as it was a holy day, you could find a party. All you had to know was the right person. Sometimes it pays to know the right person.

During Mardi Gras, however, it didn't even matter if you knew the right person. All you had to do was step out on the streets, and you'd find a party. Mardi Gras was also the worst time to be in New Orleans. See, as fun as it was, it was one of the most dangerous times of the year. You might think that it was all fun, lights, parades and beads, but it wasn't. Scary things came out to play during that party filled week. Things that would give a normal person nightmares. Things that had long been the norm for Ryssa Parthenopaeus.

The day started like any other; she woke up and walked in on her parents kissing. You'd think that after twenty-five years together they'd get over the show of affection in public but no. Acheron had Tory pressed against the wall, hands buried in her hair, as he nibbled his way down her neck. Ryssa, thoroughly disgusted as any daughter would be, had gone and spent quality time with her Aunt Simi before gathering with her parents, siblings, Simi, Simi's sister Xirena, Alexion, and Danger for dinner. After that it took half an hour to convince her father to let her patrol the streets of New Orleans. Ash didn't mind his daughter fighting Daimons, after all she was his daughter, but New Orleans held so many bad memories that it took a lot of pleading and threatening to get him to let her go out alone.

Ryssa plunged her hands in her pockets as she cut across an alley to Decatur Street. She could smell the beignets and hot chicory coffee calling her name. Saliva pooled in her mouth as she got closer, and a grin stretched her lips when she saw someone she recongized. Two someones, who were sitting close together at one of the small tables, sharing an order of beignets. With the stealth she had been trained for, she wove her way through the crowd, sneaking up on them.

Before she got a foot away, the man turned, and she saw the flash of silver from a dagger. He wore his blonde hair slightly longer than he had in the past, it was now long enough to barely brush his shoulders. His clear amber eyes narrowed as he scanned for the threat he sensed. His body was all hard muscle, honed from centuries of fighting. His face was stubbled with a day's growth of beard. The air of power around him was subtle but dangerous. This was not a man you wanted to mess with.

His companion on the other hand was all pixie sweetness. Her face was framed by inky black hair that had been half pulled back by some kind of gold clip. Upon closer examination, it proved to be clip of a Celtic knot for unity. When she turned to see what caught the man's attention, her dark brown eyes lit up with delight and warmth, her lips parting in a smile.

"Ryssa!" she called, gesturing at the girl.

Ryssa crossed her arms over her chest and gave the man a sour look. "Talon, just once, maybe for the fun of it, could you just pretend you didn't hear me?"

"What and make you think you got the upper hand on me? I don't think so, squirt," Talon said with a laugh as he gestured to the waiter.

Ryssa pushed the sunglasses she wore, despite the darkness, up on her nose. "You are so not fun. Sunshine, haven't you trained him yet?"

Sunshine laughed and passed the woman a beignet. She gave her husband a slow loving smile. "Oh he's trained for fun, just not the kind you'd like."

"The kind she better not like for another fifty years," Talon muttered.

Ryssa gritted her teeth in annoyance. So many of her adopted uncles, and her father come to think of it, wanted to wrap her up in some kind of bubble. Life was hard when you were the eldest child of Acheron.

Sunshine ignored her husband's threat and gave Ryssa her attention. She was a little surprised to find Ryssa out and about without some kind of guard. Usually Ash didn't let her go out without sending Simi with her, or someone else he trusted. "So what are you doing out and about tonight?"

"Same thing I imagine Talon is doing," Ryssa responded as she tore off a corner of the beignet.

"You better not be picturing Sunshine naked," Talon said mildly as he ordered her a coffee.

Ryssa made a face. "Ew...seriously? That's what you are thinking? Gross." It was like thinking of your parents having sex; you did not want to go there.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Talon asked with a wicked grin.

Sunshine reached over and smacked her husband. "Don't tease her."

Ryssa shuddered. "I don't even want to think of Sunshine naked. No offense, Sunshine, but you so aren't my type."

"None taken," Sunshine responded. "So really, what brings you to New Orleans?"

"Mardi Gras, what else?" Ryssa said flippantly. "Well that and Daimons."

"I can't believe Ash would let you come to hunt alone," Talon said.

Ryssa narrowed her eyes at him. She did not need a keeper and it was insulting that Talon seemed to think she did. "I'm not a baby. Savitar and Dad have been training me for years now. I am capable of taking care of myself without a babysitter.."

"Cool your jets, I just meant-"

Ryssa cut him off with a jerk of her hand. "I know what you meant, and I don't appreciate it one bit. Ugh, you know what, forget it. I'm out of here. Thanks for the beignet. I'll see you later, Sunshine."

She rose and stalked off, the deep blonde red streaks in her raven locks glinting off the nearby streetlamp. Sunshine crossed her arms and glared at her husband. Talon looked at her and then to the retreating figure of Ryssa. "What did I say?"

Sunshine smacked his arm. "Men."

Ryssa avoided the crowds the best she could as she stormed down the street. Why was it all the men in her life had to treat her like a baby? It wasn't like she was defenseless. She was a child of two gods, one of them the Final Fate. She was raised in this world, training to fight almost before she could walk. It's not like she was coddled. Couldn't they once, just once, treat her like the fighter she was, instead of the girly girl they wished her to be? It was hard to think of her as a girly girl, not with her father being Acheron, her mother being Soteria, a formedible woman in her own right, and most of her extended family being gods, Dark Hunters and Were-Hunters.

It burned her that they treated her like she was supposed to be wrapped up in silk. She wasn't fragile and she wasn't going to break. She wasn't human, with all their weaknesses. She was a goddess, for crying out loud. The only person who really got her was her mother. Tory understood that her eldest daughter wasn't going to follow in her footsteps. She accepted the fact that out of her four children, Ryssa was the one more like her father, in the sense that she was a fighter. Ryssa's siblings could fight, but it wasn't their sole focus like it was for Ryssa. Tory knew that fighting Daimons was to Ryssa what researching some ancient and unknown artifact to her. Fullfilling and a purpose. So why couldn't her father and her Dark Hunter uncles understand that as well? Men. Couldn't live with them, couldn't live without them.

She turned a corner and heard a shriek. No one else heard it, and she wasn't surprised. There was enough noise to wake the dead; which was a terrifying thought itself. It was only thanks to her enhanced hearing that she heard the frightened cry. All her anger drained away as she darted in the direction of the noise, pulling a dagger and holding it close to her side as she did. She could sense them now that she was concentrating. Daimons. A feral grin crossed her lips. It was time to have some fun.

She turned the corner, and in the shadows of the alley four Daimons were crowded around a young woman who looked to be barely out of her teens. Ryssa rolled her eyes at the stupidity of someone traveling alone on Mardi Gras. Daimons, Dark Hunters, and all that supernatural stuff was still pretty much a secret, but it was common knowledge here in New Orleans that after dark you don't travel alone, especially during Mardi Gras. For the last twenty five years, the day had been just as dangerous as the night, but the night was still the most dangerous. Even though Daimons who fed from gallu demons could walk in the day, there were still plenty who could only travel at night. From the looks of this woman, she was a local, not a tourist, and should have known better. Idiot.

Despite her lack of sympathy for the woman, Ryssa cocked her head, put her hands on her hips and said dryly, "Gee, what do we have here? I smell...Daimon. Goody."

One of the Daimons turned to glare at her. Not for the first time Ryssa wished that not all Daimons were tall and blonde. Let's face it, it got boring after a while to fight what amounted to carbon copies. The Daimon hissed and showed fangs that were framed by a bloody mouth. They had started to drain the woman, but there was faint movement coming from her. Which meant she wasn't dead yet. Ryssa had arrived just in time. "Go away little girl, unless you want to be next to taste our immortal kiss."

Ryssa widened her eyes dramatically. "Oh, I'm so scared. Please. Here's a tip: watch better movies so you can get better lines. That one just reeks."

Two Daimons pulled away from the woman to join the one who had spoken. The fourth continued to lap at the vicious wound on the woman's neck, oblivious of what was going on. The talkative Daimon said, "You have a death wish."

"You're right, I do. I wish you would die," Ryssa said blandly. She flung her hand forward, releasing the dagger. It spun through the air and struck the talker right in the middle of his heart. He exploded in a golden mist. The other two hesitated for only an instant, giving Ryssa time to grab two more knives before they attacked.

She threw herself into the fight, letting her previous annoyance bleed away as she focused on the Daimons. She moved from punch to kick seamlessly, putting all her strength into the blows. The two Daimons were tough, but not that tough. She'd had harder fights sparring with her father. Her leg curled up and snapped out, kicking one into the wall of the building that made up half the alley. She spun and sank her dagger into the Daimon's back, finding the heart.

Ignoring the golden mist that came from killing the monster, she turned back to the second one. He was staring at her in some kind of shock. She'd killed two of them in less than five minutes. Why was it there were plenty of Dark Huntresses, but when she killed Daimons, they seemed to be astounded that a woman could kill? It wasn't like there weren't any female Daimons; and they killed plenty. Maybe it was the fact that she wasn't a Dark Huntresses. It wasn't like they could sense she was a goddess since she kept that a secret.

Ryssa rolled her eyes at the dumbfounded look on the man's face and charged him. He caught her foot a second before it slammed into his face and shoved it to the side, spinning her around. She went with the motion, slamming her elbow into his face. His head rocked back, and she stabbed him in the heart. He gaped briefly before exploding in the golden mist that signalled the release of all the souls he had consumed over the course of his life.

When it faded, she glanced towards the feeding Daimon and found him gone. Her lips twisted into a sneer as she hurried to the woman's side. "Coward."

She searched for a pulse and didn't find one. But...the soul was still there. The feeding Daimon had not claimed the woman's soul. It was one of Ryssa's talents, sensing souls of the dead. This soul remained; that was puzzling. Daimons never left a soul behind, not when they went through all the trouble of finding a victim and killing. What was going on here?

She was reaching for her cell phone to call the coroner when she got her answer. The back of her neck tingled and a bolt hole opened in the mouth of the alley. Out of it came five large men and women. They were Daimons, that much Ryssa could sense. But they were larger than most Daimons she had encountered before. She rose from her crouch, body tense, daggers held firmly in her hands as she faced them. There was something about the way they moved as they spread out in the alley, blocking any escape. An air of danger and power that was off putting. It was then that she noticed a tattoo on the upper arm of one of the men. A golden sun that held a black dragon within the center.

Her mouth went dry with fear. It wasn't an emotion she felt often, but she had heard of Daimons like these. Spathi Daimons, elite warriors who served, ironically, her grandmother Apollymi. They were the most dangerous to go up against alone. Stronger, faster, and more deadly than any normal Daimon, they could not be killed, not technically. They could, but should one of their children or brethren summon them, their essence could be returned. She had never fought a Spathi before, let alone five of them. She was in serious trouble.

The easiest solution would be to flash out of there. It would save her a lot of pain and possibly death. But...Ryssa hesitated and looked over her shoulder at the dead body. The soul was still there, having not yet moved on. If she left, then the Spathi's could consume the soul. That woman would be damned. Ryssa could never allow that. Grimly she tightened her hold on her daggers and settled in a fighting position.

"Welcome to the party. Take a number and get in line for an ass whoopin'," she said bravely.

One of the Spathi's laughed. "Go home, little girl, it isn't you we are after."

"I won't let you claim this soul," Ryssa said firmly. "What do you call three Daimon kills in a night?"

The woman Spathi cocked her head, annoyance in her eyes. "What?"

"A good night," Ryssa said with a wicked grin. "Want to make it a better one?"

"Such a comedic. You really think you can kill us?" asked the woman, her eyes now glittering dangerously.

Ryssa shook her head. "Hey, I'm confident in my abilities, but I know I can't take on five Spathi Daimons. Nah-uh," she said as she shifted so that she could keep an eye on one of the men who was angling her way. It didn't escape her notice that she shocked them by revealing she knew what they were. "Yeah, I know what you are. Best of the best. The SEALs of the Daimons. Big fucking deal."

"You'll regret those words," shouted the man she had turned to watch as he hurled himself at her.

Ryssa was ready for him, and she turned to the side, tossing him over her hip. He landed on the ground with a thud, stunned for the moment. He wasn't expecting her to be so skilled. It was as if his attack was a signal. The rest of them rushed her in full force, and she had her hands full. She fought to the best of her abilities, narrowly avoiding fatal wounds, and soon she was laboring for breath. Her skin was dotted with blood. They wielded blades, and she could confirm that they kept them sharp.

Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but she refused to give into it. All she had to do was hold them off long enough for the soul to move on, and then she could flash out of there and away from them. Of course, holding them off was the problem. For every one she knocked aside, two more replaced it. It was hard to believe that there were only five of them. It seemed like there were so many more. They were everywhere, crowding around her, and she was hard pressed to block blows and turn aside daggers meant to kill her. Her breath came in heavy pants as she blinked sweat out of her eyes.

Usually she didn't like her father checking in on her but now would be a good time for him to eavesdrop and come to the rescue, as much as she hated to admit it. She vowed, if she survived this, to start a harsher training regimen. Against normal Daimons, she was fine, but fighting Spathis made her realize that she was severely lacking.

A fist landed on her face, the force splitting her lip and sending spasms of pain across her jaw. She stumbled back, bumping against the wall. Only by pure luck did she see another fist flying towards her. She twisted out of the way, and the Daimon woman howled as her fist slammed into the brick. More out of frustration than pain. Ryssa took advantage of the woman being stunned, using that split second to drive her dagger home. The Daimon burst into a mist. She was as dead as she'd get for now, and it evened the odds slightly.

Panting, Ryssa maneuvered herself so that she was once again in the back of the alley with the Spathis in front of her. It was in that moment that she no longer sensed the soul. She whispered a blessing under her breath and flashed out of there. Or rather, she tried. As she focused on her home in Katoteros, nothing happened. Nothing. She didn't feel the surge of power that came with teleporting. It was as if a wall prevented her from going anywhere. Startled she looked up and met the gaze of the Daimon in charge.

His lips were curved up in an evil smile. "So the God-child thinks she can get away. Guess again."

"Well fuck," Ryssa muttered. She was screwed. How the hell had they done that? It was never mentioned to her that Spathi's could block god powers. Whoever forgot to mention that was going to get an earful from her if she got out of this. Now the only way out was to go straight through them to get out of the alley. The chances of them following her out onto the streets where there was witnesses was slight.

Well they might prevent her from teleporting out, but that wasn't her only power. With a war cry, she raised her hands and fired off a god blast. The silver light erupted from her hands, slamming into the Daimons and knocking them back. Her father hadn't raised a fool, and Ryssa ran for the opening she created. She had almost made it through, but one of the Spathis, a man with a weasel like face, recovered and grabbed her foot. Thrown off balance, she went down, knees slamming painfully into the pavement. Hands crawled up her legs, pulling her back towards them. Fear coated her throat, and she thrashed, hands scrabbling, trying to dislodge his hold on her.

He had a grip like iron and refused to let go. Ryssa looked down into his grinning face, disgusted by the lust and hunger she saw. Raising one hand, she fired another blast directly into his face. The entire alley lit up, and she shielded her eyes. When the light faded, the Daimon who held her was gone. Standing between her and the Spathi Daimons was a tall man wearing a long black leather coat. For a moment she thought it was her father, but she instantly dismissed that. The build was all wrong. It had to be one of the New Orleans Dark Hunters. She felt a wave of relief like none other by the Dark Hunter's timely arrival. Together the two of them could drive off the Spathi's.

She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the pain that sliced through her, aligning herself with the Dark Hunter. She stole a look out the corner of her eye and only saw a profile view of his face. And really not even that. Under his coat he wore a hoodie with the hood pulled up, concealing most of his face. She saw the sharp angle of his nose and full lips. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes, but that didn't bother her. Most Dark Hunters she knew wore sunglasses even at night. He was tall and built. Even under all the layers he wore, she could see the firm lines of his muscles. A shiver worked its way down her spine when he turned his head and caught her eye.

Though the sunglasses concealed his eyes from her, she felt an unrelenting surge of power and anger. It was strong enough to have her faltering back a step. His lips curved up in a cold smile. Then the pressure on her eased as he turned his attention to the four Spathi Daimons. The deadly air about him was chilling, fear mingled with something else. It was the something else that bothered her.

"Why don't you run home?" the guy asked, no he commanded, in the form of a question.

Ryssa bristled. "Because I can't."

"Sure you can, cher. It's called turning and running. It's why you have legs." His voice was all New Orleans. That really should have been her first clue.

"I've never been one to turn and flee a fight. Can we just kick some ass so I can go home and take a long bubble bath?" Ryssa felt his eyes on her and knew that he was checking her out from behind his sunglasses. Her skin prickled and she glared, catching the tail end of his thoughts. "Excuse me, Spathi Daimons." She was indignant as she put her hands on her hips. "They are the ones you should be paying attention to, not wondering how I look naked."

For the first time since his arrival, the Dark Hunter looked unnerved. He tensed when she revealed she had heard his thoughts. Then, so quickly Ryssa was sure she had imagined the tension, he relaxed. "You are correct, cher."

The Spathis, who had finally recovered from the god blasts, glared at them. "Prepare to die."

"Again," Ryssa said with a roll of her eyes. "Watch better movies. Netflix, it's your friend."

The Dark Hunter snorted and drew a hilt out of his pocket and pressed on the end. A blade extended, long and glittering in the light. Ryssa only had her daggers; she wished she had brought her own sword along. The Dark Hunter didn't wait to see if she was ready, he just charged the Spathis. They attacked with a roar. The Dark Hunter met them with no sound, just moving from one to another, sword blocking stabs and thrusts with an ease that Ryssa was slightly jealous of. With a philospical shrug, Ryssa joined in the brawl. Two to one odds were better than four to one, and between her and the Dark Hunter, they managed to beat the Daimons back until a bolt hole opened and they escaped.

Ryssa waited until she was sure they wouldn't return before she turned to the man who came to her aid. "Thanks for the help. I wasn't expecting Spathis."

She offered her hand to him and was shocked when he knocked it aside roughly. His voice was a low growl when he spoke. "Go home and stay out of trouble. I don't appreciate having to take time out of my day to play hero to some silly girl who thinks she can fight."

"Excuse me?" Ryssa demanded, startled by the hostility in his voice. "Play hero? Listen buddy, no one asked you to come help me. I was doing just fine on my own." She conveniently forgot the fear and panic she had felt before he showed up.

"Sure, that's why that Spathi was crawling up your leg, eyeing your neck like it was an all you can eat buffet," the Dark Hunter drawled sarcastically.

Ryssa stiffened. "A glitch. I was handling myself just fine in any case." She let out a growl when he arched his brows at her. "You know what, never mind. Excuse me for being polite. I didn't realize that I was going to get my head bitten off for thanking you. Go to hell."

"Cher, you don't know what hell is like." There was something in his voice that made Ryssa think he knew exactly what he was talking about.

Then she had to smile as his words made her think of her grandmother's domain. Yeah, she knew what hell was like, probably just not his kind of hell. Amused now, she cocked her head to the side. "So, which Dark Hunter are you? I thought I met all of you guys assigned to New Orleans."

"It doesn't matter who I am. Just stay out of my way." He turned to leave with that dismissal.

Ryssa, incensed by his rudeness when she was just being polite, reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him. Two things happened, the force of her tug cause his hood to fall back, and he grabbed her hand with his. She saw a double bow and arrow mark across his face when the visions struck. She saw and felt everything, glimpses of the past.

A young boy waiting for his mother to get home from work. A older man standing over the boy, who cowered in a corner as he yelled. A woman, his mother, holding onto his arm with delight as he took her to their new house. The gutting sickness at betraying a friend. Heart-wrenching panic and fear as he raced through town to get home. The deep stabbing grief and anger as he stood over his mother's dead body and summoned a goddess. The encompassing hatred towards one man who he felt was to blame for all this.

Ryssa gasped as tears came to her eyes. She tugged her hand to try and free it, but the Dark Hunter held on tighter, his covered eyes taking in her pale face. Ryssa made a whimpering sound and tugged harder on her hand. It was too much, the emotions she felt was choking her. Then she saw something that shook her to the very core of her being. A small glimpse of his future.

Lips pressed hungrily against hers as her back hit the wall. His hands were everywhere, stripping off the clothes she wore, seeking the soft flesh under them. Her hands fisted in his long dark hair, urging his mouth over her jaw and down her neck. His body was hard against hers, every inch of him male. She burned for him. His name came from her in a hoarse whisper.

"NO!" Ryssa shouted and shoved him back with a blast of power in a panic.

Nick Gautier stumbled back at the unexpected blast and watched her disappear before his very eyes. His eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses as he considered the amount of power he had sensed and the way she had just vanished. Someone had god powers, and he wasn't too sure how he felt about another goddess mucking around in his city. But since she was gone and he wasn't about to stop his patrol to chase after some godling who got a scare from some Daimons, he put it out of his mind. For now.

Author's Notes: Well I hope everyone enjoyed this first chapter. This whole story was born when I had the thought, "What would happen if Ash and Tory had a daughter and said daughter got involved with Nick?" And with encouragement from my beta, I ran with it. I'll update weekly. Leave a review and let me know what you think. Stepping into a new fandom is always worrisome.