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  In loving memory of the real Michael Tyler Burdette. I will always miss my precious little Bubba, and you will forever hold a special place in my heart.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As always, to my friends and family who keep me semi-sane, and who put up with my absentmindedness and long absences while I work. To my friends and family, who are spiritual warriors and who fight the good fight for all of us every day against the evil that could harm us. To my editor and the SMP team who put so much into every title--you guys really are the best ever! And last, but never least, to you, the reader, for taking another journey with me into a realm beyond the normal. Love you all!

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Also by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  About the Author

  Copyright

  PROLOGUE

  "Nick? Honey? You're not really asleep, are you?"

  Nick blinked his eyes open as some loud, thumping song he didn't know made his ears ring. In fact, he was surrounded by all kinds of noise. Like a party.

  What the...?

  He lifted his head from his folded arms to find himself not in the bed he'd fallen into, but at a ...

  Prom?

  Yeah, it was a fancy prom with hideous swan and star cardboard cutouts, and enough pink fabric to make him feel like he'd fallen into a Pepto-Bismol factory.

  Scowling, he scanned the darkened hotel ballroom where his classmates were partying hard to some flashy DJ on a raised dais.

  How had he gotten here?

  When had he come to this?

  Wait, forget all of that for a minute. It'd been late fall when he'd gone to bed....

  Weren't proms always held in the spring?

  Yeah, they were.

  Crap.

  How had he lost six months of his life? When had he lost them? But what floored him most were the people sitting at the round table with him. Caleb was to his right, but instead of the pretty-boy jock he was supposed to be, Caleb was a bit heavyset and wore a retainer.

  At a prom?

  Huh?

  Retainer? Was it a costume party of some kind? After all, it was New Orleans--the only place in the world where they could turn opening a regular envelope into a grand procession. Yeah, that made more sense of what he was seeing.

  Especially the usually flamboyant Simi, who was currently wearing an understated pink frilly dress down to her ankles with a sweater buttoned up to her chin. He frowned as he followed the line of her arm to where she held Caleb's hand.

  Demon ...

  Simi ...

  With Caleb?

  Yeah, I'm insane and the devil's cracking icicles in his hot tub. My dad must have sucked out my brains when he died. Or maybe this is Caleb's idea of a joke? The demon did have a sick sense of humor at times.

  Please, let me just be crazy. The sheer magnitude of possible and awful paranormal alternatives made a straightjacket seem like the most desirable outcome.

  Casey sat beside Nick, wearing a pair of thick glasses and an outdated dress that looked like something from a 1980s John Hughes movie.

  Is this a dream?

  It was too real for that, and yet ...

  "Nick, you're looking kind of sick. Like you're about to hurl. Are you okay?" Casey rubbed his hand.

  No. He was definitely not okay. He felt like someone had just sucker-punched him as his gaze locked on a short, stubby ... geek whose eyes and dark hair were all too familiar.

  No ... it couldn't be.

  "Stone?"

  He beamed. "Yeah, buddy. Should I call your dad to come get you? You don't look like you should be driving."

  "I can take him home."

  Nick went cold at a voice he didn't want to recognize. No, no, no. There was no way he was here. Why would an eleven-thousand-year-old all-powerful immortal come to a high school prom?

  Not like the being would be bored, given all the things out to end them.

  Don't look.

  Don't do it.

  But like a grisly car wreck--Nick had to. His stomach tight, he was terrified of where his nightmare would take him this time.

  Stop!

  The moment he turned, he knew he'd died and gone to the real hell. That was the only plausible explanation he could wrap his head around. The only explanation that made sense.

  Because this ...

  This was the freakfest of all time.

  It was definitely Acheron Parthenopaeus. All five feet tall of him, with short brown hair and blue eyes.

  And in a pink tux.

  Nick laughed at something that was a lot scarier than it was funny. But he didn't know what else to do ... except scream, and that might get him put in a straightjacket for real.

  Maybe I have lost my mind.

  Yeah, that was a little more acceptable than this current nightmare.

  He swallowed hard then returned his attention to Stone. "Can I ask a weird question?"

  "If you must."

  Raking his hand through his hair, Nick tried to figure out why he was having this screwed-up dream. What had he eaten?

  Or better yet, had something finally eaten him?

  But for now, until he unraveled what was happening, he had no choice except to ride this ... horror out to its conclusion.

  "What's my dad's name?"

  They all laughed.

  Yeah, so not funny. Nick forced himself not to insult them for their ridicule. "C'mon, guys. Just play along and answer the question."

  Ash snorted, then answered in a nasal tone. "You know your dad, Nick. Michael Burdette. He's an accountant who works with Caleb's father."

  Caleb had a dad, too?

  Sure, and fat flying fairies made Nick's tacky clothes every night and left them for him in the bathroom.

  Nick arched a brow at Caleb. "And your father would be...?"

  Caleb scowled at him. "What is your problem, boy? You know my dad is your dad's best friend and has been since forever. Caleb Fingerman? Hello? Mark's my dad."

  Nick started laughing and laughing. He couldn't stop. Yeah, this was all insane. He must have been hit in the head a lot harder than he thought. "Okay, joke's over, everyone. Ha. Ha. You got me."

  "What joke?" Ash, Caleb, and Stone asked while the women looked at him as if he was the one who was nuts.

  Unable to deal with it anymore, Nick rose to his feet and curled his lip. "You know, for a joke to work it actually needs to be funny, guys ... and this is not even a little." Angry at them, he stormed off to the bathroom to splash water on his face and wake up.

  Something had to get him out of this nightmare and back home.

  But the moment Nick looked into the bathroom mirror, he froze in absolute horror. Not only was he in an ugly blue tuxedo that he'd never wear, his hair was blond, and his eyes were an average gray color.

  Worse? He
was a lot closer to the sink than he'd been in a really long time.

  I'm short?

  Ah gah! Anything but that!

  His heart pounding, he checked his legs to make sure they were intact.

  They were.

  And yet he was only five foot eight. If that much.

  No ...

  I'm six-four. Had been since his growth spurt last summer. Panic rose high as he closed his eyes and tried to summon his powers.

  That only made him panic more as harsh reality cracked him in the stones. No, no, no, non! his mind shouted. It couldn't be.

  But it was. All of his powers were gone. Every last one of them. He had nothing. Not even a glimmer of the scrying or clairvoyance or anything.

  I'm totally without and locked in Hades.

  Horrified, Nick gaped at the unfamiliar face he saw in the mirror that wasn't his. He pinched himself and shook his head. It was him. Somehow he'd morphed into a short blond dude.

  Unable to accept it, he tried everything he could to wake up. But nothing worked. He continued to exist here in this freakworld.

  It's not a dream.

  Somehow this was real. He was real, and he was here, wherever here was.

  Madaug walked in and sneered at him. No longer skinny and nerdy, he was the six feet four Nick should have been, and ripped. "What you looking at, Burdette? Cruising for a date?"

  "Burdette?" Nick repeated, looking around for Bubba.

  Madaug shoved him. "Nick Burdette? Can't you even recognize your own name?" He rolled his eyes. "Dog, boy, how dumb are you?" He went over to a urinal.

  Stunned, confused, and terrified, Nick stumbled out to the prom that was filled with people he knew but didn't recognize. Reaching for something, anything to prove this wasn't happening, that he was being punk'd, he pulled his wallet out and checked his license.

  It was the "new" blond him in the photo, but what hit him like a kick in the crotch was the name.

  Nicholas Michael Burdette instead of Nicholas Ambrosius Gautier.

  "What the Hades has happened?"

  And more importantly ... how could he undo it when he no longer had any power and his preternatural allies were now all woefully normal?

  CHAPTER 1

  "Nick? Boo? Get up. You're going to be late for school."

  Groaning in fear of what he might find this time, Nick opened his eyes to see the navy blue curtains his mom had bought him last year when they moved into their condo on Bourbon Street. Relief flooded him.

  It was just a nightmare, after all. Thank you, God!

  That was his thought until he realized that the window wasn't the same. Instead of being a large single window, it was two windows with a divider between them.

  Ah, crap. Not again. Haven't I suffered enough indignities and horrors? Really?

  His heart hammering, Nick slowly swept his gaze around a room he didn't recognize.

  At all.

  His stomach tightened to the point he feared he'd be ill.

  "Nick?" His mom knocked lightly before she pushed open the door to smile at him. "So you are up, sleepyhead. Hurry now, or else you'll get another tardy."

  Even more unsettled than before, Nick gaped at the sight of her in an expensive dark blue business suit with her blond hair cut short to frame her beautiful face. That definitely wasn't her waitress uniform.

  "Mom?"

  Scowling, she moved to stand by the bed and placed her hand to his forehead. "Are you all right? You look pale."

  Stunned, he couldn't speak as he stared at a stranger in his mother's body.

  "Cherise? It's London calling. They need to speak to you. Said it can't wait."

  His eyes widened at the sound of that familiar deep, thick Tennessee Southern drawl. Bubba? What the heck was Bubba doing in his house at seven thirty in the morning? It'd been bad enough when Nick had come home from the prom and found him here. But that he'd attributed to a date.

  No, wait. That wasn't right. Someone had told him at the prom that Bubba was his father now. Caleb?

  For some reason, he couldn't remember.

  And why in the world would someone in London call his mom?

  Maybe London's a name?

  No. Not possible. This was bad bad. His mom didn't know anyone named London....

  "I'll be right there, Michael." She squeezed Nick's cheek. "You don't have a fever. Did you stay up too late?"

  Honestly? He feared some kind of terminal brain damage. How hard had that demon slammed him on the ground while they fought to get his mom back?

  His door opened again to show "Bubba" in a black Armani suit. Nick only knew that designer brand because they were the ones his immortal boss, Kyrian, favored and Nick had had a seizure the first time he'd gone to pick one up and had seen the cost of it.

  Who wore that stuff and why?

  Huge as ever, Bubba had abandoned his beard for smooth cheeks and wore a short, stylish cut. Yeah, this definitely wasn't the burly redneck who hunted zombies in the bayou with his lunatic best friend. One who was paranoid as all get out, and armed to a level that the ATF had him on their watch list.

  As if he hadn't morphed into some creepy businessman, Bubba came in and handed a cordless phone to his mom.

  Removing her expensive earring, she cupped her hand over the mouthpiece and whispered to Bubba. "I think our Boo is sick. See what you think." She stepped out of the room to deal with her call.

  Bubba knelt his gigantic form by the bed and brushed the hair back from Nick's forehead. "You all right, buddy?" Now there was a loving tone Bubba had never used with him before. That was even more terrifying than having a Charonte demon try to eat him.

  Completely dumbfounded by it all, Nick dropped his gaze to the huge football championship ring on Bubba's hand. The diamonds on the front formed a pattern reminiscent of a fleur-de-lis. They were framed by the words "Forty" on one side and "Niners" on the other. The name "Burdette" was on the "Forty" side and "Super Bowl XXIV 55-10" on the "Niners" side. Gasping, he fingered the ring as he remembered Bubba's mama telling him how Bubba could have gone pro after college, but had decided to stay home with his wife and son instead. "This looks so real."

  Bubba snorted. "It is real, you know that." He duplicated Nick's scowl. "What's going on with you, Squirt? You have a test you're trying to avoid?"

  "No. I ... uh ... yeah, no, I'm fine. Not a morning person."

  Laughing, Bubba stood up and pulled the covers off Nick. "Come on. Mom made pancakes for breakfast and they're getting cold." He left the room.

  Still disoriented and confused, Nick rolled out of bed. This was so screwed up. Raking his hand through his hair, he gaped at the photo on his desk of a sweaty Bubba in a 49ers uniform holding him as a toddler, dressed in a matching 49ers jersey with BURDETTE on the back. At least Nick thought it was him. The face and blond hair belonged to the stranger he kept seeing in the mirror. It was a picture from a newspaper where the 49ers had won the Super Bowl, January 28, 1990.

  What the heck?

  In 1990, Nick would have been six. The "Nick" in the photo couldn't be more than three or four.

  "I'm in another coma." At least that made sense to his scrambled mind.

  Yeah, he could definitely go with that. Instead of being sent to the Nether Realm, he was trapped here, wherever here was. Caleb or Kody would wake him up at any moment and everything would be back to normal. He just had to make sure he didn't get sucked into a hell realm and eaten by a demon or zombie until they figured this out and performed another rescue mission.

  C'mon guys, hurry. He wasn't sure how long his sanity would hold.

  Cringing at what he saw in the bathroom mirror, he curled his lip. Gah, it was so strange to see someone else peering back at him. While he'd never been vain, he missed the way he used to look. The dark hair.

  And height. He really missed being tall. Short sucked. How did short guys stand it?

  Give me growing pains any day over this.

  Turning on the shower, he took a
moment to replay the last events he remembered through his mind. He'd been in Le Monde au Dela du Voile--the world behind the veil--where his mother had been taken after being kidnapped by demons. He, along with Kody and Caleb, had fought off the huge demonic werewolf Zavid and demons to get her and his father out. His dad had died in the fighting and he'd given Nick all of his Malachai powers. Powers Caleb and Kody had bound up tight until Nick could learn to use them, and to better protect him from the supernatural predators that wanted to kill him and take those powers for themselves.

  Nick froze as another fear went through him. His powers were forever malfunctioning. Could the binding potion from last night be the reason for all of this? Had it backfired and changed everything?

  Made sense. He'd once turned his friend Madaug into a goat by mistake. Maybe the potion last night had turned Madaug into a douche....

  And me into a short loser.

  As he left the shower, he winced at his reflection. "And I thought I was skinny before...."

  Dog, he looked awful. His arms were so frail, he was surprised he didn't snap them off reaching for the towel. Not the image he wanted for the rest of his life. Toweling his now-blond hair, he tried not to think about it as he dressed and headed downstairs. The only good thing about this weird life was the lack of tacky Hawaiian shirts in his closet. It appeared his mom had finally let go of her Magnum, P.I. fetish and gone shopping somewhere other than Goodwill.

  He paused on the stairs to gape at the photos of him, his mom, and Bubba from Nick's birth to high school. Dang, is there not one incarnation of my life in any alternate universe where my mom didn't take a photo of me naked in the bathtub with a rubber duck? Really? He didn't know what was more shocking, those weird non-doctored photos or the massive size of this humongous house.

  For that matter, it took him several minutes just to find the kitchen. This is worse than trying to navigate Kyrian's mansion. At least there, he had Rosa to ask for directions whenever he got lost.

  Eyes wide, Nick hesitated in the doorway as he saw Bubba at the table, reading The Wall Street Journal while his mom cleaned up the griddle that was part of their massive gas stove. That thing alone looked like something out of an alien movie.

  He'd never seen a more normal morning scene in his life. And that scared the bejeezus out of him.

  She glanced over to him and smiled. "There's my favorite Boo. You feeling better, baby?"

  Hardly ...

  "Sure, Ma."

  Bubba checked his watch. "You better grab it to go. I don't want to have to talk to Mr. Hutchins again about your tardies."