Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

In the past two years, New York Times bestselling author Sherrilyn Kenyon has claimed the #1 spot twelve times, and since 2004, she has placed more than 50 novels on the New York Times list. This extraordinary bestseller continues to top every genre she writes. With more than 23 million copies of her books in print in over 30 countries, her current series include: The Dark-Hunters, The League, Lords of Avalon, BAD Agency, Chronicles of Nick and Nevermore. A preeminent voice in paranormal fiction, Kenyon helped pioneer and define the current paranormal trend that has captivated the world. She lives with her husband, three sons, a menagerie of animals and a collection of swords.

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Infinity

St. Martin's Griffin

“I am a socially awkward mandork.”

“Nicholas Ambrosius Gautier! You watch your language!”

Nick sighed at his mother’s sharp tone as he stood in their tiny kitchen looking down at the bright orange Hawaiian shirt. The color and style were bad enough, the fact it was covered in l-a-r-g-e pink, gray and white trout (or were they salmon?) was even worse. “Mom, I can’t wear this to school. It’s…” he paused to think real hard of a word that wouldn’t get him grounded for life– “hideous. If anyone sees me in this, I’ll be an outcast relegated to the loser corner of the cafeteria.”

As always, she scoffed at his protest. “Oh shush. There’s nothing wrong with that shirt. Wanda told me at the Goodwill store that it came in from one of those big mansions down in the Garden District. That shirt belonged to the son of a fine upstanding man and since that’s what I’m raising you to be…”

Nick ground his teeth. “I’d rather be a delinquent no one picks on.”

She let out a deep sound of aggravation as she paused while flipping bacon. “No one’s going to pick on you, Nicky. The school has a strict no bullying policy.”

Yeah, right. That wasn’t worth the “contract” paper it was written on. Especially since the bullies were illiterate idiots who couldn’t read it anyway.

Jeez. Why wouldn’t she listen to him? It wasn’t like he wasn’t the one going into the lion’s den everyday and having to traverse the brutality of high school land mines. Honestly, he was sick of it and there was nothing he could do.

He was a massive loser dork and no one at school ever let him forget that. Not the teachers, the principal and especially not the other students.

Why can’t I flash forward and bypass this whole high school nightmare?

Because his mom wouldn’t let him. Only hoodlums dropped out of school and she didn’t work as hard as she did to raise up another piece of worthless scum– it was a harped on litany permanently carved into his brain. It ranked right up there with:

Be a good boy, Nicky. Graduate. Go to college. Get a good job. Marry a good girl. Have lots of grandbabies and never miss a holy day of obligation at church. His mom had already road mapped his entire future with no diversions or pit stops allowed.

But at the end of the day, he loved his mom and appreciated everything she did for him. Except for this whole, do what I say, Nicky. I’m not listening to you because I know better thing, she said all the time.

He wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t a troublemaker. She had no idea what he went through at school and every time he tried to explain it, she refused to listen. It was so frustrating.

Gah, can’t I catch swine flu or something? Just for the next four years until he was able to graduate and move on to a life that didn’t include constant humiliation? After all, the swine flu had killed millions of people in 1918 and several more during outbreaks in the seventies and eighties. Was it too much to ask that another mutant strain of it incapacitate him for a few years?

Maybe a good bout of Parvo…

You’re not a dog, Nick.

True, no dog would be caught dead wearing this shirt. Whizzing on it would be another matter…

Sighing in useless angst, he looked down at the crap shirt he wanted desperately to burn. Okay fine. He’d do what he always did whenever his mom made him look like a flaming moron.

He’d own it.

I don’t want to own this. I look like epically stupid.

Man-up, Nick. You can take it. You’ve taken a lot worse.

Yeah, all right. Fine. Let them laugh. He couldn’t stop that anyway. If it wasn’t the shirt, they’d humiliate him over something else. His shoes. His haircut. And if all else failed, they’d insult his name. Didn’t matter what he said or did, those who mocked would mock anything. Because some people were just wired wrong and they couldn’t live unless they were making other people suffer.

His Aunt Menyara always said, no one could make him feel inferior unless he allowed them to.

Problem was, he allowed it a lot more than he wanted to.

His mom set a chipped blue plate on the side of the rusted out stove. “Sit down, baby, and eat something. I was reading in a magazine that someone left at the club that kids score much higher on tests and do a lot better in school whenever they have breakfast.” She smiled and held the package of bacon up for him to see. “And look. It’s not expired this time.”

He laughed at something that really wasn’t funny. One of the guys who came into his mom’s club was a local grocer who would give them meat sometimes when it expired since all the guy did was throw it out anyway.

As long as we eat it quick, it won’t make us sick.

Another litany he hated.

Picking up the crispy bacon, he glanced around the tiny condo they called home. It was one of four that had been carved out of an old rundown house. Made up of three small rooms- the kitchen/living room, his mom’s bedroom and the bathroom- it wasn’t much, but it was theirs and his mom was proud of it so he tried to be proud too.

Most days.

He winced as he looked at his corner where his mom had strung up dark blue blankets to make a room for him on his last birthday. His clothes were kept in an old laundry basket on the floor set next to his mattress that was covered with Star Wars sheets he’d had since he was nine– another present his mom had picked up at a yard sale.

“One day, Mom, I’m going to buy us a really nice house.” With really nice stuff in it.

She smiled, but her eyes said she didn’t believe a word he spoke. “I know you will, baby. Now eat up and get to school. I don’t want you dropping out like me.” She paused as a hurt look flitted across her face. “You can see exactly what that gets you.”

Guilt cut through him. He was the reason his mom had dropped out of school. As soon as her parents had learned she was pregnant, they’d offered her one choice.

Give up the baby or give up her nice home in Kenner, her education and her family.

For reasons he still didn’t understand, she’d chosen him.

It was something Nick never let himself forget. But one day he was going to get all that back for her. She deserved it and for her, he’d wear this godawful shirt.

Even if it got him killed…

And he’d smile through the pain of it until Stone and his crew kicked his teeth in.

Trying not to think about the butt-whipping to come, Nick ate his bacon in silence. Maybe Stone wouldn’t be in school today. He could get malaria or the plague, or rabies or something.

Yeah, may the smarmy freak get a pox on his privates.

That thought actually made him smile as he shoved the grainy powdered eggs in his mouth and swallowed them. He forced himself not to shiver at the taste. But it was all they could afford.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and jerked. “Gotta go. I’m going to be late.”

She grabbed him for a bear...