Darklove

Part Two PLAGUED OBSESSION

My body jerks. My eyes fly open. Everything’s dark. The air is sickening, still.

Eli. Vic. With a burst of energy I leap to my feet. Instinct makes me grab my left arm. Pain singes the shoulder joint. Where the hell is my scatha? I scan the ground. It’s nowhere.

Doesn’t matter. I have to go back in. . . .

My feet move first, and after two steps I’m snatched to a halt. Pain shoots from my shoulder and I hiss.

“No, you don’t,” a raspy voice says to me. A vise squeezes my good arm.

Dazed, I turn to my captor. Dreads. Crooked smile.

My partner. “Let me go, Noah,” I say evenly. My eyes are locked with his.

“Don’t do it, girl,” he says, and pulls me close. “This time, that mind shit won’t work.” From his fingers dangles the leather cord he wears around his neck, with a sachet of herbs concocted by my surrogate root doctor grandfather. It keeps his intoxicating sensual vampire scent, irrefutable by any and all species, at bay. He throws it over his head, away from the both of us. It lands at least twenty feet away. My eyes widen.

I feel my pupils dilate, and my body relaxes. I fixate on Noah’s lips. Full. Curved at the corners. Sexy as hell. Inviting. I gotta taste them. . . .

My body’s hot now, flashes of sensory fire scattering all over my flesh in patches. Stomach. Neck. Thighs. Crotch. Nothing makes sense to me except getting as physically close to Noah Miles as possible. I have to have him. Both of my hands reach for Noah’s head, he dips back, and all I touch are a few dreads. That’ll do. Wrapping my fingers tightly around them, I yank his head toward my mouth. At the same time, I leap onto him, curling my legs around his waist. One of his large hands separates us, and it’s pressing against my chest, pushing me away. My eyes dilate wider. I lean toward him, mouth open, the pain in my left shoulder forgotten. . . .

“Whoa, my little horny toad, take it easy,” Noah commands, and pushes me off his body. He chuckles, and the sound excites me. “I can’t wait to tell you about this later,” he says. He scoops me up in his arms. Runs. Picks something up. “Damn, Poe,” he mutters.

I’m barely hearing him, so deafening is my heartbeat roaring within me. Pounding in my groin. Sex. That’s all I want from Noah Miles. Sex. Now. With my good hand I grab a fistful of dreads and yank his head toward me. His mouth, so close, my teeth nip at his jaw. I want his tongue. . . .

A flash of light goes off in my face, but I don’t care. It could be a pair of headlights on a truck barreling at me full speed for all I care. As long as I get these goddamn clothes off. . . .

“Riley, damn it,” Noah mutters, and his hand stills mine as I find his crotch.

I feel as though I’m flying through the air, Noah carrying me, and I have not a care in the world except crawling as close to him as I physically can. The wind pushes at my face, and I bury it against his neck. I kiss him there, taking small nips, licks, and I find his earlobe with the silver stud he wears. I pull it into my mouth and groan.

“Jesus H. Christ Almighty, girl,” Noah groans, and pulls his head away. “Riley, give me a break, darlin’.”

We’re moving so fast I can’t make my legs creep up his body any higher. I’m nearly out of my mind with lust, the scent of Noah an addicting drug. He keeps pushing me away, and it’s pissing me the fuck off. “Please,” I beg.

The next instant happens so fast my head spins. I’m flung onto a leather seat, my right wrist is tied to the leather door pull, and I’m crammed inside, door shut. My brain is fuzzy. I feel light-headed. Dizzy. The pain in my left shoulder begins to throb.

The driver’s-side door opens, closes. I shake my head and look up. Noah’s staring at me, his eyebrows lifted in amusement. One corner of his mouth is tilted upward. Yet a pained look lingers in his eyes.

He cocks his head. “You okay?”

I shake my head again. The fog is clearing, and I glance around. “What happened?” Peering through the Rover’s windshield, I notice I’m back at the cottage. I turn my stare on Noah. “I’ve got to go back—” I move to open the Rover’s door, but my hand is tied. “What the hell?”

“You can’t go back, darlin’,” he says. “You’re out of ammo. You’ll get yourself killed. There’s nothing more you can do.”

I try to lift my left hand to untie my right, and pain shoots through me. “Son of a bitch . . .” I look at my shoulder. It’s hanging lower than it should. “You gonna help me with this, Miles?”

Noah shakes his head, starts up the motor, and puts the Rover in reverse. “Hell no,” he replies. “Not until you calm down.”

Anger boils inside me, and my eyes dart to his neck. His antisexual attraction sachet is hanging there. I know exactly what happened. I lift a furious gaze at Noah. “You actually used that on me?” It’s getting light now, and I see more than just the shadow of Noah’s face.

He smirks. “Had no choice. You were being stubborn.” He stops, puts the Rover in drive, and we start down the lane. I glance across the field and notice a man walking toward us with long, purposeful strides. A black-and-white sheepdog jogs at his side. He lifts his hand, and Noah stops.

“Can I help you two this mornin’?” he asks. His eyes light on my shoulder.

He’s a handsome guy, great accent, late thirties, early forties. The slightest touch of silver tinges his temples. Hazel eyes. Broad shoulders.

“Ah, no, we were just out for a hike,” Noah explains. “Nice standing stones.”

“Och, yeah,” the man says. “Thousand years old or better, those.” He glances at me again briefly. I can tell he sees something’s not right. I smile at him.

“All right, then, I best get to my chores. Enjoy your day,” the man says, then turns and finds his dog chasing the sheep in the field. “Och, Shep, you wicked dog. Get back here!” He grins and waves, and Noah continues on.

“Tell me what happened,” Noah asks. “I know you went in after Eli and Arcos.” He shoots me a mercurial glare. “What you did to me at the guesthouse? Shitty.”

“You’re leaving me with a dislocated shoulder,” I answer.

“Just until we get back to the flat,” Noah says.

I tell him what happened back in . . . wherever in Hell that place was. “Weird, lanky shadow bodies with tiny cat heads and sharp fangs and claws. Gargoylish-things guarding Eli and Vic in that old church, and Eli and Vic were suspended by their wrists, and naked, from the rafters.” I look at Noah, and I’m not mad at him anymore. I know whatever he does, he does to protect me. That vow he promised to uphold to Eli? I have a feeling it’s going to interfere. A lot. “Noah, they were both alive. They groaned. I dragged them all the way out of that hellhole by their wrists.”

He gave me a sideways glance. “Then what?”

I shrug. “Once we hit the forest, I don’t know . . . the same kind of sonic boom swept over us. Knocked my ass at least twenty, thirty feet through the air. Broke the rope I had bound all three of us together with.” I try to lift my shoulder. No go. “I hit the tree, tried to get up, fell, tried again. And again.” I shook my head. “They just . . . disappeared.” I look at my partner. “But they were both alive. Swear to God they were.”

At the foot of the long steep hill leading away from Ivy Cottage and St. Bueno’s, Noah puts the Rover in park. He half turns in his seat and looks at me. “I believe you. We’ll figure something out.” Lightning fast, he reaches over my body, places his large hand on my left shoulder, and snaps it back into place. I suck in a quick breath of pain; then it’s over. With a much more tender touch, he grazes my chin. “Next time, trust me, okay? Don’t use your mind power on me again, Riley. I want Eli as alive as you do.” He then unties my right wrist, puts the Rover in drive; we head back through Dingwall, Strathpeffer, and before long we’re on the A-9.

We are both silent for several miles, and I try to take in, then shake off, everything that’s happened to me since arriving in Inverness. For the first time, I feel lost. Before, I had direction. I had loaded cartridges for the scatha. I had a plan.

To save Eli and Vic.

Now that’s all blown to hell.

Where did they go?

“We have work to do, Ri,” Noah says, staring forward. The bridge over the Beauly Firth looms ahead, and the heavy scent of sea life seeps through the vents of the Rover. “Get your head in the game.”

We are in the middle of the bridge when my cell phone rings from the center console. Immediately, my heart jerks in my chest.

It’s AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell.”

That’s Victorian Arcos’s ring tone.

Throwing open the console, I grab my iPhone and answer, “Victorian?”

There is nothing but silence for more seconds than I can almost stand.

“Riley? Is it you?” Vic says. His voice is hoarse, quieter than usual. But it’s him.

I can barely speak. “Where are you? Are you okay? What happened to you back—”

Victorian lets out a low, weak laugh. “I thought you said you could barely speak, love.”

I lean against the headrest of my seat and close my eyes. “Oh my God, you’re alive.” I sit straight up. I feel sweat pop out at my forehead, and my breath catches in my throat. “Is Eli with you?”

“Nu, dragostea mea,” Vic answers in his native Romanian. No, my love. “What happened to me? How did I get home?” he asks.

From the corner of my eye I see Noah mutter into his cell phone. He’s calling the States. Eli’s family.

“Home? As in Romania?” I continue, but my mind is screaming, Where the hell is Eli?

“Da, Romania. And I know you wish to hear more of your fiancé, Riley,” he says in a low voice. “I can still hear your thoughts, love, and I wish I had more to offer. I . . . just don’t remember much at all. Except . . . pain. Excruciating pain.”

“It’s okay, Vic,” I say, yet my skin prickles at the thought. I don’t want to sound cold, but hell yeah, I want to know more of Eli. “Do you remember being in the church with Eli? Me dragging you through the streets? The forest?”

“Yes, in the church with Eli. It happened almost as instantaneously as I appeared back home. In . . . a flash.” He sighs into the receiver. “We were strung up by our wrists. Beaten with . . . something not natural. We don’t bleed, Riley. But yet . . . it drained us. Then the beatings simply stopped. And we hung. We spoke until neither of us could speak any longer.”

“Beaten by who? And why?” I ask.

Vic sighs into the phone. “I never saw a face, only shadow. But I got the same sense I had when Jake Andorra hit me with his sword. I think it was one of the Fallen.”

“And the beatings stopped because the Fallen were killed,” I offer. “Why, do you think?”

“I haven’t a clue, other than pure torture brought pleasure to them,” he says. “Or to bring pain to you, which seems more likely.”

“Well, that was a success,” I say. “I’ve been out of my fucking mind, Victorian. Anything else?”

“A warm body, wrapped around mine—I pray that it was yours. A fall. More pain, I think I was being dragged down the street. Something . . . knocked me hard. Had I breath within me, it would have been gone. A strange language I didn’t understand, muttering something unintelligible. Then . . . nothing. I woke up here, with my papa staring down at me. Who’s with you? Miles? I’ll join you two—”

“Slow down, Arcos, and no, you won’t,” I insist. “I’ve got to call Jake and let him know about this. He’s got to be told. You stay away from here, Vic. For now. Okay?”

Silence on the other end.

“Victorian. I. Mean. It.”

“For now,” he agrees. “But only because you ask it. Riley?”

“Yeah, Vic,” I respond.

“Stay close to Miles. Do not try stupid things alone. And I will come right away, if you desire. All you have to do is ask.”

I exhale. “I know you will. Thanks. I’ll be in touch. And hey,” I say quickly, before he ends the call.

“Da?” Yes.

“I’m really glad you’re alive.”

Victorian softly chuckles. “I haven’t been that, love, in centuries. But I know what you mean. I am glad, also. Thank you. I know ’twas you who saved me, even if I couldn’t see your face.”

We end the call, and I glance at Noah.

He shakes his head. “I spoke with Gilles. Eli isn’t there.”

My heart drops to my stomach. “How can that be? How does Victorian go from a forest in Scotland to Romania in a blink, but no sign of Eli?” My eyes search the gray waters of the Beauly Firth. Cars are on the road now, people in their ordinary lives going about their ordinary business. Shoppers. Tourists. Locals. Fishermen. Suits.

Yet there is a true Hell, right here on Earth. And none of them even know it.

Noah’s cell rings, and my heart leaps as I look at him.

“It’s Jake,” he says. “Andorra,” Noah answers the phone. “Okay, hold.” He pushes something, and Jake’s voice booms out of the speaker.

“Riley, are you hurt?” Jake asks. His unusual accent is something I’m finally used to. A mixture of Scots brogue and something indefinable. Something ancient.

“No,” I answer. “Jake, what’s going on?”

“You tell me,” he says.

So I do. I give him full details of everything, starting with me arriving at Ivy Cottage, my trek up to the stones, then the woods and St. Bueno’s. Everything from the moment I entered that alternative world filled with weird tiny cat-headed demons, to pulling Eli and Vic out of the rafters. I end with the sonic boom that separated us all, and then I tell him of Vic’s phone call from Romania.

“Are you sure that was Arcos on the phone?” Jake asks.

The question catches me so off guard words fail me.

“Riley, I took his head myself,” Jake reminds me. “You saw it happen.”

I shake my head. “No way is it not him, Jake. I refuse to believe it.” I glance at Noah, and he’s looking ahead in traffic and pulls onto Montague Row. “No freaking way. Besides, Jake. I saw your sword flash, and then Victorian disappear. So I can’t vouch for the beheading. I mean, it looked like you’d done it. But I don’t know. Shit.”

“I’ll call his father,” Jake says. “You two get your heads in the game and wrap up Inverness. We need you here. Fucking wolves.”

The line goes dead. Just like Jake Andorra. Business finished, hang up.

Meanwhile, all I can think about is Eli. He’s got to be alive.

And I don’t care if it kills me, I’ll find him.

When Noah parks the Rover, the owner is standing on the sidewalk, briefcase in hand. Poor guy. I hope he doesn’t get canned because he’s late to work. We hop out, I holster my scatha, and Noah leaves the Rover’s engine running.

“Hey, nice ride,” Noah says to the guy. His eyes are glassed over, but he nods.

“Aye,” he answers, and focuses on his car. He scratches his forehead, confused.

“Have a nice day,” I add.

The guy walks to the driver’s-side door, still open. “Right, then,” he says. “Cheers.” Then he climbs in and takes off down the street.

I glance up, toward the sky. There’s no sun out, but it’s daylight. A dull gray haze surrounds the city. Car horns, voices, doors opening and closing, dogs barking. All the sounds collide at once, and I force myself not to cover my ears like a little kid. Suddenly, I’m drained, no energy, and all I want to do is close my eyes.

“Damn, I know that look,” Noah says, and grabs my arm. He pulls me to the guesthouse posing as our hideout. “Let’s go, Sleeping Beauty, before you make a bed on the sidewalk.”

I can sometimes go days without sleep now, but when it hits, it’s narcoleptic hell. It’s coming over me now, a wash of weary indescribable, almost as if I’ve had a long day at the beach in ninety-degree breezes and salty waves. Just . . . exhausting. I feel my feet leave the ground, and my nose scrapes Noah’s neck. He chuckles, mutters something. He’s carrying me, putting me down. My body’s against something soft, smells nice. Everything’s dark now, all is silent, and I’m going out. . . .

The river. Brine. Marsh grass. Not the river Ness. Home. I inhale deeply, until the air singes my lungs. The blow of a porpoise in the harbor hisses through the night air.

My eyes flutter open, and I’m in my bedroom, upstairs from my shop. Inksomnia. Seems like it’s been forever since I’ve been home. Everything’s hazy, and I scrub my eyes to clear my vision. The French doors leading out to the small balcony are open, and the gauzy drapes are fluttering in a barely there breeze. I can feel it on my face, my bare arms, and with it carries the scent of something other than brine. . . .

Rising from my bed, I glance down at my body. A sheer champagne-silk slip clings to my skin, grazes my breasts, and the material shifts with the sea breeze. It barely covers my thighs. My long straight hair falls over one shoulder, and I push it back. The wooden floor is cool beneath my bare feet as I make my way to the open door. I pause and place my palm against the wooden French frame. The lights glow an amber hue against the aged cobbles of River Street below, and the sound of the river washing against the marshy shore on the opposite bank lulls me into a calming trance. I inhale again, and close my eyes. . . .

I sense him before I feel him, and when he moves behind me, my body reacts, a thousand nerve endings snapping fire at once. His hand skims my arm, over my hip, my thigh. With his other hand, he pushes back my hair and exposes my neck. Soft, firm lips drag with erotic, painful slowness across my skin, lingering on my shoulder. His scent, so familiar, makes my heart slam against my ribs with anticipation. My joints weaken at the knees. I’d know his touch, the feel of his mouth against me, anywhere. He’s mine. He’s back. . . .

Eli. . . .

He turns me in his arms, and grasps my face with both hands. My fingers find his chest bare, and my eyes drink him in. I never thought I’d see him again, and a feeling greater than joy seizes my heart. My lips part to speak, but he hushes me with one finger across my mouth, silencing me. Slowly, he shakes his head, and I swallow whatever crazy words I had. I don’t want to break this spell. Is it really happening? Is he really here, under my touch? Am I really looking into the face that I love?

A hank of pitch-dark hair falls over one of his trademark cerulean Dupré eyes, and he searches my face as though seeking some fine, minor detail he’d earlier missed. I allow him this, but impatience is biting at me. I want him, his lips, his tongue—I’d crawl into his skin if I could. I can’t get close enough. And I’m not sure how much longer I can wait, but I let him take his time. Slowly, he explores every small detail. I’m dying. . . .

Tilting my head to the right, he lowers his head toward me. Something flashes in his eyes, just a fraction of a spark, just before his lips, those sensual, full, erotic lips, graze mine. And I’m lost. . . .

His hand cups the back of my head as he leans into the kiss, and he leaves nothing unloved. His mouth caresses mine, at first, gentle, searching, testing. Then he tastes me, and as if a firecracker has exploded, his free hand presses against the small of my back and yanks me against him, and my arms slip around his neck, entwine through his hair. I kiss him back with fervor, and when his hand lowers to my backside, he pulls me harder to him. A rock-hard bulge is between us, pressing against me, and I can’t stop the smile on my mouth that he’s kissing right now. My hands drop from his hair, my fingertips trailing over his chest, and I find his waistband. Undoing one button, then two, then three, I feel Eli’s kiss deepening as my palm finds the erection straining against his jeans. I release him, and the feel of him is so familiar, so right, I can’t help the vulnerable groan that escapes me. Eli catches me behind my knees and picks me up, our lips never parting, and carries me to my bed. We fall together, and he stretches over me. Then he breaks our kiss and looks at me through his fall of lush black hair. His face is half cast in shadow, and it’s nothing but a straight-up turn-on. He studies me long, hard, and I writhe with anticipation beneath him. Bracing his weight with one arm, he caresses my face with one knuckle, drags it across my lips, then down the column of my throat. Neither of us breathes a word. I’m afraid to. I don’t want this to not be real. . . .

“Do it now, Eli,” a strange female voice echoes from the shadows.

Eli goes totally still above me. Who the hell’s voice is that? Eli’s strength radiates through his body, making him quiver.

“Do not make me say it again,” the female voice commands. “Now.”

A single headlight beam flashes across the interior of my room, and illuminates Eli’s face for one half split second. But I see it. I see it clearly. I see him clearly.

His face and body are marred by singed slashes. His jaw is extended, a row of sharp teeth dropped to jagged points. His eyes are . . . black as pitch.

He knows I know. He grabs my throat with his free hand and jerks his face to mine. I scream. Grab his hair from the back and yank his head away. I flip him, now straddling him. He screams, his head rolling side to side so fast it blurs. And it’s a bloodcurdling sound I’ve never heard before. I scream, too. . . .

“Riley!”

I’m flipped onto my back, and the harsh impact of my shoulder blades on the floor makes my breath wheeze out. A sharp slap against my cheek burns and makes my foggy vision begin to clear. The light from a swag lamp above me makes me squint. I see clearly now. Noah is on top of me, holding me down.

“Are you back?” he asks. His voice is raspy, tinged with concern.

“Yeah,” I answer. “Get off me.” I give Noah a shove. He jumps up and extends a hand. I take it, and he pulls me up. I’m groggy, as though I’ve been sleeping for days. With the pads of my fingertips, I rub my eyes.

“Twenty-eight hours to be exact,” Noah says. Never does he miss an opportunity to read my mind. I’m most vulnerable when I just awaken from one of my fallout sleeps. Jesus, twenty-eight hours. Wasted. “And a lot’s happened since you passed out.”

I look at him. “Like what?”

Noah shakes his head. “First, what’d you see?”

I notice that I’m still fully dressed, minus the leather jacket and boots. We’re standing in the small living room, finished in blue-and-black plaid. I walk toward what I hope is the kitchen, find the fridge, and thankfully, Noah’s bought a gallon of milk. I twist off the plastic cap and raise the jug to my mouth. Ice-cold whole milk pours down my throat, and I’m a half gallon down by the time I pull it away.

“I was with Eli, back home,” I begin after wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “He was . . . perfect. Unmarred.” I shrug. “He was my Eli. Then he changed. His skin was slashed with those blackened singe marks, like he had in the church when I pulled him out. He morphed, full-vamp changed on me.” I meet Noah’s gaze. “Someone commanded him to hurt me. A female. After that, he did try to kill me.”

“It was a dream, Riley,” Noah says. “Nothing more.”

I take another gulp of milk, screw the lid back on, and put it back in the fridge. Turning, I lean against the counter and cross my arms over my chest. “I don’t think so. He’s alive, Noah. Vic’s alive. He somehow zapped clear over to Romania once I cleared him of that alternative world. Eli is . . . somewhere else.”

“Where?” Noah asks. “Any clue who the female is?”

I press my fingertips to my temples and rub hard. Woke up too fast. Head is splitting. “Hell if I know.”

“So you think he put that dream in your head?”

My eyes flash open and I stare at my partner. My friend, too. Noah Miles would lay down his immortal life for me. Without a doubt, he would. I don’t believe there’s anyone or anything that could stop him. And that’s a little frightening. “Or the female. I just don’t know.”

Noah’s face tenses, and I can tell my words trouble him. Troubles me, too. “Let’s get Inverness handled,” he says, turns me around, and takes over rubbing my temples. So easily, he could squash straight through my skull and into my brain. But he won’t.

“That’s really, truly gross and disgusting,” he says, and turns me back around to face him. “But it’s nice you trust me.” He gives me a somber look. “We’ll get all this figured out,” he says. Surprisingly, I’m comforted by that. “Until then, we’ve got work to do. You’ve taken one rogue out. I’ve taken another two.”

“Two?” I repeat.

“Yeah, they seem to be unrelated, and both newbloods. One of them crazy and big as shit,” he says, shaking his head. “No pattern with their targets, except all hits at night.” He eyes me. “Could be an older one transformed a handful of newbloods, and they’ve all just struck out on their own. Like I said, no pattern to their kills, and they’ve all been alone. We’ll have to hunt like hell until we get them all.”

“We’ll have to split up,” I add.

“Not happening,” Noah says. “No way in hell.”

“No choice,” I say. “Besides, do you realize I can hear your footfall from a mile away? I can call your name and you’re at my side within seconds.”

“Not seconds,” he counters. “Only if I’m close enough is it seconds. Might take a few minutes if we’re on opposite ends of the city. And that might be a few minutes too long.” He shakes his head, one long dread falling from the clip he has gathered at the nape of his neck. “No way, Riley. Get over it.”

“We’ll hunt together tonight,” I offer. Besides, I can tell nothing will change Noah’s mind right now. No sense in wasting time arguing when there’s work to be done. “The city’s not too big. Let’s just get tonight over with, see what we find, and go from there.” It is a little hard being all WUP business, when all that’s on my mind is Eli, where he is, the condition he’s in, and how in hell he put that dream into my head.

“All right,” Noah agrees, but his dark blond eyebrows are furrowed into a frown. Those silvery eyes hold mine. “There’s takeout in the fridge. Unless you’re good to go on all that milk you guzzled.”

I grab the fridge door, open it, push past my partner’s specially bagged blood products, and find the white foam container of . . . whatever. I grab it and carry it to the microwave. After it heats, I sit down at the kitchen table and Noah watches me closely as I devour two slabs of batter-fried haddock, a pile of thick chips, and a beef pie. At least, I think it was a beef pie. It all went down so fast I barely tasted the glob of brown sauce and malt vinegar Noah had covered the chips in.

Like my narcoleptic hell, the appetite I wake up to is something uncontrolled, and pretty impressive for a girl. I guess it’s my body’s way of keeping me in good functioning condition. I honestly can’t help it. But my thoughts remain on Eli. Always.

I rise and toss my empty container in the trash, down a warm soda, and throw it away, too. I glance at Noah.

“Give me ten minutes,” I say. “I need to shower.”

“Ten,” he agrees. “I threw your bag in the first room.”

I leave the kitchen without another word, hurry to the first guest room, and toss my duffel onto the bed. Riffling through what small amount of belongings I packed, I pull out a clean pair of black skinny jeans, a long-sleeved black Under Armour shirt, panties and socks, and a clean sports bra. Grabbing the smaller bag containing bathroom stuff, I head to the room’s en suite bath. Within seconds I’m stripped and standing beneath a steaming waterfall. Soapy water runs down my body, my arms, and for a moment, I stare at the dragon’s tail that’s wrapped around one of them. I skim my hand over it, remembering the day my best friend, Nyx, inked it there. Starting at my lower spine, the dragon winds up and over my shoulder. The tail curls around my index finger. It was the last part to be colored in. Hurt like a mother, right there over my bony knuckle. And it seems so long ago. A whole life ago.

Rinsing the conditioner from my hair, I turn the water off, wrap my hair in a towel, and climb out. Just as I turn my head to close the shower door, the window catches my eye in the mirror. A face. My heart stops.

I whip around and stare at the window.

Nothing’s there.

There’s a ledge above the toilet, just beneath the window. I leap up and crouch, tilting my head sideways and peering out. I see nothing but a streetlight, the sidewalk, and the Rover I hijacked. Nothing else.

“What the hell, Riley?”

I turn and glance at Noah, standing just inside the bathroom door. “I thought I saw something. A face.” I peer back outside. Still nothing but darkness and shadows. I fine-tune my hearing, and everything normal screeches to a halt. The sounds I hear now are that of a mouse’s heartbeat. The scratching of some small animal against the bark of a tree. A human’s breath easing in and out of lungs.

Nothing else.

I look at Noah and jump down, clutching my towel to my body. I land on the white cotton bath rug. “It was Eli.”

“Come on, darlin’,” Noah says in his Charleston drawl. “That fast and you know it was Eli?”

My head spins. “I don’t know anymore. Get out so I can get dressed and we can get the hell out of here,” I say, frustrated. I look at Noah. “It’ll only take a sec.”

Noah says nothing and backs out of the bathroom.

I drop the towel and throw on my clothes. Quickly, I pull my wet hair back and secure it with a silver clip. In my room, I yank on my boots and jacket and pass Noah in the hall.

The night air is chilled; it’s early November in the Highlands. Funny, I can tell it’s chilly out—probably more than chilly. Air is crisp. I feel the cold, feel the wind. My breath puffs out before me as warm meets cold. But it doesn’t affect me as it did when I was solely human. My eyes search the dark, the shadows. I sniff the air. I listen.

Many things assault my senses.

None of them scream Eli.

“Shake it off,” Noah says. “And get your head in the game.” He glances at his watch. “Twenty minutes till midnight. Let’s get moving.” One final glare, his gaze levels mine. “Don’t take off away from me, Riley Poe. Swear to God, I’ll kick your ass.”

With one more glance around our guesthouse, we head out to Montague Row and follow it along, side by side, at a fairly brisk human walk. It’s still early, and there are people moving about. Not many, but enough that I have to tune back my hearing. Too many human heartbeats, voices, whispers at once. Almost makes me dizzy. It’s become so easy for me now. I just . . . think it, and it happens. Kinda scary, and I believe that particular trait came from Vic’s father, Senior Arcos. In times of extreme adrenaline, though, I have to concentrate. Probably a good thing, or else people would be slapping one another in the face, pulling hair, and tripping pedestrians.

We walk down to the river Ness, and follow the walkway hugging the shore. Even at midnight on a Thursday night, it’s pretty lively on the riverfront. Several pubs and eating establishments line the river, and I have to stop and take it in. The moment I halt, Noah does, too, and he looks at me. I close out the drone of human conversation, and listen for minor details. A single racing heart. A whimper. A cry of fright, of disbelief. The air catching in a throat.

Fast footfall.

Heavy, a human male. Not used to running. Heart rate around one hundred and seventy now. I cock my head, listening.

“He’s two streets over, heading upriver, toward the bridge,” I say.

We both take off fast, slipping closer into the shadows of the buildings, leaping over anything that’s in our way. I’m a head and neck in front of Noah, and as we hit the walkway down to the river, I see him. I can’t tell his age, but I’m guessing midthirties. Not used to a lot of exercise, and he’s winded as hell. Dark clothes, gray woolen coat. He’s got a black skully on. I scan the darkness. “What’s spooking him?”

Noah and I are nearly on top of him, and we Y off from each other. I take the human, and with one leap I take him to the ground. His grunt resonates against my chest. Quickly, I roll off him and briefly glance up. Behind and above me, I see Noah leap into an ancient tree with long, heavy branches. I turn my attention to the man.

“You okay?” I ask, and jump to my feet. I extend a hand.

His face is stark white against the black skully pulled over his ears. He doesn’t accept my hand, instead stares at me. Blank faced. “I dunno—”

It happens so fast my mind spins a little as I react. Noah and another—completely morphed and fanged—drop from the canopy of the tree above. The vampire swings at Noah, who has him by the neck, then builds strength and lunges directly toward the human. I find my blade in the back of my jeans and hurl it at the vampire’s heart. It sinks a solid inch over the hilt. The vampire drops to the ground, inches from the human. The moment his body crumples, he begins to convulse.

The man stares wide-eyed at the seizing form on the ground. Stepping closer, I place my hand on his arm and pull him away. He doesn’t resist. I turn him around and force him to look at me. The whites of his eyes take up nearly the entire orb. Go straight home now. Forget you were chased. Forget what you’ve seen. And for a while, stay home after dark, if you can. Hurry.

His stare vacant, the guy turns, shoves his hands into his woolen coat pockets, and starts up the sidewalk at a brisk walk. I watch him until he turns up a street and disappears.

“One more down,” Noah says.

“One more saved,” I reply, glancing in the direction of the frightened guy. I look at Noah. “Did you get anything?”

Noah shakes his head. “Late twenties. Not a newblood, not old, either.” He shrugs. “Again, totally random.”

We continue on throughout the night, but find nothing more than a handful of drunken college students celebrating a birthday by pub crawling, a few domestic fights, and a guy out looking for his runaway dog.

My hearing picks up a female gasp. It’s a scared, surprised sound. I jerk my head and stare downriver, toward a row of restaurants and pubs. No. Beyond that. A park. I hear her whispered plea. “No, please.” “Let’s go,” I say to Noah. I take off. He’s right behind me.

The rows we’re running down are relatively even, and I think we’d make better time going rooftop. I turn down a close, leap from car, wall to wall, and climb the chimney until I reach the top. Noah’s a step behind me. We take off.

Across the rooftops we fly, bounding off chimneys and gutters. I’m following the young woman’s heartbeat. Thank God there’s still one to follow. Might not be for long.

We haul over four buildings before the park is in sight. I make one final lunge and land in the branches of an old oak. Quickly I find solid footing, and I swing down.

When I land, it’s just in time to see a dark head lift from the woman’s neck. Her body is limp in his arms. She’s blond, petite, maybe midtwenties. Wearing a pub T-shirt and jeans. The light from the streetlamp perched on the sidewalk close to the grass illuminates her face. Terror is frozen in her dead expression. Eyes wide. Eyebrows pinched. Mouth wide open in a silent scream.

The vampire holding her is in shadows. Slowly, he turns his head toward me. I see nothing but one corner of a fanged mouth tip upward into a smile.

A heavy, sickening wash of familiarity comes over me, and before I blink, he drops the dead girl and takes off into the darkness. I don’t even hesitate. I follow.

“Riley!” Noah calls, and starts off behind me. The one I’m chasing is fast, and I’m having to kick in the extra energy to keep up. I can hear Noah’s footfalls fade a little with each step.

The park is deserted, and I’m chasing this vampire into the shadows at the far end when suddenly, he has stopped, turned, and is facing me. I stop, too, and stare, peering into the shadows obscuring his features. I see his silhouette, though, and my insides feel sickened. Six feet. Broad shoulders. Muscular thighs. Arrogant stance.

The grass crunches behind me, and I turn my head. It’s Noah.

“Riley, I asked you not to take off alone,” he says, distracting me for a half second.

I glance back at the figure. The vampire that has just killed a young girl.

He’s gone.

I feel my knees go weak, and I want to sink to the ground, maybe even scream. I inhale instead and take off in the direction the vampire disappeared. Vampire. Killer. Bloodsucker who’d just stolen a life, ruined others because of it. That girl’s family will never be the same, always a hole ripped in their lives. I hate it so much it makes my insides roil with rage. I hear Noah swear and he’s right behind me again.

Without thinking, I crank up the speed, and I’m bounding over parked cars, rebounding off buildings, and next I’m leaping rooftops again. I scan the shadows, searching for the least amount of movement. I startle a flock of roosting ravens, and their wings sound like drums going off in my head. They slow me just enough for Noah to get his hands on me and yank me to a halt.

“Riley!” he says harshly, and snatches me toward him. Both of his hands grip my shoulders. “Stop!”

I look at my partner’s face, and shadows fall across most of it. It’s Noah, though. I know that. For a second, I’m dazed. What the hell’s wrong with me?

Who was I just chasing?

I shift my gaze across the city’s skyline. Down the river, the castle lights are still on. Dawn is close to breaking, and I see the river Ness moving like a black eel below me. I look at Noah, who is studying me with a cautious look.

“I’m losing my mind,” I say, barely above a whisper. “It has to be residual from entering that alternative plane.” I shake my head and lift my gaze to meet Noah’s. “Why do I keep seeing Eli?”

Noah’s brow furrows. “You thought that vampire back there was Eli?” He shook his head. “Come on, Riley. Eli Dupré? Your fiancé? My closest friend? Original guardian of Savannah? Entrusted by Preacher and Estelle? Forsake his parents? Eli, turned dark?” Again, he shakes his head and lets go of my shoulders. “No fucking way, Riley. It wasn’t him. Your mind’s playing tricks on you.”

“Then what’s wrong with me?” I ask. “Why, ever since St. Bueno’s, am I seeing him, Noah? Am I crazy? Am I being tormented?”

Noah looks down at me, his silvery eyes soft. “I don’t think you are seeing him, darlin’. I think . . . ,” He grabs my chin and lifts it closer to him. “I think he is consuming your mind right now. You know Arcos made it out alive, and you want more than anything for the same to happen to Eli. I get that. And he may have. But he’s not killing innocents.” Noah’s eyes hold mine. “He’s just not.”

The sun is just cracking the horizon. What were shadows and darkness are now haze and fuzzy light. I see Noah’s face clearly. He’s probably the most sincere soul I know. “Then why,” I say to him, “am I seeing him in a bad way? Killing people?”

One corner of Noah’s mouth lifts. “Now, that I can’t explain, Ms. Poe. But you need to relax. Concentrate. And let’s get this job done. Then we’ll work on Eli.” He taps my nose. “Together. With Andorra.”

I heave a sigh. “Yeah. Okay.”

Noah inclines his head toward the ground. “You ready to hop off this rooftop before we draw a crowd?”

“Guess we’d better,” I say, and leap the two and a half stories to a side alley. Noah lands beside me, and we walk toward the river. Early-morning businesses are opening up. Bakers, butchers, tourist shops. It’s Friday morning, and there’s a certain feel in the wind. Maybe it’s coming from the youth, looking forward to a little fun? Kids out of school? Whatever it is, I know the streets of Inverness are no longer safe. Three rouge vampires killed already. One on the loose, and I have no idea who that one is.

Despite Noah’s insistence that it wasn’t Eli, I pray for it to not be.

It’s only a matter of time before the local police discover the bodies being drained of blood, or minus a very important organ, are more than a fluke. Nothing screams serial killer more than a few dead bodies piling up.

Makes me wonder if that guy, before I put the mind whammy on him, knows just how lucky he is. That he was a half second away from having his blood sucked from his body. Maybe it’s best that he doesn’t know. Sometimes I wish I didn’t.

“Let’s walk the city today, in the daylight,” Noah suggests. “Arriving here after dark, taking off on a blind hunt.” He shakes his head. “I don’t like to work that way. Inverness isn’t too big. Let’s head back to the guesthouse, get the maps Andorra gave us, and hit the streets.” He drapes an arm over one of my shoulders. “Come on.”

I meet Noah Miles’s encouraging gaze. If anyone can make you believe in yourself, or a cause, it’s Noah Freaking Miles. Must be left over in his human DNA from the Revolutionary War.

“Damn straight it is,” he says, reading my mind. “Let’s go.”

We slip into the streets of Inverness, mingling with the mortals walking to work, to school, tourists checking out St. Andrew’s Cathedral, Inverness Castle.

All completely incoherent to the fact that an immortal killer, the very top of the food chain, stalks them. Probably more than one.

Police sirens echo close by, resonating off the stone and brick of the buildings. I can tell where it’s headed. The park. To that poor dead girl we left there.

Yeah. No matter who is responsible. They have to be stopped.

Even if it kills me.