Darklove

Part Four DARK WHISPERS

They are baiting you, Riley. You must leave. Do it now.

My body jolts as though I’ve been hit. I’m so taken off guard by the voice in my head that I nearly fall from the twenty-foot tree branch I’m sharing with Noah.

Go now. If they capture you, Riley, they won’t kill you. They’ll torture you. And there’s nothing more you can do. The human is dead. Leave.

I stare through the pine branches and shadows at Eli and the female. My eyes drift to the lifeless body of the innocent human lying on the ground. I am so damn confused and hurt and angry, I feel as though I’m going to self-combust. My breath quickens, and my energy gathers, but before my feet leave the tree branch, Noah’s grip tightens around my arm. I know he won’t let go. If I jump, I’ll land with one less limb.

But if I jump, I’ll still have one good arm left to fight with.

Then I hear it. I hold my breath and cock my head, zoning out everything else around me: the wind, the night sounds. I focus on heartbeats, separating the human ones from the animal ones. There. Back toward the river. And it’s more than one, accompanied by breathlessness.

With a final glance at the female vampire, who wipes her mouth with her sleeve and grins at me, I look at Noah, and he knows. We take off through the trees, and I’m racing now toward the human heart that is beating faster and faster, matching the footsteps as it runs. The moment we clear the cemetery, we’re at top speed, Noah’s a few steps behind me, and . . . I was wrong. Not at the river. One street over. Down an alley. The crying and begging is loud now—loud enough for another human to hear. Noah and I round the corner at the same time.

It’s a dead-end alley—a crossway between two buildings, with a small courtyard at the very end. A young couple stands huddled together, the guy shielding the girl. She’s clinging to his back, her fingers digging into his shoulder so fiercely I can see her knuckles whitening from where I stand.

Two have them cornered—both males. Both young. Well, young looking. They both turn and face me and Noah as we close in. I lunge toward the couple, and the girl screams. I glance at her. Be quiet. Both of you run. Leave. Go straight home. Do it now!

The guy stares at me for a blink, then grabs his girlfriend by the hand and starts to run, and I shuffle them to the side of the building, my back to them, my eyes on the males. Noah’s in front of me now, and he’s already morphed. One of the males leaps and tries to get past me to go after the humans, but I grab his leg and snatch him down. He lands on his back, and I’m on top of him. He surprises me, though. He’s stronger than I imagine. He grabs me by the throat and flings me against the building. My head hits, and I know it’s gonna hurt like hell in the morning. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Noah. He’s got the other one. This one flies at me, and I yank my silver out of my waist sheath and jab the tip into his skin. His eyes grow large as he stares at me.

“Is she controlling you?” I ask. When he doesn’t answer, I shove the blade in a little more. He grunts. “Who is she?” I growl. What’s her fucking name?

The vampire stares at me with bloodred eyes. “Carrine,” he says, and his voice is gurgly sounding. A smile tips his mouth upward. “She will kill you.”

“I don’t think so.” I shove the blade into his heart. He falls against me. He’s already convulsing when I shove him off, and the moment I’m clear of him I see Noah tear the other one’s head clean off. Not pretty. He throws it down onto the quivering body and looks at me. In a blurring instant, his face shifts back. Flawless and perfect.

“You know,” Noah says. He glances at the piles on the ground. “This is getting pretty goddamn old.” He cracks his neck, as if there’s a kink left over from his monster shifting. “What’d he tell you?”

I go over, kick the blade away from the messy pile of vampire leftovers, and clean it off on the pavement. Then my pants. So freaking sick, but I don’t want to leave my blades behind. “Her name is Carrine. And apparently, according to him”—I incline my head—“she wants me dead.”

“Yeah, that’s nothing new,” Noah says. He glances skyward; it’s the first time I notice that dawn is near. “You hear anything else?” he asks.

I listen for a moment, then shake my head. “No, but I’ll feel better if we run the rooftops, slip through a few streets before dawn breaks.” I shove the blade back in its sheath and walk to Noah. “I don’t know who Carrine is, but something else is going on here.”

“Like?”

I shrug. “Well, if I knew that answer we wouldn’t be standing here.”

Noah’s face is shadowy, but I see him grin. “Let’s go.”

We head out. Run rooftops. Leap from building to building. We even cross the river, scale St. Andrew’s Cathedral, and make a few laps along the river Ness. It stays silent the rest of the night. Well, all except for the fire department and clean- up crew still gathered outside Hush 51. What a mess. We keep our distance, though, and the closer it is to daylight, people are beginning their day and we’re forced to slow to their pace. Nothing else occurs. No random vampires. No appearance of Eli and Carrine.

Just thinking his name with another female, vampire or not, hurts.

With Noah and me covering opposite sides of the street, we sweep the city center once more. Gulls scream and light on the rooftops, and as I inhale, the salty scent of the firth sweeps over me. Reminds me of home. God, I miss that stinky, pukey-smelling marsh.

The next couple of days are surprisingly uneventful. No killings, not even a hint or scent of Eli and Carrine. We comb every club, seek out every rooftop, every darkened alleyway, and all along the river Ness. Nothing. The weekend is over now, and locals are returning to their weekly routine. Me and Noah are just turning onto Montague Row when the November sun peaks over the city’s crest. I stop and turn, staring. Ever since I’ve been in Scotland, I think I’ve seen the sun maybe three times. I want so badly for all this bullshit to go away: the killing of innocents, the mystery of Eli. And how will I ever get the images of him kissing that female out of my head? Jesus, I hate jealousy, but I’m human, even if just partly, after all. I can’t help some emotions. And watching the two of them kiss, touch?

I close my eyes for a brief second, and the sun rises and gleams through the clouds, shining on my face. My skin heats, just a little, and I inhale. For a moment, I’m lost. The sounds of the city, horns blasting, the low hum of conversation that hardly ever leaves me now. The wind is chilled and brisk this morning, and with it rides the sounds of seals barking from the firth.

I snap my eyes open, suddenly aware that I’m standing on the drive of our guesthouse, with my eyes closed. Looking like an idiot. Feeling way more vulnerable than I should ever, ever allow myself.

Noah’s silver eyes are studying me with such intensity, such depth. No pity there. Only compassion. His eyes soften. “You’re far from looking like an idiot,” he informs me, once more delving into my thoughts. “Far. And don’t go digging around in my head, either.” He grins. “You might not like what you find.”

It’s tempting, I’ll admit. To dig, I mean. Ever since all of the vampiric venom latched on to my DNA, I’ve been able to see past events in others’ lives. All by a simple touch. I don’t have any control over where I go once inside that soul’s memory, but it’s almost as if I’m actually there, in person, standing and watching whatever event is occurring unfold. The guys who schooled us all in the use of a broadsword back in Edinburgh? Tristan de Barre in particular? Yeah, that was definitely something else to behold. He’d been a thirteenth-century knight who was murdered in his own dungeon, along with his men, the infamous Dragonhawk and his knights. In the vision I’d stood in a dank cell and watched, helpless to do anything about it. Then again, had I been able to, there’d be no Tristan de Barre today. And weirdly, although he was dead for centuries, there is a Tristan. Dead, wandering his lands with his men as spirits, then whack! His now wife, a forensic archaeologist, helped him break an aged curse, and he and his men were given another life. Another chance at mortality. Tristan and Gawan Conwyk, friends in life and in death, came together to instruct the WUP team in Edinburgh on the use of a broadsword. Sick teachers, both of them.

“Now, there’s something I don’t see nearly enough of lately,” Noah says as he unlocks the guesthouse door. He turns. “You, smiling.”

I walk past him. “Yeah, well, you know me, don’t ya?” I move into the kitchen, open the fridge, and grab the half-filled soda bottle Noah had bought for me the other day. When I crack the lid, it barely hisses; it’s flatter than what I like, but I guzzle it down anyway.

“All too well.”

I look at Noah, and for a split second I think to tell him about the voice I’d heard, warning me to leave instead of attack Carrine. The voice telling me that she and Eli would not kill, but would torture me. I open my mouth, but something else comes out instead. “I don’t get this, Noah. What do Carrine and Eli have to do with the rogue and newblood killings? I don’t see the connection at all.”

“I don’t know, either,” he offers. “But that’s what we’re here to find out, right? And to stop it.”

“Yeah, we are,” I answer. Then I throw the empty plastic soda bottle at the trash can. I throw it harder than I mean to, and I completely miss the can and hit the wall instead. It bounces and flings across the kitchen. I sigh and rub my eyes.

Noah grabs me by the shoulders and steadies me. Calms me. “Look at me,” he says.

With another sigh, I open my eyes. “I don’t get it, Noah. How can Eli look right at me and not know me?” I feel energy surging up inside me from the thought of Eli and the female together. Like a soda that has been shaken, and the lid is cracked and all the liquid fizzes out. That’s me, right now, despite having seen the hesitation in Eli’s eyes. Almost there . . .

“Riley, you have to get a grip, darlin’,” Noah says, and ducks his head to make me look at him. Liquid silver glimmers. “Because, when we have human bloodlust, that’s all there is. It consumes us. No matter what’s occurred, that becomes the focus. To somehow, no matter the means, get that human’s blood inside our bodies.”

I look away, because it hurts to think about this. He grasps my chin and pulls my gaze back to his. “All reason, morality, humanity—it all goes away. Memories? Gone. Our vision sees nothing but blood. We taste it in our mouth by just the scent of it beneath the surface of a human’s skin.” He smiles. “You know this. You experienced it, Riley. I’ve got the memory of a sore neck to prove it. Remember? You ripped into it when you were blood-lusting.”

Again, the need for comfort overwhelms me, and I slide my arms around Noah’s waist and lay my head against his chest. I’m not very fond of this neediness I have lately. It sucks. Makes me feel so useless.

His arms go around me, and his hand cups the back of my head. “I’m not going to lie and say I got all the answers,” he says gently. “But I will fight to the end to save Eli.”

It’s at that exact moment, it happens.

It’s weird that it hasn’t happened before now.

One moment, my cheek is pressed against Noah’s chest; in the next second, I’m standing in a mist-shrouded forest, the white vapor slipping through tall trees and underbrush. I look around me; nothing looks familiar. Ravens startle and fly away in a rush overhead. I glance around. At first, I see no one. Then I hear footfalls. Running. Breaking through brush.

Then I see Noah. He’s on foot, running through the trees. He’s wearing brown pants, boots, a cream-colored long-sleeved shirt, and a brown vest. His hair is different—long, gathered at the nape of his neck, no dreads. He wears a tricorn hat, and is hauling ass. In one hand, a hatchet. The other, a rifle. Three men in red coats are chasing him.

Revolutionary War. Noah is a militiaman.

A shot rings out through the wood, and when I look at the redcoats, one of their rifles is smoking. The other two fire at Noah. One misses. One hits him in the shoulder, knocking him sideways and down. I fight not to run to him; it will do no good. I’m a bystander, watching a memory that’s already happened.

Just as fast as he fell, Noah rolls and gets back up. He’s now rounded and running directly toward the redcoats. All three are on their knees reloading their guns. Noah throws down his gun and with a wide arc, swings and sinks his hatchet right into the British soldier’s chest. With his foot, he shoves the soldier off the blade and runs right at the other two. Blood is oozing from Noah’s shoulder, but he ignores it and takes a lethal swing at the first soldier’s throat. His head nearly comes clean off.

One redcoat left, and he’s waiting for Noah and uses his gun to reflect Noah’s powerful swing. The two fight, struggle. It’s only now that I realize Noah’s not a vampire. He’s mortal. Impressive fighter. I can feel his rising adrenaline as the pair struggle to gain control.

Out of nowhere, another redcoat appears, and with a sword drawn, he runs it straight through Noah’s back. Noah’s scream pierces my ears, and every ounce of pain and anger coursing through him, I feel inside me. He sinks to his knees, his hand still tightly gripping his hatchet.

From the canopy above, a figure falls from the mist. The moment he drops and lands on his feet, I see it’s Eli. He’s dressed like Noah. His hair is longer, pulled back at the nape of his neck. His cerulean blue eyes almost glow through the mist.

In a blur, Eli moves, and he is suddenly at both men. He grabs one redcoat by the throat. The other, by the front of his shirt, and pulls him close. As I watch, Eli’s jaw extends, his teeth drop long and jagged from his gums, and he rips into the soldier’s throat. He throws him down and does the same to the second redcoat. The bloodlust that rushes through Eli also rushes through me; I can feel it, the scent, the craving, almost as if I were experiencing it instead of him. Motionless, I stand there and watch as Eli drops to the forest floor to Noah. Eli’s no longer morphed as a vampire. He’s Eli. And I can see pain etched into his features as he stares at Noah.

“I won’t make it,” Noah says. His accent is still tinged with Southern drawl, but it’s older. “Find Elana. Take—” Noah starts coughing, choking. He grabs Eli’s arm. “Take care of her, brother. I promised her I would care for her always. I . . . have to break this promise.” He coughs some more, and it’s more of a crying cough than anything else. It’s filled with pain. Not physical pain, but emotional. I feel it inside me, too. “Do this for me,” he begs Eli. “Please.”

All of Noah’s emotions run through me. He loves this girl, Elana. Was it his wife? His fiancée? Either way, the sorrow he’s experiencing is mind-numbing. It’s a different Noah than I know. I watch as Eli lowers his head closer to Noah’s.

“I can fix this,” Eli says. “I can fix you. You can take care of Elana yourself.”

Noah’s breathing quickens, and he chokes.

“You must hurry and decide,” Eli urges. “Now.”

“I’ll be like you?” Noah asks.

“Yes.”

Noah closes his eyes for a moment, and his lips are moving. He’s praying. Suddenly, his eyes open again and he’s staring at Eli. “Do it.”

Eli doesn’t ask if he’s sure; nor does he hesitate, not even for a second. He moves so fast I don’t see Eli’s face change. Don’t see his teeth elongate. I only see his mouth move over Noah’s throat and stay there for several seconds. When his head lifts, and he wipes his mouth across his sleeve, his face is Eli’s. Not vampire. Noah is deathly still. I see no breath rising in his chest. His mercury-colored eyes stare blankly skyward.

Suddenly, Noah jerks, his body begins to quiver, convulse. Eli grasps his shoulders, holds him down. “Be strong,” Eli growls, and his French accent is heavier now.

Noah’s painful scream rips through the misty forest. Then his eyes flicker open.

Voices, footfalls in the forest. Eli’s gaze snaps up, his hands still holding a now-ferocious and fighting Noah down. It’s like . . . he’s crazed, and those emotions soar within me, too. I can barely stand still.

I look in the direction Eli’s staring, and I see what he sees. More redcoats. A lot of them. Like a rag doll, he throws Noah over his shoulder and starts to run. I try to move, to follow, but I can’t. Moments later, the British soldiers rush by me. They’re so close I can see the whiskers on their faces. They’re chasing Eli and Noah, and before long, the mist swallows them all up. Gunshots ring through the air. Screams. Terrified screams—

Suddenly, my eyes snap open, and Noah’s shaking the holy hell out of my shoulders. So hard I feel like my teeth are clanking against one another. I focus on his face, his eyes. “Stop shaking me,” I say.

Noah’s jaw clenches. “I could’ve used my special method of pulling you from your mind explorations,” he answers. His eyes lighten. “The one I reserve only for you.”

He leads me to a chair and I sit. He squats down in front of me, and I look at him. “You never told me Eli is the one who turned you.”

A smile tips his mouth. “You never asked. So what else did you see?”

I inhale, exhale, and look at him. “I saw you fighting British soldiers. But you were dying. Pleading with Eli to take care of Elana.”

For a moment, Noah’s mind goes elsewhere, and I know this because the look in his eyes softens and deepens and he stares away at some other point in the room. He finally looks back at me. “We were engaged to be married. She was . . . the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.”

“What happened?” I ask. “After Eli changed you.”

Noah rubs his jaw, and I can tell it’s painful to recall the memories. I regret asking. “You know how it is when you’re first changed. You’re . . . out of your mind with bloodlust.” A smile touches his mouth. “I don’t remember everything, but Eli later told me I gave him a helluva ride. He took me all the way south, to Preacher’s kin. He left me there for them to cleanse me. The same way you were. Hasn’t changed a bit.”

I hesitate to ask more, but I might as well. Noah’s my partner. My friend. Eli’s best friend. I want to know. “What happened to Elana?”

Noah looks down at the floor between his knees. “By the time Eli made it back to watch over her until I was ready, she and her whole family had been killed.” He looks up at me now, and his liquid silver eyes are watery. “Elana, her parents, and six brothers and sisters. All dead. Their house had been burned to the ground.” He rises and walks to the window and looks out. “I . . . went nuts for a while. A controlled rampage, you might say.” He turns and looks at me. “It started out that way, anyhow. Revenge, I assure you, can quickly turn into bloodlust. Eli had to come after me. I had to go through vampire detox once more.” His eyes aren’t sad now, but he’s not smiling. “I avenged Elana and her family. But it was almost at too high a price. If Eli hadn’t stopped me . . .” He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Riley. I’m pretty sure you and I wouldn’t be sharing the same guesthouse if it hadn’t been for Dupré’s determination to save me from myself.”

I punch Noah in the arm. “Damn glad he did, then. There’s no one else, except Eli, that I’d want watching my back.”

We stand there in that little Inverness guesthouse kitchen, and we’re silent for only a handful of seconds. But we know each other. We understand. And I understand a little more about the predicament Eli is in right now.

Noah’s fingers lightly grasp my chin and pull my gaze to his. His eyes search mine for a few moments. “I know Eli better than anyone, Riley. He’s a strong-willed soul. He’ll come out of this. I swear I feel it.”

Noah’s encouraging words wash over me, and I’m soothed. I smile at him. “I needed that.”

His perfect lips pull back into a wide smile. “I know.” He kisses my nose. “All right, enough mind-diving for now,” Noah says. “We got work to do.”

“Hey, I told you I had no control over where the memories take me,” I remind him. “I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what it is you’re hiding from me later.”

Something stirs in Noah’s eye, but I ignore it. No need to goad him.

“Smart girl,” he says.

We get busy.

As we study the city map, I circle all of the most likely places a rogue or newblood would hunt. But as I stare at my markings, it starts to all seem useless. The red permanent marker I’m using starts to take up a lot of space. I shake my head, snap the pen lid back on, and throw it down. “Their attacks are too random, Noah. We’re chasing too many directions. Too many damn what-ifs.” I look up at him, and his eyes are glued to the map. “I feel like the only thing we’re doing is running on my supersonic senses. So far, it hasn’t been a hundred percent on the mark, either. Carrine has been able to control my mind, and she’s killed an innocent before I had a chance to pick up on it.”

He looks up at me now. “She controlled your mind, and mine, because she’s strong as shit, Riley. Plus, you’re distracted by Eli. We’re not seeing it, but somehow it’s all tied in together. Carrine, Eli, and the random kills.” He shakes his head. “We need to find out more about her.” He pushes away from the table and grabs his cell off the counter.

“Who ya calling?” I ask.

“Gabriel,” he answers. “He’s been in Scotland a long time. Maybe he’s heard of her.”

Gabriel not only has no last name to mention, but he’s an immortal druid from centuries ago. He’s WUP’s Scotland contact. We stayed at his place, the Crescent, back in Edinburgh when we fought the Black Fallen. It’d be nice to have him here.

As Noah talks to Gabriel, I get up, nod toward my bedroom, and head to the shower. My body aches, and the beginning of a headache is nagging at the base of my skull. In my room I dig through my meager belongings—just the bare necessities, I guess. I grab clean panties and a cotton camisole and head to the shower. Once in the bathroom, though, I stare at the large porcelain claw-foot bathtub just a little too long. I decide to soak. Think.

Forget.

Turning the water on full-blast hot, I undress and wait for the tub to fill. I wrap my hair into a ball at the nape of my neck and bind it with a ponytail holder. Staring into the mirror at my reflection, I have to wonder where all of this is going. What’s going to become of Eli? Of me? Of us?

No sooner do I slip into the water and lay my head back than the voice returns.

You make it very difficult to speak to you, Riley. You’re so beautiful.

My eyes flash open and I glance around. Although I lost most of my modesty years ago, I drape my arm over my breasts. This time, I answer the voice.

Where are you, Athios? I ask in my head.

Prison. Hell. Call it what you will.

Athios was wrongfully nailed with the sin of a Black Fallen—a fallen angel engulfed in the darkest of magic. We defeated the others. He saved my life, all of our lives, by submitting his own. What are you doing slipping around my bathroom while I bathe? I ask.

It’s hard to get you alone these days. Forgive me for indulging in your beauty. ’Tis all I have left.

Who is the female? Carrine? I ask.

She’s apparently someone who wants your fiancé just as badly as you do.

That angers me. Damn it, Athios. Are you going to help me or not?

He laughs softly, almost a whisper. You ask much of me, Riley Poe.

Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Athios. I wish there was a way you could escape . . . wherever you are.

Athios sighs. What would the difference be? I’m in here without you, or out there, without you? Same prison to me.

I love Eli, and that’s never going to change. I have to help him.

I know. Which is why I even bother putting myself through this torture. To see you like you are, in my head, and know you’re unobtainable. I’d rather be sliced in half.

Athios.

Another laugh. I’ll see what I can find out. Mind combing is a tedious endeavor, you know. And it’s all I have at the moment. I’m bound here, in this place, Riley. And I don’t know Carrine, except, of course, what she is. And that she’s very, very powerful.

I know. With a wave of her hand she caused some sort of a sonic boom in the club we were in. Blew out all of the glass. I had no power against her

Well, keep in mind that powers of the mind must be practiced, just as one practices swordplay. Practice on your partner. You’ve not even scratched the surface of your capabilities, Riley. Remember. Besides your own unique blood, you have all that vampiric venom floating about in you. I’ve seen your powers. They’re only half developed.

I smile. Is this a pep talk, Athios? Something to lift my spirits?

You aren’t hearing me, are you? Whilst you may have pushed aside our time together, I most certainly have not. It’s all I have, those memories.

Guilt washes over me. Yes. I admit there was something between Athios and me. Something strong and powerful that I could not fight. We made love, after I thought Eli had been killed. It’s something I’ve had to come to terms with. It’s something I don’t regret. And if I ever get Eli back to Eli, I will have to tell him. Hell, he may even already know.

It soothes my soul to know you at least don’t regret our time together. But my point is, Riley, that you have a little Black Fallen in you, too. Along with all of the vampiric abilities. You’ve simply ignored it. And unfortunately, I cannot help you. Only you can bring them to light.

I close my eyes, and let my head drop against the hard porcelain tub. I purposely knock it a few times. And I groan. I feel like I’m talking to Yoda. In riddles. What are you talking about, Athios?

Who is Yoda?

I almost laugh. No one. Just tell me what you mean instead of talking in circles.

You have a few of my abilities inside you, Riley. When we made love, we became one, even for a brief bit of time. I left inside you a piece of me. My skills of the mind. Core energy that you can command. And perhaps a few powers that can help you manipulate the elements. Forces of nature. You can use them to fight Carrine, or anyone else who poses a threat. Hone them. Use them. I must go. If I’m caught, I may lose this. And I can’t survive without at least speaking to you every now and then. I’ll see what I can find out about Carrine. Watch your back. Stay close to Miles.

I will.

Just that fast, I know Athios is gone, out of my head. I can sense his presence is no longer there. I can’t explain it, but I’m left with a sense of loss. Not the same loss that I feel with Eli, though.

That’s becoming more and more unbearable.

Reaching up, I turn the hot water back on and let it heat the lukewarm water I’m sitting in. I rest my head back and close my eyes. Just a few more minutes.

My thoughts drift to Athios’s words. I have Black Fallen traits now, too? That he left them inside me is . . . freakishly weird. Stronger mind control and power over the elements? Core energy? I’m like one of the fucking X-Men. What the hell?

Technically, Athios isn’t a Black Fallen. He’s not evil. And he sacrificed his soul to save mankind. But he’s one powerful angel. I can’t even begin to imagine grazing that kind of power. I don’t want such intense mind power. What if it takes over me and I become some power-hungry half human hell-bent on revenge, throwing hurricanes and tornadoes at people? There’re enough of those in the world. I’m not going to become one of them.

Hell no.

The hot water envelopes me, and I feel myself drifting. I don’t really want to—we’ve got work to do. But drowsiness overcomes me, and I slip into a quiet peace that I haven’t had in some time.

At first, I’m conscious of lying in the tub, hot water soothing my aching muscles and bare skin. Then it grows dark behind my eyelids, and I see nothing, I feel nothing. I lose the sensation of being submerged in hot water, and it’s replaced by cold, blackness. My arms are weightless, probing into the murky surroundings like a mindless, rambling zombie with its arms held out before it.

Then, as if my thoughts have lit some sort of inner fire, adrenaline surges through me, and I feel energy gathering from my core. At first, it swirls there, like a satellite hurricane photo. Then it fires, explodes, sending lethal doses of that energy through my limbs. I jerk awake, almost leaping from my confinement. I land on my feet, crouching. Slowly, I stand. I’m no longer naked. But not dressed. Not like I normally am. It’s almost like a bolt of the softest, gauziest material is clinging to my body, hovering close but unrestrained by straps or zippers or buttons. None of this do I see. I only feel it.

The power that soars through me doesn’t escape; it’s here, inside me, like a low-humming frequency. If a bug flew at me and hit my body it would zap and fry, bursting into flames, just like a bug lamp. Darkness still surrounds me. I’m totally lost, and I don’t feel anyone else’s presence here but mine. Like I’m in some weird time warp, floating around. Like Dr. Who. Except he’s way more cool.

I lift my hand to push my hair from my face, and that same surge of power burns in the pit of my stomach, then shoots in a rush through my arm. I feel it clear to my fingertips. What the freak?

I lift my arms up simultaneously; the power surge that rips from both of my hands nearly knocks me off my feet.

Is this what Athios was talking about?

I feel like Patrick Swayze in the movie Ghost, trying to move the penny after he’s dead. Pulling the energy from my core and rocking it out of my body.

Do I really have that in me? Or am I just dreaming?

It’s then I feel the atmosphere around me shift, and I’m weightless once more. Darkness still surrounds me, and yet something incredibly familiar overcomes me; I can’t tell if it’s a sensation, or a memory, or what. But it’s something I know very, very well. I’m actually starting to get pissed off. Am I in the goddamn bathtub or a dream? Loss of control now replaces that surge of power I felt moments before. I have control over nothing. I feel as though I’m crammed in a recessed hole in the wall: cold, dank, spaceless. I can’t turn my head; I can’t move my limbs. I don’t think I have any clothes on now, no gauze, nothing.

The brush of a caress grazes my waist, my hips, and the familiarity of the touch knocks the breath out of me. I crave it now, and although I can’t see it, I want it.

Invisible hands move over me, and heat trails the caresses, almost uncomfortably. I can’t move, although I want to; I can only stand here and receive. A grip moves through my hair, pulls it back enough to tilt my head. The touch is erotic, exciting, and my heart pounds, slowly but hard. Lips brush over mine, moist, full, seductive all at once. The sensation moves to my throat, across my collarbone, while hands cover my breasts. Arousal soars through every nerve ending in my body, and a silent moan is swallowed by the deepening of this strange, weightless kiss. Hands leave my breasts and move over my ribs, and strong fingers dig into my flesh as the kiss consumes me. I know it, this mouth. I can’t place it. I only know I have to have it.

Those strong fingers ease from my hips and move down, over my thighs, and then, without warning, slide between my legs. I’m caressed there, right there, a seductive touch by an invisible hand, directed by someone who knows me, knows my needs and exactly how much pressure it takes to bring me to my knees. It makes my head spin, that sexual touch, and I gasp for air as the first wave of orgasm ripples through me. Then a heated breath replaces gentle, strong fingers, and that surge of power, that orgasm, crashes over me in tumultuous waves, and I feel myself slipping.

At once, I’m knocked backward, almost painfully, and my eyes jerk open. The water in the bathtub is cold; my body temperature has lowered. I’m in the guesthouse. Inverness.

My gaze lifts, and from the corner, a figure emerges from the walls. He stares back at me.

Eli.

For a moment, our gazes are locked. Wordless.

His pupils dilate, fixing on mine. He knows me. I can sense it.

“Do it, Eli. Do it now,” a female voice commands. Carrine.

He hesitates; then his features harden. His face shakes, blurs, morphs.

And he lunges for me.

I scream, not a girly, terrified scream, but one of anger, of hurt. Of self-preservation. He’s above me, though, so fast I don’t even see him move until he’s right at me. His hands go around my throat and he squeezes, thrusts my head under the water. I hold my breath and my eyes are open as I struggle. I see his face, all morphed and horrible, hovering just above the surface. My arms and legs flail. Jesus, he’s going to drown me. Where’s Carrine?

Then something grips me. Inside. Athios’s words. I focus, forcing all of my anger and desperation to one location in my body, at the very core. It bursts free, and I surge out of the water at him. He’s back against the wall now, and he lunges at me. I’ve never seen him so . . . horrifying. Just as we meet, he’s gone. I hit the wall. He has totally vanished.

“Riley!”

Noah’s here now, and he’s grabbed a towel and draped it over me. I’m lying on the floor, crumpled. “What happened?” he asks. He lifts me, towel mostly wrapped around my naked body, and carries me to my bed. Laying me down, he follows me, his head bent over close enough that his dreads drop against my chest. “What are you doing?” Noah’s voice is angry, raspy, and his eyes flash fear.

I shake my head. “It was Eli,” I say. A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow past it. “He was there. Then . . . Carrine commanded him to kill me. He hesitated, Noah. He knew me. I could see it in his eyes.” At least, I think he did. And I think he was there.

Was he? Really?

“Riley, Eli’s not a ghost,” Noah says. He grabs my chin and looks me over, brushing a fingertip over my cheek. “You’re scraped,” he says. “I walked in just as you leaped from the tub. No one else was in here but me.” His eyebrows pull together. “What else happened?”

I stare at the ceiling and exhale. “I had . . . an experience.”

Noah waits.

So, I semi-explain, leaving out the mind-numbing orgasm part.

I tell him everything else. Including my convo with Athios.

Noah’s eyes harden. “So you’re dreaming of Eli killing you? And you have fallen angel traits cooking inside you, along with all the other venom that’s making you crazy?” He shakes his head. “This is fucked-up.”

“I’m not so sure that was a dream, Noah,” I say, and clutching the blanket to my chest, I sit up. “I was wide awake when I came out of that . . . bizarre state of existence. I looked around, knew I was in a bath of cold water, knew I was here, in this guesthouse, in Inverness.” I grab his hand, and it’s clenched into a fist. “It’s like . . . Eli was part of the wall, part of the wainscoting. He”—I shake my head, dredging up the picture of it—“emerged from the wood. Almost like, I don’t know. He was camouflaged or something.”

Noah’s disturbing eyes study me with severe intensity. “Was your sex dream with him?” he asks.

I really have to think about it, and I hate that. “I thought it was him,” I answer. “I couldn’t see a thing. Total pitch-black darkness. But in my heart, I felt it was him.” I glance toward the en suite bathroom, and I envision the corner from which Eli emerged. “Now I’m not so sure.”

“Why?”

I climb from the bed, my arms holding the towel against my body, and I walk to the window and pull the drapes back. Something has propelled me to do this, and I have no clue what. But I do it. It’s midday, but the sun has disappeared, leaving the sandstone buildings and gray stone in a murky, dreamlike frame. Pedestrians are walking along the sidewalk in front of the guesthouse. My eyes drift across the street, where a single figure stands out and catches my eye. Female. Wearing a hooded jacket. Dressed in all black. I can’t see her face.

I don’t need to.

The building she’s leaning against blurs, and the figure blends into it. Or disappears. One second, there. The next, gone.

Whatever.

Noah’s now at my side, looking out of the window, too. But I know he doesn’t see what I just saw.

“What did you see?” Noah asks.

Tell him what you see, Riley.

I close my eyes, and the motion makes my chest rise, fall, and it hurts. I feel pain inside my chest.

Go on. Tell him. He wants an answer. Give it.

The words are cold, and I can’t help shivering. I continue to stare out the window.

And just in case you’re completely blind, he wants to fuck you, too. Always has. He thinks about it constantly. I’m surprised at his control.

I shake off his words and just breathe. “Carrine is stalking me.”

Noah grabs me by the shoulders and turns me around. His face is hard as he stares down at me. “What do you mean?”

I stare up at him, unable to answer at first. Inside, my stomach is flipping around like I’m on a fast-as-hell roller coaster, unable to stop.

You didn’t think that fucking angel was the only soul who could get inside your head, did you, Riley? You think because you fucked him, you have his powers, too? I’m here now. We’ll see just how strong you really are. Imagine someone cutting open your skull and stuffing a live beetle inside, then sewing you back up. Imagine those tiny little feet scratching back and forth, back and forth, over your brain and bones until you begin clawing at your scalp, ripping open those stitches just to pull that beetle out. To make the insanity go away. It’s going nowhere. That sensation is me, Riley. And I can’t wait to show you a few things.

Only the violent shaking of my shoulders brings my vision into focus, and I stare blankly into Noah’s eyes.

“What the hell is going on, Riley?” he yells. His fingers are digging into my biceps now. Painfully so.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt fear. I feel it now.

“Riley!” Noah yells again.

She’s laughing inside my head now, and she won’t stop. I drop my hands from my towel and clutch the sides of my head. I push—hard. My eyes squeeze tightly shut.

“It’s Carrine,” I say without looking at Noah. “She’s inside my head now. She won’t . . . get out. Laughing, egging me on. I can’t take it, Noah—”

Then, at once, she’s gone. Just like that. My vision, my mind, is completely clear now. Free of the torture. Free of the bugs.

Noah’s hand lifts, and I only now notice he’s grabbed my towel off the floor and is lifting it back to cover me up. With one hand he holds the towel in place, and with his free hand he uses his thumb to wipe at my cheeks. Only then do I notice the tears that have started streaming from my eyes.

He sighs and pulls me against him, and I let him. His lips press against my temple. “What’s she doing to you, girl?” he says against my skin. “What the hell is she doing to you?”

I’m thinking clearly now. I hate it, but I am. Part of me wishes I could just stay suspended in some kind of weird dreamlike state—a fantasy world where everything was right, going my way, and I was the winner.

That’s not my reality anymore.

I look at Noah, and the care in his eyes almost pains me.

Almost as much what I have to say out loud. Just thinking the words rips into my heart.

“I’m going to have to kill them, Noah,” I say.

Noah just stares at me. Speechless.

My voice almost doesn’t sound like it belongs to me. Sounds like someone else speaking. It quivers, breaks. More tears spill. “I’m going to have to kill Carrine and Eli.”