Darklove

Part Five THE NESS BOYS

Noah stands with his back to me while I dress. Surprising, I know, because twice today he’s seen me buck-ass naked. I guess the decency in the core of his soul rose above the perverted, sexually charged vampire in him.

“Not my fault you can’t keep your naked parts covered, Riley,” he offers. “Doesn’t make me a pervert. Not really.”

Trying to make light of the situation, no doubt. I try really hard to put Carrine’s words about Noah aside, but it’s hard. I can read minds, too. And yeah, I’m not an idiot. Noah isn’t only just a powerful vampire with the trait of severe seduction. At his core, he’s a man. I’m a woman. He’s attracted to me. And I’d be a liar if I didn’t say he’s not sexually enticing. But my love for Eli has always doused that in me. There’s no one I want more than Eli. I want him back the way he was when I first met him. Not this monster he’s become. Even if Carrine is controlling him. How much of Eli is left? Anyway, not once have I ever felt threatened by Noah Miles. Just the opposite. He’s placed nobility and a vow to keep me safe over any sexual tension he may feel. That takes strength of crazy proportion. Especially for a vampire.

Thoughts are crashing over me like violent waves, even as I pull on my clothes. Confusion rocks me, and I can promise you, I don’t like feeling out of control. Oh, hell no. Too many years spent like that. Now I like total control. Of myself. My thoughts.

But now someone else has been pulling the strings to my brain. Carrine and Eli. The other half of me.

The half I have to kill in order to survive.

I just can’t believe it’s come to this. I’d rather Eli had stayed . . . Jesus Christ, I can’t even think it. Would I have rather he stayed in that alternative realm? How can all this be happening?

After yanking a black ribbed tank over my head, I pull on a pair of low-rider army green cargos and button the fly. My hair is still wet and hanging in dripping hunks, trailing water down my back, when a knock sounds at the door. Noah and I share a look, and he moves so fast his form is nothing but a blur. Seconds later, the front door creaks as he opens it. Voices. Slightly familiar. I hurry down the hall and round the foyer.

Just as I step into view, my eyes collide with Rhine’s. The young lead singer and bass player from the street, from Hush 51. All of the band members are now trailing in behind Rhine, and stand in a half circle in the living room.

“How’d you guys find out where we’re staying?” I ask.

Rhine’s gaze latches on to my arm with the dragon inked into it. A slight smile touches his lips before he looks at me. “We’ve come tae help.”

I glance at Noah, who is leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. He looks at me and gives a slight shrug. I step closer to Rhine, give the others a brief once-over, then look back into the young guy’s gaze. “What do you mean, help us? What is it you think we need help with?”

“Och, gel,” Rhine answers with a grin. A glint of mischief lights his green eyes. “You’d be surprised at wha’ we could help ya wi’. Sort of how ya helped us all quit smokin’. How ya saved all those people at Hush 51.”

“Aye. An’ how ya can run like the devil,” Pete says. A grin slashes across white teeth. One eyebrow lifts.

I narrow my gaze.

“Do ya ken where ya are, lass?” Rhine says with a very appealing grin. “You’re in the bloody Highlands. ’Tis no surprise tae any o’ us that your mate here is a bloodsucker, although it took us a while tae figure it out. Not like us tae take so long.” Rhine cocks his head and studies me. “You’re . . . somethin’ altogether different, though.”

I’m staring at Rhine, and I gotta admit, he’s . . . impressive. Young, but pretty stable. Solid and cut, like he works out. No skully today, and his close-cut dark hair and flawless complexion make those green eyes and dark lashes definite eye- catchers. His smile widens, as if he can read my thoughts.

Impossible.

I focus. Just to be sure.

Nope. Total, one hundred percent mortal.

Noah chuckles.

“What happened back at the club? I watched. Saw the whole bloody exchange between you and that bloodsucker bitch,” Rhine said. “Froze me solid, she did, but I could still see.” He laughs, and it’s a deep, scratchy, sexy sound. “She ain’t the first one we’ve seen, either.”

“Aye, we know that’s who’s behind the murders here,” Gerry says. He’s the shyest of the bunch, I’d have to say. Wide brown eyes and dark close-clipped hair, his face baby-soft flawless, his voice soft. But when he speaks, it’s listen-worthy. “We’ve seen plenty.” He grins slightly.

“We’ve killed plenty, too,” Tate adds. Not the shy one, I notice, and a little husky. Maybe even the class clown. His wavy auburn hair flips over his ears and his eyes are the color of dark honey. And from the size of him I believe he can kick some serious ass.

“Aye, and it’s been quiet for a while. Until you showed up,” Rhine says. “Fancy that.”

There’s silence as Rhine and I hold a stare-down. His gaze is locked on to mine. “You think we’re killers?” I ask.

Rhine doesn’t hesitate. “You’d be dead as dust if we did.”

There’s a little tension in the room. More from me than anyone else, I imagine. I don’t like a threat. I don’t like a pack of young human hunters sniffing us out, either. I guess I’d been so consumed with Eli and the female, and the other killings, that I’d totally misjudged Rhine and his friends. Even more so than simply thinking they were thugs.

They’re goddamn hunters.

I’m staring at Rhine, still trying to wrap my brain around it all, when Noah speaks.

“We don’t have time to babysit,” he says.

Just that fast, Rhine whips out a silver blade and is holding it against Noah’s throat. The others all have similar blades in the hands.

What the hell?

I’ll give Noah Miles some cred. He doesn’t morph. He remains totally calm. But I can see inside his head. Ri, this little prick has a fucking silver blade at my neck. Wanna get him off?

Yeah, I’ll get him off, Miles. Gotta hand it to him, though. He’s pretty quick. Might use him and the guys after all. And he’s not so little.

Get him off now, Poe. I don’t want to have to kill him.

I focus on Rhine, then the guys. Drop your silver, boys.

The clap of blades hitting the hardwood floor resounds in the room. Noah moves to stand beside me. It all happens so fast the guys’ puzzled faces are almost comical.

Rhine gives me a nod. “Aye, like I said. You’re somethin’ altogether different, lass.” He shrugs at Noah. “No hard feelin’s? Was just provin’ my worth, ya ken?”

Noah returns the nod in silence beside me. I cock my head, studying the guys. “What I don’t ken is what makes you think we aren’t the bad guys.”

Rhine smiles. It’s a lazy, sexy expression that I’m sure brings many a young girl to her knees. “Because you”—he casts a glance at Noah—“and he don’t add up. No’ tae mention what happened at the club. You both saved a score of humans, whilst those other two bloodsuckers escaped. And I can sense it.” He inhales, exhales. “So do ya want our help? Or are we wastin’ our time here?”

I glance up at Noah, and he gives a slight nod. I move across the room and stand directly in front of Rhine. His eyes flash interest, and strangely enough, I detect no fear. Not one ounce. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I’ve got to know more. We can’t have their young mortal lives balancing in our hands, especially when I don’t know what the hell is going on with my own psyche. I’m as unstable as Eli. With my gaze fastened on his, I grasp his hand and hold it between both of mine. His pupils dilate, just a fraction. Then I close my eyes.

I stand in a dank brick courtyard amid tall oaks and overgrown shrubs. A stone apartment complex rises before me. A window on the second floor is open, and a ripped curtain hangs in the gaping hole. No lights are on. I can’t tell what time of day it is; no sun, no shadows. Just murky gray. A light rain falls. Shouting falls from the open window, and a thick, heavy accent trails out.

“Ya fookin’ loser!” The sound of fist connecting to bone rings out, and a slight whimpered growl follows it. “I told ya tae give me all o’ it! Dunnae ya hide the quid from me, boy!” Another punch. Another growl. “What do ya have tae say for your pathetic self? Pathetic, aye, just like your fookin’ useless mother!” A slap this time, and another. Another. A scream this time. A woman’s scream. Laughter. “Och, boy, you dinnae like your whore mum tae be slapped, aye? Too fookin’ bad, then.” Slap.

I can move, and I race toward the doorway leading into the apartment. Inside, the stairwell is cold and smelly, and I creep up the steps to the next floor. I open the door and move into a hallway lit by a single bare bulb at the end of a corridor. Beneath my feet, ratty red-and-blue-plaid carpeting. Three doors to my left, I stop and listen. The door is cracked, and I step inside.

The moment I’m inside, I see Rhine. He’s kneeling beside a woman, lying on the floor. Rhine looks a little younger than he is now. Maybe fifteen. His hair is longer, and it curls at his ears, the nape of his neck. He has a huge red welt across his porcelain cheek, and one eye is swollen and blackened, and his nose is bleeding. His lip is split and bleeding. He looks a goddamn mess.

All from the hands of his father. I know it’s his father. Rhine looks exactly like him, only his father is older, bigger, meaner. And drunk as hell. Holy shit.

Rhine is comforting his mother, who’s whimpering, sobbing. He’s shielding her from the hands of his abusive dad. God, I hate abuse. In any form.

Rhine’s father grabs him by the back of his hair and hauls him off his mother. I stare at Rhine’s face, and it’s awash with so many emotions; I feel each one. Fear. Hatred. Love. Loathing. Pain. His father yanks his head back and turns him, slamming the young Rhine against the wall. The older man holds him there by his throat.

“You dinna fook wi’ me, lad,” he says. “I’ll kill you and that whore on the floor.”

Rage illuminates Rhine’s green eyes. Just as a burst of energy surges out of him, and he uses all of his young might to throw his father off him, a figure moving so fast I almost don’t notice it hovers over the woman on the floor. He stands there, looking down, and I can only see the back of him. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark blond hair, long, tied back.

And pulseless.

I blink. A vampire?

“What the fook are ya doin’ in my house?” Rhine’s dad yells. He shoves Rhine down and faces the newcomer. Rhine scrambles to his mom, grabs her by the shoulders, and helps her up. Rhine’s father is a big guy—easily six feet five—and the vampire is eye to eye with him. Then the drunken man glances at Rhine and his mom, then back to the vampire. He throws back his head and laughs. “Och, you fookin’ that whore? You fancy that, aye?” He laughs again, and the vampire remains silent. “You best check your cock, make sure it hasna rotted off—”

The drunk man’s words die in his throat as the vampire lunges, morphs, and piranha-like fangs drop jagged from his gums. Without a single sound, he clamps down on the man’s jugular, shakes his head a time or two, and Rhine’s father’s head comes clean off. The vampire spits it out and it rolls across the floor and stops an inch from my feet. Widened eyes filled with frozen disbelief stare up at me. Blood oozes from the torn ligaments and flesh. I fight the urge to throw up. The rest of the body on the floor begins to quake, convulse.

Rhine’s mother screams; Rhine throws his arms around her and pulls her face to his chest, guarding and shielding her, and she sobs against her son. Those haunting green eyes of his stare at the vampire, who’s now completely changed back. I can feel the pounding of Rhine’s heart as he battles his fears, and as adrenaline charges through his veins, it also rushes through mine. The vampire crosses the room and stops a foot in front of Rhine. For the first time, he speaks. I can see his face now. Chiseled jaw. Straight nose. Long lashes. Gray eyes.

“I’m sorry I had to do that,” the vampire says. “I had no choice.”

His accent is . . . not Scottish. It’s something else. Not English. Not Irish. Something I can’t place.

“Lela, ’tis me.” The vampire reaches a hand out to Rhine’s mother. Rhine slaps his hand away, and the vampire smiles. But his mother turns her head, and she gasps.

“How did you know?” she asks the vampire. She looks up at Rhine and caresses his cheek with her hand. “It’s okay, son. He willna hurt you.”

Rhine’s heart is beating hard; his breath is fast. He holds his mother tightly. He says nothing, but his eyes drift to the form of his headless father, lying crumpled and dead on the floor in a pool of blood.

“Rhine, I’ve loved your mum for as long as I can recall,” the vampire says. “And it’s pained me to see you both endure this hell. ’Tis over now. This . . . is no more.”

Rhine slowly lifts his gaze to meet the vampire’s.

The vampire reaches into the pocket of his long black trench and pulls from within a sheathed knife. Flipping the snap that keeps the blade secured, he takes it out. He shows it to Rhine. “’Tis pure silver, boy, and ’tis the only thing that will kill others like me. They’re no’ all good. Most are killers. Your father was one. Did you know that?”

Rhine, wordlessly, nods.

I’m slightly in shock. Rhine’s father was a vampire? An abusive, drunken wife- and child-beating vampire? What the hell? How is that possible? Didn’t see that one coming.

The vampire turns the blade, hilt first, and offers it to Rhine. He takes it.

“Keep it with you, boy,” the vampire says. “Straight into the heart is the fastest kill. Be sure before you use it. We’re not all killers.” The vampire casts a long, loving glance at Rhine’s mother. “You’re a fine son. Keep a watchful eye over your mum here. She loves you verra much.” He again reaches into his trench; this time, he withdraws an envelope. He hands this to Rhine as well. “Take this and go. Gather what little means something to you, and leave this hellhole. There’s enough here to buy a house, new clothes, a car, and whatever else you might need. For years.” He glances at Rhine’s dead father’s remains: a pile of ashes. “Just leave that here.”

Before Rhine can respond, the vampire moves. He’s gone. Out of the apartment. I glance around. He’s nowhere.

I blink, and I’m back, standing in the guesthouse, directly in front of a grown-up Rhine. My hands still hold his, and his green eyes, aged beyond his years, stare down at me. He doesn’t say anything; he’s waiting on me.

“Do you know what just happened?” I ask.

A grin tips his mouth. “Aye. My theory’s accurate. You’re a bloody voyeur.”

His friends laugh.

I glower at him, and he gives me a nod. “Aye. You saw a rather nasty chunk o’ my life.” He sighs. “And now ya know my horrors.”

I drop his hands. “But you’re human.”

One side of his mouth lifts into a smirk. “You’re no’ the only one wi’ a few tricks, girly.”

“So you have traits, like me,” I say. “Like what?”

Rhine shrugs. “No’ much, mind ya. I canna run, or jump like you. I canna go at will into others’ memories.” He sighs. “But I can sniff out a bloodsucker. My hearing’s pretty sick.” He shrugs. “I’m fairly strong.”

His band members chuckle. “Och, that’s the verra least, eh, Rhiney boy?” Pete says.

Rhine shrugs again. “I’m no’ much of a braggart.”

“Let me get this straight,” Noah says from behind us. He walks up and stands next to me. He looks at Rhine. “You have tendencies? Care to clue me in?”

“His father was a vampire,” I offer, keeping my eyes on Rhine’s. He stays silent and lets me do the talking. “He carries traits, like a human with tendencies.”

“Father was?” Noah asks.

“My da had a unique disorder,” Rhine says, and we’re still watching each other. “Liquor fooked him up.” His eyes soften a little. Saddened, maybe. “He wasna always like that, though. I can remember him as a wee lad. He . . . treated me and my mum well.” He sighs. “But once the liquor got in him, it dulled his vampirism. Eventually, it overcame him. He became a typical, fooked-up drunken vampire. Similar to drunk humans in that they eat very little whilst they drink ou’ of their gourd. He still fed on human blood occasionally. But his body became absorbed with alcohol. It changed him. Still a vampire, aye, but only a shadow o’ one. Sloppy. His brother came one day and, what would you call it?” He smiles at me. “Intervened?”

The pain in Rhine’s eyes makes me sad for him, and I know he can tell it. “Anyway, my mum died no’ too long after that. Cancer. My uncle came back after that, made sure I finished school and didna become a street punk.” He grins at his friends. “Taught me things. Valuable things.” His green eyes turn stormy. “Then a couple o’ years ago we had a surge in rogue vampires here. My uncle was killed. And it’s been me and my mates ever since.”

Noah glances at me, then the rest of the band. “And what sort of tricks can you little humans perform?”

“Och, they’re just the fiercest fightin’ fookers you’ll ever meet, lad,” Rhine tells him. “They’ve helped me keep Inverness fairly cleaned up ever since. No one faster with a blade o’ silver.” He glances at me. “Except mayhap the dragon girl here.”

Noah rubs his eyes, and sighs. A big, exaggerated, airless vampire’s sigh.

“We need the help,” I offer to Noah.

He glares at me. “You’re not helping.” Then his silvery gaze turns to Rhine. “What you saw in the club? Even we aren’t certain what we’re dealing with. The male?” He inclines his head toward me. “That’s her fiancé. He hasn’t always been a prick.”

“Nice,” I say.

Noah goes on. No holds barred. Holding nothing at all back. “He’s possessed or something. And you saw the female. She controls him and has a power even I’ve never seen before.”

A smile lifts Rhine’s mouth. It’s a characteristic of his that’s pretty damn appealing. Poor, poor young human girls.

“I have.”

Me and Noah both look at Rhine. The others chuckle.

Rhine rubs his jaw. “As I said before, you’re in the Highlands, my friends. ’Tis a place unlike any other. Like a kaleidoscope, ’tis nothing ever the way you think it is.”

“Stop with the rhymes and tell us what you mean,” Noah says. “My patience is growing thinner by the second.”

Rhine laughs. “Aye, well, that female? She’s old. An’ before she was a vampire, she was a fookin’ witch.”

It’s almost . . . funny, the way the Scots swear. It’s not as menacing, or as vulgar, as the American version. Like, it’s okay to swear. It’s almost distracting. Every time Rhine says fookin’, I want to laugh. “So, how do you know all of this?”

Rhine shrugs. “I’ve seen one like her. When my uncle was killed. Fookin’ witchpire cast a bloody spell that controlled his mind long enough for her tae take his bloody head. I’ll ne’er forget it.”

“But you’ve never seen Carrine before?” I ask.

“Never. That night at the club was the first time. She’s a slippery one, though. We’ve no’ been able tae track her. Fookin’ witchpire.”

“So, she’s a witchpire. Great,” Noah says. “So you boys are experts on all things paranormal, or just vampires?”

Rhine shares a look with his bandmates, then turns to meet Noah’s gaze. “Aye, we’re pretty much experts on everythin’. Ghosties, vampires, werewolves—you name it. We keep Inverness safe. My uncle taught me everything he knew before he died.”

Noah glances at me. “How ya holdin’ up?”

I nod. “Okay so far.” I know he means my mind, and whether or not Carrine is prying into it again. I look at Rhine. “Have you heard of St. Bueno’s?”

Rhine gives a single nod. “Aye. O’ course.”

“My fiancé and another were cast into another realm. A Hell-like realm. I went after them. Got them both out. Only my fiancé changed.” I hold his gaze, filled with questions, curiosity. “I think he’s being commanded to kill me now. And he and the female may be behind the random killings here.”

“That’s shit luck, lass,” Pete says. “Damn sorry for it.”

With a slight nod, I acknowledge Pete’s words.

“I’ve heard of those realms,” Rhine admits. “Ne’er been in one myself, though.” His eyes search mine. “You’ll have tae tell me about it, lass.”

“So just you five keep Inverness safe?” Noah asks.

“There’re more of us,” Rhine claims.

Noah and I share a quick glance. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“After my mum died, it left just me,” Rhine begins. “And my band here, o’ course. We’ve grown up together. But I knew it was up tae me, tae us, to keep this city right. There was nowhere else for us tae go, so we set out tae make sure the bloodsuckers stayed clear. We went tae the streets, gathered forces.” He gives me a lazy smile.

“How many?” I ask.

Rhine shrugs. “Fifty or so.”

Impressive. “All human?”

Rhine nods. “There’re a few English in the bunch. Do they count?”

The other Ness boys chuckle.

Rhine holds my gaze. “Many make the mistake you both did. Thinkin’ we’re street thugs. It keeps us covered well enough.”

“How do you know where to look?” I ask.

There’s a flash in Rhine’s green eyes that makes me like him. “We just make ourselves seen,” he admits. “And we always run in packs.”

I grin back. “Like some vampire-hunting Lord of the Flies ring, huh?”

“Och, girly,” Tate says. “We hardly limit ourselves tae vampires only.”

“Aye, that would be bloody boring,” Gerry claims.

I turn, looking at Noah. We can use their help. We’re running in circles right now, and Jake and the other WUP members are tied up in a wolfy war.

They’re humans, Riley. No offense, but any one of them could be killed, at any given time.

Noah. We’re outnumbered and alone. Rhine and these guys? They run in packs. You take a lion. Fierce. Lethal. Deadly. But you surround it with a pack of angry men with spears and guns? Lion doesn’t have a chance. We need them.

We stare at each other, me convincing, Noah deciding.

“Och, you two are bloody talkin’ tae each other, aren’t ya?” Tate asks.

I slide a look his way and lift an eyebrow.

“Magic,” he says in a low voice. I soon realize Tate is the Ness Boy with no filter.

All right, Riley. I guess we’ve got no choice.

We don’t. And I trust them. Whatever happens, I trust Rhine. He went through some major shit as a kid. It’s made him stronger. Like me.

Noah gives me one last, long stare, then turns to Rhine. “There’re a few things you need to know.” He inclines his head to me. “About her.”

Rhine meets my gaze and nods. “Then it’s best if the whole lot o’ us knows at once.” He smiles. “I dinnae know ’bout you, but I hate repeatin’ myself. You can stay at our place.” He looks at Pete and the others. “Meet the boys o’ the ’Ness.”

Noah gives me a quick glance, and I nod. Pretty cute bunch of guys. Yeah, they look like punks, but if you look deep and hard enough, you’d think you were staring at a hooded lot of Abercrombie models. Yet they fight vampires. Who would’ve thought?

“Let’s pack up,” I say.

So we do. As Rhine and the others wait, Noah and I gather what little belongings we have, throw our weapons into our gear bags, and clean out the fridge. An unexpected turn of events, to be sure. I mean, who in the hell would ever have guessed a gang of human boys was running the show in Inverness? Rhine being the only one with a tinge of tendencies. It blows my mind. They all must be some tough little bastards.

Being good tenants, we place the trash in the can outside, and the key in the drop box. Rhine walks up to me at the curb. “Your chariot awaits.”

I glance over his shoulder at the two Rovers, parked with engines running.

“Need a hand wi’ those?” he says, inclining his head to my two duffels.

I shrug out of the one holding my clothes and hand it to him. “Thanks.”

Rhine takes it and walks to one of the Rovers. He opens the hatch and throws it in. Noah’s at the other Rover, and he glances at me. “See ya there,” he says, and climbs in.

“Guess you’re ridin’ wi’ me then,” Rhine says with a mischievous grin. “Let’s go.” He quickly introduces me to the driver, Chess, and we head out.

The Scots, I notice again, have a wicked accent. I never tire of hearing it. We climb into the backseat, and both Rovers pull out onto Montague Row.

“Where’re we headed?” I ask Rhine.

“My da’s brother left me a fair bank account when he died,” he says. “I used it wisely, as he had advised me. Invested some, saved some, and bought the Rovers, a motorbike, and an old hotel on the other side of the river.” He stares at me. “So tell me about this fiancé o’ yours.” He mock-frowns, his dark eyebrows stark against his alabaster skin. “You sure you want tae marry a bloodsucker? Or is there a chance you might fancy a younger human wi’ no’ so many tendencies?”

I shake my head. “Obviously excessive flirting is one of them.” I glance out the window as we cross the river. “I’d die trying to save Eli from whatever fucked-up hell he’s in,” I say, then turn back to Rhine. “But I’m not sure that’s going to happen.”

Rhine’s eyes soften. “I dinnae mean tae be disrespectful,” he apologizes. “Although I’d be lying if I said I wouldna give it a go if he weren’t a factor.”

I grin. “I can read minds, junior. You could lie, but I’d catch you.”

His eyes flash, then move to my inked wing at the corner of my eye. “You took a glance into my past,” he says. “Tell me about yours.” He nods to my ink. “I see you fancy body art. I gotta admit, I fancy it on ya.”

I can’t help laughing. Rhine is kinda like a junior version of Noah. “Before . . . all of this, I spent my days and a lot of nights at my ink shop. I’m a tattoo artist by trade.”

“Interesting. And that dragon’s tail winding round your arm there,” he says, inclining his head. “Where does that lead?”

I smile. “My back. I’m slightly famous for my work in the States.”

Rhine nods appreciatively. “Well, then, we’ll just have tae exchange ink shows once we’re settled.”

Pete turns around from the front passenger seat and looks at me. “Master ink artist, aye? Have you more than just your dragon and wings, then?”

I grin. Pete’s cute, with expressive blue eyes, wiry, and a scar on his chin in the place so many kids get them after slipping off the monkey bars on the playground. “A few more.”

Pete returns the smile. “Then a fine exchange we shall have.”

“Pete here’s chicken tae get inked,” Rhine says. “Scared o’ needles.”

“Shut the fook up,” Pete argues.

“Scared o’ needles but doesna mind pokin’ a bloodsucker in the heart with a blade,” Chess adds. A little older, maybe twenty-one, Chess has a matter-of-fact mannerism that belies the mischievous glint in his hazel eyes. He grins at me through the mirror, and I grin back.

I stare at the three Ness boys with interest. They’ve all taken me by surprise.

It doesn’t take us long to reach Rhine’s hotel-turned-slayer’s shack—and it’s far, far from a shack at all. After we cross the river, the Rover turns down several streets until we’ve just reached the edge of the city limits. Chess turns down a long tree-lined drive that leads to an ivy-covered stone building, four stories high. It’s flanked by enormous trees with wide spread branches.

“Welcome to the Crachan,” Rhine announces, and he puts on a proper British accent, so different from his sharp guttural Scot’s brogue. “I do hope you enjoy your stay immensely.”

Laughter erupts from Chess and Pete. We pull in, winding around a large half-circle drive. It sort of reminds me of Gabriel’s Crescent . . . just not as creepy. There are a few vehicles parked along the front, and several motorcycles. The Rover stops, and we get out. The other one arrives, and Noah joins me. We stare up at the Crachan, pronounced Cracken. It’s a pretty big place.

“Welcome to the Hotel California?” I sing to Noah.

Noah eyes me. “Should I worry about the kid?”

I move my gaze to Rhine, who’s now on his cell phone a few feet away. His back is to us, but I hear the muffled snort. “He heard you,” I say, and smile. “He’s a lot like you, Miles.”

“That’s why I asked if I should worry.”

I shift my duffel on my shoulder, the weight of the blades and scatha almost a comfort. Rhine stuffs his cell in his back pocket, shoulders my other duffel, and joins us. He nods at Noah. “This way.” He turns and we follow, making our way up the graveled walkway. I notice it’s not too shabbily kept for a bunch of guys. Impressed again.

We walk through a pair of tall, intricately carved and thick wooden doors and into a cavernous open hall. Like many old manors, I notice, it has a massive fireplace occupying one wall. A huge flat-screen takes up another wall, and a few sofas, several chairs, and a long wooden coffee table sit before it. A few guys occupy the chairs and sofa. They glance our way.

“I’ll show ya tae your rooms,” Rhine says. “Most of the others aren’t home yet.” He leads us to a sweeping staircase at the end of the foyer. “One of the top requirements to reside here.” He glances at me as we start up the steps. “Gotta be employed.”

“Good idea,” Noah says. “What’s another requirement?”

Rhine stops at the second floor and steps onto the landing. He grins. “Can’t be a fookin’ scaredy-cat.”

“Good requirement,” I say. Rhine inclines his head, and we follow.

“I’ll put you two across the hall from each other,” Rhine says, and looks at me as he stops. The room number is 208. The door is wide open. “I’ll get your keys whilst you both settle in,” he says, and walks into the room, sets my duffel on the floor in front of the bed, and comes back out. When he passes Noah, he grins. “Aye. You’ve plenty tae worry about.” Then he hurries up the hallway at a jog and disappears down the steps.

Noah looks at me from the hallway. “He’s a little more intense than I first thought.”

“I told you he heard you. Besides, he’s got a lot on his young shoulders,” I return. “He’s all right in my book.”

Noah smiles. “I know that.” He shrugs on his bag. “I’m going to call Andorra and give him an update. And check back with Gabriel about Carrine.”

“I’ll be over here,” I say, and turn and walk into my room. The hotel itself is old, as in a hundred years maybe, and although large, it’s modest with a blue-and-black-plaid theme, sparsely furnished, but clean. A double bed stands against one wall, a tall chest of drawers, a straight-back wooden chair and desk. Walking to the bed, I drop my weapons duffel on top of it. I unzip the bag and pull out my scatha.

“That’s a wicked piece of armor,” Rhine says at my side. I’d heard his footfalls as he climbed the steps, so it didn’t surprise me for him to be speaking in my ear. “What is it? A crossbow?”

I like the way his r’s roll and his o’s sound like ooh. “It’s an ancient device, newly built.” I hand it to him, and he palms it gently. “It’s a scatha. Medieval design.”

He turns it over, inspecting it thoroughly. “How does it work?”

Digging into a side pouch of the duffel, I retrieve one of the empty cartridges Gawan Conwyk had left me. “You take a prefilled cartridge of mystic St. Bueno’s Well holy water.” I reach over and drop the loading lever. “Load, lock, and pull back the release.” I look at him, and his eyes glint with interest. “Then you blast to hell all sorts of demons and whatever else is lurking in the shadows of the underworld.”

Rhine’s large hands move deftly over the scatha, and as if he’d been doing it all his life, he quickly unloads the cartridge and hands it back to me. “And you plan on going back into this demon-filled underworld, aye?”

I shrug, and he hands me the scatha. I run my fingers over the cool metal, then look at him. “I will if I have to.”

Understanding gleams in his eyes, and he gives a slight nod. “I hope one day your fiancé knows what he’s got.”

“I’ve always said he was a lucky fuck,” Noah says, striding into the room.

“I’ll have to agree wi’ ya there,” Rhine adds. “Ready tae meet the Crachan boys?”

“Just one thing, Rhine,” Noah says. “Something you need to know about Riley here.” He looks at me. “Besides having the DNA of four vampires, along with newly acquired traits of a fallen angel, she can move faster than any vampire I’ve encountered—myself included. She can scale a three-story building in under ten seconds. Her fighting skills are unmatched. Lethal. And she can read minds at will.” He glances at me. “Her fiancé is being controlled by the witchpire, Carrine, who has decided to crawl into her brain and try and drive her crazier than what she already is. She’s up to her eyeballs in deep, emotional shit. Just so you know.”

Rhine nods. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He inclines his head. “Let’s go.”

We follow Rhine down the corridor, and I take notice of his demeanor, his movements, and I realize that we’ve really never been completely introduced.

“You got a last name, Rhine?” I ask.

He looks down at me as we walk, and smiles. “MacLeod.”

I nod. “Poe.” I incline my head to Noah. “Miles.”

“Now we’re all like bloody family,” Rhine says. We hit the landing and I’m slightly overwhelmed by the small crowd that’s gathered in the great hall. My eyes scan the group, and including the other three I already know, plus Chess, there’s at least, I don’t know, thirty guys from what appear to be between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. They’re parked in sofas, on chairs, and on the floor. No lie, it’s a gruff-looking bunch, and if I ran into any of them on the street, I’d almost bet my life they were thugs.

I have a feeling I’m about to get schooled. Again.

Rhine jogs ahead of us and moves over to the hearth. He beckons to us, and we stand next to him and face the crowd.

“Right, then, I know some o’ you’ve already heard about these two,” Rhine says. His voice carries over the hall, a raspy sound that belies the crooning tone he creates when he sings. “Noah Miles, Riley Poe. Both from America. They’ll be stayin’ for a bit, and they need our help.”

Total silence. Not a single solitary word comes from the guys. Their eyeballs are all focused on us, interested and curious, but no one speaks. So I decide to break the silence. I glance at Rhine, just to make sure he’s cool with it, and as if he knows what I’m up to, he nods once. I face the crowd of slayers.

“You know there’re vampires in Inverness,” I begin. “Miles and I belong to an organization—Worldwide Unexplained Phenomena—and we’re assigned to take care of it.” I meet the questioning eyes of the guys. “Unfortunately, one of the vampires is my fiancé.”

A few jaws drop. A few brows furrow.

“I’m a human with tendencies. Venom from four vampires, plus a little something from a fallen angel that I haven’t quite nailed yet—no pun intended—clinging to my DNA.” I nod at Noah. “He’s been a vampire since the American Revolution.” I smile at the wide-eyed crowd. “We won that, by the way.”

“Fookin’ English,” one guy says. They all chuckle.

Scotland, I’ve noticed, is still fiercely proud and fiercely independent from Mother England.

I also notice a few of the guys getting restless, glaring at Noah. I focus, scan a few brains, search through a couple of thoughts. I point at a guy now sitting on the edge of the sofa, scowling. Young, twenty maybe, edgy. Solid as a pile of bricks. “You throw the blade you’ve got jammed into your boot there and I’ll be on you in a bad way, before you draw your next breath.”

“Fookin’ whatever—”

I fly, straddle him, and yank the blade from his boot. I hold it to his jugular. Icy blue eyes widen as they stare at me.

“Fookin’ sick,” one says beside me.

I glance at him, the blade still pressed to the throat of the one I’m straddling. “You ever hear of a Strigoi?”

His brown eyes fix on mine. “Aye.”

“I have three gens in me,” I add. “Don’t fook with me.”

The guy swallows hard enough it almost echoes.

Just that fast, I’m off the lap and handing the guy his blade, hilt first. He takes it and nods. “Sorry, then,” he says.

I look out at every single face there. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know any of you,” I say. “But we’re here to stop the killing of innocents, just like you are.”

Several nods make it clear to me that I have their attention now, and I return to stand between Noah and Rhine. Next, I give in detail Noah’s and my history regarding the Gullah, Savannah, and Charleston, and how Noah isn’t salivating by all the strong young pulses gathered in the room. More than a few look at poor Noah with notable discomfort, but I put them all at ease by letting them know his eating habits. His role in Charleston as Guardian finally puts them at ease.

Then Noah steps up and clears his throat. “One thing more you need to know about Riley,” he says, his Southern drawl commanding, raspy. “Because she has the most fucked-up DNA in existence, she doesn’t typically sleep every day, like you. She unexpectedly falls into a narcoleptic coma every few days or so.” He looks at me. “And she’s due one at any time.” He looks back at the guys. “She does exhibit a few signs you might want to look out for. Disoriented. Stumbles. Weakness. Difficulty expressing words. Eyes start rolling in her head. If you notice, she has no trouble at all with any of these. And when her body has had enough, she’ll start to slow down. Then fall out, sometimes for two days. So if you notice her acting bizarre, catch her before she hits the ground.”

I pass an uninterested glance at the TV, but something catches my eye. It’s the local news. “Can you turn that up?” I ask the one who is closest to the remote. He nods, and ups the volume. A young woman is broadcasting. Her smooth skin belies the fear I can see in her eyes as she reports.

“Two more bodies were discovered this morning, both in close proximity to the Eastgate Shopping Centre,” she says. Behind her is the entrance to the center, the large Eastgate letters standing out from the Celtic design behind it.

“Shoppers are encouraged not to linger after dark,” the reporter says. “This may be the handiwork of a serial killer. Take full precaution as the victims are neither all men nor all women. So, everyone, be careful. Rachel Canns, Inverness Live.”

I look at Noah. I don’t say anything. I can’t. Two more victims, right out from under our noses. Was it Eli? Has he become nothing more than a blood-seeking monster? Carrine is controlling him. She can make him do whatever she desires. Maybe she’s making him do the killing now? The thought totally sickens me.

Noah barely shakes his head, reading my thoughts. He turns to Rhine. “We need to hit the streets. What’s your method?”

All humor has disappeared from Rhine’s face. His mouth is pulled tight, eyebrows drawn. “We break into lots o’ no less than six. Scour the city. Run the streets.” He glances to the guys and inclines his head. “Jep there, we’ve known each other since we were wee lads. He knows every nook an’ cranny in the city.”

“Aye,” Jep answers. He’s tall, lanky, maybe twenty. His hair is longer, pulled into a ponytail. A scar slashes across his forehead, through one eyebrow, and disappears. He looks like he can kick some serious ass. “We got six groups now. More will join as they get off o’ work and such.”

“There’re a few still in school,” Rhine says. “They never miss a day.”

I nod. “Pretty little organized freaky society you got here,” I say. “I’m impressed.”

“We do all right, yeah,” Rhine agrees. “Ready?”

I nod. Several others voice their ayes and yeahs. Most stand up, shuffle their feet, and glance around, waiting on instruction, I suspect.

“I guess we should split up,” Noah says to me. In his eyes I can see doubt; he so doesn’t want to split up. We have no choice, though. To have me and Noah together wouldn’t make sense.

I nod. “Yeah, we should. Spread the powers around a little.”

“Noah, you can run wi’ Jep and his crew,” Rhine says. He grins at me. “O’ course, it’s only right if you run wi’ me, lass. In case you drop into one o’ your comas.”

I narrow my gaze. “Of course.”

We break up into six groups. The adrenaline gaining speed and rushing through the Ness boys is palpable. I can almost see it floating in the room. It all but quakes with their readiness, their hunger. Like a live thing. It’s absolutely incredible.

My group forms, and besides me and Rhine, there’s four others I’m introduced to. I’m terrible with groups of names at once, so I push that worry to the recesses of my brain; the last thing I need to concentrate on is trying to keep straight thirty names.

From now on, they’re the Ness boys to me. All of them, except Rhine.

“We’ll take city center,” Rhine announces to the others. “Everyone else spread out and take our regular routes. After hours, we’ll slip into Eastgate, see what’s on.”

Many voices agree with varying degrees of accent, and the groups disperse. Outside, the sky has fallen in dark shades of gray and purple. Duel lampposts at the end of the Crachan’s drive are lit, illuminating the street beyond. I inhale, and a sensation of pure evil washes over me. Different from Edinburgh, but still evil. It’s met with a sense of urgency, too. Something else that I can’t put my finger on. I’m sure it has to do with the fact that it all revolves around Carrine and Eli being the cause of it.

And that straight up makes me ill.

I close my eyes, inhale again, and let it out slowly. I gotta do this. I have to make things right. Whoever is calling the shots for the killings, they have to be stopped. If Eli’s involved, and can’t be saved . . .

My body shivers at the thought. Panic wells up inside me for a moment. Eli’s face flashes behind my closed eyelids, and he’s the old Eligius. My Eli. Sexy. Loving. Noble.

Then, in a blur, that face of his changes and he’s the Eli in Hush 51, the same one with the hateful glint to those cerulean eyes I love so much.

“Hey,” Rhine says. He’s standing by my side, a good six inches taller, and seeming far older than his nineteen or twenty years. Those knowing green eyes study me for a second. Study me like he’s known me longer than a few days. “You gonna be okay?”

I glance around me, up toward the darkening skies, and watch as the Ness boys separate and start their routes. If a pack of humans are hell-bent on keeping their streets and innocents safe, then I can do no less than every single thing I’m capable of.

I decide to put my own desires aside.

The old Eli wouldn’t expect anything less.

My gaze returns to Rhine’s, and I give him an assuring nod. “I will be. When all this is over, and the killings are stopped, and this city is safe again, then yeah, I’ll be okay.”

His mouth lifts at one corner and the smile lingers in his eyes. “Magic. Let’s get goin’, then, aye?” He inclines his head toward the street.

I push my heavy heart aside and fill the void with sheer determination. We start off down the drive, four other Ness boys behind us.

We’re on a vampire hunt.

I have a feeling there’ll be bloodshed from both sides.