Eventide

Part Ten Redemption

Something hot and wet trails my cheek and rouses me from a drug-induced slumber. Forcing my eyelids to open, I squint into the near darkness. I try to move, but I’m shackled to a cot. The room is cold. Damp. Smells moldy. I turn my head.

And stare into a pair of dark eyes. Human. With tendencies.

“Awake now, are ya?” the man, apparently a guard, whispers in my ear. “‘Bout goddamn time.”

My first reaction is to bite off his damn ear, then head-butt him into oblivion. He can see me in the moonlight, but I can see only his shadowed shape. With my arms and legs bound, I can’t budge.

Instead, I slide him a slow, sexy smile. I trace my bottom lip with my tongue. “God, you smell good,” I lie. “Come closer.”

The guard pauses, probably stunned from what I’ve said, but then his brain cells rush to the winning muscle and he leans over me, just like I ask. “Yeah? You think I smell good?”

“Um-hm,” I croon, thanking God above that the man indeed didn’t smell overly stinky. “I bet you taste even better.”

Again, he pauses—but only briefly. His mouth moves to mine. “Why don’t you find out?” Moving a hand to my breast, he squeezes it hard and shoves his tongue in my mouth.

Biting back the urge to barf, I kiss him back, a furious, fast kiss, just to turn him on. It does. He gropes at me then, lifting my shirt and pushing my bra up, ignoring the tape wrapping my ribs, and grasping my bare breast and squeezing. He moans, and starts to climb on top of me. “You’re gonna like this, baby,” he grunts.

Fighting back the urge to kill him now, I move my mouth to his ear. “Wait,” I whisper, licking his earlobe. “Slow down.” I bite the shell of his ear to get his attention. “This would be a lot more fun if I weren’t tied up. Don’t you think?”

The guard, silhouetted by the light coming down from the ceiling, grunts. “You might get away. Then my ass is fried.” He bends his head and tries to kiss me, but I move my mouth.

“I’m just a girl. I can’t possibly get away from you. Besides,” I say, breathing hard, “why would I want to? I’m wet and horny as hell.” I move to his ear once more and give a whispered moan. “And I want to fuck your brains out.”

“Jesus God, woman,” he says after a second. Fast as he can, he pulls something out of his pocket. “Hold still.”

A pair of cutters clips through the thick plastic tie-wraps binding my wrists and ankles. As soon as I’m free, he throws them to the floor and falls upon me. Again, I give just enough to keep him interested, then push him away.

“Wait a minute,” I say in a fake, excited breath. “Not so fast.” I reach between his legs, grab his arousal, and give an even faker moan of sexual impatience. “Let me get on top.”

“Kinky bitch, ain’t ya?” he says. “With that weird tat on your face. What other tats you got, babe?” He chuckles. “Okay, whatever you say.” He rises, allowing me to move out from under him, then he takes my spot, on his back. He gropes himself impatiently. “Hurry up. I’m about to spurt in my goddamn pants.”

The moonlight spreads over him now, illuminating some of his features. Crew cut, mid-forties—an average-looking man. A pervert. A pervert with tendencies.

Internally repulsed by the disgusting threat of spurting, I sling one leg over his hips and straddle him, wriggling against his rising erection. He grabs my hips, shoving me harder against it.

“Yeah, baby, do me,” he says, his voice thick with excitement. “Take off your shirt so I can see your tits swinging in my face.” Apparently, junior here has watched one too many cheap pornos.

Grabbing the hem of my shirt, I slowly pull it off and drop it on the floor. His eyes glaze over as they lock on my dragons. “Goddamn, baby, that’s hot as shit.” He lifts a hand and fingers the ink markings on my arm.

Just to give the situation an added extra, I palm his crotch. “Oh, you’re so hard,” I say. “Are you ready for me?”

He presses my hand hard against him. “Oh yeah, bitch, I’m ready all right.”

“Good.”

He grunts with what I suspect is a sexually excited moan of pleasure.

Then I rise off him, stand next to the cot, and slowly unbutton my jeans.

“Hurry up, baby,” he says, yanking his zipper down and groping himself. “I’m gonna come all over my–Humph!”

The wind leaves his lungs in a painful, gurgling gush as I raise my leg and slam the heel of my boot down hard on his crotch. He gasps a few times, ineffective little puffs of wind as he curls into a ball, hands cradling his privates.

Wasting no time, I rear my foot back again and catch him full force under the chin, sending him sprawling off the cot.

“Bitch!” he wheezes, spitting.

Another stomp to the groin sends the guard into a spasm of air sucking and cussing.

Dropping to my knees, I fish in his pocket for the tie-wraps I’d felt while straddling him. Grabbing a handful, I quickly bind his feet.

The guard reaches for something, and knowing he has tendencies makes me not trust him for a single second, or waste a single move. I dive in the same direction, my fingers brushing the cutters, knocking them across the room where they ping off a wall. “Ah-ah, shithead. No getting out of the wraps.”

I stand and put my boot to his throat. “Turn onto your stomach or you’ll be whistling out of a brand new hole in your neck. Now.”

He curses, then turns over.

I drop a knee right between his shoulder blades, wrench one of his arms behind him and pin it with my weight. Quickly, I grab the other arm, then tie-wrap them together. I kneel over him, close to his ear.

“You’re going to tell me a few things,” I say, barely above a whisper. I concentrate, envisioning in my head that I can make this prick do anything I want him to do with no resistance. “And you’re going to do it quietly. Now roll over and be still.”

He does and goes completely motionless. Says nothing. Doesn’t move. But his eyes stay fixed on mine.

“Good boy. Now tell me where we are,” I command.

“The research center,” he mumbles. “Lab.”

“What research?” I ask.

“Experiments,” he says. “On blood.”

“Whose?” I demand.

“All of ours,” he mutters. “Yours. Mine. Those like us.”

The picture became clearer. “Vampires.”

He shrugs.

“Where’s Valerian Arcos?” I ask.

The guard remains silent. I give him a mental shove without even realizing how I’ve done it. Apparently, it doesn’t feel too good to have your brain pushed.

He screams.

I quickly back off.

“I’ve never seen him,” he says, whimpering. “He only talks to me in my mind. Tells me what to do, whose blood to collect.”

“How many others are here?” I ask.

“Not sure,” he answers. “Could be two dozen, could be one. They come and go.”

Just that fast, I’m tired of playing the game. I want answers.

“Where’s the lab?”

“Out and left.”

I pull my shirt back on and take off running, pushing through a single door that leads from the room and into a corridor. It has the feel of an old high school built in the fifties, with long halls and rooms on either side. The doors are closed, and only every other overhead light burns. Throwing open door after door, I find nothing. No one. It’s like the facility is abandoned.

I’m hit from behind.

Not so abandoned.

I fly—not literally, but my body leaves the ground and smashes against the wall. I drop, roll, and leap up. My hand feels for a blade down my waistband. I palm it and look.

Four young vampires. Three males, one female.

All four leap at me at once.

With two quick releases, I fling blades and down the two closest to me. I can tell I won’t make it far—they’re quick and almost on me. So I take off.

I know they’ll have a hard time catching me.

Down the corridor I run. It’s dim—almost pitch-black. I see a stairwell door and shove through and tear up the steps. In seconds I’m on the third-floor landing and I slam against the metal bar and open the door.

Six more young vampires are standing there, waiting.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, Poe,” the one in front—a male with blond spiked hair—says. “He called you here for a reason.” He takes a step toward me. “You’re stayin’ a while, darlin’.”

I’ve had enough. Valerian Arcos is a danger I no longer care to have lingering in my life. He’s been able to snatch Estelle right out from under our noses.

He’s capable of anything.

He has to be stopped.

I leap at the leader. His jaws extend and teeth drop. The others follow. I ignore them all. I plunge a silver blade into his chest before my feet bound off his shoulder. As I land behind the group, they turn and descend on me. In one move I crouch, sweep out with one leg and take down the next. The blade I have palmed is buried into the newling’s flesh. She screams and falls with the others.

Three more to go.

Use your other tendencies, Riley. You don’t have to fight so hard.

Victorian’s voice echoes inside my head. For a second, it throws me off. Another newling gets close—almost too close. My reflexes are fast and I take it down, land in a crouch. I don’t wait.

I kill them all.

Their screams as their bodies break down chase me down the corridor as I start slamming open doors, searching for Valerian.

I know you’re here, Arcos! You might as well come out! I yell in my mind to Valerian. A panic grips me—a desperation to find him, to punish him, to send his ass straight to Hell. But each room I find is an empty shell, with peeling walls and broken metal furniture. It reminds me of the tuberculosis sanatoriums they used to have at the turn of the twentieth century until the forties and fifties. An unsettled sensation creeps over me as I slip through the halls. I’m alone, frustrated, frantic. Innocent people have died at this place; I can sense it. Smell it.

Taste it.

As I move, I barely notice the speed at which I’m flying through the halls. I hear the eerie echo of my feet through the emptiness, but it’s hard to register that I’m the one making the noises. I’m so goddamn fast, the walls and doors blur past me. My tendencies are many, and apparently they are as close to vampiric as a human can have.

In the next second, no fewer than a dozen newlings burst from the stairwell. They surround me, and I know then I’m beaten. No way can I concentrate long and hard enough to manipulate all of their minds; just like I can’t possibly fight them all. They descend upon me.

I let them.

One grabs me by my arm and pulls me along. We leave the third floor, down the stairwell, to the second floor. At the end of the corridor, a door stands open. I’m shoved inside, and even though I stumble, I catch myself upright.

The door slams shut. The room is dark. Not one light is turned on.

I immediately sense his presence.

“I need something from you, Riley,” Valerian’s voice speaks from the shadows. “You have something that even I don’t possess. As a matter of fact, I’m positive there isn’t a soul alive—or not—who possesses it. You are…unique that way. Highly desirable.”

I peer into the darkness until a shape, still as stone in the corner, moves. My hand palms the blade sheathed just below the waist of my cargo pants, at the back.

“All that silver won’t do you any good with me,” Valerian says.

“What do you want with me?” I ask. I still keep my fingers wrapped around the blade.

Valerian laughs lightly. “Ah, it’s so refreshing to experience a human with tendencies who is still so…naïve.”

His voice is closer to me now, although his shadow hasn’t budged. It’s almost like he’s inside my head, speaking against my eardrum. I inch slowly toward the far wall, the sheath of my knife brushing my fingertips. Confidence races through me. “Why don’t you come out of the shadows and see how naïve I am?” I say. He doesn’t scare me.

I want to kick his ass.

Or, kill his ass.

Again, his low laugh resonates through me.

“Oh, I will certainly come out of the shadows,” Valerian says. “I’ve been looking forward to this for far too long.”

The shadows shift, and by the time I blink, and my lashes lift from my face, he’s standing before me.

He looks strikingly like Victorian.

Dark, wavy hair brushes the collar of a black silk buttoned-up shirt, tucked loosely into a pair of equally dark pants. Eyes the color of espresso stare at me, weighing, calculating. Full lips and flawless skin make him appear Godlike. He grins.

I ease my blade from its sheath.

“Tsk, tsk,” he says, and wags a finger at me. “Play nice. I’m not here to kill you, and we both know how easily I could have done that, had I wanted to.”

I keep my eyes trained on him. Waiting.

“My brother has always had a severe obsession for you,” he continues. “I have always hated him for that. You understand, don’t you? Our kind should remain with…our kind. Uniting with a mortal just isn’t feasible.”

“Why not?” I ask. My guard is up, every nerve ending on alert.

He smiles a long, slow smile and holds out his hands. “You see,” he begins. “Our kind exists forever. We’re strong. Capable. We understand our affliction. But with you? Even with tendencies, it’s not feasible to risk. You’re…weak. Vulnerable.” His smile is wistful. “I’ve learned too vulnerable.”

My interest is piqued, but I say nothing.

He notices.

Valerian paces. Slowly. Predatorlike. “You are an exception, though,” he says, and rubs his finger over the flat surface of a discarded metal cabinet. “You always have been.”

My insides lurch.

He stops behind me and smells my hair, then rounds on me. “You know, Riley,” he says, dragging a knuckle across my cheek. “You look very much like your mother. Well,” he says, smiling. “Like she used to. Before.”

Frozen inside, I lock my gaze to his. “What do you know of my mother?”

Valerian shrugs, but doesn’t break his stare. His words are slow and calculating. “I know that she was fiercely protective over you, even when you rebelled.” He steps away from me, then turns. “I also know she put up an impressive fight when your boyfriend killed her.” He shakes his head. “Stupid boy.” Then, his gaze turns white, his pupils pinpoint red. “Couldn’t follow simple directions.”

Inside of my body, my oddly mixed blood turns to ice.

A slow smile lifts Valerian’s mouth. “Ah, I see you understand now. What you might not know is that I did it for you, Riley.” He sighs. “All I ever wanted was you.”

I growl and lunge at him.

I capture nothing but air.

Valerian’s low laugh comes from behind me. “Ah, Riley. Don’t exert yourself. Save your strength,” he says, then is suddenly so close to my back, our bodies touch. His whisper brushes my ear. “You’ll need it.”

Rage roils inside of me. “You killed my mother,” I say under my breath.

“Technically, yes,” Valerian admits. “Although your young boyfriend actually did all the work.” He shakes his head again. “Messy, that one. His demise was anything but a loss. He had no fucking sense.”

I lunge again, and this time I don’t find air. I find the wall.

Then he’s behind me, pressing his body against mine. With one hand securing mine, he forces the blade from my grasp and presses his lips to my ear. Be perfectly still, Riley. Don’t move. Your limbs are weak. Your muscles frozen. Listen to me closely.

Instantly, I am unable to move.

“Ah, perfect. My brother noticed you first, but I immediately wanted you,” he says in a whisper. He drags his lips over my jaw. “Rather, I wanted your blood.”

I tense. My heart slams against my ribs, but it’s a slow slam. Adrenaline rushes.

Valerian licks my throat. “Relax, Riley,” he says. “I’m not going to kill you. That was never my intention.” With one hand, he skims my back, my hip, my ass. “Your blood was enigmatic then. Now? With that of the bloodline of my brother and me? It is irreplaceable.” He nips my jaw with his teeth. “And will make an unstoppable army.”

I feel his hard cock press against my lower back. I try to summon every ounce of vampiric strength I possess, yet nothing happens. He has me. I cringe.

Reach behind you and touch me.

As if my hand has a mind of its own, I do as Valerian says. I run my hand over his hip, then grope his crotch. He groans in my ear.

Inside, I scream. Where are my goddamn tendencies?

Only then do I hear a new voice.

Riley, damn it, concentrate! You’re stronger than he is.

My mind races as Eli’s words rush through me. Stronger? Are you kidding me? I can’t move! It’s like he has me chained down. He killed my mother, Eli. He’s watched me for all these years.

You’ve got the DNA of three strigois, the Gullah, and Dupré. Trust me. You have more strength than he could ever think of having. Use your mind, Riley. Not your physical strength. Get a grip and concentrate. And whatever you do, don’t fucking kill him.

Valerian’s hands find their way beneath my shirt, my tank, and he pulls me tightly against him. “See how easy this is for us? Me, telling you what to do, and you, doing it without question? You see, once I give you the orgasm of your entire life, I’m going to take your blood.” He kisses my throat. “Some for myself, of course, and some for morphing. We’ll make powerful children, Riley.” He wraps his arms completely around my body and embraces me. “We’ll be unstoppable.”

Concentrate!

Eli’s single command jolts me. I don’t know where he is, but it sounds as if he’s right in my ear. I draw a deep breath, clear my mind, and then focus on memories. Recent. The past. They all jumble together.

I let them.

A vision of my mother, dead, naked, pale, and lifeless, crowds my mind. Her eyes stare unseeing into mine as I drag her from the bathtub and cradle her in my arms. Another vision, of Seth’s vampiric eyes staring hungrily into mine. Of the bloodbath at Bonaventure. Of more in Charleston, and of the sickening fight club in the old rectory. Of a young marine, dead. Of Estelle, roughly handled by a newling.

My mind spins out of control as horrific images assault me. All fault lies at the feet of one. Valerian Arcos.

Inside, I rage.

My inhuman powers then merge; I can feel it occur in my body. A current of energy rushes through me and abruptly halts at my feet, then shoots back up and through my fingers, my eyes. Inside my veins, the blood there feels like lava.

Then, as fast as it starts, it stops.

I look up. And everything is suddenly crystal clear. Julian’s advice rings inside my head. I remember.

Remember your mother, Valerian? What happened to her? Did you kill her? Get off me now, Valerian Arcos, and move away.

“You will not mention her!” he says vehemently. “Do not!”

But my body is released, and Valerian, slowly, moves backward.

I turn and meet his gaze. It’s wide, white, with pinpoint red pupils.

They stare at me with horror and hatred.

I give another command. It comes out of the blue, yet somehow, it’s perfect.

Suffer.

Valerian’s body begins to quiver, and his eyes widen farther still. His face contorts, but not into his vampiric image. He seems to contort into pain.

More.

A sob—male, throaty, and desperate—escapes from him. His body shakes uncontrollably. He drops to the floor. I stand over him, his eyes glaring up at me.

Agony. Fire. Strangulation.

Valerian’s body thrashes uncontrollably; his hands fly to his neck as choking noises gurgle from his throat. Satisfaction courses through me as I watch him writhe in pain, imaginary flames licking his skin. With my mind, I force the delusion on him. Harder. Faster.

“Riley, stop!”

Although I hear the voice, I can’t take my eyes off of Valerian. All the things that go along with finally finding a loved one’s killer run through me. I take pleasure in watching his pain. His anguish. It must be something similar to what my mother experienced when she died. What all of those innocent people experienced. All because of selfish, pathetic Valerian.

On my thigh, a sheath is strapped. I reach for the blade, the silver turning cool in my hand. I envision the silver slipping easily through his flesh. Ending his sorry fucking existence.

“No, chère,” the voice said calmly. “No.”

A hand goes to my shoulder. Gently. Firmly. I look up.

It takes a minute for my mind to register.

The first one I see is Eli.

Behind him, Noah, Phin, Jake, Darius, Gabriel, Seth, and Victorian.

“You can’t kill him,” Victorian says. “No matter that you want to.”

I look down at Valerian. His body is still now, staring up at me. I’m holding him in some sort of weird abstraction without even trying.

“We’ll take him back to my father tonight,” Victorian says, then puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s over, Riley.”

Eli moves close, almost between Victorian and me.

The two stare off at one another.

“My team and I will accompany you and your brother back to Romania,” Jake Andorra says to Victorian.

Victorian nods, but keeps his gaze locked on to mine. “I must have a word with Riley first,” he says.

“We’ve got him,” Jake says, and grabs Valerian off the floor.

Surprisingly, Victorian looks at Eli. “Do you mind?”

My eyes flash to Eli’s, and I know his answer before he says it.

“Hell yes, I mind. But she doesn’t. Go ahead. And keep your hands to yourself.”

Anger is surfacing inside me, and maybe it’s because I already know what Victorian is about to tell me. Doesn’t matter. I allow him to grasp me by the elbow and lead me out of the dingy little concrete room.

In seconds, we’re outside. The moon hangs low, more than a crescent now, and the air is chilled. A light pours from a single lamp beside the entrance of the facility. It’s enough to cast Victorian’s beautiful face into odd planes and shadows.

“I never wanted Valerian to have you,” he begins. “I tried my best to warn you away, but I was powerless in my tomb. I knew of your lover, and of Valerian’s plan to have him kill your mother.” Anguish forces his features into a frown. “I couldn’t stop him. He’s always been stronger than me. Even entombed.”

He places a hand on my jaw and tilts my head toward him. “I’m sorry, Riley. I wish I could change things. I wish I could bring your mother back.”

My heart eases a bit. Valerian’s power over Victorian is just as easily believed as his power over me. “I understand, Vic.” I place my hand over his, at my jaw. “It’s okay.” It’s not okay, but it’s not Vic’s fault. I know that.

“I’ll make sure his punishment is delivered,” he says. “I vow it.”

I nod. “Multumesc.”

Victorian cocks his head. “My native tongue sounds good”—he smiles—“on your tongue.”

I softly laugh. “Perv.”

His eyes soften. “I wish I could keep you,” he says. “I’ve loved you your whole life. Ever since you were a child. I…wish you’d choose me over him.”

I sigh. “Victorian, don’t.”

Beneath the moonlight, he looks at me. Sincerity gleams in his inhuman eyes. “Promise me something, Riley Poe.”

I look up at him. Waiting.

He smiles when I don’t readily agree. “Promise me that if ever there’s a time when you tire of him, you’ll call me.” He kisses my cheek, and pulls back and pins me with a steady gaze. “I will wait for you.”

I hold my gaze to his, too. “I’ve always been drawn to you, Vic. I’ve never been able to explain it to myself, but I have.” I smile. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” I say, and wrap my arms around his neck. “Take care.” I hug him hard. “E-mail me.”

I feel his body quake with laughter. “We’re vampires, Riley,” he says, pulling back and smiling. “No need to e-mail when you can cyber chat”—he taps my temple—“here.”

“As long as you stay out of the personal info,” I remind him. “And no dirty talking.”

Victorian shrugs. “I’m still a man. That is a promise I cannot make.”

I laugh, and turn to leave. “Be careful, Vic—”

I’m grabbed by the arm and swung quickly and determinedly into Victorian’s embrace. His mouth descends upon mine in a fervent kiss so fast, my head spins.

Literally.

Just as fast, he releases me.

“Sorry,” he says, backing away. “I couldn’t help myself.”

I simply shake my head.

Valerian is tethered and within the hour is taken away by Victorian, Jake, and the others. Eli, Phin, and Seth remain behind.

“There are more out there,” Phin says grimly. His eyes glisten in the light of the moon. “It’ll take time to collect them.”

“At least Valerian won’t be able to manipulate their minds,” Seth says.

“There is that,” Eli says. He looks at me. “Ready?”

I glance around me, at the facility. At the island. “Yeah. I am.”

Seth drapes an arm over my shoulder. “You’ve got some wicked tendencies, Ri,” he says. “Do you even remember what you were doing to Valerian?”

I think about it. “Not really.”

“That’ll come,” Phin says. “You’ll learn more control over time.”

“And flexion of your mind muscles,” adds Eli. He grins. “Good thing you have more time now.”

I hug my brother and look sideways at him as we walk to the skiff. It’s hard to believe that a few short months ago, he was experiencing a quickening. Floating to the top of his room, for God’s sake. So much has changed.

We’ve all changed.

The ride back to the mainland is a fast one. It’s early—too early—to visit with Preacher and Estelle, or Nyx. Phin and Seth step out of the Jeep as we park on the merchant’s drive behind Inksomnia. Just as we near the door, Eli pulls me to a stop.

“Wait,” he says. “I’ve got something to show you.”

I glance at Seth and Phin and shrug. “Later.”

They both grin and head inside.

Eli links his fingers through mine and we get back into the Jeep.

“How tired are you?” he asks, and the tone in his voice makes me shiver.

“Not tired at all,” I answer.

We take off across Bay Street and down Abercorn.

For the first time in months, I notice a particular ease in the air. The chill is right. The crisp is right. The rustle of leaves is right.

Being beside Eli Dupré is even more right.

Twenty minutes from downtown and just off Waters Avenue, across from the old white concrete Cresthill Baptist Church, Eli turns down Beckman Avenue. It’s an older residential street, with houses built in the forties and fifties. Some a little newer. Some ways down, Eli turns in to a corner lot and stops the Jeep. The drive is a half circle lined with aged azalea bushes that are probably gorgeous in the spring when in full bloom. The house is an older concrete block house, single story, with several tall pine trees towering overhead. A wooden swing sits suspended between two of them. I glance at Eli.

“What’s this?” I ask.

A crooked grin splits Eli’s face in two, and for a moment, he’s not a vampire. He’s a mischievous guy up to something.

I guess he can be both.

Eli’s gaze lingers on my mouth, then meets my eyes. “My new house.”

I feel my eyes bug out. “Are you serious?” I glance back at the older home, then back to Eli. “Really?”

He shrugs. “I met a man once, years ago. He’d just returned from the war—as in World War Two—and had started working for the electric company. He had a sweet wife named Frances and a beautiful baby daughter named Dale. I watched him one day break up a fight between two mean-asses who’d jumped this skinny kid. Cracked the two bullies’ heads together. Knocked them senseless.” Eli’s gaze moves from mine to a place above me, and he concentrates as he pulls the memory back. He smiles. “His name was Wimpy. He gave me a job making hush puppies.” He inclines his head toward the concrete house. “He built this. Raised a family here. Had three more children. He helped build that church back there.” Eli slips from the Jeep and walks around to my side. “I watched his little blond-haired granddaughter, Cindy, come here every single summer and swing on that swing.” He points to where it was. “She had a little friend just down the road and they’d play together nearly every day. Cindy and Julie. They were inseparable.”

I look at Eli, wondering where he was going with all of this. It sounds great to me, like I’m hearing about someone from my own family.

From the family I could’ve had.

Eli knows I’m perplexed, and smiles. “I’ll never forget the summer of nineteen seventy-six. Cindy was ten. She ran around with a Jaws T-shirt on nearly the whole summer.” He shakes his head and laughs. “I’ll have to tell you a funny story about her later. About who she is, what she became. Maybe even take you to meet her. Later, though.” He glances toward the house again. “The property runs straight down to the Vernon River. Wimpy’s wife, Frances, used to go down to the dock and catch blue crabs by the basketfuls.” Another winsome smile touches his lips. “He built a dock over the marsh back in the fiftes. I’ve had some repairs made, and…” He grasps my hand. “Well, come see for yourself.”

I’m, for a change, speechless as Eli leads me across the yard, back toward the woods where a small worn path leads to the marsh. The brine is perfect and pungent, and just the slightest breeze rustles the saw grass. We cross the marsh on a newly repaired dock, and at the end sits a small covered screened-in dock house with a red tin roof. Eli stops, steps inside, and grabs blankets from a plastic storage bin in the corner. The screen door creaks and slams behind him as he pulls me down the plank to a small floating dock.

Without a word, he spreads two blankets on the dock, and rolls a third long-ways and places it at one end. He holds out a hand. “Sit down.”

I grin and do as he asks.

Silently, he kneels and removes my boots and socks. He rolls up my jeans. Then he sits, kicks off his boots and socks, and does the same. He sticks his feet into the water, and I do the same. He sits close to me, our shoulders brushing. He looks up.

“Magnificent spray of stars, don’t you think?” he says.

I turn my head and look at him. “What are you doing, Eligius Dupré?”

Eli’s smile is blinding. “I love it when you use my full name.”

I shake my head and wait.

He looks at me. “I always secretly wanted what Wimpy had. Family. Loving, devoted wife.” He laughs softly. “They called each other monkey. Their pet name for each other.” He shakes his head. “Funniest damn thing I’d ever heard. Wimpy made magic happen here, Riley.” He smiles and shrugs. “He had a great life. I want it. And I want you to share it with me.”

My heart leaps. It almost stops.

With two hands, Eli grasps my face. His gaze passes over my mouth, my nose, then to my eyes. “I want to marry you, Riley Poe. And if you don’t say yes now, I’ll keep asking until you do.”

Even in the fading light, I can see the cerulean blue brightness of Eli’s eyes sparkle. The slight scruff that perpetually remained on his jaw, the fall of dark hair over his forehead, and that crazy silver hoop he still wore in his brow—all of it Eli.

And he wants to marry me.

Suddenly, my past becomes a faint memory of someone who could’ve been anyone other than me. The pain of my mother’s death, though still present, dulls. I feel I can accomplish anything with this unique man by my side.

“Yes,” I say softly. I’m looking into his eyes. They soften. He smiles.

His kiss rocks me.

Gentle at first, his lips brush mine, linger against me, and although I know he doesn’t need air to breathe, you’d never know it. He sighs against my mouth. The sweet taste of him makes my head spin. He pulls me into a tight embrace.

“Thank you,” he whispers against my ear. “I love you, Riley. More than you know.”

I squeeze him in return. “I love you, Eligius Dupré,” I say, then pull back and look at him. “I think I have from the first moment I saw you.”

He grins. “I know.”

“We have a lot of work ahead of us though,” I say. “Jake wants to hire us. Together. Like Turner and Hootch. Miami Vice. Scarecrow and Mrs. King.”

Eli shakes his head. “Yeah. I know.” He kisses me again. “Good thing we have years and years to be together.”

With the water lapping at our ankles, we sit. We talk. We plan.

For the night, we’re a normal couple in love.

I guess this is something I’ll have to get used to, and I pray to God I can one day control it. I can’t just run around having people touch me, inadvertently hurling me into their bodies only for me to experience some mind/body/life altering event that I can somehow change or help. I mean seriously.

Or can I?

All I know is that Seth and Eli are my world. Preacher and Estelle are my world. The Duprés are my family, and I have a shitload of the most bizarre friends a person can have.

But I’m not a person, am I? Hell no. I’m an abomination. Human, but not. Vampiric qualities, but thankfully, not a bloodsucker. I can be killed, but I won’t naturally die on my own for hundreds of years. And lucky for me, the aging process is slow. I’ll look twenty-five for a helluva long time. That’s a plus. No Botox for me.

I’m grateful, in a way, that Seth shares the same fate as me. Probably not to the severity, since he’s only had one vampiric encounter, and me, four. But we’ll have a longer life together, and that suits me. I can’t imagine life without my little bro.

So, all in all, I’m adjusting. To what, exactly, I’m not sure. I still love to ink. Sketch designs. I’m proud of my work and my accomplishments. But I’m now heavily considering passing ownership over to Nyx, occasionally inking when I’m in town, and then utilize for the good these crazy ass powers I’ve acquired. And since Eli and Seth are in it, along with Noah and Phin? Why the hell not.

We’ll see.

I’m sitting at Molly MacPhearson’s. Across the room, a group of seven women has gathered, and after eavesdropping, I determine that they’re celebrating a local author’s new book release. Pretty cool. They all clink bottles of lager and say what I can only imagine is an inside joke, and then they all burst into laughter. They have the craziest names, too, like they’ve all given each other nicknames. Gma. Cinny. Oogen. Auntie Betsy. Molly MacNugget. Bunty. Walowie. One of them—Oogen—gets up at everyone’s urging, heads outside, and begins to pass back and forth in front of the window in some crazy little run. They all laugh. I don’t get it, even though it is pretty hilarious. They’re in tears, they’re laughing so hard. A group of girlfriends, a night on the town celebrating a fine success. What fun. It’s something I’ve missed in life. But I have a family now, and a new group of friends. Sure, some of them are vampires, some werewolves, and some have been on the earth longer than dirt. But I like them. I watch the women a few minutes longer until they gather their belongings and leave. Still laughing. Calling one another vulgar names. It’s so funny, I hate to see them go.

Until I notice him.

Eli stands beneath the awning at Belford’s across the street. He sees me through the window. I see him, and I move outside toward him. My soul mate.

For now, even if for a few days, I want to enjoy my life. Live it as normal for at least one damn afternoon if possible. Eat a good meal. Have some good sex. Take a walk. A swim. Crack a few oysters on Da Island with Preacher and his family. That is, if Bhing hasn’t torn the island up. Last I heard, her cleansing was pretty rocky. Mean as shit, I think I heard someone say. Poor little Bhing. Anyway. I just want to be freaking normal for a while.

Because very, very soon, I have a feeling I’ll be boarding a plane for Scotland.

Jake says Edinburgh is being taken over by a band of nasty fallen angels and my tendencies just might come in handy. Ginger and Sydney seriously want me to join WUP. I’m heavily considering it. I mean, what the hell else am I going to do with all this pent-up energy?

We’ll see. For now, I’m all about Eli Dupré. And thankfully, he’s all about me.

I’m as content as I’ll ever be.

I think my mom would be proud of how I’ve turned out. And somewhere deep inside me, I feel she watches me, even now. I like that. Makes me feel close to her, as if she’s right beside me.

I like to think that she truly is.

Who knows? I run with a pack of vampires, werewolves, and immortals. Who says ghosts aren’t real? At this point in my strange existence, I’ll believe just about anything.