Everdark

Part Five Merciless

Pure silver blades do nasty things to vampires.

After this was over, I’d stash them all around my apartment.

Nyx’s scream died in her throat as the newling—a stocky blond guy about twenty-three years old—released her and dropped her to the ground. The blade I’d thrown at him lay buried to the hilt, straight through the pleather jacket he wore, directly into his heart. His opaque stare dulled as his body seized and contracted, and a painful gurgling emerged from his throat. Slowly, his fangs began to retract, and some white gooey stuff began to leak from his eyes and mouth. That was all I noticed, because the other two newlings dove toward me. I reacted.

In one leap, I fell onto the dying vampire, yanked the blade from his chest, crouched and leapt high, right at the two rushing me. In midair, I pulled my knees up to my chest, planted my feet against the rib cage of one, and pushed hard; he flew across the room and landed on an end table, shattering my favorite stain glass frame and falling against the wall. I plunged the blade into the other’s heart. He fell to the floor, writhing and seizing. I didn’t want to yank the blade out too soon, so I landed in a crouched position, my weight resting on my thighs, and faced the remaining vampire. He’d leapt to his feet and now crouched, waiting to pounce on me. He was older, about my age. I could tell he was not a new vamp; while his eyes were cloudy, insanely crazed, and vicious, I knew he was more experienced than the others. He wanted blood—mine or Nyx’s; it didn’t matter. And he had the patience to get it. I could hear my own heart, slow, sluggish, and Nyx’s beating a million times per minute like a hummingbird’s. She was terrified—so intensely that I could smell the scent of fear rolling off her body in the form of sweat.

“Riley,” Nyx said, as if she’d heard me thinking about her, lightly, barely audible, just a whisper, petrified.

I glanced at her; a fraction of a second. It was the distraction the vamp was waiting for.

He leapt and had me on my back in less time than it took to blink. The air whooshed from my lungs, and Nyx screamed again. With my arms pinned to my sides, I could do little more than stare up at my captor’s face. With distorted, gross, white skin with an exaggerated wide mouth and sharp fangs dropping from his gums, he was . . . horrifying, and barely recognizable as ever being human. His opaque gaze was fixed on the pulse at my throat. “Ready to die, bitch?” he said, his voice low, not human, determined.

“Grab the knife, Nyx,” I commanded gently, slowly, “from the other one. Now.”

So entranced was the bloodsucker straddling me that he didn’t even realize what I was trying to do. But Nyx was in shock and terrified. I knew before the words left my mouth that she wouldn’t be able to do it. I couldn’t blame her. She must be freaked out as hell.

“What?” she whispered, then sobbed.

I couldn’t wait. I inched my fingers to the pocket of my jeans, reaching for the sachet Preacher had given me earlier. Maybe the hoodoo powder would burn him enough that I could get him off me. The newling cocked his head, narrowed his milky eyes, and lunged at my throat.

My mouth opened; I sucked in a breath. I didn’t even have time to scream.

A silver blade whipped by my face and was just . . . suddenly there, buried in the vampire’s chest; a worn black Conversed foot shoved him backward off me. He landed with a thud against the wall and began to seize, gurgle, convulse. I turned away and stared up and into the troubled green eyes of my baby brother. He extended a hand. I grasped it, and he pulled me up.

“Why didn’t you call? From inside your head? Luc would’ve heard.” he said. Worry and anger sat etched into the lines on his forehead. “Why, Riley?” He pulled me into an embrace and squeezed me really hard. “They could have killed you and Nyx.”

Nyx.

I glanced over Seth’s shoulder and found her staring dead at me; blue eyes wide, horrified, her face drawn, even paler than usual. She’d backed against the wall, far from the dead/dying vampires, far from Seth, from the Duprés.

Far from me.

“Nyx,” I said, pushing out of Seth’s arms.

“No,” Nyx said, and held up a hand. “You . . . stay away,” she said, sobbing and trying to back up farther. “All of you stay away.” She glanced hesitantly around the room, her face revealing absolute horror, and she began to inch along the wall, looking for a way out. “I’ have to go,” she mumbled, her voice trembling, to no one in particular. She sounded in the early stages of good old-fashioned hysteria. I totally didn’t blame her, but it saddened me just the same. I so badly didn’t want her involved in this hell. I knew she’d come around, and that we’d have to tell what had happened, what was going on, etc. But I hated to. It was then I noticed Riggs and Zetty in the room. They both regarded me. Zetty gave a curt nod.

“You okay, Riley?” he asked.

“Yeah, Zetty. I’m fine.”

He nodded again.

“Come with me,” Luc said to Nyx, gently but firmly, grasping her arm when she resisted. Nyx stared up at him, and I’m not sure if he put the vampire whammy on her or what, but she nodded and allowed him to guide her to the door. Thankfully, Luc steered her way around what little was left of the corpses on my living room floor. At the door, he looked over his shoulder at me. “I’ve got this, Riley,” he said, and I nodded. He walked a trembling Nyx out of my apartment. Her trembling and fast-beating heart resonated inside my ears. Pushing my thumb and forefinger into my temples, I swore in Romanian. This freaking sucked. Suddenly, noises infiltrated my brain, and the murmurings and shouts and cries and horns blasting bounded within me. I concentrated, hard. Some of the sounds retracted, at least enough for me to think. That unusual, unnamed feeling began to grow inside me again. I wished to hell I knew what it was. It made me anxious. Edgy. Angry.

And as Nyx and Luc walked out, Preacher walked in. He stood in the doorway, glaring. He reminded me slightly of Eli.

“Ri, are you okay?” Seth said again, holding my arms in his firm grip. “You don’t look so good.”

I turned to him. His green eyes were rimmed with worry. “Yeah, Bro, I’m fine.” I hugged him tight. “Chaz—I think he’s hurt. Off my balcony—”

Seth ran out of the apartment, Josie fast on his heels.

“I can’t believe you took out the other two alone,” Phin said, squatting beside one of the now-shriveled bodies—barely more than a little pile of skeletal dust—and shaking his head. He rubbed his jaw and muttered his favorite slang. “Sack ray blue.” He looked at me. “Do you recognize them?”

“No,” I answered, and gave the piles a furtive glance. “Please tell me you’re going to help me get that junk out of my apartment.”

Phin gave me a smile. “Absolutely. Riggs, Zetty, you guys come with me,” he said, and turned to Preacher. “I’ll be right back.”

Seth and Josie walked in. Seth had Chaz in his arms. My heart stopped, and I moved to him. He lifted his head and whined the moment my hand touched him.

“He’s okay,” Seth said, looking at me. “He was walking in the grass by the river when I found him. Wasn’t limping or anything. Probably just shaken up. I’ll feed him,” he said, and he set Chaz down. His backside wagged and he licked my hand. I squatted down and ran my hand over his body, and he licked my face. Relief washed over me. He didn’t flinch with pain or anything.

“You gonna be okay, boy?” I asked in doggy talk. Chaz licked me again and looked hard at me with his allknowing doggy eyes. Such a stoic guy—even if he was hurt, he probably wouldn’t show it. I’d get him checked out in the morning, just in case.

“Come on, boy, let’s eat,” Seth said, and more slowly than usual, Chaz walked to the kitchen, wagging.

“You got sick moves for a mostly mortal,” Josie said, suddenly at my side. Her expressions never swayed severely one way or the other; but you always knew she spoke the truth. With wide cerulean eyes and long light brown waves naturally streaked with blond, she studied me, weighed and evaluated me, all in the span of about three seconds. She looked like an average teen, but the wisdom in the depths of her gaze said otherwise. The very corner of her mouth lifted into what most wouldn’t recognize as a grin. I did. It was a complimentary grin. “I’m wicked glad you made it.”

“Thanks,” I replied, and slid a glance to Preacher. “So am I.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I moved toward my grandfather. He stared down at me, emotions evident only in his dark eyes.

“How come you didn’t sense dem?” Preacher said quietly.

I shook my head and shoved my hands through my hair. “I don’t know. I wonder how Ned didn’t sense them.”

“He did,” Josie offered. “That’s why we came.”

“Almost too late,” said my brother, who’d moved to stand close to me again. “I don’t like it, Ri. Something’s up.”

“Ned’s on his way,” Josie said, pushing her cell into the back pocket of her skinny jeans. I hadn’t even noticed her calling him. “He thinks something’s up, too. Says he didn’t sense them until they were already here. Totally unlike Ned.”

My heart jumped. “That doesn’t sound good,” I said, then looked at Preacher. “What am I going to do about Nyx?”

“She saw everyting den?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, and it wasn’t pretty,” I answered, and shoved my hands into my pockets. Inside one I felt the sachet Preacher had given me earlier, and I wrapped my fingers around it. “She was in total shock. One of them had her by the throat and lifted her off the floor.” I shook my head. “Her eyes, Preacher—I’ve never seen someone so totally freaked out and scared. She looked at me as if I were a monster.” I looked at him. “Don’t you have some sort of . . . something you can give her? Make her forget?” Certainly my Gullah-hoodoo-root doctor-conjuring grandfather could concoct some sort of hocuspocus to brainwash my best friend.

One of Preacher’s brows lifted as he looked at me.

“Guess not,” I muttered, then looked up as Phin, Riggs, and Zetty came through the door. Zetty, wearing long baggy black shorts, a black T-shirt, and a gold and red braided traditional Nepal vest, stared hard at me. His long black braid hung to his waist.

“I didn’t have time to call for help,” I said, addressing his silent scolding. “I was just as surprised by them as Ned. Plus I had my hearing turned way down. Won’t happen again. So chill.” I gave the big Tibetan a slight smile. “And thanks.”

“That’s some good ass-kickin’, though,” Riggs said as he passed by. “Pretty decent for a babe.”

I could do little more than roll my eyes.

“Once dese boys git rid of dat stuff,” Preacher said, inclining his head to the piles of vamp dust on my floor, “bring it to me. Den you and dat long-haired Dupré boy bring Nyx over to da house. Togedder we will talk to her. Make tings right.”

I nodded. “What are you going to do until?”

“Fix my house right so my woman is safe. Den I’ll do yours and your brodder’s.”

I hugged my grandfather. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

Preacher patted my back. “Dat’s right, child. In a while.” Without another word, he left. I knew that “fix my house right” meant Preacher was about to do some major conjuring and hoodooing to safeguard his house and mine against sneaky vampires. Preacher held his emotions well; I could tell how it had worried him to know three newlings had waltzed right into my apartment and attacked without warning. It scared him.

It pissed me off.

I watched Phin, Zetty, Riggs, and Seth sweep the piles of vamp remains into, no lie, ziplock freezer bags, take some cleaner to the spot beneath the dust, and then sprinkle something over the whole area. No doubt Preacher had given it to them, and I was glad for it. I couldn’t tell you what in hell Preacher was going to do with newling dust, and I wasn’t convinced I wanted to know myself. I was not positive I’d ever sit on my living room floor again and not think about the gruesome death the vamps had died. I shuddered. Yeah, so I guess in the end, it freaks me out a little. Go figure. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

Phin rose, his blue gaze seeking mine. “Eli isn’t going to be happy.”

I shrugged, walked to the broom closet, retrieved my small broom and dustpan, and walked to the stained glass frame shattered on my floor. I knelt and picked it up, the picture bent inside. Running a thumb over the surface, I smoothed the aged photo paper, the smiling face of my mother with me leaning against her and baby Seth in her arms staring back at me. Emotion caught in my throat, and I shook my head to clear it away. “Eli’s not here, so I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Why are you so angry at him?” Phin asked, crouching and ducking his head to hold my gaze.

I met it with fury. “I’m not angry, Phin. I’m pissed. He left, not because my life was in danger but because he is jealous of Victorian, which is really stupid since he isn’t anywhere near me. He comes into my dreams and that’s all he has. It’s fake. Phony. Not really happening. I didn’t ask Eli to leave, and I think it sucks that he did so on his own.” I picked up a broken shard of frame. I was freaking sick of people in my life just . . . leaving me. I felt like the only person I’d ever be able to fully count on was Preacher.

A small smile tipped the corner of Phin’s mouth. “Trust me, Riley,” he said gently. “You can’t imagine what you mean to Eli. Hell yeah, you can count on him. And hell yeah, all this does suck, but you know my brother. Noggin of steel. No one, save Papa, tells him what to do. Besides, you’ve no idea what Victorian Arcos is capable of. He may seem harmless, but trust me. He’s not. And Eli takes no chances on what’s his.” His gaze leveled. “None.”

On what’s his.

I nodded. “I understand. Still pisses me off, though. You can see now that I can take care of myself.”

“Mostly,” he added, and then he rose. I watched him walk the room with his plain black tee, jeans, boots . . . He moved intently through the apartment, the muscle in his jaw flexing. I knew he was ticked about the whole thing, too. But Phin handled things way differently than Eli did. They looked a lot alike but had totally different personalities.

I finished sweeping the broken frame, stood, and tossed it into the trash. “Are you in contact with him?” I glanced over at Chaz, who lay curled up by the window, dozing.

Phin nodded. “Of course. He’s on his way back.” He grinned. “And yeah, he found Victorian. Found out something interesting. I’ll catch you up in a few.”

Somehow, all of that surprised me. But my thoughts and surprise were interrupted by the Geek Patrol.

“Whoa, dudes, dudettes—gnarly business goin’ on,” Ned Gillespie said from the doorway. Chaz lifted his head and let out a bark.

“It’s okay, boy,” I soothed, and Chaz laid his head back down.

Dressed in skinny jeans, Converses, and a white T-shirt with SUGAR SHACK printed in red across the front, Ned held his hand to his forehead as he stepped into the living room and looked around. His crazy brown hair, tipped with blond stood every which way. His gaze lit on Josie, and his cheeks turned red. “Hey, Josephine. Lookin’ sweet.” I’d almost forgotten they used to be superclose.

She grinned. “Thanks, Ned. You, too.”

He nodded and glanced at Phin. “Thought the bloodsucker radar in my noggin was goin’ out or something, but it’s not that.”

“What is it?” Phin asked.

Ned’s expression turned serious. “Romanian hocuspocus, dude. Serious weirdicus.” He glanced at me. “Glad you made it out okay, Riley.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Ned. So what kind of magic? Like a spell?” Even knowing what I knew about hoodoo and vampires, the question sounded stupid when said aloud. I wondered if I’d ever get used to things.

“Not sure, babe. Definitely Romanian, though. After I made the vamp alert 911 to Phin here, I was like, blown away.” He gave a short laugh of uncertainty. “I mean, damn—how’d they shimmy under my radar? I should’ve picked them off long before their soulless selves hit the streets of Savannah.” He shook his head. “Could’ve been bad, man. Could’ve been really bad.”

“So what’d you find?” Phin asked, leaning against the counter.

“In one of my old tomes I read that some bloodsuckers can slip past detectors”—he glanced at me, pressing his fingertips to his chest—“that’d be me”—he turned back to Phin—“and attack without warning. Depending on their point of vampiric origin, it could be a spell, or maybe a wicked ingestion, or something they spread on their skin.” He shrugged. “Impossible to tell.”

“What makes you think Romanian?” Phin asked.

Ned nodded and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “It’s nothing concrete. It was more my . . . uncanny sense of knowing,” he replied. “As soon as I picked up their scent, I thought, Damn. Romanian. I guess I smelled them.”

“Why? Do Romanian vamps smell worse than other vamps?” asked Riggs.

Ned narrowed his eyes. “No, dude. Just different.” He tapped Riggs’ nose. “One of my special powers, capiche?”

I glanced at Phin. He smiled. “That’s good enough for me, Ned. Romanian it is, although it makes little sense.” I knew what he meant; Victorian was the only one alive. I guessed he was still alive, anyway.

Ned grinned. “Yeah, and I’m a hundred and twelve years old. Talk about making sense, huh dude? There could be dozens of Romanian bloodsuckers in the States—not just the Arcoses.”

Phin chuckled. “Guess you’re right.”

“Wait. There’s more,” Ned said, holding up a hand. “There’s a lot of bloodsucking activity going on in Charleston. Been picking it up in doses, but the dose just grew. Now it’s like . . . a large blip on the sonar, if you know what I mean.”

Phin nodded. “Thanks, Ned.”

“No prob. Well, I gotta dip on out. I’m headed to a big gamer convention in Portland tomorrow. Should be sweet,” he said, and turned to look at me. “You take care, babe. Watch your back.”

I grinned. “I always do.”

Ned smiled. “Righteous.” He nodded to Phin, then glanced at Riggs, Seth, and Zetty. “Later, dudes.” His gaze turned softer when he looked at Josie. “Later, Josephine.”

Collectively, they all said, “Later”; Ned saluted and left.

As I always felt after any amount of time spent with Ned Gillespie, I thought I’d just left one of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventures. Smart guy, though, and he knew his shit to the nth degree. And the Duprés trusted him indefinitely. And, I confess, he was cute in a goofy, nerdy sort of way.

“Okay,” Phin said, running a hand over his close-cut hair. He glanced down at the ziplocks filled with undead dead-dust on the floor. “Let’s get this stuff to Preacher. And Riley?”

“Yeah?” I said, regarding Phin.

“You know what this means, right?” A small smile tipped his mouth.

I rolled my eyes. “Hell yes, I know. It means you’re staying here to babysit me until Eli gets back. Again.”

“Or you could stay at the house, if you want,” he offered, meaning the Dupré mansion.

I shook my head. “No, thanks. I have a business to run and all my stuff’s here.”

Phin shrugged. “Suit yourself. But if you change your mind . . .”

I smiled. “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.” I looked at Phin. “Did Eli kill Victorian? Luc didn’t say.” I felt like I’d know, and even though Victorian hadn’t contacted me further, I didn’t feel he was gone. I briefly wondered why I cared.

“No,” Phin said. “Victorian got away. Details later, though.”

Well, that answered that.

By the time we’d gathered at Preacher’s, it was nearly midnight. My head had begun a slow throb, nearly as slow as my heartbeat, and when we stepped inside Da Plat Eye, my noggin was splitting into halves. Estelle gave me four ibuprofen (yeah, go figure—regular FDA-approved medicine) and a glass of water, and I downed them. Phin said it was kickback adrenaline from killing vamps. I believed it.

What I didn’t believe was Nyx’s reaction to me.

The moment I stepped into Preacher’ and Estelle’s small, tidy living room, Nyx leapt from the sofa and hurled herself at me, full speed. She wrapped me in the largest, tightest bear hug she’d ever given, I was sure of it. I hugged her back, and she sobbed.

“Oh, Riley,” she said against my shoulder. “I’m sorry! I—” She pulled back and looked at me. “Oh my God, I had no idea. Luc”—she glanced at him, then set her gaze on mine—“took me to his house. I . . . met his parents.” Large blue eyes stared at me and blinked. She dropped her voice to almost a whisper. “You know, I saw them.”

“She hugged them, too,” Luc said jokingly.

I stared at my best friend, at her pigtails poking through the sides of her white and black striped skully, at her dark red lipstick, her pale skin. She blinked. “I know, Riley.” She leaned close to me. “Preacher told me. Creatures of the afterlight,” she whispered. “Vampires.”

I could do little more than stare at my friend.

“Gilles explained some things, and Preacher, he took care of the rest—including yours and Seth’s tendencies,” Nyx continued. “He wanted to wait for you, but I ... I insisted. After I’d met Luc’s parents, I had to know.”

It hit me then, and I grasped Nyx’s forearms. “I’m sorry I lied to you before about Seth,” I said. “It . . . was the only way. At least, I thought.” I looked hard at her. “I didn’t think you’d understand, and I didn’t want to drag you into all of this.”

Luc was suddenly at Nyx’s side. “She handled it all pretty good,” he said, and I noticed a protective hand move to Nyx’s back. “Even when Papa changed.”

“I fainted, but Luc stayed right beside me,” Nyx confessed, then narrowed her eyes at me. “No more secrets, huh Riley?” Seth walked over and put his arm around Nyx.

I held my hand up. “No more, I swear it.”

Nyx glanced up at Seth. “I always felt it was something more,” she said, and I knew she meant Seth hadn’t been on drugs. “Never thought it was something like this, though.”

Seth pulled Nyx against him and kissed the top of her head through the skully. “Love ya, other sis.”

Nyx’s closed-eyed smile spoke way more than her words. “Love you, too, little bro.”

“Dere’s more to be done, dat’s right,” said Preacher, rising from his recliner and glancing at all gathered. It was late, and the lamp in the corner cast a very dim amber glow over the room, the haint blue ceiling mixing and casting a unique, surreal metallic color against the newsprint on the walls (to keep the wudus busy). I knew he and Estelle had to be exhausted. “You, Nyxinnia, will stay wit Riley and Seth—for a few nights, right? Until we know what’s out dere, we want you safe. You don’t have tendencies like she and her brodder do. Deys have powers now, and dem Duprés taught ’em to fight. You don’t know dat stuff, and I don’t want you gittin’ hurt, girl. Luc will go wit you to your house and git your stuff, dat’s right. Den you come back here.”

Nyx nodded without question. “Yes, sir.”

“After a few days, when we know what’s out dere, we’ll git your house right and den you can go back,” Preacher said.

Nyx again nodded.

“Séraphin,” Preacher said.

“Yes, sir,” Phin responded.

“You and dose boys dere help me with dis stuff, right.” He crossed the room and lifted an aged, handcarved wooden box from the mantel. I knew it well. It usually contained conjuring herbs, crushed bones, body parts of various creatures—sort of a tackle box full of hoodoo stuff. He reached in and lifted three balls of burlap, larger than what he’d given me earlier. It was more like the size of a baseball. “I want you boys to shake dis around da building’s foundation, inside each doorway, window, and da balcony.” He handed the sachets to Phin.

“Come on,” Phin said to the others. “Josie, you stay with Riley until we finish.”

Josie, seated on the floor in front of Estelle’s feet, looked up at me. “Sure.”

Phin and the guys left.

Luc’s cell rang then, and when he answered it, he looked directly at me. “Yeah, Bro, everything’s cool,” he said, then quietly slipped out into the foyer.

It was Eli. And somehow, as childish and immature as it sounded, it pissed me off that he’d call Luc and not me. Inwardly, I fumed. I’m talking frickin’ frackin’ fumed.

I immediately turned on my acute-hearing ability and eavesdropped.

“You should tell her, dude,” Luc said.

“I don’t need you telling me what to do, Jean-Luc,” Eli replied, his French thick. “And I damn-fuck sure don’t need her knowing anything. If I wanted to talk to her about it, I would. I don’t. End of story. It would just freak her out more. I was just checking in. Papa wouldn’t answer his cell. I’ll be home later.”

“Wait,” Luc said. “She had visitors today.”

“Who?” Eli’s voice grew eerily controlled.

“Three newlings. Somehow they got under Ned’s radar. Riley and Nyx were alone; Riley killed two of them. Seth came in with us and took out the last one,” Luc said. “She’s okay. They’re both okay. I took Nyx to Papa. She knows.”

The line was deadly silent for several seconds, then a burst of French expletives filled the air—so loud I almost covered my ears. “What the fuck did I leave you there for, huh? She’s not capable of taking care of herself. Tendencies or not—goddamn, Luc—she’s still a fucking mortal. She could have been ripped apart!”

“Riley?”

I jumped at Phin’s voice, and quickly turned my attention to him. “Yeah?”

He grinned. “Shame on you.” He inclined his head. “Finished. Let’s go.” It cracked me up, every once in a while, to catch the silver ball pierced through his tongue. He’d kept it, even after the disturbances in Savannah. But now I had another distraction. What was it Eli didn’t want me to know? I guessed I’d find out soon enough. Poor Luc had really caught hell from his older brother. It was my fault totally. I shouldn’t have turned my hearing so far down. Lesson learned.

I quickly hugged Preacher and Estelle, then wrapped my arms around Nyx’s neck. “Everything will be okay,” I assured her, trying to assure myself as well. I pulled back and looked at her. “I’ll wait up for you.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling. “Luc—he’s really nice.”

I knew it. They liked each other. “Yeah, he is,” I agreed. “He’ll take good care of you.”

“You be careful over dere, girl,” said Estelle, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. “I don’t like all dis stuff goin’ on and will feel better once dat Eli Dupré gets his carcass home and watches my baby good, dat’s right.”

“Yes, ma’am. Me, too.” I kissed my surrogate grandparents.

With all that said and done, we left.

Riggs and Zetty headed home; Luc took Nyx to get her stuff to stay at my place for a few nights; the rest of us stayed at my apartment. While Phin, Seth, and Josie flipped through the channels, got hooked, and fell into watching The Breakfast Club, I decided to take a long, hot shower. Too many thoughts and feelings ran through me at top speed; I was sure I’d need a beer afterward. I craved a friggin’ cigarette, but I’d promised Seth I’d lay off and stay off, so I excused myself, grabbed some comfy jammies, and headed to my bathroom. Having turned on the hot water, stripped, and climbed into the tiled stall, I let the steaming water soak through my hair and run over my body. My thoughts ran likewise.

I’d agreed, at the insistence of Elise Duprés, to allow her to homeschool Seth. I’d been hesitant at first; I wanted him to have as normal an upbringing as possible, and that meant a normal school, with normal interaction with other kids. Soccer. Baseball. Prom. Graduation. I’d finally realized none of that was possible. Not only had our mother been murdered, but our father was a loser deadbeat criminal who had abandoned us and was then imprisoned. Seth had nearly succumbed to vampirism in the worst possible way. Homeschooling under Elise’s supervision and instruction could only be a positive. She’d schooled all of her children, and, I’d eventually discovered, all but Josie had attended college. She’d looked and been too young to attend, but had obtained degrees just the same. Before computers, she was homeschooled by Elise and was fluent in English, Latin, and Spanish, as well as her native French tongue. Eli had a law degree from the University of Glasgow in Scotland (the prick never even told me). Phin had a master’s degree in biology from the University of Georgia, and Luc had earned his degree in astrology from Edinburgh. Astrology! Jean-Luc and Séraphin were frickin’ scientists. Talk about kick-ass undead Myth Busters. All in all, I felt confident in Elise’s teachings, and Seth was all for it. Of course, I think it may have had something to do with spending more time with Josie, but that was just my astute sisterly observation. Anyway, I was okay with the decision, and Elise would start classes with Seth tomorrow—as long as no other vampires showed up to attack us. Gilles had pulled me to the side to say how absolutely thrilled his wife was to have another pupil to instruct. He’d said his Elise had spent hours gathering teaching supplies and information from the Internet, so it was a fantastic dual-purpose decision, in my book.

The steaming water carried the scent of pomegranate as it mixed with the soap I’d just picked up, and as I lathered my body, my thoughts returned to Eli, and what I’d heard him say. I won’t lie—it’d stung. Try as I might to be a tough-ass through and through, I was still a woman. I did have feelings and I could be hurt. I hated that Eli had that power over me. I’d sworn nobody—no man—would ever have it over me again. Not after what that insane fuck did to my mother. I could still see her sopping wet hair clinging to her pale face. I could still feel her body in my arms, limp; her eyes wide and fixed, a pair of lifeless orbs that used to look upon me with such love but that could no longer look at all. Those last few years of her life I’d been nothing but heartache to her; I regretted so much. Tears built behind my lids, and I allowed myself to cry. God, I missed my mom. Every day, I saw her face, and I wished like hell she hadn’t died.

I plopped a glob of shampoo in my palm and scrubbed my head and my hair; then I rinsed and did the same with conditioner. Finally, and only when I felt the water start to run lukewarm, did I turn the knobs to Off and step out of the shower. I wrapped one towel around my hair, another around my body, and in the next second I collapsed, exhausted on my bed. My eyes grew heavy; for some reason, I fought sleep. Finally, I lost the battle.

I have no idea how long I lay there. I could hear Emilio Estevez’s laughter spilling from the TV in the living room. It was the last thing I heard before falling into darkness.

When next my eyes fluttered open, I was walking through a park; live oaks, moss; a large pineapple fountain with water spraying sparkled beneath the tall black iron lamps posted along the walkway. It was dark and too late to be out alone. The air was damp, humid, heavy with brine. Palms mixed with live oaks. Leaning against the fountain was a woman: late twenties, maybe, average height, very curvy, with black hair pulled into a high ponytail, tight jeans, T-shirt, sneakers. She had a cell phone cradled between her chin and shoulder as she talked to . . . someone. Angry. Upset. Crying. She did not know I was behind her.

I was not me.

I was him.

The monster.

I could feel his anticipation within me as I stood directly behind her, watching her, smelling her. I tried to scream, to warn her to run. I drew in air; it died in my throat. I tried to reach with my hands, to shove her, make her realize she was in danger; they weren’t my hands that appeared before me. They were male arms, male hands, not young, not gentle. Inside, I felt as though I’d combust; no matter how hard I struggled, I was imprisoned in his body; my pleas, my screams were nothing more than ghosts. They didn’t exist, and she’d never hear them.

I now felt what the monster felt; adrenaline raged within me, a mixture of sexual headiness and dark, ravaging hunger. Every thump of her heart reverberated inside me; with every beat I imagined the hot rush of her blood pulsing into my throat. My excitement grew; my patience ran out. She turned. Her eyes widened.

Her scream died in my mouth.

With one hand I yanked her cell from her hand and threw it into the fountain; with the other I tore off her T-shirt, her bra, and tossed them aside, all while holding her still with my fangs locked into her bottom jaw. I, not the monster, even knowing she’d never hear me, tried to scream, to warn, but nothing happened. His actions were now mine, as if I were the one controlling the actions. I sobbed hysterically, wanting to at least escape what I knew was about to happen; I could do neither. I could do nothing but accept, be his fucking puppet. With both hands free now, he palmed her breasts; heavy, soft, scraping his thumbs over her nipples. It made his cock throb. As I stared so close into her widened, horror-stricken, pain-filled eyes, I knew she was paralyzed. He’d known exactly where to inject his fangs to keep her quiet; to keep her still. Yet mentally, she was all there. She knew what was happening. Just like I did. Both of us were victims. Both of us could do nothing to escape.

In the next instant, his fangs retracted from her jaw, her head fell to the side, and he plunged his teeth into her heart; ripped into her chest cavity, tearing at her flesh, seeking the organ he craved. He was like a ravaged wolf. He found it and sank his fangs deep into its center. She didn’t scream; she didn’t move. He’d paralyzed her, but her heart still thumped erratically, and with every wild beat, her warm blood pumped just as fiercely into his mouth, his throat, like an ejaculation. It was a sexual rush as well as a frenzied, necessary feed. It got him off, and, as he drained her blood, he came, hard, fast. Nausea crashed over me.

Then, it slowed; her life left her with each slow beat, until it was over. When he lifted his head, I looked down at her ripped, bloodied flesh, her bare breasts, her pale skin, and her wide, lifeless eyes. He lifted her as though she were nothing more than a rag doll and tossed her limp body into the fountain. Her head hit the pineapple statue with a hard crack, then slid into the water. Facedown, she saw no more. He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and walked away.

As if a bolt had rushed my body, I shot up.

Phin knelt beside my bed, staring at me, his hand on my shoulder.

“Why’d you wake me?” I asked suddenly, angered, adrenaline still pumping. “I could have followed him!” I glanced down and was glad my towel was still intact.

“What’d you see this time?” he asked. “What, Riley?”

I told him. I told him everything. He watched me closely the whole time, not once taking his eyes off mine. “Jesus, Phin—it’s . . . horrible. I can’t even describe what it feels like to be there and be . . . helpless. To feel his disgusting desires within me.” Anger raged within me, and I looked at him hard. “I want to kill that prick, Phin. I want to kill him myself. I want him out of me!”

Phin grazed my jaw with his knuckle. “I know,” he said softly. “I can’t promise we’ll let you kill him alone, but we’ll get him. We’ll kill him, Riley. Collectively.” He looked at me. “Swear to God, we will.”

My gaze was locked on his, so much like Eli’s. For a split second, I wanted Eli so badly, it hurt. I missed him. “Phin, the monster’s out of control. I’ve never felt such rage, hatred—such sickness. It’s like something out of a horror movie.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, then peered at him again. “How did you know?” I asked. “What was happening?”

He tapped my temple. “I could hear it. Hear it, but not see it.”

I nodded. “Thanks. Luc and Nyx aren’t back yet?”

Phin rose. “No, but they’re on their way. Why don’t you get some sleep? Some real sleep?”

“Yeah, good idea,” I said, and rose. “Thanks again. For staying with me. I hope I didn’t do anything weird.”

Phin smiled. “Nothing weirder than usual.”

“Asshole.”

Phin laughed and left the room. I changed into a pair of loose boxers and a black cami. Then I brushed my teeth, pulled my damp hair into a ponytail, and crept back to bed.

I shouldn’t have.

For a moment, I cranked my acute hearing to wide-open. Sounds came at me in a whispered rush, as if a faucet had been turned on high: people talking all over the city, phones ringing, laughter, dogs barking, horns blasting, music playing, people screwing, moaning, crying, fighting, TV’s flipping ninety thousand channels at a time. Sweat gathered at my forehead and dripped down my temples. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, grasped the bedsheets in my fists, and breathed—in and out; in and out. Slowly, rhythmically, easily. I chose one sound, dug one single sound out of a million—a priest, praying—and honed in. It seemed the safest. It seemed the wisest. The priest’s voice, deep, even, consoling, filled my ears, and all the other sounds of the city fell away. I had no idea what he said; he spoke mostly in Latin, and every once in a while he’d say an English amen. It soothed me, so much that my body relaxed, the throbbing in my head eased, and my breathing returned to normal. I don’t know why, but I felt safe. It struck me that I hadn’t been to church in years.

I listened for Nyx and Luc to come back, listened to an occasional giggle from Josie, the familiar chuckle of my brother, and the low hum of CSI: Miami on the TV. My lids grew heavy, I grew tired, the noises became more distant, and before I knew it, I’d drifted again.

I found myself wandering the corridors of an enormous castle, one of ancient stone, wooden rafters, antique tapestries. A gray cat sat perched upon a window seat, napping, its purrs thrumming within me. No one was about—not at first. Soon, though, I heard laughter, and I followed the sound to a distant chamber, upstairs. A chill coursed through me, and when I glanced down at myself I saw why. I wore nothing more than a garnet silk robe, a pair of black spiked boots that laced in the back and rose to my thighs, my hair curled and piled loosely on my head. A garnet silk choker graced my throat. Why was I dressed like this? Where was I?

I continued on, but the more I sought the others, the farther away the voices seemed to get. Then, I was lost, deep in the bowels of the castle, where lights were dimmer, shadows stretched long, and the chill set into my bones. I pulled the edges of the robe closer together, but the robe was tight, barely fitting. Finally, I saw a light flickering beneath a closed door, and I pressed my cheek to the aged wood. There was warmth inside.

“Come in,” a familiar voice called from inside. “I’ve something to show you.”

As though I had no control of my actions, my palms flattened against the door and I pushed. It swung on creaky hinges, and, as I peered inside, I saw, standing beside a roaring fire, Victorian Arcos. He was dressed in head-to-toe black Armani, right down to his leather boots. His hair remained long, pulled loosely in a queue. My body tensed immediately with fear; I backed out and closed the door.

“Don’t run,” he said.

Victorian stood behind me, in the corridor. His breath brushed the shell of my ear. “Turn around.”

As if it were someone else, my body turned to face him. I had no control. With my back to the door, I stared up into his beauty, breathless, speechless. “Eli spared your life. Why? What did you two discuss?”

“Ah, yes. Eligius had no choice but to spare my life. And I will leave it to him to explain why. Things are much more complicated than you or he can even imagine. Now, enough of this chatter. I cherish these times with you, and I don’t want any other interference.” He looked deeply into my eyes. “I know you want me to touch you, Riley,” he said, his exotic accent washing over me as he abruptly ended any further questions. They’re on my tongue, but I’m unable to speak. “Just as badly as I want you to touch me.” He lifted a knuckle and grazed first my jaw, then dragged it down the column of my throat, catching the material of my robe and pushing it off my shoulder. “Your body art fascinates me,” he said. As he leaned close to inspect my inked skin, his breath brushed, whispered, enticed. “Just as you fascinate me,” he continued, his brown eyes locked on mine as his hand, skimming my shoulder, lowered to the sash tying the silky material together. He pulled the sash slowly, until the loose knot fell free and the robe gaped open, revealing a clear path of skin between my breasts, all the way to the small triangle of silk that was my panties. Victorian’s eyes grew darker.

“You can’t continue to torment me like this, in my subconscious,” I said, my gaze holding his. “You may be able to control me, but it’s not really me you’re getting your way with, is it? It’s not really me you’re touching, or me you’re getting off on. I’m being forced, with no say-so, no control. You might as well have a fucking blow-up doll, Victorian.”

For a moment, his eyes rolled back, the look of pure satisfaction on his face. He then looked at me. “Just the way you say my name—the way Victorian falls from your tongue and past your lips makes me hard,” he whispered against my ear, pressing his body closer to mine. “Feel for yourself, Riley.” With the back of his knuckles, he trailed the exposed skin of my abdomen, letting it linger against the silk of my panties. I wanted him so badly to stop; I thought I’d come if he moved a fraction lower. I hated him for it.

“Why do you insist on pulling reactions from me?” I asked furiously, and moved my hand to knock his. It was then I felt exactly what he’d been talking about. The hardness wasn’t him; it was the silver blade strapped to my thigh.

“See?” he said, his eyes growing warm. “I make you do nothing. You’ve had the power to kill me all along.” His voice was a whisper against my skin. “You have the power now.”

“How can I kill a dream figment?” I asked, my fingers brushing the blade.

“I am not a figment,” he returned, brushing his lips across my cheek. “I interject myself here; you keep me here. Everything we share is real.”

“You make me keep you here, just like you make me feel,” I said. “Just like you keep me from prodding you further about what you told Eli. Mind control’s a bitch when put to you like that, right? Sort of takes the romance out of things. So, to change the subject, what do you know of the ones who attacked me? What did you tell Eli?”

Victorian’s body stilled; he grasped my chin and lifted my face. “What do you mean by ‘attacked’ you?”

I blinked, surprised at his animosity for whoever attempted to hurt me. It seemed . . . genuine. I guess it had happened after Eli had left him. “Three vampires, two of them newlings, made it inside my apartment and attacked my friend and me. I took two of them out. Luckily, my brother came in and took out the last one. That one nearly got me.” I tilted my head in question. “You know nothing about it?”

Anger, and maybe even a little hurt, flashed over Victorian’s features. “Of course I didn’t know anything about it. Why would I want to hurt you?”

I stared at him. “One of our friends with tendencies has the ability to sense vampires miles and miles away—yet he didn’t sense these until they were literally at my apartment. He thinks it had something to do with Romanian magic.”

Victorian stared down at me, hurt. “I am not the only Romanian vampire in existence, Riley,” he said quietly. “And I’d never hurt you. I wish you’d believe me.”

I stared, not knowing what to say.

He leaned down then and brushed his lips over mine. “To convince you, I’ll release you from this dream, instead of your Eligius rescuing you from it, like always.” His mouth lingered against mine, before whispering, “I shall see you soon...”

With a start, I sat up.

Lamplight filtered in through my balcony window, and the TV’s low hum met my ears. I glanced at the clock.

No more than five minutes had passed since the last time I’d checked.

With a heavy sigh, I lay back down and stared up at the ceiling. Confusion webbed my brain. I knew I didn’t want Victorian. Yet despite what the Duprés thought, I felt he wasn’t evil—not like his brother.

As I closed my eyes for the third and hopefully final time, I saw the hurt etched in Victorian’s face behind my lids.

I knew then I’d made my mind up about him.

And it wasn’t the same opinion the Duprés had. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that yet.

Three more thoughts crossed my mind before slumber claimed me—even if for only a few hours. One, the murder I’d witnessed had taken place in Charleston. I’d visited Savannah’s sister city only a few times, mostly for art conventions, and I hadn’t strolled the gardens while there. But I did remember the pineapple fountain. It was a city landmark. It was also that girl’s grave. We’d be going there soon, I was sure of it.

Two, I was feeling drained. I don’t mean I’m-having-my-period-with-no-energy drained. It was more like an every-time-I-witness-a-murder-it-saps-life-out-of-me drained. It made me feel . . . weird. Angry. Edgy. It was taking me longer to recover after each vision, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Three, a fight was coming—another war, and this one was way different than the one in Bonaventure. There’d be more vampires. There’d be more bloodshed.

Don’t ask me how I knew; I just did. And I really hated that.