by Elle Jasper
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 wat
ching 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.
