by Elle Jasper
Ken? What is that? Edinburgh slang? I don’t understand most of it, but the meaning is there and universal. He wants to kick Eli’s ass. And Eli must be dragging every ounce of strength he has not to drop fang and rip the kid’s head off. Eli, move away from them. Do it now. I wait after the suggestion, but Eli doesn’t budge. Why isn’t it working on him?
The kid says something to the others, who’ve remained silent, over his shoulder. Again a language that I can’t understand. I can’t even mimic it. It’s that odd.
There’s a body on the ground at Eli’s feet, unmoving. I tune in past their voices and listen. The faint whisper of ragged breath slowly escapes that body. The thready thump of a pulse. A slight groan. Beaten, maybe? Hopefully, that’s all. Had Eli tried to help the kid on the ground?
I remain in the shadows, observing, but that’s not what I want to be doing. I want to charge them, fight, and shake Eli until he snaps out of his wordless daze. Eli, why don’t you answer me? What in Hell is happening?
Eli ignores me. He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t answer me. Doesn’t even flinch at my silent call. That scares the hell out of me.
The stench is overwhelming, yet I can’t determine where it’s coming from. I don’t sense that the boys are Jodís; something about them is all wrong for that. But they’re something.
I’ve had enough. My body hums with adrenaline, fear, and fury. Power collects in my muscles, my joints, bones, and just before I lunge out of the shadows, I hear it. Overhead. The sound of a hundred wings beating. The wind picks up on the platform and pushes me against the wall. I fight it, push back. My eyes find Eli and I call out. Again he doesn’t move, just stands there, looking dead at the kid in front of him. Doesn’t even acknowledge me or the beating wings and wind. Then it happens. So fast, I can’t process it until it’s over. My body freezes. I can’t move.
Eli remains motionless.
I concentrate on the punks. Move away. All of you. To the far wall, across the station.
Every one of the guys back up. Swearing and looking around, they continue to back up.
Eli still doesn’t move.
In the next second, three men emerge from above. Sweep down. They surround the pack of kids, push them forward. Again that noise, that speech that makes no sense, fills my head, and it’s coming from the three. Shadows flicker and keep in sync with the deafening sound of beating wings overhead. I can barely see Eli now, only in quick flashes of light. But I see enough. Hear enough.
In the distance, the screech of metal against metal. Train wheels on tracks. My eyes dart to the tunnel and I see a light advancing.
Eli, run! Turn around and run. Toward me. Eli’s legs, move!
Nothing happens. Eli stands there as though in a weird trance.
Then two of the three men move so fast my vision can’t keep up. In patches of flashing light and shadow, like I’m in some freaky disco club, one by one the boys are flung across the platform to the opposite wall. Their screams fill the tunnel, echo and sink into my insides. The crack of human skulls hitting concrete walls sickens me; their bones fracture loud enough for me to hear them splinter beneath their clothing. Blood is everywhere. The walls. The floor. They’re all dead. Dead humans.
Just that fast, Eli changes. His jaw extends, fangs drop, and his body quivers with silent fury.
But he still doesn’t move.
Soon, silence. The one who stands closest to Eli bends over and picks up the boy lying crumpled on the ground. He holds him effortlessly, suspended in midair, by the back of his neck. Only then do I recognize the boy as Ian, the one I’d saved from the alternative St. Giles’. He is limp, head hanging, arms and legs like sacks of boneless gel. I also recognize the man.
He’s the cloaked and hooded Fallen from my dream. The one I watched burn that human.
Then the other two turn to Eli. They’re speaking in that fucked-up language directly to Eli, and acting as though his vampiric state isn’t very impressive. Eli just stares at them, unblinking. Quivering, like his body is fueling. Eli! Snap out of it, goddamn it! I yell silently to him, but he still ignores me.
The one holding Ian turns his head in my direction. The flashes of light and shadow are so rapid that I can’t get a good visual on his features, but it’s definitely the same one from my dream. He’s as tall as Eli. Solid. Older.
I stare at him. Pain, take over his body. Nerves, seize. Tendons, cinch up. Unmoving. Completely still.
A chilling smile stretches across his face, and he cracks his neck and looks me square in the eye. My power of suggestion doesn’t work on Fallen. Jake was wrong after all.
A presence approaches. I whip around, my heart leaping from my chest, but relief drowns me. Noah stands beside me in the shadows. His face is drawn tight; his mercury eyes, illuminated by the flashing lights, are filled with fury. They lock on to the scene before us. His hand reaches for mine, squeezes, and drops.
Then everything happens at once. So fast.
So fucking fast.
A train approaches the tunnel, and it’s not slowing down. The screech of steel on steel all but deafens me, but that train isn’t braking. It’s flying into the tunnel, heading straight for PLATFORM 11. Then, in the midst of that blinding flash of light and shadow, the one holding Ian also grabs at Eli.
Just as the train approaches.
Just as the other two speak. One Fallen points at the tracks. Eli stands perfectly still. Frozen in place.
I scream and lunge, and Noah grabs me. Pushes me behind him and lurches forward. I grab him. Hold fast. He allows it.
The Fallen throws himself at Eli, and they both fly in front of the train.
The vociferous sound of the train squalling through the station drowns out my anguished cry. All air leaves my body. I’m numb, in shock. Sick to my stomach. The wings are still beating furiously overhead, but their sound no longer rises above the screeching train. I try to move, try to speak, but nothing comes out of me. I barely feel Noah’s arms around me, keeping me upright. My larynx is paralyzed. Breath sticks to the lining of my lungs. I’m frozen in place against the wall in the shadows.
Eli! Eli, please! Answer me!
Then, all at once, the train passes through and the wings cease, as does the incessant flashing light and shadow. Everything around me is a dull gray. The train disappears into the darkness, and I free myself from the choking fear, push out of Noah’s arms, and stumble to the platform’s edge. Eligius! Please!
Nothing. I hear nothing. I see nothing. No remnants of their bodies, no . . . nothing.
Impossible.
My eyes scan the tracks. My mind screams for him.
Only silence. Only shadows.
Only Noah and I are left on the platform. The others have disappeared. Noah looks at me, kisses my forehead, and takes off up the tracks. He’s moving so fast, I lose sight of him in the next blink.
I leap down off Platform 11 and onto the tracks. I begin to run, forgetting momentarily that behind me, on the platform, stands a . . . being. I don’t care.
I don’t fucking care.
As I run, I scream for Eli in my head. My feet move swiftly over the tracks, and once outside the tunnel I follow them far, to Edinburgh’s city limit. I don’t know how far I go or how long it takes me. Suddenly, though, I slow, then stop. I’m standing on a lone track, and behind me, way behind me, is the tall clock tower of Waverly Station.
I feel a chill inside of me, something too close, in my space, and I whip around.
The one who’d been holding Ian stands there. No more than two feet away.
He’s alone. A Fallen. Tall. Too shadowy to see features. Even two feet away, he crowds me. Fear escapes me. Fury replaces it.
“Tell me where he is,” I demand. He knows I speak of Eli. No need to explain.
In the darkness, he cocks his head. Studies me. Remains silent.
I find it hard to turn away.
“Tell me!” I scream to the top of my lungs. That voice doesn’t even belong t
o me. It belongs to someone who has lost her mind. Fury brews just below my skin’s surface. I feel like I’m going to combust at any second.
Wordlessly, he extends an arm, fist closed, facing down.
Hesitantly, I hold out my hand.
When his fist opens, a medallion falls into my palm.
Eli’s medallion. His family crest. I know it before I even look at it. I can feel the particular ridges in the pattern. My heart sinks to the bottom of my soles. I know what it means. I know what it’s supposed to mean. I can feel it.
But I refuse to acknowledge it. I fucking refuse.
I lift my gaze to stare at this demented asshole angel . . . whatever and whoever he is. After a moment more, he turns and walks away.
I blink. He’s gone.
I mean, goddamn gone.
Jogging up the track a bit, I search the area. A mist rolls in from the Firth of Forth and creeps across the tracks. The air is boggy with the scent of sea life, so thick it’s like soup. Gulls scream overhead. At least I think they’re gulls.
There isn’t the first sign of that guy. Of Eli. Or of the other two.
Did Eli just . . . I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, feel the strength go out of my legs. “No,” I say, slipping to the ground. Rough gravel and stone bite through my Lycra and dig into my knees. “No . . .” I can barely even say the word. It’s like there’s something stuck in my throat and I’m unable to breathe. Unable to speak. Someone has their hands around my throat, choking me.
Noah is beside me now, crouching down, his eyes locked onto mine. Never have I seen his face so stern. “Ri,” he says calmly. “We have to get out of here.” With his hand he pushes my loose hair back, off my face and out of my eyes. “Now, darlin’.”
I stand, looking around. I scan the tracks. No way what just happened, happened.
No way. It just didn’t.
Noah’s hand grips my shoulder. “Now, Riley—”
“Let me go, Noah!” I say angrily, and take a few steps up the tracks. I see nothing but grayness and mist. In the distance, a train rumbles. Steel against steel. A sound that now jabs my heart.
“You don’t know what we’re up against,” Noah says behind. “We can’t do this alone. Not just the two of us. Maybe not all of us.”
I turn and stare at him. Pissed. “The hell I don’t, Noah.” I glance in the direction of the train. “It’s not real. It didn’t happen.” Again, air sticks in my lungs. “Those kids.” I turn and look at him. “Eli, Noah.” I shake my head, dig my knuckles into my eye sockets. “It didn’t fucking happen!” As I’m standing here, arguing with Noah, I feel my legs turning rubbery again. Swear to God, I don’t think I can walk.
“I’ll carry you outta here if I have to,” Noah says. “But you’re the strongest soul I know, Riley Poe.” He tilts my head, knuckle to chin. Eyes filled with a mix of rage and pity stare at me, pleading. “And we gotta get the hell outta here. Now.”
I stare across the tracks at the tall gray buildings. The mist is even thicker now than before. The heavy scent of brine fills the air. If there’s a horizon, I can’t see it.
I’m completely numb inside. I don’t even know what to do. I just want to sink to the ground.
“I’ll help you,” Noah says, both hands on my shoulders. He squeezes. “But we have to get back to the Crescent.”
Eli’s medallion weighs heavy in my hand and I glance down at it. I’d been gripping it so hard, its imprint rests in my palm. With a deep breath I nod and slip the medallion over my neck. I glance at Noah, nod again, and begin to run. It’s still dark out, but the mist rolling in makes even the shadows hazy. It feels like a spray of fine water against my skin, and I inhale it into my lungs. The air is chilled, salty, and for a second it reminds me of Savannah. Of the salt marshes. Of home.
Only this place isn’t home. Home is where Eli was, safe. Fearless. Top of the food chain. No predator could confront and win against a vampire. Impossible.
Yet I can’t even say the words I know in my heart are true. I’d watched it. Witnessed every move. I saw it happen. I know it happened.
Edinburgh houses a brand of evil I can’t seem to grasp.
I just encountered it. I know it with all of my heart.
At Old Tolbooth Wynd, I swing through the arches, run up the narrow path, and leap over the Crescent’s iron gates. Noah is right behind me.
Jake has to know something. Darius. Gabriel. One of them has to know what to do.
As I hurry up the steps, the weight of Eli’s medallion burns into the skin of my chest.
The Black Fallen just fucked up.
I’m going to make them wish they’d never fallen from grace.
Or I’ll die trying.
Part Seven
UNINVITED
Evil is like water, it abounds, is cheap, soon fouls, but runs itself clear of taint.
—Samuel Butler, 1835–1902
The change in Riley now is like mist to black vapor. It is as obvious as a knife plunged into the heart. She won’t accept her mate’s fate. Will not. I can see it in her eyes. There’s a fury there that is chilling. For the first time since arriving in Edinburgh, I feel like the Fallen have no chance in Hell of surviving. Not Riley Poe anyway.
—Lucian MacLeod
“Riley.”
The moment I walk through the door, Victorian is there. Noah immediately steps in front of me, blocking the Romanian vampire from me. Noah says nothing. He simply stares at Vic, who only returns his hot glare for a second before turning his brown gaze to mine. What is it? Talk to me.
Noah’s hand grips mine and leads me through the foyer to the library. Everyone is pretty much where we left them.
Where Eli and I left them.
I feel my knees go numb, my body begin to crumple.
Noah grabs me, holds me up. Victorian, despite the glares and threats from Noah, is at my other side.
“What is it?” Jake says, striding toward us.
“The Fallen. They got Eli,” Noah says. His voice is laced with fury. Eerily calm, barely contained fury.
“What do you mean, ‘got him’?” Jake asks.
I look up and meet Jake’s green gaze. The memory of what I saw rushes back, hits my gut like a brick. “I’m gonna be sick,” I say, and pull from Noah’s grasp. I bolt for . . . anywhere, stumbling, my hand over my mouth. I’m lost, trying to find a bathroom, a trash can. Plant. Door. Anything.
In my next breath I’m swept up and Jake is running through the Crescent. I close my eyes because my head is now spinning. He eases me to the floor, kicks the toilet lid up with his foot, and holds my hair back. I wretch and wretch until I cough.
Coughing turns into sobbing. I break. I can’t help it. I try not to but . . . it happens.
I totally break down. Even while it’s happening, I know I’m allowing myself this one weakness. This one snap. I’ll let it all out, then be done. None of it will help bring Eli back.
At the sink, with Jake still holding my hair back, I throw water on my face and rinse out my mouth. He hands me a hand towel and I dry off, then our eyes lock in the mirror. Even Jake’s face seems ashen.
“It canna be,” he says, his unusual accent washing over me. Comforting me somewhat. “Tell me.”
With my hands propped against the sink, my head drops forward and the tears fall. Pain surges up from my insides, seizes my gut, my throat, and escapes on a noise even I can’t define. Wailing cat. Singing whale.
Mourning human with tendencies.
Uncontrolled sobs rack my body, my shoulders shake, and I feel myself sliding downward again. And once more Jake scoops me up and I allow it, just this once. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I bury my face into his chest and he rushes . . . somewhere. I don’t know. Don’t care. He’s using more strength than he probably realizes to hold me close, because I’m barely able to breathe. Again, don’t care.
Jake lowers me onto a bed. As he sits beside me, his weight presses the mattress down and he pushes my hair from m
y face. I look up at him through hazy, teary eyes.
“Rest,” Jake says. “We can talk later.”
Inside, I’m shaking. “No,” I say, my voice quivering. “Now.”
Jake studies me thoroughly, then nods. “I already know what happened,” he says gently. “After Miles arrived. But I need to know what happened before that.”
Need, he says. Not want, but need.
I draw a deep breath. “We were free running, racing to the monument. I got ahead of him,” I say, and Eli’s image flashes before my eyes. “And just kept running. I was to the top of the monument before I even noticed Eli”—saying his name out loud physically hurts me—“wasn’t with me.” I stare at Jake. “I called to him in my head, but he wouldn’t answer.” I close my eyes. “He never would not answer me, Jake.”
Jake is silent, his gaze remaining on mine, patiently waiting for me to continue.
“He always answers me, no matter what. I felt inside that something was wrong. Then I smelled it,” I continue.
“Smelled what?” Jake asks.
I shake my head. “That awful stench. It’s hideous. It smelled like a Jodís.” I look at him. “I followed the smell to Waverly Station. When I got there, the station was closed up, but I could hear voices inside,” I say. “But the language.” I shake my head again and look at him. “I can’t even explain it, Jake. Nothing I’ve ever heard before. It almost . . . hurt to hear it.”
Jake’s angry gaze locks with mine. “That’s the language of an angel. No one can understand it or mimic it.”
“When I found them, I saw Eli just standing there,” I continue. Tears spill over my lids, and Jake wipes them with a fingertip. “He was surrounded by several punk kids, and one was lying on the ground.” I look up. “It was that kid I followed into St. Giles’.”
Something flickers in Jake’s eyes. Recognition?
“I used my suggestion to make them back off of Eli, and they did. But then the three showed up.” I look at Jake. “The Fallen. I knew right away it was them. I try first to make Eli run. It doesn’t work. And neither does it work on the three. The one . . . he just smiled at me.”
