by Elle Jasper
Speaking of sisters, there’s Eli’s youngest sister, Josie. She looks like your average teen, with skinny jeans, Converses, and long, light brown hair nearly to her waist. She wears it parted in the middle with her bangs pinned to the side. Sweet as peaches, you might think. I know better, though. She can fight like her brothers. Trust me when I say it’s weird as hell to watch her kill. But she’s free-spirited and a kind soul. Unfortunately, she’s forever trapped in her fifteen-year-old body and is crazy about Seth. He’ll age. She won’t.
I’m surrounded by people I love, so I’m usually on my best behavior. But these days, I have to think about my next words, my next move, my next interaction with anyone I come in contact with. My fuse is shorter. Even when dealing with clients, I catch myself before saying something awful. It doesn’t take much to set me off. It’s like there’s this shade of irritability that lies just beneath the surface, ready to unleash. Luckily, I can sense it. It’s like…I can feel this thing clawing at the lining of my insides, trying to escape—digging, scratching, whispering. Almost like an entity, living inside of me, separate from my own self. I have no idea what keeps it locked up, other than my own will. But it wants out. I can tell. Weird. Just…weird.
Sometimes I wonder if Eli detects it, too. The way he stares at me? It’s beyond intense. His eyes go deep into mine, searching, perusing. I swear I can feel him inside of me. He can read my thoughts and is constantly in my head now, yet he still can’t pick up Victorian’s voice in my head. I wonder if he can sense this other thing? Because I swear, I feel like it’s alive inside of me. It’s like Eli…knows it’s there but just waits. Watches. I guess he trusts me to let him know when I can’t control it anymore. I hope to hell and back that day never comes.
The clicking of paws through my room alerts me to my dog Chaz’s arrival. He pushes the door open with his nose and peers in at me. He whines.
“Hey, boy,” I croon. “Wanna go for a walk?”
His back end wags, just before he lets out a single bark. And I swear, he smiles.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” I say, and climb from the tub. Quickly drying off, glad I’d pinned my hair up instead of washing it, I change into a pair of sweats, long-sleeved Inksomnia T-shirt, and my black Adidas sneaks, pull my hair into a ponytail, and head downstairs with Chaz. He lets out an excited yelp as I grab his leash and hook it to his collar. We head outside.
The chilly bite sinks into my skin and we take off up the merchant’s drive. As Chaz inspects every little thing, I scan our surroundings. We’re all alone. I allow my hearing to open full blast. At first chaotic, with sounds and voices and music all overlapping, soon it filters, becomes selective as Eli has taught me. I listen for anyone who signals distress—a tinge of panic in their voice, or excited talking, pleading. All I hear is swearing, ice clinking in glasses, idle chatter, a fight between angry guys. Drawing in a lungful of air, I taste the inhalation. Allow it to settle against my tongue. Newlings, I’ve discovered, have a unique scent. Slight though it may be, if I concentrate, I can detect it. It’s not smelly, or pungent, but it’s definitely different from anything else. Tonight, I smell nothing. So far, anyway. I have no idea of the distance my wolflike capabilities and senses are able to travel. Guess I’ll eventually find out.
Chaz takes care of his doggy business, but I’m in no mood to head back inside. Something pulls me, something inside of me. The crisp night and unusual tranquility of the city lure me, and we cross Bay Street and head into the squares. There are scattered tourists on benches or strolling along the walk, a few locals. Time slips by—how much, I don’t know. It has become unimportant. Along with the crispness of October, there is dampness in the air that suggests an approaching storm. Soon, the crowds thin. Loud, drunken laughter spills from The Boar’s Head on River Street. Although I’m on Broughton, it sounds as though I’m right in the bar. I can feel the heat from the patrons’ bodies. Smell their cigarette smoke, their breath, their sweat. Almost taste the alcohol they’ve consumed emanating from their pores on my tongue. Irritation and disgust consume me, and I try to tune those senses out. It doesn’t work. The sounds of the city, the scent of humans, suffocate me. Wait, I’m still human. Aren’t I? Hell if I know what I am anymore. All I know is that I’m unsettled. Confusion makes my brain hurt. I begin to run. To escape.
For a block or two, it’s a slow run, and I’m still vaguely aware of Chaz on the other end of the leash I’m still gripping. At some point, though, I drop it. He follows for a while, but soon he can’t keep up, and I feel glad to be alone. As his single bark echoes off the brick buildings surrounding me, I slip farther into the shadows, away from Broughton Street, away from people. The night envelops me, swallows me up like some ravaged beast, and for a brief second the Eagles’ “Hotel California” plays in my mind. They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can’t kill the beast. For some reason, that line has always freaked me out. I like it. It’s my favorite verse.
The sharp blast of a car’s horn sounds to my left, and for a second I jolt out of the weird subconscious state that I’m in. A Ford Explorer has slammed on its brakes to keep from hitting me. I can’t make out the driver’s words. He flips me off. I make eye contact with him and keep on running. Soon, in the shadows of tall live oaks and wispy moss, I slow to a jog, then a walk. The sounds that plagued me earlier are now a dull hum, and within minutes fade to nothing. Have I run so far that I’ve escaped the city? People? Am I finally alone?
Then, a heartbeat. Not mine. Someone else’s. Steady. Strong. Ahead of me.
I follow.
The small town of Thunderbolt. That’s where I am. As I move beneath the sparsely spaced streetlamps, I watch ahead of me. Male. Young. Early twenties. His tall, lanky figure casts a long shadow as he jogs. A rain begins to fall. Light at first, then more steady. It lifts the jogger’s scent and wafts it to me. I inhale deeply. Sweat. Soap. I inhale again.
Blood.
I grow closer. Twenty feet. Ten feet.
A strong hand encircles my arm and jerks me to a stop. I’m aware of very little around me, save the jogger getting farther away. Rain slides down my cheeks, drips off my nose, plasters my hair to my scalp. My eyes remain fixed on the jogger.
His scent remains fixed in my nostrils.
“Riley!” an angry voice growls in my ear. The grip tightens on my arm. Shakes. “Riley! Look at me!”
When I don’t, the hand belonging to the voice grips my chin and physically turns my head. Large hands grasp both sides of my face, tilts it up. Uses his thumbs to brush the water from my eyes. He’s standing close, intimate. I’m staring, but not seeing. All I can hear is the sound of a heartbeat growing farther and farther away. It fades to nothing, and for a split second, my mind goes totally blank.
Slowly, the sounds of the city, the scents surrounding me, filter in. The blankness lifts. A horn blasts. A door slams. Somewhere, someone is whistling. I blink several times. These sounds are familiar.
“Riley?”
Eli’s face comes into focus. Dark brows pulled together, the streetlamp’s shine winking off the silver hoop. His face has hardened in anger. Or is it worry? His hands caress my face, so I guess it’s worry. Why he’s in that state, I haven’t a clue.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Eli’s look is…invasive. I know he’s probing my mind. Yet it seems he struggles this time. “What are you doing out here, Riley?” he asks. “Chaz showed up at Inksomnia alone.”
I glance around. How’d he get away from me? I shrug. “Went off chasing a squirrel. Yanked the leash right out of my hand. He’s done it before.” I give Eli a reassuring smile. “See what a smart boy he is? Went straight home.”
Eli’s frown deepens. “You’re out in the rain,” he says, “your mind is blank and you’re stalking some jogger.” He peers down at me and a wet hank of shaggy midnight hair falls across his eyes. “You weren’t aware of your surroundings, Ri. Or of me walking right up on you.”
Again, I shru
g. And chuckle. “So now I’m a stalker? That’s just crazy, Dupré.” I sigh and give him a long look. “I’m fine, Eli. I was just lost in my thoughts is all.” I play-punch him in the arm. “You worry like an old lady.”
Eli’s eyes don’t leave mine. Even as we both stand in the rain, he studies me. “Did you know that guy?” he asks.
I glance around, my eyes seeking the dim streets beneath the lamps. I see no one. “What guy, Eli? I was just out for a run. Nothing more. Nothing less. Can we get out of the rain now?”
Eyes on fire search mine. The black T-shirt Eli’s wearing clings to his body from the rain, and every muscle there is perfectly etched beneath the thin cotton material. I look at him. He looks at me. His eyes narrow.
Finally, he drops his hands, lets my face go. “Home. Now.”
Home. Eli has pretty much moved in, and it’s worked out so far. We take off at a jog in the now steady drizzle, Eli purposely one step behind me. Within minutes we’re crossing Bay and easing over the cobbles to the merchant’s lane, then to Inksomnia. As I move to open the door, Eli stops me. I look up at him.
“What?” I ask.
After several silent moments, he shakes his head. “I’m having trouble reading you,” he says. A frown still tugs at his mouth.
I smile. “And that’s a bad thing? Hmm. I get my private thoughts back. How…ordinary.”
With his knuckles, he skims my jaw. “I don’t like it.”
I grab his hand and lace our fingers together. His are, as always, lukewarm, steely-strong. “Tough.” I open the door and pull him inside. Chaz is there and immediately barks. Next, Seth and Josie are in the foyer, right behind him.
“What happened to you?” Seth asks. “Why’d Chaz come home without you?”
I shake my head. “You too? What is this?” I glance from Eli to Josie, then back to Seth. “Twenty questions? I went for a freakin’ run is all. Chaz yanked the leash out of my hand. I knew he’d come back here. Jesus.” I said that last bit under my breath. I was irritated. Tired of being drilled. “Last time I checked I didn’t have to wear an ankle bracelet.”
The look on Seth’s face caught me right in the gut. Hurt. Surprise. And I wasn’t used to it. But damn—I couldn’t help it. I was tired of being interrogated. “Chaz got away from me. That’s all. Now can I go take a shower please?” I don’t wait for an answer from anyone. I push past Seth and Josie and head upstairs. In my room, I kick off my sneakers, pull my shirt over my head and fling it onto the floor. I peel off the wet pants I’m wearing and go straight into the bathroom. After a moment of nothing but hot water, the room fills with steam. The water pelts my back and shoulders as I stand there, thinking.
That was what happened, right? I had Chaz on the leash, and then…he wasn’t there anymore. We were jogging. He…pulled loose. I decided to finish my run because I knew he’d head on home. Then Eli appeared and freaked out. We came home. End of story.
They, I decide quickly, are all fucking nuts.
It’s slowly happening, isn’t it, love? The changes? I warned that barbarian you keep company with, but he wouldn’t listen. Please, Riley. You must leave. Come back to me. I vow, I’ll do everything in my power to help you.
I rub the water from my eyes. Victorian still has the ability to communicate with me through my mind; it’s annoying and comforting at the same time. Can’t explain it, not at all. It is what it is. Leave me alone, Vic. There’s nothing wrong with me. And holy hell, you too? I just got reamed by my brother and Eli. I don’t need it from you, too. Get out of my head and let me shower in peace.
Christ, woman. You’re naked? In the shower? Why do you torment me so? Never mind. I can still see remnants of tonight’s events in your mind. You’re getting confused, aren’t you, love? It will only get worse. Trust me.
I am not confused, damn it. Now go away.
I continue to bathe—wash my hair, scrub my skin, rinse. I can still feel Victorian’s presence. How, I don’t know. But I do. What are you doing, Victorian?
After several seconds, he answers. You don’t want to know.
Yes I do. Why are you still here?
I can’t stop thinking of you naked; your skin wet, slick with soap. It easily places…images into my head. I can’t help myself when that happens, Riley. I—
Yeah, yeah, never mind Loverboy. Don’t wanna know. Later, Vic.
For a certainty, my love…
After drying off and pulling on a pair of soft sleep pants and a tank, I brush my teeth, hit the lights and climb into bed. Exhaustion makes my bones heavy, my skin ache, and just as I slip into sleep, Eli’s strong arms pull me against him.
“Rest,” he whispers against my temple, and despite my sleepiness, the feel of his lips moving across my skin makes me shiver. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Oh, God,” I mumble, sliding my arm over Eli’s chest and snuggling close. “Have we become that old couple that doesn’t have sex anymore?”
Eli’s chuckle rumbles against my ear. “We had sex this morning.”
“Okay,” I say, already being pulled into slumber. “Sorry if I was a bitch earlier. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Again, Eli’s lips brush my skin as he kisses me, and his arms tighten around me. “Everything’s going to be okay, Riley. I swear to God, it will be.”
That last part I barely hear, but it slips into my subconscious, where I keep it safe. Keep it all safe—Eli’s arms, his strength, the brush of his lips across my skin. Somehow, I know that I’ll need those reassuring words, those memories. Later. For now, I sleep.
It’s raining. Still dark outside. Streetlamps throw an amber hue over the wet cobbles. Close by, a tire hits a pothole and water splashes against the fender. Footsteps slap the sidewalk. A heartbeat echoes off the brick walls. Human. I blink and listen, then I look around. Why am I outside? Didn’t I just fall asleep, warm in my bed with Eli’s arms wrapped around me? I know I did. So why am I here? How did I manage to get away from Eli?
I look around, but see only a long shadow at the end of the lane. The shadow’s moving and it matches the footsteps I hear. They’re quick, sure—not like those of a stumbling drunk. More like…someone who is frightened. I hurry toward the sound, the long-moving shadow. The heartbeat grows louder, faster, and the pungent scent of fear clings to the brine of the Savannah River that perpetually hangs in the air. I am closer now, the heartbeat reverberating off the damp stone around me. Now, only that taunting beat sounds in my head. Nothing else. The human senses me. Hides. The scent of blood hovers like mist in the air.
A craving quickens inside me.
Silently, I edge along the shadows toward the hiding place. Closer. A whimper reaches me, then a strangled cry. Just as I ease around the corner of the alley, I see them. There are two. They’re young—one male, one female. Newlings. Suddenly, I’m confused. I react. I leap.
“Get her,” the male says. His voice is calm, hateful, determined.
The female newling lunges at me just as I leap at her, and with a growl, we clash and drop to the cobbles. I grab her by the throat and slam her into the wall. Immediately, she’s up and lunging at me again. I duck. She hits the opposite wall and I follow her. I have her arm jacked upward behind her. I have the strength to tear it from her body, and I almost do. Until I hear a cry, and I glance down.
“Help me, Riley!”
My blood runs cold at the familiar Filipino Dagala dialect.
The male, fangs dropped, is biting the human. Only then do I notice the short black bob, small stature, wide, frightened brown eyes rimmed by a pair of glasses. It’s my neighbor, Bhing, who owns a chic clothing boutique next door to Inksomnia called SoHo. I throw the female newling several feet away and she crashes against the steps. I lunge at the male and yank him off of Bhing. She scrambles backward.
“Bitch,” he grinds out, and with more strength than I credited him for, grabs my throat and lifts me. Eyes opaque, one small red pupil in each center, he glares. No mercy.
No pity. Only rage and hunger. “Don’t fuck with my kills, freak,” he says. The streetlamp light shines off his jagged fangs.
With lightning reflexes, I wrap my legs around his waist and jam the heel of my palm into his throat. He turns me loose, and as he drops to the ground, I crawl toward him, yank the silver blade strapped to my lower back, and plunge it into his heart. He seizes, and I jump off him. I glance up; the female is running toward me. In one fluid motion I pull the blade from his heart and fling it at the female. It embeds to the hilt. She drops and begins to seize.
The craving returns. I turn for the human.
But the alley is empty now; Bhing has disappeared. Out in the street, I search. Empty, all except for a stray cat perusing the trash cans. Bhing’s gone. It’s only then that I realize why I killed the newlings.
I wanted their hunt. Their prey.
I wanted Bhing’s blood.
With both hands, I grasp my head and stumble back into the alley. What’s happening to me? Dizziness swamps me, and I drop to my knees, gulping in large breaths. Nausea crashes over me, and I fight to keep whatever was trying to come up down. With hazy vision, I notice two piles of ash on the ground. The only thing that can kill vampires is pure silver. Or another vampire.
I’d killed them with my silver blade. But had I done so to get to Bhing—or to save her? My head spins, and I push myself against the wall. Confusion grabs me by the throat, squeezes, chokes. Blackness crashes over me, and I see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing…
“Hey, sleepyhead,” a graveled, slightly French accent whispers in my ear. “Wake up.”
My eyes flutter open. Uncertainty and disorder web their way through my memory. Where am I? The room is hazy, with the barely there early-morning light filtering in through the gauzy curtains. My bedroom. I fix my gaze on the figure leaning over me, weight supported by one elbow, chiseled face staring down at me. Eli. I’m in my room, with Eli.
