Eventide tdic-3

by Elle Jasper

  “No,” he says, unbending. “She’s my sister.” This he says so soft only I can hear.

  Not that I understand it.

  The dark woman returns, and everything spins out of control at that point. I’m lost, suffocating, drowning, fighting. I feel like I’m dying, like I’m more thirsty than I’ve ever been in my entire life. No, not thirsty. It’s hunger. Hunger and thirst combined. I need…something. A light-headed feeling comes over me, and now I’m dizzy. Something is forced down my throat, and although I thrash back and forth, I’m overpowered. Someone with very small but strong hands holds my head, and something disgusting is jammed past my lips. I cough, spit, but those same steely hands now grip my jaw closed. I have to swallow. I hear yells, cries, and what I can only assume is my own voice moaning in agony. My body goes limp. Feet shuffle around me. I hear the sounds, and the whispers, but nothing more. I can’t understand any words. I can’t see faces. I see only darkness, hear only whispers. They’re frightening me now, the whispers, and I try to hide but my body won’t move. They’re after me. They want to kill me.

  They want to eat me.

  Soon, though, the voices, whispers, shuffling feet, all become muffled. Then, they disappear.

  I am now in total silent darkness.

  Part Five

  Carpathians

  I’ve never seen Riley like this. I was so little when she was messed up before, I remember almost nothing. I do remember my mom crying a lot, and Riley stumbling in at four in the morning, high as a kite. What I recall most is how she changed her life. Now? To see her like this again? It makes my stomach hurt to watch her. She’s like a wild animal, and she recognizes none of us. And to know it’s nothing as simple as crack or cocaine scares the hell out of me. She’s turning. My big sister, who’s always taken care of me, is in the throes of a dual-venomed quickening. I might not be so worried if Preacher and Mr. Dupré weren’t so worried. But they are. So, I am. I can only pray what we’re doing to her works. It’s tortuous to watch—way worse than Da Isle and Gullah cleansing. I feel helpless. I…love my sister more than anything. I want her back. And I’ll do anything to get that.

  —Seth Poe

  The voices. They’re back. So I’m not dead after all. Or, maybe I am and this is what Hell is like at first. A load of weird scary shit to make you really think hard about what you did to land yourself a place here. That’s the thing. I don’t know.

  I try to move; my arms and legs are tethered. I try to crack open my eyes, but still I see nothing but darkness. Yet…I feel movement. Hear whispers. Air brushes my cheek and I feel a presence close.

  “Riley,” a deep, slightly accented voice says in my ear. “Can you hear me?”

  I’m not sure if I’m who they think I am, but I try to respond. My mouth is frozen, lips won’t move. I try to scream. Nothing comes out.

  “Shhh, chère,” the voice says, and I feel a lukewarm hand brush my forehead. “Be still. It won’t be long. I’m right here and I’m not leaving.”

  The surrounding noises infiltrate my brain, and I detect a low, constant humming. Almost a whistle at times. I stop fighting, stop trying to see, and just fall back into the shadows.

  I awaken to a jerking motion. This time, even for only a few seconds, I can see. I’m riding in something. A car? A train? Feels more like a train, and I can hear that constant clack-clack of the tracks. Where the hell am I? I stretch my eyes open farther, and I can barely see out of the window next to me. It’s light outside. Foggy. And just as I look, we disappear into a tunnel bored straight into the mountain. Then, it’s dark again, exhaustion overwhelms me, and I drift back to sleep with the clack-clack of the train as a lullaby.

  * * *

  When next I awaken, I know nothing except pain. Pain and starvation. Why won’t someone feed me? I want to cry, and no tears will come. Fury overcomes me, and I gather what little energy I have to thrash against bonds still holding me prisoner. I don’t know how long I fight, but it feels like a long damn time. Hands hold me down. Then, a scent washes over me. Exotic. Sensual. Seductive. I feel the fight leave me in hopes of replacing it with whatever accompanies the intoxicating scent. Eventually, though, I tire. I give up. The scent disappears as fast as it came upon me.

  More whispers. One voice in particular whispers close to my ear in a language I don’t understand. This one, whoever he is, is pulseless. And he never leaves my side. Always there, always touching. Then, as suddenly as I had awakened, I fall back into a deep, deep sleep.

  “Jake, hold her steady,” the accented voice commands.

  “Damn me, but I am,” someone responds. “She’s like a rabid fecking dog.”

  “Eli, move over,” another male voice says. “I got this.”

  “Hell no, Miles,” the accented voice says. “You keep that shit to yourself.”

  Male laughter. “It’s either me or Victorian. Which do you prefer, Eli?”

  “Neither,” he responds.

  More male laughter.

  “You boys mustn’t horse around so,” an elderly voice, also accented, commands. “That’s the only bit of Preacher’s herbs we have left.”

  “Well, she needed more than I thought she would, Papa,” another replies.

  “My father has called,” yet another voice offers. “He wishes us to gather in the library.”

  “You don’t have a padded room or something?” another adds. “She’s going to go buck-fuck wild when we turn her loose.”

  “We’ll see about that,” another says. “She can’t be all that strong.”

  More male laughter.

  Energy courses through me now, and I’m angry. Pissed. Three males, all pulseless, surround me in some room I don’t recognize. I’ve got to get out. Get away.

  I lunge at the one closest to me and wrap my legs around his neck. We fall to the floor.

  “Goddamn!” he mutters, and I twist around his body. In a half second I have him pinned, and just as I’m ready to strike, I’m knocked backward. I land on my feet, dazed for only a second. I lower, crouch, and eye my next target. He’s closest to the window.

  I’ll go out of it if I have to.

  “Eli, she’s going for the window,” one wisely notices.

  I’m already moving. I fake left, bound off first a wooden bench, then the wall, use one male’s chest as leverage and I push off, landing square on the sill in a crouch. I turn, glaring at my captors, daring them to come near me. The one I just pushed off of is just now picking himself up off the floor. I’m barely out of breath. One is moving toward me slowly.

  “Noah,” one says. “Watch your back. She’s ready to pounce.”

  I seek him out. He grins. “I’m ready for it,” he says. Cocky bastard.

  Oh, hell no, he isn’t. In one jerky motion I’m at him, legs wrapped around his waist, his neck in a choke hold.

  “Fuck!” he yells, and tries to shake me off. I hold tighter. His arm reaches up to grab me, and I land two punches on his jaw. One more in his eye. All under three seconds. So fast he doesn’t have time to react until I’m already finished. I pull my strength and use his body to push off of. I’m back on the window sill, glaring. Daring.

  “Look at her eyes,” another says. “Almost white.”

  “Bad juju right there,” the grinning one says. “I mean bad. She’s strong as shit.” He’s rubbing his jaw, smiling at me.

  “She needs to be fed,” one replies, and his gaze hasn’t left mine the whole time. “Arcos? You taking care of that?”

  “Already done,” he answers. “Hurry.”

  I wait no longer. In the next breath I leap upward with all my strength, grasping one long rafter with my fingertips. It’s enough. I pull myself up, then crouch and ease to the far corner of the room, high above all the others.

  “Oh, shit,” one says. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

  “How the hell are we going to get her down?” another asks.

  “We wait,” the one who constantly stares says. “She’ll tire.
She’ll get hungry. She’ll come down.”

  I peer at all of them from my corner rafter, high above the floor. I’m in the dark, swamped by shadows, but they all can see me perfectly clear. I grasp my beam and hold tight. I sit. I stare. I wait.

  “Here. Sit up and drink this. You’ll feel better.”

  My eyes crack open, and light pours in. Someone must have pulled me off the rafters. My body aches, and I feel beaten. I squint, blink rapidly, and allow the pulseless male to cradle my head. Something firm nudges my lips, the scent of nutrients stings my nostrils and I open my mouth like a baby bird awaiting a worm. Warm liquid drizzles down my throat. In seconds, I do feel better. No energy, but at least that roaring, fiery pain has disappeared. I drink for a while. Minutes. Finally finished, I drift. Again, I sleep.

  “Wake her, Noah,” an elderly accented voice commands.

  “All right,” he drawls. “Someone hold this for me.”

  “I hate this,” a now familiar voice mutters.

  I am awake. I’m just so drowsy I keep my eyes closed. I hear the voices around me. Suddenly, though, I get a whiff of…something. Then, it disappears. Then…an erotic feeling crashes over me and my eyes pop wide open. I stare into the painfully beautiful face of the same man whose ass I whipped the last time. Now, though, I don’t want to fight. I grasp him around the neck, pull his mouth to mine, and kiss him. Hard. He kisses me back, but I barely notice because my fingers are searching for an edge of cloth—his clothes—to yank off. I can’t get enough of him. I find skin. Stomach. Rigid muscles. I grope. He moans. I moan—

  “Noah!” the familiar voice warns. I barely hear him, so engaged in disrobing whoever was driving me sexually insane. Just the feel of his tongue against mine nearly makes me orgasm.

  “Bind her now,” an elderly voice says. “Bring her to me.”

  With my mouth still latched on to my new obsession, my hands are pulled behind me and tethered. My feet are bound. I don’t care. Only when the male I’m sucking on is pulled from me do I become alert. I blink several times, shake my head, and look around. I am put in a straight-backed chair. I watch closely.

  I’m in a room. A strange, large, empty room. Windowless. And in it are six males. All pulseless. There’s only one heartbeat within, and it’s mine. So sluggish, it barely thumps five times per minute.

  Two elderly males stand close, facing one another.

  “Gilles Dupré,” one says. “We’ve but one choice to right this matter.”

  The one called Gilles nods. “Oui, Julian. You are unfortunately correct.” He glances at me. “There is no other way?”

  The one called Julian shakes his head. He has long, straight silver hair pulled into a silver clip. “No. A force stronger than Valerian’s must enter her, and the only force stronger than his venom is mine.” His gaze passes over me, then over the others before returning to the one called Gilles. “In return for my aid, I require the return of my eldest son, Valerian.” He looks at one of the males in particular. “Unharmed and intact.”

  “He needs to be punished for his actions,” that one called Eli demands vehemently. “He cannot simply go free.”

  Julian nods. “Of course. And we shall see justice served. Through our counsel, punishment will occur.” He again looks at Gilles. “Agreed?”

  Gilles glances at the others, then back to Julian. “No harm will come to this girl?”

  Julian gives a slight nod. “I vow it.”

  Gilles nods. “Very well, then.”

  Julian meets the gaze of one of the males—dark, tall, young. “Victorian?”

  “Yes, Father,” he answers.

  In my next breath I am leapt upon by the male Julian. His face is clear before me, contorted, gruesome, his eyes white, the pupils red and pinpoint. Long, jagged fangs drop from his top jaw, and immediately he sinks them into my throat. Cradling my head so I can’t move, he sucks. Fire shoots through my arteries, travels my body and jumps track, then courses through my veins. I thrash against him, but it’s useless. Inside, I’m on fire. Literally.

  “Non!” the familiar accented voice belonging to the one called Eli shouts, and his voice is angered now, almost a growl. I see nothing. I hear commotion.

  “Hold him,” the one called Gilles orders. “Hold him tightly.”

  “Let her go!” Eli shouts. “I will kill you right here!”

  Pain tears through me as needle-sharp fangs remain buried deep into my throat, suckling my life force. I’m hot, on fire, and my body begins to seize.

  Then it’s over. The fangs are withdrawn. My head is now free and falls forward as the one called Julian releases me. I am weakened now, and haven’t the strength to raise my head. I gasp for air as intense agony courses through me. Tears spill over my lids and run down my cheeks. I watch them splatter onto the wood floor beneath me.

  “Andorra, Miles,” a growl says menacingly, evenly. It’s the one called Eli again. “Let me go. Now.”

  “Jake, Noah, free him,” another says.

  Then, in less than a second, he’s here, beside me. The familiar one. Holding my head up and cradling it in a much different way from the other one. I feel his body shaking as he holds me to him. I want to thrash out, fight him, but I can’t. Part of me doesn’t want to anyway, and I don’t understand why. I’m motionless, with no energy. Helpless. That, I hate. Loathe.

  “Shh,” he whispers. Then, with his mouth to my ear, “Soyez toujours. Ce sera pas mal, l’amour.”

  I’ve no idea what he’s said to me, but it’s soothing, and somehow it calms me.

  Even if only for a moment.

  The commotion that follows is too much for my comprehension. The familiar one moves, lightning-fast, and lunges toward the one that bit me. Before he reaches him, though, three others jump him. He struggles. Swears violently. Thrashes.

  Then, he changes.

  I’m beginning to blank out, my vision is blurry, but yet I can see him. He’s as frightening as the old one, with long jagged fangs and a distorted face.

  “Why, Arcos?” he yells at the old one. “Why!” He continues to push against the three holding him secure.

  The old one shrugs. “’Twas faster,” he says. “All is well and done. The only way she’ll ever be able to maintain control of her indistinct DNA and to ward off my elder son’s venom is to add mine. It is done. But,” he continues, “you must all remain here, at Castle Arcos, until the time of the quickening passes for her. She will be in a most weakened and vulnerable state, followed by”—he chuckles—“let us just say she will be very difficult to handle while her DNA is changing.”

  “I can handle her,” the familiar one named Eli says with ferocity.

  Again, the old one laughs. “Oh, my fierce Dupré,” he says. “I think not. Whilst she will not become vampiric, she will in fact have the venom of three powerful strigoi brethren circulating within her body. She’ll be as close to being a vampire as a human can be. Yet, in the end, it will be her only rescue. She’ll need it to ward off the cravings placed there by Valerian.”

  “There are other ways!” the familiar one shouts. He tries to lunge once more but is restrained. He is so enraged, his voice doesn’t sound like his own.

  “Mon fils,” the other elder says, his voice stern, calm. He lays a hand on his son’s forearm. “Let us leave for now. Julian,” he addresses the old one, “merci beaucoup.”

  The old one gives a slight nod, accompanied by a chilling smile. He looks dead at me, wipes a drop of my blood from his lip, and licks it off. “My pleasure, Monsieur Dupré.”

  Then, another is beside me. This one familiar also, yet still, unknown. “I’m so sorry, Riley,” he whispers. “Truly.”

  “Get away from her,” the other, Eli, demands. The warning is clear, even to me as I begin to drift.

  All at once, my body shudders, the angered familiar one is there, suddenly, holding me close, and I succumb to blessed darkness once more.

  “Riley, Riley, shh…” a voice soothes, consoles. Is i
t that one called Eli? It sounds like him. Why is he so concerned about me? “I’m here,” he says.

  A cold, wet cloth mops my forehead, my cheeks, my throat. A fiery fever ravages my body from the inside out, and I can’t stop the violent tremors. My skin is so hot, it burns like the worst case of sun poisoning. Baked, white skin on a cloudless, treeless, windless August dog day of summer in the South. Water. I want water.

  No. I want something else.

  “Here, here, chère,” he croons, and places something to my lips. At first, just a drizzle slips down my throat. But the moment my taste buds register to my brain what it is, I guzzle. Gorge. With my arms, I’m reaching, clutching out to him and holding on while he feeds me. It’s warm, thick, and it soothes my burn like some internal balm. I don’t know what it is, but my body likes it, demands more of it.

  But after a few minutes, he takes it away. I scramble and grab, but he’s fast. I know his name is Eli, and his voice continues to feel familiar to me, but I don’t know who he is. Yet I’m getting used to him. He may be the one keeping me restrained, but he’s also the one who gives me what I need.

  “More later. For now, rest,” he says.

  I rest. Until, the pain awakes me. Fire. Scalding lava instead of blood coursing my veins and arteries. It feels like my skin is peeling off, and I writhe in agony. My voice, screaming in anguish, sounds disembodied. I scratch, claw at what skin I can reach. My hands, my arms are bound, and I feel like my muscles are coming apart.

  “Can’t you do anything for her?” he yells. I feel his hands, a cold, wet cloth, on my body. “Papa? Please!”

  “Non,” an elder voice says calmly. “It must run its course, as you know. She is strong and will survive.”

  A wave of convulsions shakes me until blackness engulfs my mind.

  I awaken, huddled in a darkened corner. I’ve no idea where I am, how much time has passed since that pulseless elder sank his fangs into my throat. I only know that this place surrounding me is cold, damp, and pitch black. There’s a musty odor hanging in the air. I sense…beings close by. They’re calling out Riley! Riley! That’s not me. Riley is a human name. I’m…something different. I’ve got to escape. Get away. Run. Waiting for silence, it arrives. I slip from my hiding place, check the corridor to find it empty, and ease out.