by Elle Jasper
“I’ll keep you safe, love,” he said against my throat. “Sleep.”
The urge to tell Eli how I felt about him overwhelmed me. But sleep came too fast. Soon, I thought. I’d tell him soon.
Once asleep, I did dream, but thankfully, it was just of something out of the blue and bizarre, with no meaning. At least, I thought it had no meaning. It was a dark and stormy night—literally—and for some reason I was lying on the ground, in tall, wet grass—a forest maybe? It was winter, the trees bare and stark, the forest bleak, the air cold, the moon huge and round, like a harvest moon. Thunder boomed, lightning flashed, and rain splattered down. Staring up at the spindly, leafless branches that weaved and stretched above me, I saw in the moonlight a single bird, crawling across the branch.
Crawling? Birds didn’t crawl. How retarded. What did that even mean? I guess anything was better than watching a vampire rip into a victim’s heart.
After that, I slept. And while I slept I must have done some serious soul-searching, a little dwelling on certain things that pissed me off, and nursed a lot of hatred toward whoever—whatever—was behind the Charleston kills. I slept all the way until my alarm went off at five a.m. When it did go off, I awoke refreshed, edgy, determined.
And ready to kick some dirty nasty vampire ass.
Part Seven
Bloodlust
“All the ways you wish you could be, that’s me. I look the way you wanna look, I fuck the way you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways you are not.”
—Tyler Durden, Fight Club
“The word monster means something a little different for everyone, I guess, but let me tell ya—to me, it defines every vile, fanatic, horrific dark evil you could possibly ever conjure up. It’s the thing that wracks your body with unstoppable quivers, terrors so mind-numbing you pee your pants just thinking about it. That’s him—the monster whose feeds I’ve been witnessing. I haven’t peed my pants yet, but I damn sure almost did. Never has something petrified me so badly. I’m now not only hesitant to fall asleep, but to not fall asleep, because that bastard shows up at any given time, day or night. It’s dragged bad memories of my past out of the dusty recesses of my once-juvenile mind and pushed them to the surface. I’m seeing my mother’s death all over again; feeling her lifeless body limp in my arms, her wide dull stare fixed but not seeing. I’m scared I’m losing my friggin’ mind, and to top it off, I’m faced with fighting a fuck-load of newlings in some sadistic fight club. Bullshit, man. Simply put, bullshit.”
—Riley Poe
The TV was on in the living room; I knew the Duprés were just chillin’ while the mortals rested. I rose, worked out on the bag for thirty minutes, showered, and dressed. As I stood in my bra and panties, I adjusted my blade straps; one on each upper thigh, inner and outer; one on each calf, inner and outer; one at my lower back, one on each hip. I stared at myself in the full-length mirror, satisfied that the lightweight sheaths Preacher had had made for me out of moleskin were adjusted just right, the weight of the blades perfect, easily retractable. Turning halfway, I stared at the reflection of my back; the dragon tattooed up my spine, down my arms, the black angel wing at the corner of my eye, and me, standing in black bra and a black thong with eleven pure silver knives strapped to various body parts. I had fifty more in my bag.
I confess, I looked badass—Marvel badass.
I prayed I could be Marvel badass when faced with a dozen vampires.
“You can,” Eli said, studying me from the doorway through my mirrored reflection. “And you’re definitely Marvel badass.”
I grinned. “Thanks.” Seeing him there shot a thrill through my insides.
Eli smiled wider. Sexy as hell, that one.
I pulled on a pair of loose knees-blown-out boyfriend jeans that sat low on my hips, a black tank, and a lightweight black Adidas jacket. No need for a trip to Mullet’s this go-round. I was dressed for comfort, movement, jumping, stabbing, throwing. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, my feet into my worn black Vans, I grabbed my bags and we left the room.
Zetty, Jack, and Tuba seemed to be waiting for me to appear around the corner; they were already staring at me as I entered the living room. All gave a nod.
“Hey guys,” I offered, then found Seth, seated on the floor with Josie playing Burnout 3 on Xbox 360. Phin and Luc were at the kitchen table, both with their special V8’, and Luc inclined his head for me to join. I walked over and set my bags on the floor.
“We ready or what?” I asked. Chaz walked over, nuzzled my hand, and I scrubbed the fur on his noggin. He’d been fed, watered, and walked, but the old guy just needed a little reassurance. Moving to the fridge, I opened it, pushed past the Duprés’ bag-o-meals, grabbed the OJ, and swigged from the carton. Sweet juice and pulp filled my mouth and slid down my throat.
“How’re the sheaths Preach made for your blades?” Phin asked.
I nodded. “Feels great. I barely even know they’re there.” I took another swig of juice. I knew Zetty carried silver; was pretty sure Jack and Tuba did, too, amongst other Gullah stuffs.
“Yeah, mine, too,” said Seth, never even glancing away from his game.
“Good,” Phin said. “Jack brought his truck. Tuba will ride with him. Josie and Seth can ride with me. We’ll split the bikes and gear between the two trucks. Luc and Zetty can ride with you and Eli,” he said to me. I nodded.
“We’ll drive straight there and set up,” Eli said. “Then a quick tour of the city.” He regarded me. “Maybe not so quick. How long has it been since you were in Charleston?”
I thought. “A while. Maybe last June? Even then, I didn’t know my way around town, except how to get to the battery, and city market.”
Eli regarded me. “You’ll know it well by tonight.”
“Yes, I guess I will,” I said. I squatted down to say good-bye to Chaz, holding his fuzzy face between my hands. “I promise you some quality time when I get home. In the meanwhile, you be good for Nyx. Go take a nap; she’ll be here before you wake up,” I said to the dog, and allowed his big, slobbery lick across my cheek. I kissed his muzzle, scrubbed him between the ears, and stood. I grabbed my bags and said, “Let’s go.” Eli quickly relieved me of them. “I got these,” he said. Even when going to fight vamps, he was a gentleman.
We hit the lights and left. Outside, a thick, muggy fog hung over the city and wrapped around us. I had the top off the Jeep; I preferred it that way. Within fifteen minutes we had both Phin’s and Luc’s bikes and gear loaded and were pulling out onto Bay Street. Phin led the way in his black Ford F-150, both bikes strapped in the bed, followed by Jack in his wicked-restored blue ’59 Chevrolet, and trailed by me.
“Nice creepy morning, huh?” Luc said from behind me as we sat at the red light. “Reminds me of the old days, before electricity. Nothing but gas lamps throughout the city.” He looked at me in the rearview mirror. “You could hear them hissing as you passed by. Remember that, Eli? Ahh, the clop-clop of the horse’s hooves on the cobbles, the hissing gas lights.” He leaned his head on the seat rest and sighed. He turned and looked at me. “Not that I’d give up cell phones and hot water for it.”
I grinned. “Don’t blame ya.”
Zetty remained silent.
“The hissing gas lights were pretty cool,” Eli offered.
The light changed, I eased off the clutch, built up speed, and shifted into second gear. It wasn’t light out yet, and a filmy haze hung over the city. I felt irritable, anxious, and edgy. I wanted this to be over. I missed . . . normalcy. And it was time for my period.
“Oh,” Luc said, nodding, apparently reading my thoughts. “Gotcha.”
I shot him a glare. “Put your seat belt on.” I shot Zetty a similar one. “You, too.” A final one I shot at Eli, who’d already started to pull his on. “That’s better.” He merely grinned.
I glared at Luc in the rearview mirror. In the early-morning light, his skin nearly blended with the fog. He smi
led and did as I asked. “Sure thing, babe.” Zetty also complied, but silently. I learned that most of the time the Tibetan didn’t have a whole lot to say.
Once we pulled out onto Interstate 16, I flipped the stereo on, shoved in a Drowning Pool CD, and cranked the volume to rise over the wind. “More Than Worthless” rocked us all the way to the Interstate 95 exit where we headed north. More than once I glanced at Eli, who silently returned my look. His hand rested on my thigh. We didn’t talk. Luc was pretending to be asleep; I suppose he was simply enjoying the ride. His crazy long hair blew all over the place, a content, peaceful look settling into his flawless features. And as the morning light grew stronger, it winked off the silver hoop in his lip.
“Flawless, huh?” he hollered over the wind. “Thanks, babe.”
“Stay out of my noggin,” I yelled back. He smiled. We continued on.
Ten miles later, my fuel light flashed. “Wanna call Phin and Jack? I need gas,” I said. Luc pulled his cell from the pocket of his baggy cargo shorts and called his brother. At the next exit, I pulled into a Sunoco and stopped at one of the empty pumps. Phin, Jack, and Tuba pulled in and parked near the exit. Eli unbuckled his belt to get out. “I got it,” I said, and waved him down. “Won’t take but a sec.” Eli stared at me for a moment, then gave a nod, and I slid from my seat. Only then did I notice the debit card feature wasn’t working. “Please see manager inside” was written on little white pieces of paper, on all the pumps. “Damn,” I muttered, tempted to drive off and choose another gas station. Instead, I started across the parking lot. One pickup truck and a semitruck, parked in the back, were the only other vehicles around. I pushed inside and walked up to the counter where a middle-aged woman, rail-thin with hard life written all over her, gave me a nod.
“Mornin’,” she said in a smoker’s raspy voice. Her gaze went to my dragon-inked arms.
I handed her my debit card. “Forty on number three,” I said, then thought better of it. “Wait.” My ravenous appetite kicked in, and I suddenly wanted junk. Turning up the candy aisle, I grabbed a handful of Chick-O-Sticks, a bag of salt and vinegar chips, and a package of those cupcakes with waxy icing on top and gooey white cream in the middle. While debating on a pouch of spicy roasted peanuts, I felt a presence behind me. I glanced; a pair of big, dirty knobby-toed boots stood close. Too close.
It happened all too fast.
“Drop the shit and get up. Nice and slow,” the voice belonging to the nasty boots said. His hand grasped my ponytail and pulled, slowly but firmly. “And don’t cause a scene. I know you got boys outside.”
I momentarily closed my eyes. “Are you freaking kidding me?” I said under my breath. I left my junk food in a pile on the floor and slowly rose. “Dude, you really don’t want—”
“Shut up,” the voice commanded. “To the back of the store. Exit door by the head. Do it now, bitch.” I felt the cold press of steel against my ribs through my shirt. “I’ll stick you if you make a sound.”
Even before I’d been introduced to my new tendencies, or to the vampiric world, humans hadn’t scared me. This guy, with his knife that he’d stick me with, damn sure didn’t scare me. He was a loser punk who hung out at gas stations robbing people on the interstate. He was the very least of my problems. But something wasn’t right. It wasn’t three o’clock in the morning. It wasn’t the middle of the night. It was like when you noticed a nocturnal animal, like a raccoon, out in the middle of the day, you knew something was wrong. That raccoon had to be sick. This guy had to be sick. Not wanting to cause the cashier any stress, I did as he asked; I’d take care of him out back, get my junk food, gas, and leave.
I eased out the exit door, and a second later, the idiot followed.
Before the door closed, I swung my leg high and around, knocked the knife from his hand, and shoved him hard against the concrete wall. It was the first look I’d had at him, other than his booted feet. My height, stocky, and appearing to be late twenties, he wore an Atlanta Braves baseball cap pulled down over a burred head of sandy hair. He wore shades.
Just that fast, he turned and knocked me to the ground. I managed to sweep him with my leg before I hit. I landed on my backside. He landed on his backside. His shades fell off. Opaque eyes stared hard and angry back at me.
Well damn. Didn’t see that one coming. Frickin’ frackin’ newling at the Sunoco. Go figure. He must’ve gotten loose from whatever changed him. Great. Freeroaming newlings.
I leapt up just as he lunged; we met head-on. He was wild, uncontrolled, unaware of his powers. I was not. Just as his fangs dropped, I reached for the blade sheathed at my back. The silver flashed in the early-morning light, and the newling’s eyes widened. A nasty snarl curled his inhuman lips.
“You’re her,” he murmured, and shoved me.
Just then Eli appeared, Luc and Zetty right behind him.
The newling’s eyes grazed both, then back to me. “Later,” he said, his voice not matching the newling face. With a fierce shove, he flung me against the wall. By the time I scrambled up, he was across the parking lot and disappearing into the dense copse of tall planted pines behind the Sunoco.
Grasping my knees, I breathed hard, catching my breath. First, I kept my eyes trained at the tree line. Then, the silence drew my attention to my parking lot companions.
Luc stood, frowning. Zetty stood, frowning more.
Eli took off after the newling.
“What the freak is wrong with you, Riley?” Luc said. He shoved his fingers through his hair, staring hard at me. “Do you honestly think you can handle everything by yourself?”
I rose and met his gaze. “Sure. Why not?”
Luc continued to stare for several seconds, as though trying to see something, then blinked. “Unbelievable.”
I jammed the blade back in its sheath. “What?” I asked.
Luc shook his head. “Never thought I’d see a head harder than Eli’s. Do you have a problem asking anyone for help, or just from me? Or Eli?”
I shrugged. “I had him, Luc. If I’d needed help, I would have definitely asked.” I scratched my jaw. “He said, ‘You’re her.’ What’s that supposed to mean? And why was he out here in the early morning, alone? Don’t newlings usually run in groups? At least, for a while?”
“Usually,” Luc said, and led the way into the store. “But we’re dealing with Romanian magic—or so Ned says, and I tend to believe him. There’s no telling what we’re up against anymore.” He rounded on me as we stopped at the pile of junk food sitting on the floor where I left it. “Which is why you freaking need to call for help”—he tapped my temple—“when something’s going down. Got it? Or do you really want to see Eli kick my ass?”
I glanced at Zetty, whose dark gaze remained fixed on mine. He merely shrugged.
A cynical laugh slipped from my throat. “Whatever, Dupré.” I bent down and gathered my junk food, then headed to the cooler. “I gotta tell ya—I’m pretty sick of hearing how Eli’s going to kick everyone’s asses for me getting into trouble.” I flung open the cooler, grabbed a Yoo-hoo, and let the door slam shut. “Where is he, anyway? It’s been too long.”
Eli walked through the front door. He shook his head. “He’s fast. Got away.”
Luc and Zetty followed me up to the front. The cashier, who’d stepped out the front to smoke, was just making her way back behind the counter. I set my junk food on the counter. “You can add this stuff to the gas,” I said. She rang it up, looking at me uncertainly the whole time.
“Receipt?” she asked.
“No, thanks, “I responded, scooped up my stuff, and left.
My cell vibrated. I dumped my junk food in my driver’s seat and grasped the phone from my back pocket. I glanced at the screen and rolled my eyes when I saw Phin’s name. I answered. “Hey.” Eli glared at me.
“The next time you pull something like that, Riley I will personally kick your ass,” Phin said.
I hung the phone up and flashed him the bird.
I was really, really getting tired of all the ass-kicking threats.
Already, I was getting irritated, and it wasn’t even eight o’clock in the morning yet. I opened my gas cap, lifted the fuel nozzle, and jammed it in. “Aren’t we going to go after him?” I asked about the newling. “He’s pretty close to Savannah.”
“No,” Eli said, leaning against the Jeep’s fender. “I told Papa. He and my mother will take care of it. Just like I will take care of you.”
I eyed Luc in the rearview; his grin spoke volumes. Finished pumping, I stuck the nozzle back in the pump, screwed the gas cap back on, and looked at all three of my Jeep occupants. “Let’s get out of here.”
I’d already had enough newling excitement for one morning.
Twenty-seven miles later we merged onto US 17 North. I’d shucked out of my jacket, and cars filed down both lanes. Palm trees and live oaks dripping with Spanish moss gathered along the highway, along with the occasional Gullah woman, sitting out beneath a pitched half tent, or a beach umbrella, in a plastic and metal lawn chair with a quilt spread on the ground and dozens of sweetgrass baskets for sale. Small country stores advertising homemade peach preserves and boiled peanuts, along with fruit stands, gathered at the edge of the highway. In between those fruit stands were pieces of plywood nailed to trees: PEACHES, WATERMELONS, PECANS, FIVE MILES. It was all unique, very South Carolina. Very Charleston.
“You like it here,” Eli said, peering at me behind a pair of aviators.
I regarded him behind my own pair of shades and smiled. “I remember my mom taking Seth and me here, to Folly Beach, when we were very young,” I said. “We’d stay at the Holiday Inn, and Seth and I would hang out at the ice machine, eating it by the handfuls. Nice memories.”
