by Elle Jasper
I shook my head and looked straight ahead. “Oh my God, the ego.”
Eli laughed beside me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me faster.
Noah’s voice trailed behind us. “You’d better keep a good grip on that hand, Dupré!”
He didn’t have to finish. I knew exactly what was on Eli’s mind.
Noah’s laughter followed us to the battery, where he turned and departed with his crew, back to the dregs of the city.
I later learned he preferred it there so to keep a closer eye on things.
Apparently, Noah Miles took care of disobedient humans just as much as rogue vampires.
As we entered Jake’s, we all filed in through the kitchen. Eli led me straight upstairs.
“I’m not going to ravage you this morning,” he said, smiling. “But only because we’ve business at Garr’s this morning.”
I looked at him. “Who’s staying here with us?”
“Josie will be here. Noah’s only a head-shout away,” he said, then frowned. “But I doubt you’ll need him.”
I gave Eli a slow smile. “Okay. Hurry back, then.”
He pulled me against him and kissed me long, slow, and just when my hands crept up his neck and into his hair, he pushed me gently away. “I’ll see you later,” he said, with another quick kiss and an even quicker exit.
I looked at the door he’d just left through and smiled.
Quickly, I showered and fell into bed. I slept. I needed it. Late afternoon arrived too soon. Once we all were ready and the mortals had eaten, we headed out to the city. This time, we walked the historic district before it grew dark. We strolled through the city market, and Eli and his brothers and sister visited with some of the Gullah women selling baskets. They all knew the Duprés; I could tell they thought fondly of them.
Soon, darkness settled over the city, and we headed out of the historic district.
Atop the city, we ascended the buildings; Noah and his group met us close to the old burned-out church where the fights took place.
Eli grabbed me and spun me around. His expression tight, he looked . . . angry. “You can’t imagine how I hate your going in here,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “Stay close, Riley. And watch yourself. I mean it. I don’t want to have to kill someone.”
“Don’t worry, Eli,” I said, and grazed his jaw. His eyes darkened at my touch. “I don’t exactly have a death wish, you know.”
“You guys ready?” Noah asked.
“Yep,” Phin answered, and he and Jack and Tuba pushed in ahead of us. Music thumped from inside the hollowed walls, and I knew tonight would be way different from the other night.
Apparently, they sparred at the fight club three nights a week and, after that third night, they chose—chose, and then fed. I was ready for it.
At least, I thought I was.
Noah suggested that Eli take Seth and Josie, Luc stay with me, Phin with Zetty, Noah with Jack and Tuba, and the rest scatter. Eli hesitantly agreed. We filed into the crowd, and I spotted the shade-wearing newlings immediately. They spotted me, too. I moved slightly away from Luc; I didn’t want them thinking I had backup in any form. Immediately, the one newling from two days earlier approached.
“I see you made it back,” he said, his lips curling into a grin that caused a shiver. “Jump in whenever you see opportunity.”
“You know I will,” I said, chin lifted.
I waited; I watched a few fights; I watched Eli over the crowd. Every time I looked at him, he was looking at me. How he kept his thoughts trained on the club, I had no idea. I tried not to dwell on it.
The fights were more vicious this night than the others.
The weak had indeed been weeded out.
Luc and I were standing close but not together. We’d all managed not to be linked and had stayed apart while at the club. It had taken some convincing, but Eli finally conceded and didn’t stand glued to my side. I guess he was sort of starting to trust my abilities.
Victorian, though, did not. He suddenly interrupted my concentration.
“Honestly, Riley. I don’t understand why you have to fight. Let the others do it. You’re too delicate, and I couldn’t stand the thought of your getting hurt.”
In my head, I answered. “You’ve apparently not seen me fight, Vick. I got it. No sweat. Besides, Eli wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
“He’s good for something, I suppose. Still. Be careful.”
“Later, Vick.”
“I love that you have a nickname for me now. Makes me feel special.”
Victorian finally left me alone, and my concentration zoned back to the fights. Some kid hadn’t liked the way Seth had looked and had challenged him. We watched them spar now.
If that was what you wanted to call it.
I watched my baby brother take it all easy, slow, not show-offy like me. He reflected and ducked more than he fought; but when it came down to dirty business, Seth fought, and fought hard. I could feel his restraint with each punch, so much so that the ridges in his abdomen were flexing. He knew the force of his power, his tendencies, and no matter how much of a prick his opponent was, he didn’t want them too badly hurt.
I was proud of him for that.
Seth roundhouse kicked the guy, who was at least a foot taller than he was, right in the chest and sent him sprawling. The movement knocked several spectators back. Seth followed him down, choked him with one leg, and dared him to move. No rules meant no rules, and when the kid tried to buck Seth off, Seth popped him in the nose. I heard the bone break from where I was standing.
Seth won that fight, but it was his last.
I saw opportunity in the form of another Billy Badass, and I jumped in. I heard Eli’s hiss of disapproval from across the ring.
Too bad. This was why we were here. I wanted it to end—tonight. We’d rounded up dozens of newlings and those in the quickening. We needed to take the main vein of threat out—now.
Pushing through the crowd, who recognized me from the before, I shoved the weaker fighter out. The crowd roared. My opponent was a big, burly, helluva guy; midthirties, shaven head, muscles on top of muscles. He stood no less than six feet six inches.
He slowly rounded on me, the roar of the spectators so loud, I couldn’t think. I kept my eyes trained on him. He grinned.
“Fightin’ you is gonna be more fun than fuckin’ you,” he said in a thick, country-fried drawl. “Maybe I’ll do both.” He cracked his neck.
I simply grinned. What a big, brainless dick. “If you think you can,” I egged him, “come on.”
The big idiot circled me. He wore a dingy-white wife beater, cheap jeans, big leather boots. He wore chunky gold—probably fake—rings on four fingers, on each hand. He stuck out his tongue. It was extra long, extra gross, and he must’ve thought extra sexy, with the gold ball pierced through it. Inwardly, I cringed. He probably had a little pecker.
I saw Eli in my peripheral. Noah stood beside him, probably to restrain him.
A punch flew my way and I ducked; he missed me, and I dipped and popped up behind him. With a roundhouse I kicked him in the shoulder blades, and he stumbled forward. The crowd laughed.
He did not.
Foul words flew from his mouth, along with a disgusting amount of spit; I did not entertain him with some of my own. I watched him close. For a big guy, he moved with more grace than I’d have given him credit for. He swung a few more times, and I nimbly dodged his fists. The last thing I wanted was my juicy delicious blood, tainted though it might be, spilled on the fight club floor with newlings all around. I let him get close, then swung upward with both fists clenched, landed it into his nose, two elbows to the gut, and once he was bent over at the waist, I kicked his knees out. He hit the mat with a yelp and a curse.
He tried to get up.
I landed a solid punch to his jaw. He teetered, swayed, then fell back. Out cold.
With the crowd cheering, I left the ring.
Across the ring, I saw Eli’
s face. Mad was not the term I’d use to describe his expression. He was . . . more like a half inch away from changing. Tee-total pissed off—at me or the dickhead, I couldn’t say.
“You are so sexy when you kick ass,” Luc said in my ear. “Too bad my big brother wants to wring your neck for it.”
“Whatever,” I said. We watched a few more fights. I got in a few of them. Despite how good I was at it, I really, really hated it. I wanted it to end, the night to be over, the newlings put in their places, the monster caught—not necessarily in that order.
Eventually, the familiar newling—who I guessed was a leader of sorts—approached me.
“So, how have the pussies managed?” he asked over the roaring crowd.
I shrugged. “I’m still here.”
The smile he gave me chilled me. “And you’ve only fought one decent opponent. Come to ringside.”
I glanced at Luc, and he nodded forward. I glanced upward, at the next level, and met gazes first with Eli, Phin, Seth, then Noah. Zetty and Josie were on our level and in the corner.
They all had my back.
I shrugged and followed the newling.
And then stepped into the ring with a newling.
The moment I saw her, I knew it’d be a challenge; she was lithe, young, and obviously had contacts in to mask her opaque eyes. But I knew. I could sense her undeadliness. She wore head-to-toe black leather, like some freakish postapocalyptic catwoman, and the look of sheer confidence in her face could have chilled me, had I allowed it. I did not.
I’d learned a while back not to wear restrictive clothing to fight in; it was easier to withdraw my silver in baggy clothes. And since they were all hidden below the waist, I stripped off my tank, to the roar and whistles and cries of the mostly male crowd, leaving me to fight in a black sports bra. My opponent’s eyes were nailed to mine as she circled me; I circled her. When she attacked, I held back not one ounce of strength.
She was a fury of fists and long-legged kicks; so fast I almost had a difficult time keeping up. Her abilities challenged me, provoking my adrenaline to rush through me, and I gave back just as good as she offered. She roundhouse kicked me in the jaw; I’d almost managed to duck, but she caught me with the heel of her foot and it sent me reeling. The moment I landed on the floor, she was on me. I bucked her off and straddled her; she did the same. We both landed on our feet again. I lunged this time, not waiting for her. I came down, both fists clenched, and smashed into her jaw. She yanked me by my ponytail and brought my face close to hers.
“I know what you are, bitch,” she said. “You know what I am?”
“Oh yeah,” I muttered, and elbowed her in the gut. She dropped me.
“We’ll fight, then,” she said. “Like mortals.”
Our fight continued over the cheers of the crowd.
Suddenly, another joined in.
I now faced two female newlings.
With a quick glance, I found Eli. Noah physically had his hands on Eli’s arms. He was holding him back. And Eli’s face looked thunderous. I ignored it.
I took one helluva whipping, but I kept them both off me. At least, I kept their fangs from probing into my flesh. It was almost as if they dared me to make them morph; I have no idea if they knew I carried silver. But because of the number of mortals in the room, I wasn’t about to drop them.
I could have, but I didn’t.
My body was rushed by both; I leapt and cleared them. The crowd cheered.
Then, the crowd grew silent.
Then, they started to scream.
Only then did I notice why.
The newlings had begun their attacks on mortals. I guess my cover, and probably those of the others, were now officially blown. I didn’t glance around; I didn’t have time. The two newlings in the ring with me were now determined to make me one of them. They lunged, simultaneously, and I had to concentrate and zone the screams out, focusing just on them if I wanted to stay alive.
As a mortal with tendencies; not a newling.
I bounded off one of them—using her face as a springboard as I grasped the silver from my hip in midair and plunged it at the she-vamp lunging toward me. The moment she dropped, I did the same, crouched, grasped another blade from the other hip, and threw it at the other. She was ready for me, though, and caught it.
I grasped another, aimed, but before it left my hand, she lunged; a body flew in front of me, directly at her. They collided. Chaos was all around me, and all I could do was stand there and stare, dumbfounded.
Eli.
He ripped the she-vamp’s heart out, as it was the only way to instantly kill besides using a silver blade. When he turned and spared me a look, it truly frightened me.
It wasn’t just that his face had contorted. I dare not even say what I really thought.
“Get out of here, Riley,” he ordered, his voice a deep growl.
I set my jaw.
“Luc! Get her the fuck out of here!” he yelled over the crowd.
I turned and ran, but not away. Blood and killing were all around me; the metallic scent of human blood tainted the air, along with the screams. I was going to take out as many newlings as possible before I let any Dupré take me outside. I found one, his fangs about to pierce the throat of a boy no older than twenty. I was close. With Five Finger Death Punch’s “Hard to See” slamming in some random boom box and mixing with mortal screams and blood gurgling, I lunged, plunging my silver blade directly into his heart, just before his fangs made contact. I didn’t wait for reaction. I sought another.
Mentally counting my blades, I totaled nine left. In my peripheral, I saw Seth and Zetty, both with gleaming blades in their own hands. I glanced and saw Noah’s beautiful face transformed once again; Phin’s and Luc’s as well. And Josie’s. I didn’t look for Eli; I knew he’d be one pissed-off vampire. I’d worry about it later. After this.
This was over in less than thirty minutes.
I knew it was over when all was quiet. Some mortals had escaped. The ones who’d been bitten remained inside; Garr’s people would be here soon to collect them. I knew that because Noah had already morphed back into his human form and was talking on the cell phone. I zoned in and listened long enough to know that an assload of bitten mortals would be taken to Garr’s version of Da Island this night. At least a lot would be saved. But this was still not over. Far from over—just ... this was over. For now.
I glanced around at the ones who would never see life again. They lay in heaps of mangled flesh, blood, and bone; some with their chest cavities ripped wide open, their hearts pierced. Some even still pumped blood, and I had to wonder for a split second how Noah, his folks, and the Duprés could stand being in such close proximity of so much blood and not go . . . nuts. That was the power of hoodoo and the conjuring of Preacher and Garr, I suppose. Pretty cool shit.
Without my permission, my body gave out; I dropped to both knees and simply looked around. I’d used all of my blades; I was still covered in mortal blood and vamp goo. I felt as if I’d been in a medieval melee, as if I’d been fighting alongside William Wallace or something. This had to be close to what that’d been like.
Minus the vampire aspect, of course.
I was drained. My head throbbed. I no longer had the capability to filter out all of the exaggerated sounds and scents of the city. I resisted the urge to cover my ears.
“I wish someone—anyone—would turn that fucking boom box off,” I yelled.
I waited; no one did, so I got up, pushed my way through the bodies of mortals and dusty piles of vampire newlings, and found the music. I love some Five Finger Death Punch, don’t get me wrong. But I was drained; irritable beyond belief, and . . . something else I couldn’t define. PMS? Who the fuck knows.
I picked the box up and threw it against the wall.
I felt my body falling then, completely out of gas.
Strong arms caught me before I hit the floor.
When I looked, it was Eli’s painfully beautiful face
I saw, and I inhaled deeply. He smiled down at me, lines of worry etched into his brow. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said.
The beauty of his smile gave me energy.
A lot of energy.
I tilted, regained my footing, and Eli steadied me on my feet. He moved to wrap me in an embrace I knew—knew—I’d melt into. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance.
I passed the hell out.
Part Nine
Captive
“Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.”
—Stephen King
“What did I say before? Don’t fuck with my
loved ones. Sorry for the potty mouth of late,
but Jesus and hot damn—a lot of shit’s hap-
pening and, frankly, it’s starting to overwhelm.
I’m afraid it’s going to consume me, all this
evil; or at least turn me into some crazed, psy-
cho, silver-totin’, vampire-huntin’ fool who
says fuck way too much. It’s like who the hell
can you trust anymore? I keep finding that the
ones you least likely thought you could trust
are the most trustworthy of them all. How
weird is that, huh? All I know is this: all the
horror movies you watched as a teenager?
Go back and watch them again. Make notes.
Make lists from the notes. There are survival
skills embedded in those wacky dacky fricky
fracky slasher stories that will one day come
in freaking handy. Start with Zombieland.
Smart movie, that. Rule number four: the
double tap.”
—Riley Poe
My eyes fluttered open; it was daylight. I scrubbed my closed lids with my knuckles, then looked around, gathering my bearings; Jake’s place in Charleston; king-sized bed; my own personal veranda. I glanced beside me.
One hot freaking naked vampire.
Eli Dupré, damn him and his birthday suit, lay sprawled out beside me in the white down fluff of a gazillion-count comforter. I strained my eyes hard and searched the digital clock on the far side of the room—three forty-five p.m. Damn, I’d slept a long time. Eli seemed out cold, too. I didn’t remember getting here, getting naked, or falling into bed. It made me wonder just what else I didn’t recall.
