***
We pulled up to the entrance of Douglas Cemetery and Andre cut the engine.
“Do I have to go in?” I asked.
Andre took my hand. “I swear on my life I will let nothing happen to you,” he said, his eyes moving between mine.
I was sort of hoping to stay in the car, but it was the next best thing. “I appreciate it,” I said.
We got out of the car. I approached the wrought iron gates that loomed ahead of us. “Uh, Andre, they’re locked.”
As he passed me, he glanced over. “You haven’t done this much, have you?”
“What are you—” Andre yanked apart the metal chain that was wrapped around the middle of the gate with his bare hands.
He pushed it open. “Ladies first.”
“How chivalrous of you,” I said, passing through the entrance. Only then did I realize that I was standing in a graveyard, the land of the dead.
Andre closed the gates behind us and came up to me, twining his fingers through mine. Two months ago I would’ve had a major problem with this, but right now I really appreciated the physical reassurance that he was next to me.
In front of us the gravestones were old and weather beaten, and they stuck out of the ground like crooked teeth. Crows perched on top of several of them and in the nearby trees. They cawed, making my skin crawl.
I was so getting cremated when I died.
He tugged on my hand and I followed his lead. “So,” I said, “you were also called in to view this body?”
He made an agreeing noise in the back of his throat. “I’m always called in when a crime appears to involve a vampire.”
I studied his profile as we wound our way through the graves. He looked like a dark, avenging angel. My dark, avenging angel, according to a childhood prophecy.
He caught my eye and gazed down at me. A sly smile spread across his face. “Enjoying the view?” he asked.
I was. Quite a bit, which was making it hard to concentrate.
I shrugged. “It’s decent.” I had only just uttered the words when we heard laughter.
My first thought was that it was man in the suit. I hadn’t seen him since the Autumn Ball, so I was about due a visit. But as our eyes roved the cemetery, it was clear that no one was here.
Andre’s grip on my hand tightened. “There it is.” Two our left I could see the crime scene tape. I could also smell traces of blood and other bodily fluids, and beneath that, the smell of the long dead. A headstone whose top was shaped like a three-leaf clover had maroon stains sprayed across it.
I made a face and crouched down. “Did the second victim die here?” I asked, placing a hand on the top of the clover-shaped gravestone.
“Yes, but the killer laid the body out over here.” Andre walked a few paces away from me, and I followed him. The space was just big enough to arrange a full grown man in the shape of a star.
Was the killer a religious fanatic? It seemed strange that the first body would emulate a Christian sign in an area that drew mostly non-Christian believers, and that in a graveyard filled with crosses and angels, a second body would replicate a pagan symbol.
As my eyes roved over the scene, a soft wind tickled my face. The devil’s consort, a voice whispered.
My gaze snapped to Andre. Unlike all those encounters with the man in the suit, Andre’s narrowed gaze and coiled muscles indicated that he too had heard this voice. Worse, he was staring at something behind me and to my left.
I spun around and searched the dark cemetery. I didn’t see anything. However, some unconscious part of me must’ve known that there was something in the darkness that watched me because the hair along my arms stood on end.
“Gabrielle, move slowly towards me,” Andre said.
“Slowly?” I said, still searching the darkness. “If I move, I’m sprinting out of here. There is no such thing as moving slowly.”
“That’s fine. Just move. I’ll follow.” He didn’t need to tell me twice. Just like in Glen Maye, I ran like my life depended on it—and it just might’ve.
Unlike Glen Maye, this time we didn’t have far to run.
A voice sang next to me, Consort, consort, consort.
I was really starting to hate that word.
I swung open the car door and slipped in, slamming it behind me. Less than a second later Andre was next to me, keying the ignition.
The car roared to life, and Andre whipped it around to drive back the way we came.
My heart thundered in my chest, and I took slow, even breaths to calm down.
As we passed the cemetery, I gave it one last glance. A shadowy form loomed amongst the graves, its body facing us—watching us.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. And then it vanished.
***
I drummed my fingers against the soft leather of Andre’s car. “Well, I can’t say that I learned anything from that visit.” Except how to make a (nearly) grown woman almost pee her pants.
Andre’s knuckles were white. The wheel was in serious danger of getting squashed by his grip. “I should never have taken you to the crime scenes,” he said.
I rubbed my temples “Don’t even think about getting all protective and bossy just because something weird happened.”
“I put you in danger. That’s my fault. I should never have agreed to investigate this with you.” I really wanted to shake him silly.
“And you think I wouldn’t have tried to visit the sites if we hadn’t teamed up? Because I would’ve, either by myself or with Caleb.”
“Caleb?” His mood darkened considerably. I didn’t realize that Andre knew who Caleb was; they had never officially met. I guess he’d read the papers about the two of us escaping Bishopcourt. “Why would you visit them with Caleb?” He took his eyes off the road to look at me. “Are you two . . . ?”
His gaze was too intense. “No Andre, we’re not dating,” I said. “The Politia assigned us as partners.”
Andre’s eyes narrowed. Apparently he, like me, didn’t think this was just a coincidence.
“My point is,” I continued, “I would’ve visited those crime scenes either way.”
Andre’s jaw worked, and he reluctantly nodded his head.
I looked out the window at the stars, which were so much brighter with my night vision. It was a rare night when the fog surrounding the Isle of Man was thin enough to see them. “Why were the crime scenes . . . haunted?” I asked. My heartbeat had finally slowed back down to normal.
“I don’t know if they were haunted, or if that was just a side effect of being close to Samhain,” he said.
If that was a side effect of Samhain, then the supernatural community had to rethink their most widely celebrated holiday. That was just plain frightening.
“Gabrielle, that voice in the graveyard . . .” Andre started.
“Can’t we just pretend that we didn’t hear it?” I asked. Okay, it was more of a plea.
“You know,” Andre said conversationally, “you have a serious avoidance problem.”
“I’m not ready to deal with that statement,” I joked. Andre didn’t laugh. Sourpuss.
“You know what the voice was talking about, don’t you?” Andre stated it as though it were fact.
“I don’t—”
Andre cut me off. “Before you lie to me, you should know that I can tell the difference between that and the truth.”
I gave him my best squinty eyes. “I wasn’t going to lie to you. I have no idea what that voice was talking about. But that’s the third time something has called me the devil’s consort.” I spit out the word as though it tasted bitter.
“What do you mean something?” Andre ran a hand through his hair.
“A possessed medium, the incubus
that visited me last night, and whatever was in the graveyard all called me that.”
Andre slammed on the brakes, and air whooshed out of my lungs as I was thrown against the seatbelt.
Andre cursed while I gasped for air.
“An incubus visited you again last night?” he asked.
I nodded.
Andre swore again. “That’s not good, Gabrielle.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
It wasn’t a literal statement, but Andre answered it anyway. “Those three things that spoke to you—none of them are of this world. That means that in places that know more about heaven and hell than we do, you have a reputation, Gabrielle.” Andre paused. “To them you are known as the devil’s consort.”
Chapter 8
We pulled up to Bishopcourt. I hadn’t even questioned our destination. I was still shaken up by what Andre had said. So shaken that I didn’t have time to get out of the car before Andre tried his hand at chivalry again and opened my door.
I stared at him. What does it mean that spirits know who I am?
Seeing that I hadn’t yet unbuckled my seatbelt, he leaned over and did so. Then he scooped me up in his arms. Worse, I just let him. I wasn’t feeling very brave at the moment, and it was kind of nice to let someone else take care of me.
What does it mean to be the devil’s consort?
“You’re alright,” he whispered into my hair.
I wrapped my arms around his neck. Right about now, Andre no longer felt like the monster I needed to stay away from. He felt like the only safe place in the world.
He led me back to his room and placed me on the edge of his bed so that I sat upright. I rested my head between my legs. “This is really bad, isn’t it?”
He didn’t say anything, and I remembered my thoughts from earlier in the evening, when I realized Leanne withheld a great many premonitions from me. This might be the something that was more terrifying than death.
The bed slumped as Andre sat down next to me. He put a hand on my upper back. “Gabrielle, look at me.”
I straightened up to meet his eyes. Just like earlier in the week, his eyes seemed to hold his humanity. “When it comes to dealings with the devil, remember that you always have agency,” he said, emphasizing the statement by shaking me gently.
“It’s one thing to be called the devil’s consort and another to actually be it,” he continued. “The difference lies in the decisions you make. If you want to hand over your soul and go down without a fight, that’s a choice—it’s not made for you. Not even becoming a vampire takes that decision away from you.”
His words gave me hope. It didn’t matter that I was in over my head, even in terms of the supernatural community. In the end, it came down to something that I could understand—consent.
I lifted a hand and ran it along Andre’s outstretched arm. His hand slipped from my back, and it curled around my own. That wasn’t enough. Not nearly.
I turned my body towards him and leaned in, and he met me halfway.
The kiss was desperate. I swung my leg over his so that I straddled him, and I ran my hands through his hair, pressing myself even closer to him.
His hands moved to my back, and he held me tightly. Almost without thinking, the siren welled up in me. For the first time, I welcomed it. Right now it didn’t feel like a different entity so much as an expression of my feelings. My skin began to glow.
Andre broke off the kiss. “We shouldn’t be doing this—not when you’re using glamour.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m in control of it.”
He touched my face. “You might be, but I won’t be in control of myself.” It was strange to think that the king of vampires wasn’t immune to this.
I closed my eyes and pushed the siren in me back to where it came from. The glow of my skin gradually dimmed before disappearing altogether.
“Better?” I asked.
“Much.” Andre’s lips met mine again, but it was a chaste consolation prize of a kiss.
“So, what exactly are we doing in your bedroom?” I asked, looking around.
“Continuing our training. Before you leave tonight, I wanted to teach you how to sheathe and unsheathe your teeth, so that you can control when they come out.”
I exhaled. “That would help a lot.” It had been annoying having to clamp my mouth shut throughout the school day to avoid scaring off classmates and teachers.
He stood up and pulled me to my feet. “Are your fangs out right now?”
My tongue skimmed over my canines. I felt a prick along my tongue and I tasted blood.
Andre’s nostrils flared; he must’ve caught the scent of blood. “That’s answer enough,” he said. “Now what I want you to do is imagine your fangs receding into your gums.”
I furrowed my eyebrows. “That’s it?”
“That is it, but you can’t just want your teeth to recede, you have to visualize it happening.”
Great. This was going to be another lesson like the one on captivating prey—I was going to make a hopeless fool of myself.
He took my hands. “Try closing your eyes.”
My pulse hitched from his touch, and I couldn’t help but notice the current between us. Lately the current sometimes quieted when we were together. But right now wasn’t one of those times. “Your touch isn’t exactly helping,” I said.
“You’re nothing if not extraordinary, Gabrielle. I’m sure that you’ll figure your way around it.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said, putting as much sarcasm into the statement as possible. I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing. I imagined my teeth slowly receding back into my gums. In my mind’s eye I visualized the entire process. After I finished visualizing it, I felt my teeth.
Damnit, they were still hanging out.
“Try it again,” Andre said. “This time visualize it differently.”
I didn’t immediately understand what he was asking of me. But as I watched my teeth receded in my mind’s eye, I realized that I didn’t buy my own visualization because gums weren’t muscles; they couldn’t push and pull a tooth. So I imagined them connected to a muscle that could push and pull them. This time, when I ran a finger over my canines, they were back to normal.
“I did it!” I relished this small victory.
Andre’s eyes twinkled. “Practice this over and over again, and eventually you’ll mostly be able to control when they come out and when they slide back into your gums.”
“What do you mean mostly?”
He gave me a predatory look and closed the distance between us. My gums throbbed and my canines slid out. Well hell.
“Sometimes, when you’re scared, surprised, or turned on, they’ll come out before you consciously realize it,” Andre said, his voice husky. “Just like now, for instance.”
I pushed him back to give myself some personal space. “Now you’re just taking advantage of the fact that I’m a hormonal teenager.”
His eyes became hooded and the look he gave me set my skin on fire. “Trust me when I say that around you I’ve been having about as much trouble with my . . . cravings as you are.”
The innuendo in his statement wasn’t lost on me, and at his words the room seemed to heat up by several degrees. “That doesn’t inspire a whole lot of confidence,” I said, trying to diffuse the rising sexual tension.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed the painting of Andre as a crusader. The distraction allowed me to regain some control of myself. Taking a better look around the room, I realized that nothing here had been replaced.
“The fire didn’t damage anything in your room,” I said.
He looked around along with me. “The fire didn’t really make it back here. But it wouldn’t have m
attered. I’ve gone to great lengths to make sure that this particular room is as fire resistant as possible.”
Before I could ask him why he’d bothered to make this room fire resistant but not the rest of the house, his cellphone buzzed. He pulled it out and glanced at the caller ID. “I need to take this. I’ll step out for just a moment.”
And then he was gone.
When he didn’t come right back into the room, I got up and looked around. The wall of books pulled me in. Most of Andre’s reading material here consisted of timeworn, clothbound books. An old edition of Euripides’ plays caught my eye.
I pulled out the book and crawled back on Andre’s bed, noticing how delicious the sheets smelled. I propped up some pillows and began to read.
The stilted language the author had used to translate the plays made them hard to follow, and soon the words began to blur together.
That was probably the moment I should’ve gotten up and asked to be driven home. Instead I set the book aside and curled up. Between the comforting smell of Andre’s sheets and the watchful, painted eyes of a younger Andre, I nodded off.
***
I breathed in the smell of pine needles and wood burning fire.
“Mmm.” My lips curled into a smile at the smell and I opened my eyes. I was in another freaking forest, wearing another freaking gown, and in another freaking bed. I glanced down at the arm thrown around my torso. I followed the arm back to its owner, a beautiful, dark haired man.
He leaned over to kiss me on the cheek.
This is a dream, so wake up. Wake up!
I jolted awake, and like every other night that I’d dreamed of them, the incubus surfaced from the dream alongside me.
“Get away from me!” I pushed away the demon’s hands.
Suddenly the demon was airborne. He slammed against the far wall and the mansion’s foundation shuddered. Andre was on him in an instant. He grabbed the demon’s wind-blown hair and slammed its head repeatedly into the ground.
The Coveted (The Unearthly #2) Page 7
