Afterlight

Part 9 Quickening

I was pretty sure that perv Murray noticed the shock on my face about Kelter, and was even surer he took pleasure in delivering the information. Not that there was any love lost — not by any means. It’s always a shock when someone dies unexpectedly — even a scumbag like Kelter. I was actually surprised he’d lived as long as he had.

On the way to the police station I gave Phin the skinny on my background with Detective Claude Murray. I stared at a traffic light through my shades and began. “Ol’ Claude had a thing for me back then — yeah, gross, I know. Even though I was just a kid, I could tell he was a freak. I’m sure I wasn’t the only juvy he had a thing for.”

“What do you mean?” Phin asked, his voice growing dark, like Eli’s did.

I shrugged. “You know — his touch lingered way too long when cuffing or uncuffing me, and whenever we were alone he’d touch my hair, brush against me — sick stuff like that.” I laughed cynically. “I guess because I was a little junkie at the time, he thought he could get away with it. And he had. I’d been privately scared of him back then. Now? I’ll kick his ass, even if it means a night or two in jail.”

Phin sat quietly in the passenger seat and listened, his face growing angrier by the second, and I knew then that Detective Claude Murray was now on the Duprés’ lifelong shit list.

“Hey,” I said, and punched him in the arm. “I got it. No worries. I’m a big girl now, not some crazy little druggie teenager. Okay?”

He glanced at me, and although I couldn’t see his eyes through his shades, I knew he was scowling. “Right.”

I parked the Jeep and popped some quarters in the meter, and Phin walked into the station with me. He stood against the wall and waited, arms folded over his chest, and I was led into the back. When I glanced back, he had his cell phone out, and I knew he was calling Eli. Oh, boy. Phin shrugged, and I continued down the hall.

I knew the way, of course, and saw that things really hadn’t changed in ten years. Claude was waiting farther up the hall — the inside of the station reminded me a lot of junior high, with dingy white concrete walls and tile floors, wooden doors with little brown nameplates screwed onto them. And . . . it smelled funny. Weird-funny, and it brought back old, unwanted memories. Claude smiled at me as the police officer escorted me to the interrogation room, and I went quietly in and sat down.

“So you’re hanging out with old friends, Ms. Poe?” Claude asked.

“No. Just went by for a few drinks.”

Claude leaned over my shoulder. “I have a witness that says she watched you enter the back rooms with Kelter Phillips after making nicey with him at the bar. And you know we know what goes on back there.”

I gave him a glare. “Get to the point, Detective. Yes, I saw him that night, but so did hundreds of others. When I left, he was very much alive.”

“Alibi?” he asked.

“Sure. Why don’t you ask the doorman, Zetty? He watched me leave.”

“Were you with anyone?” He walked around to face me. “Oh — let me clarify that. Were you with someone whose last name you knew?”

Prick. “Yes.”

Claude blinked and waited. “Well, are you going to give me a name?”

I looked him in the eye, although I hated bringing Eli into this. “Eligius Dupré, and I was with him all night.”

“We’ll need to speak with him.”

I didn’t even blink. “No problem. Can I go now? I have an appointment.”

Claude’s slow, thin-lipped grin stretched over tobacco-stained teeth. “I bet you do.” He inclined his head. “You’re free to go. But we may need to drop by and have a look around.”

I stood and shrugged. “Be my guest. I have nothing to hide.” I gave him a look that I hope mirrored my revulsion. “Later, Claude. Much, much later.”

I walked out and let the door slam behind me. When I reached the waiting area, Eli stood next to Phin and Luc, an infuriated look on his face. I walked up to him. “I’m sorry — but he wanted to know if I’d been with anyone at the time we left the Panic Room.” I felt awful. “He wants to talk to you.” I lowered my voice. “Did you kill him? Kelter?”

Eli said nothing, and I guessed that meant no. He walked to the counter and spoke to the clerk, and within seconds another officer escorted him down to interrogation.

I glanced at Phin. “Did you tell him?”

“Yep.”

“Everything?” I asked.

“Yep,” he confirmed.

I let out a sigh. I’d known he would, but no way would Eli be able to hide his anger at Murray. Surprisingly, within minutes, Eli strode from the back, his eyes glued to mine. Still furious. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

The afternoon went by relatively quickly, and I heard nothing else from Murray; Eli and the guys disappeared while Nyx and I wrapped up appointments. I always dressed the part on workdays — clients had come to expect it of me. It was as much a part of my reputation as my artwork. So I wore a kick-ass outfit: a burgundy leather minidress, sleeveless and laced from the waist up, and a pair of over-the-knee black leather boots. A plain black velvet choker and matching velvet wrist cuffs completed my attire. The clients were more than satisfied. Nyx had decided to take the next day off and take care of some family business with her parents on Wilmington Island; she finished up just before I did; it was almost seven. As she grabbed her skull-and-crossbones shoulder bag, she came over and gave me a tight hug. “I’m going to miss you,” she said, and looked at me with those big, round, always-wide-open blue eyes. “Don’t worry about a thing. If the police come by to check the place out, I’ll make sure I’m here.”

“Thanks,” I said, and rubbed her arms. “I’ll be around until late tomorrow afternoon anyway. And I really appreciate your help, Nyx. Call me on my cell if anything comes up.”

We said good-bye, Gene cawing sharply as Nyx left out the front door. I locked up — earlier than usual, but I’d canceled all my appointments and still needed to handle a few loose ends for the business. I flipped the sign to CLOSED, pulled the blinds, and cranked up some Linkin Park. I was at the computer, printing out some of my latest designs on transfer paper for Nyx, when I felt Eli’s presence and glanced up. He stood leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me.

“Hey,” I said, casual, as I’d tried to keep it since his return. I continued my work. Eli pushed off the frame and walked up front, plopping down on the sofa. He picked up a design album and started thumbing through the pages.

“I wanted to kill that detective today.”

I glanced up. “Yeah, I’ve had that same thought myself before,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. I gathered the transfers and hung them on the backlights — similar to what doctors use when viewing X-rays. I stood there, inspecting for imperfections, and suddenly felt Eli directly behind me.

“No,” he said quietly. “You don’t understand. I wanted to kill him.”

I turned around and met his enraged gaze. “Why?” And it was then I saw that anger had been brewing in Eli all day.

“Because of how he treated you as a kid,” he said. “And for his thoughts today.” His eyes bored into mine. “It would have been so easy.”

I placed a hand on Eli’s chest. “I appreciate your chivalry. Really. But he’s just a stupid mortal. I can handle him.” I smiled. “Trust me.”

The air around us stilled; Eli’s gaze grew dark. “What do you feel when you touch me?” he asked, and slid my hand over his heart. “Anything?”

It was something I’d been avoiding; it hadn’t been easy. The thing between us was palpable, dangerous, and I’d known it went deeper than sex the moment we’d met. He’d told me quite seriously that I was his. I’d told him the same, yet the subject hadn’t been approached again. What did mine actually mean? I lowered my hand and moved away. “I don’t know, Eli.”

Silence gripped the interior of Inksomnia for several moments before Eli surprised me with a request. “I want you to ink me.”

I looked at him, gauged him. “Tats are for life — and with yours that’s a long damn time.” I cocked my head. “Do you know what you want?”

Eli kept his gaze on mine. “Yes.” He lifted the medallion from his neck. “This. It’s our family crest.”

Bending my head over the medallion, I inspected the design and detailing. I’d not noticed it before, and I now found it fascinating. A griffin clutching a pair of daggers sat in the center of a fleur-de-lis, encased by a thorny vine. At the bottom, the name Dupré. I looked at him. “That’s pretty wicked.”

“Can you do it?” he asked.

I grinned, grasped him by the hand, and shoved him in the chair. “Sit.” I grabbed a pencil and sketch pad and within minutes had the entire design on paper — it was roughly the size of an orange. I showed it to Eli, and he nodded.

“Perfect,” he said.

I scanned the design, then printed out a transfer and walked back to Eli, whose gaze remained locked onto mine. “Where?” I asked.

“Between my shoulder blades,” he returned. “Black ink.”

My heart beat faster, and I nodded. “Off with the shirt, and let’s get going.”

Eli pulled his shirt over his head and turned onto his stomach on the inking table. I slowly wiped his skin with antiseptic and let it air dry, then laid the transfer print-side down, directly between his shoulder blades. I started the Widow, pulled on my gloves, loaded the ink, and bent over to Eli’s ear. “This might sting a little.” I settled into my chair.

He chuckled. “Yeah, okay.”

“No laughing,” I warned. I peeled the transfer off and began. Eli didn’t even flinch. “Nice,” I said, and concentrated on my design. I admit, it was a pretty cool design and would make a sick tat. With a steady hand I inked the Dupré crest over the muscular back of the eldest son. Tattooing Eli under such intimate conditions was beyond erotic — my breathing increased; my heart quickened. My breasts brushed his side as I bent over him, and even through gloves the contact of my skin against his aroused me. His scent radiated off of him in waves, and I drew it into my lungs, and that aroused me, too. It took about an hour and forty minutes to complete, and swear to God, I didn’t want it to end. Finally, it was finished, and it looked badass.

I handed Eli the hand mirror, and he turned and checked out my work. “Nice,” he said appreciatively, then turned to me. “You’re a superb artist.”

I shrugged. “Thanks,” I said, then took a deep breath and tried to push away the intense sexual feelings just being in the same room with Eli stirred within me. I busied myself cleaning up, then turned off the Widow. I crossed the room, and the whole time I felt Eli’s eyes on me.

“Why are you blowing me off?” he said, following me. Shirtless. “It’s not like you.”

I flipped the lights and walked to the stairs in the back. “You’re right, Eli. It’s not like me. But it’s what I feel is best for both of us.”

He grabbed me just as I reached the staircase. “You feel it’s best, or are you afraid of me? Disgusted by what I am?” He pulled me against him, and his hot glare struck me. “The truth, Riley.”

I glared back. “Let. Me. Go. I’m not arguing in the staircase.”

His hand dropped my arm like it’d been burned. “Let’s go, then.”

I knew I ventured in very dangerous territory by walking those stairs and trapping myself between my apartment walls with Eli Dupré again — especially since Gilles had warned me to keep away. But in the heat of the moment, and argument, it seemed the only thing to do. The tension between us over the past several days since Tybee had been nearly unbearable, and to settle things before I actually had to stay under the same roof with him and his entire family was my intention. I stomped ahead of him, knowing full well his eyes were on my ass; I didn’t care. Inside the apartment, the long, hazy shadows crossed the room and rafters as the dog days of August waned through the picture window. It suddenly struck me that neither my brother nor my dog was present; everything I loved was gone, and nothing would ever be the same again. I rounded on Eli. “What exactly do you expect from me? I can’t lie — you regularly read my mind, so I’m sure you already know how badly I want you all of the time. It’s like some freaking sickness, or a hex. You know I’m not scared of you because of what you are. You know it.”

His eyes and voice gentled. “You should be.”

“Shoulda, coulda, woulda,” I said, sounding like a child. “I guess rule following and good-choice making aren’t in my nature, either.”

Eli moved closer, his eyes locked onto mine. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about that night. Both nights.”

“Oh, I get it,” I said, and sank into the plush cushion of the seat in the picture window. Whether mortal or vampire, both male species are led around by their peckers, it seemed. “So it’s the sex you’re obsessed with?”

“It’s sex with you,” Eli clarified, and stepped closer to me. “With just you.” His body closed in on me as he leaned against the wall next to me. Still, he didn’t touch me, but I felt my will busting up. “It’s the way you move, the sound of your voice,” he said, his voice dark, seductive. “The way you thought about me that night, about what you wanted me to do to you, and how you touched yourself. The way you smell — not your perfume, or the shampoo you use,” he said, lifting a long strand of my hair to his nose and inhaling. “You.” He shoved his hands into his hair with frustration. “I’ve watched you, Riley — even before we met. You . . . intrigued me, and I found myself at your window, inside your room.” His eyes searched mine. “It’s about you.”

“You watched me from inside my room?” I asked, my voice shaky, quiet. The thought thrilled me. “Why?”

“You intrigued me,” he said, his body brushing mine. “Because I had to.”

Already, my heart was beating faster, and I struggled to breathe normally. I couldn’t stop staring at the muscles in his chest, the way his abs were cut, and his face; the shadows had grown long, and the room was nearly cast in darkness, yet there was just enough surreal light to make out his features. His pitch-black hair hung across his forehead and luminescent blue eyes, and when he spoke, his lips fascinated me; they were full, perfectly shaped, and the memory of them against my skin made me burn for him all over again. His jaw, dusted with just a shade of growth, made his pale skin flawless and sensual. My fingers itched to touch him. My heart yearned for him. My brain had turned to gravy.

Without taking his eyes off me, Eli drew closer, grasped my hand and placed it over his heart. “Again, I ask. What do you feel when you touch me?”

My eyes closed as his hand covered mine and pressed it against his chest. “I feel . . . a sensual energy that I can’t get enough of, that lingers on my skin, inside of me, and drives me crazy,” I said quietly, my chest rising and falling faster with my ragged breathing. I looked at him. “An obsession. I feel you.”

Eli slid even closer and pressed his palm over mine. “But no heartbeat.”

I rose, slipped my hands over Eli’s hips, and guided him onto the cushion I’d just vacated. Grasping his neck, I climbed onto his lap, my leather dress riding up as I slid my legs on either side of him and locked them behind his back. He sat silent, completely still, and I knew that if he did have a heart that beat, it’d be pounding like crazy right now. His hands slid to my hips as his eyes searched mine.

I palmed his chest and brought my lips closer to his. “My heart beats enough for the both of us,” I whispered against his mouth. “Just don’t . . . kill me, okay?” I shoved my hands into his silky hair and kissed him softly, and he sat still while I explored his mouth. I sucked his bottom lip, slowly, then traced his teeth with my tongue, and the unshaven scruff on his jaw against my palm turned me on and made me slide closer. I slid my hand down his throat, and he ran his hands over my bared thighs, pulled me hard against him, and deepened the kiss. My mind went completely blank as his tongue grazed mine, and his mouth moved erotically over my lips, and everywhere his hands touched made me burn for him.

“Did you mean it when you said I was yours?” he asked quietly.

I looked into his eyes. “You know I did.”

Eli stood, and although he held on to me, I slid from his embrace and turned around, threaded my fingers through his, and tugged, urging him to my room. He wordlessly followed, but he pulled me close while we walked, my back to his front, and he dropped my hand and slid his fingers over my hips and held me tightly against him; the feel of his hardness pressed into the small of my back made me hot and wet, and I wiggled against him, stretched my arms up, and clasped them around his neck. His hands slipped upward, skimmed slowly over the buttery smooth softness of my dress, and cupped my breasts, and even through the thin leather it caused sensations to ripple through me, turned me on even more. His mouth teased the skin at my throat, and my heart pounded with anticipation. I completely trusted him. I wholly wanted him.

In my bedroom, Eli stopped and kept me tight against him; we simply melded together. I’d forgotten to power down the iPod station in the shop, and music from below rose up and drifted through the ventilation, and darkness had now claimed the shadows. Only shades and planes of half-light played against our features, obscuring full detail, leaving everything else up to other senses: touch, taste, scent. I lost myself in Eli; to me, he wasn’t an immortal; he wasn’t a vampire. He was . . . necessary.

“Eli,” I said, unaware I’d even spoken his name out loud. I relaxed against him while his hands explored me; with tortured slowness he pulled the laces loose at the bust of my dress, my breasts spilling out and Eli’s palms covering them. My flesh turned warm, then hot, and his hands trailed down my sides to my hips, where he tugged my dress up higher, caressing my thighs and pulling my ass against his swollen crotch. He groaned in my ear; I nearly came at the sound of it. When his hand moved to my inner thigh, and over a little more, I shifted my hips; his fingers slipped first into the small triangle of silk, then eased slowly into my wetness. My head fell back against his chest and my body began to seize, but he moved his hand and stopped the orgasm. I almost touched myself, I was so frantic with desire and need. He stilled my hands, held them tightly.

“Don’t,” he said against my ear. “Not yet.”

I willed myself to stop throbbing, and it almost didn’t work. But Eli lifted me up in one swift move and laid me across the bed. He grabbed three pillows and stacked them behind me, pushed my dress up over my hips, and pulled my panties off slowly. Every nerve ending in my body hummed with pleasure; his strong hands slid up my thighs and pushed them apart, and as his head lowered and he tasted me with his tongue, I exploded, sparks went off behind my eyes, and I pushed my hands through his hair and held on. His fingers gripped my hips and tasted deeper, and my body seized with ecstasy. Before my orgasm was completed, he moved away, and I needed no cue. I was dying to have him inside me, and I followed him off the bed.

This time, my need was too powerful to rein in — he’d done it; he’d caused it. I couldn’t help it. We traded places. I pushed him backward onto the bed; I peeled out of my dress and boots and knelt between his legs as I deftly unfastened each button on his fly. I felt savage, feral, and nothing and no one could satisfy me except Eli. With a fierceness that surprised even him, I pulled off his jeans, only to find him bare beneath. I looked at him then, and his eyes were nothing but glassy black orbs in the darkness. I kept my gaze on his as I slid my hand over his hardness, rock hard and smooth at once; I drew him into my mouth; he jerked, groaned, and it made me wet all over again. I couldn’t take much more. I moved back, eased first one thigh over his, then the other; I straddled him and took him in completely. The sensation of Eli filling me took my breath, and I gasped first, and then he grasped me and turned me onto my back, and followed me down. He stared at me, threaded his fingers through mine, and lifted my arms over my head.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice thick, raspy.

“Yes,” I answered in a hoarse whisper. “I do.”

In the most sensual move I’d ever experienced in my life, Eli wrapped his arms completely around my back and held me as he began to move. Every inch of our bodies melded together, and he moved faster, we moved together, and the orgasm I’d been denied twice exploded fully and my body jerked with uncontrolled spasms as I clutched desperately to Eli. His body moved with mine, and I felt his shudders as if they were my own. He slowed; he stopped; he didn’t move off of me, his arms wound tightly around my body. He lay very, very still.

Too still.

Oh, hell.

I grew as still as Eli; I barely breathed. After nearly two minutes — that’s a long, long time — I drew a slight breath. “Eli?” I asked, barely a whisper.

He didn’t answer.

Oh, shit.

Then, slowly, he lifted his head. I breathed a sigh of relief as a pair of nonopaque eyes stared down at me. A slight grin tilted the corner of his very sexy mouth. “You are amazing.” He kissed me. “Mine.”

I punched him, and he laughed and buried his head in my shoulder. Then, while we were still completely wrapped around each other, Eli Dupré lowered his head and kissed me, gently, softly, taking a very long time to explore every inch of my mouth that may have been overlooked during our passion. Then he lifted a finger to my angel wing and touched it softly, following the etching as it fanned out to my temple. “You’re such a variance, Riley Poe,” he said. “A sign of dark purity inked onto your face” — he stroked it again — “and disturbingly caring inside.” He placed his hand over my heart. Incredible vaguely described lovemaking with Eli Dupré. I knew then I was spoiled for eternity.

“For the record,” he said, catching my bottom lip between his teeth. “My pecker doesn’t lead me around.”

I laughed, and he quickly hushed me with his lips, his tongue, and then he eased to the side of me, pulled me close, and wrapped an arm over my stomach. He rested his chin on top of my head. “Go to sleep,” he said. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Content, for a while, anyway, I closed my eyes and drifted off.

For the first time I felt cherished, and worthy of a morning after.

How a dream could plague me after sex with Eli, I have no idea, but I found myself in a horse-drawn carriage, my eyes turned to the window, where I peered outside into a dense forest of massive trees, gray foliage, and rock. Everything looked gray, bleak. The horses’ hooves pounded the terrain at a gallop, and the carriage veered precariously close to the edge of a cliff before changing direction and plunging into the shadows, deeper into the wood. The horses slowed to a trot, and I eased back against the cushions and closed my eyes. I don’t know how long I kept them shut, but when I opened them again, he sat across from me. Dressed in black breeches, tall black boots, and a blood burgundy velvet coat, with white ruffles at the neck and cuffs, he watched me, studied me with intensity as though trying to figure me out. The auburn-haired woman sat beside him, her face hidden, pressed against his chest, her hand possessively resting on his thigh; sleeping, I supposed. It was difficult to determine, as she was very, very still. His gaze wandered seductively over me, shameless and bold, and then with his eyes still fastened to mine — as I was powerless to look away — he leaned his head down and whispered to the woman, yet I heard it clearly in my own head. “Unlace my breeches.” Only her hand moved, and she skillfully loosened the laces as though she’d done it many times before. I didn’t want to watch; I couldn’t pull my gaze away. “Touch me,” he whispered again, and once more I heard the words in my head as though he’d spoken them to me. The woman slid her hand slowly into his breeches and stroked him; I could feel his hardness in my own palm, and I sat, entranced. He was enjoying me watching, and I wanted to look away so badly, but I hadn’t the will. “Ride me.” The woman kept her back turned as she lifted her skirts and straddled him. He watched me over her shoulder as she rode him, and I jerked at the heavy sensation of him between my legs. I didn’t want to come; I couldn’t help but seize with orgasm. His beautiful face tensed with pleasure at my weakness, and then he pulled the woman’s blouse down, baring her back. As I stared in horror once again at the familiar tattoo winding up her spine and over her arm, she glanced over her shoulder and stared. Her face was pale — too pale — and her lips were bloodred, her eyes opaque. She was me. It was then that I noticed the movement outside of the carriage; winged creatures with unhinged jaws and jagged teeth flew by, their faces distorted into those of horrific creatures. They looked in at me. They were hungry, and they wanted my special blood — I knew it. Yet when I turned back to him, he smiled, two long fangs dropped from his top jaw, and with a gentle touch he pushed the woman’s head to the side, sank his teeth into her, and drank. I felt the pain in my own neck, felt the life draining fast out of me. The winged creatures began beating on the side of the carriage, screeching, clawing to get at me. I screamed. . . .

“Riley!”

I bolted up, my heart out of control, gasping for air. My body ached, as though I’d run a triathlon, and I fell back to the pillows just as quickly. I tried to catch my breath, but I was hyperventilating. Then I saw Eli, bent over me, concern etched into his perfect features.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and placed a hand over my heart. “Take it easy, Riley. Breathe.” He kept his hand on me, and for some reason, it helped.

“The dreams,” I said, my breathing slowing. “They’re so freaky. I don’t like them.”

“What dreams?” he asked, and part of his face was illuminated by the light coming through the French doors. I glanced at them — they were closed.

I shook my head and put a palm over my eyes. “I’ve had, like, four of them,” I said, thinking I’d lost count. “They’re hideous, and nasty erotic.”

Eli’s voice grew steely. “Tell me.”

“They’re humiliating,” I said, and was surprised by my own reaction. “Don’t take offense — I don’t have any control over dreams, and in the dream I am not a willing participant,” I started. “I try my best to escape. But they’re weird — always the same guy, very hot, and he . . . talks dirty to other women, gets them to touch him.” I glanced at him. “You know? And . . . he watches me get turned on by it.”

Eli stared incredulously at me. “What else?”

I sighed. “Something horrific always happens at the end. Death. Vampiric death. And the woman he talks dirty to? When she turns around and looks at me, it’s me. She has my tattoos and everything.”

Shoving his hands through his hair, Eli sat up and propped his elbows against his knees. “Describe him.” His voice was edgy.

“I . . . don’t know,” I said, and realized suddenly I didn’t know much about him at all. “He’s just . . . gorgeous. Beautiful, actually. Long dark hair. Dark eyes.” I looked at Eli. “That’s all I can remember.”

Eli slowly rose from the bed and walked; the light from outside cast sharp shadows across his naked, perfect body, throwing dark planes against the ridged muscles of his abdomen, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen a more beautiful man in my life. Way more beautiful than the guy in my funky porn dreams.

“Thank you,” Eli said, casting me a slight grin. He continued to pace. “This is not good, Riley.” He sat on the side of the bed and tucked my hair behind my ear. “We need to tell my father.”

I slapped my own forehead. “Oh my God, Eli. Are you kidding me? First Gilles learns we have nasty sex — did you know he dug in your brain to find that juicy morsel? And now you’re going to tell him I have porn dreams?”

“Yes.”

I sat up and stared at him. “Why?”

Eli’s gaze darkened with concern. “Because. It sounds like one of the Arcoses.”

My stomach twisted at the thought. “How is he invading my dreams?” I rubbed my eyes. “They’re so . . . realistic.”

Eli turned his head and looked at me for a long time. “He’s been here. Because he’s a direct bloodline of the strigoi. They have the power to invade the dreams of mortals.” He shook his head. “He must be very taken with you.”

“Why?” I asked, and already my insides ran cold.

Eli dragged a knuckle over a loose strand of hair and brushed it out of my face. “He could have just as easily killed you, or taken you. Although in his weakened state he more than likely can do nothing more than cast dreams.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “It must be Victorian. His brother is much too vicious to waste time with dreams. He would have taken pleasure with you, or not; then he would have killed you.”

“But his strength has grown, right?” I asked, and Eli laced his fingers through mine. “Why is he still making me dream? And how can he do it with you sitting right beside me? How does he even know who I am?”

Eli’s gaze searched my face. “I don’t know. But he’s taken with you. And the strigoi are powerful beings, Riley.” He pulled me to his chest and settled against the pillows. “Do you dream more than once at night?”

“Not so far,” I replied, draping my arm over his stomach. “And taken isn’t quite the term. More like obsessed.”

“You’re right. Now, go back to sleep. I’ll be right here.”

I was quiet for a while, my thoughts rambling, and finally, slumber took me again, and Victorian blessedly left me alone.

When next I woke, bright morning sunlight streamed through the French doors. I was on my stomach, and the gentle, erotic touch of Eli’s fingers dragging across my spine, tracing every intricate detail of the inked dragon, aroused me. We explored each other, touching, kissing; while we began against the softness of the down topper on my bed, we ended up on the hardwood floor, and we finished in the shower. Eli washed my long hair, and I washed his crazy-sexy black hair. I gave him a soapy Mohawk, and we laughed. I can’t remember ever having a man wash me with such . . . enthusiasm before. And I’m pretty positive I haven’t had a man stick around long enough to have a laugh with me the next morning. Eli was an anomaly, one I feared my heart was laid wide-open for.

I finished first, and Eli wanted to enjoy the hot water a little longer. So I pulled on a pair of hipster shorts, a cami, and flip-flops, and ran down to the shop to turn off the iPod home system and gather a few things I’d be taking to the Dupré House. I was flipping through the supply books when a knock at the back door made me jump. Not so much to my surprise, Detective Claude Murray in all his too-tight-suit glory stood there, a smirk on his face.

“Mind if I take a look around?” he asked. “You’ve nothing to hide, right?”

I threw the door open and cast a hand out. “Be my guest. Shop’s this way.” I started for the front, and I felt Claude’s eyes on my ass the whole time. I heard the door shut with a click, and Claude’s stressed-out loafers crossed the floor behind me. I continued with what I’d been doing, and the detective slowly perused Inksomnia.

“I always knew you were a little freak, Ms. Poe,” he said, glancing through the art books. He looked up and smiled. “Now that you’re all grown-up, I bet you’re even freakier, huh?” He moved to the desk and computer. “No appointment book?”

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, gramps,” I said. “Everything’s on the computer.” I didn’t like him in my shop, and I didn’t like him touching my belongings. I wanted him gone.

“Do you mind?” he said, inclining his balding head toward the screen. “Just pull up the files for last Friday.”

This forced me to move closer to him, and I swallowed my rage and did so. I logged on, pulled up the client appointment file — although I had no idea what he thought he could find there — and turned the screen toward him. “Enjoy.”

In the next second, Claude moved behind me and brushed against my ass. I jumped, and he laughed. “You remember back when your punk ass was in my jail on a weekly basis? All strung out and high as a kite?” I froze, and he leaned closer. “You’d fuck anything for a fix back then.” He dropped a small, cellophane-wrapped object the size of a roll of dimes on my desk, and his hand moved to my ass. “How ’bout now?” he said, his voice thick, his breath thicker. “For old times’ sake?”

I reacted; I knew it’d get my ass landed in jail, but I didn’t care. Elbowed him in the gut; when he fell back, I laced my fingers together into a tight fist and swung up, catching Claude right smack in the nose. He stumbled back, wiped the blood trickling down his face. He wasn’t shocked or surprised; it seemed to have turned him on even more. “Rough little bitch, aren’t ya?” he said, grinning. “That’ll cost ya.”

But he surprised me; in a move I didn’t expect, he popped me right in the mouth. I felt my lip split again, and in the next breath I kneed him in the balls. Claude didn’t have time to react after that; he didn’t even have time to fall to his knees.

Eli emerged — was suddenly there, enraged, and I watched in horror as he grabbed the detective by the throat and lifted him off the ground.Eli’s face contorted — his jaw unhinged and jagged fangs dropped long; his eyes grew opaque — and urine ran down Claude Murray’s leg and onto the floor. Eli pulled his face close to the detective’s. “Leave. Her. Alone,” Eli growled, his voice not his own, dark, menacing. Claude gasped, choked, and right before my eyes I watched the color drain completely from his face. His body jerked, twitched, and then grew still. Very, very still. Lifeless eyes stared at me, and my insides froze. Eli dropped him onto the floor. The detective had just died of fright.

I stood there, shaking, as did Eli. His face returned to normal; his fangs slipped back inside. His eyes remained opaque as his fury slowly subsided. I said nothing, simply stared at the body of an SPD detective lying dead on my floor.

“Call my brothers,” he said, his voice edgy, and turned his back to me. “Call Preacher.” He grabbed the dope and shoved it into his pocket.

I did as he asked, although my mind was buzzing. I called Preacher first, then Phin. Preacher showed up first.

My surrogate grandfather walked in through the back and came straight to me. “You tell me what happened, girl,” he said, and reached out with a thumb and wiped the blood off my lip. I told him about the Panic Room, about Kelter, and about me being questioned yesterday.

“The detective showed up while Eli was showering. He . . . wanted to check the place out.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Then, I don’t know — he started talking dirty to me, then put his hands on me.” I looked at Preacher, and it was only then that I noticed that the other three Dupré men, Gilles included, had walked in. I glanced at them and continued. “I reacted — I elbowed him, and then I punched him.” I looked at Eli, whose eyes were almost back to normal, but he was still silent, furious. “Eli didn’t kill him,” I said fervently. “He didn’t. I think . . . he had a heart attack after seeing Eli change.”

Preacher began speaking in French to Gilles; I of course didn’t know what they spoke of.

“Preacher’s telling my father what Murray did to you as a child,” Phin offered, and I gave him a nod of thanks.

I glanced at Gilles, and he looked at me. “Worry not, chère; all will be well. You will soon learn that a creature of the afterlight cherishes beyond mortal imagination what is his, and will protect fiercely if challenged.” He glanced at Eli, down at the detective, and back to me. “We no longer routinely kill; in this case, it could not be helped.” Gilles and Preacher stepped off together and continued to speak in French. Eli grasped me by the elbow.

“Go upstairs, Riley,” he said. “Josie and my mother are on their way.” He glanced behind him, at the detective. “We have to take care of things now.” He brushed a knuckle against my cheek. “I couldn’t help it.”

I covered his hand with mine. “Yeah, I know.” Our gazes lingered for a moment, and I’d never felt the full weight of a man’s stare before like I did with Eli. “Tell me this is going to be okay,” I asked. I wanted him to say it badly.

“It will,” he said. “I promise.”

I left then, without a backward glance. I didn’t want to see any more than I already had. I didn’t want to think of how they’d get rid of the detective’s body, his car, or any trace of him being and dying in Inksomnia. I had to trust Eli, and I found myself surprised once again — I truly did trust him. It wasn’t until I was upstairs, and Josie, Elise, and Estelle were sitting in my kitchen, that I felt how my energy had drained. I sat at the table, Estelle made me a pot of tea, and two vampires, a Gullah root doctor’s wife, and I kept one another company. It was so weird I almost laughed out loud. And if I thought that was weird, later on, when we all drove to Wal-Mart to pick up a few necessities for my stay at the Duprés’? Now, that was funky. As we stepped inside the double automatic doors, a woman in her midthirties or early forties standing at the bulletin boards caught my eye. Her despondent expression as she thumbtacked a picture to the corkboard made me ache inside. I watched her for several moments as she stared at the photo, and my eyes followed hers to the picture — a young guy Seth’s age, wearing an Atlanta Braves baseball cap and smiling like there was nothing better in life. She stroked his face and walked away, and I continued to stare at that wall. In three of the pictures I recognized Seth’s friends. There were many more hanging there.

“It’ll be over soon, chère,” Elise said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll get the boys to safety and fix this. My husband, Eli and his brothers, your dark fellows, they never fail.”

“Dat’s right, baby,” Estelle said, and she linked her dark arm through my snowy white one. “Dem boys are tough as nails. Dey won’t give up. Neither will your Preacher man, dat’s right.”

Josie watched me curiously; she amazed me by how much of her environment she soaked in by merely listening to others. Even she gave me a smile. “No worries.”

Later that day, as I was packing up in the apartment, the news came on announcing the death of one of Savannah’s finest, Detective Claude Murray; he’d succumbed to a long-standing cardiac problem. His funeral would be in two days. I didn’t ask how, or why. I simply felt relief — and a little guilt. I’d hated that freaky guy, and inside, I wasn’t sad he’d croaked pissing his pants over the sight of Eli’s transformation. Not one bit sad.

Over the next several days, the Duprés put me under the most strenuous workouts I’ve ever experienced. During the day, I remained in the donjon on the top floor, and everyone got a poke at me; every family member had something unique to offer. Josie taught me the latest in acrobatics; I could now run toward a wall, run up it a ways, and flip completely over. My body felt strong, vibrant, alive. I felt like those guys in The Matrix Reloaded . Call me Neo. I am the One. Rather, I was, until Luc laid me flat on my ass. You know, there are those fight-club guys who kick and punch and just go nuts when they fight; then there are those like Luc who can almost remain perfectly still and catch you completely off guard while knocking you senseless. He showed me a few moves, and I began practicing. He let me win a couple of times.

Phin was a fantastic dodger and roller. Of course, moving like lightning helped, but seriously — he was a fine, fine free runner in his own right. When we weren’t in the donjon, we were outside, working every plane and flat surface of the Dupré House, its outbuildings, its wall. I already had natural abilities and athleticism, but perfecting the moves of a free runner was going to take a little time. Still — when I made it to the roof for the first time, I squealed like a cheerleader.

Elise was an expert markswoman when it came to throwing a blade; she’d been taught by the best: her husband. Thank God they didn’t participate in the practices where I used a moving target. No way could I have thrown a blade at that sweet little woman — no matter that she could rip a throat out in the blink of an eye.

Of course, in my opinion, Eli was the master of all. Yes, all. On and off the donjon mat, I might add. He was wicked fast, could free run like a mofo, and rivaled his mother with blade accuracy. I supposed when you live for as long as they have, you tend to just get good at stuff. I didn’t have a century’s worth of training, but I had a heart full of determination. I knew this was the only way for me to be able to help my brother. No way would Eli let me get near the boys, so close to the completion of their quickening, without a little more training. I worked hard, all day, every day. It wasn’t until the fourth day of training that I began to feel weary. Extraordinarily weary, like I was coming down with the flu or something. My body ached — and it was more than just soreness from the workouts, or the sex marathons with Eli. I didn’t want to seem like a wiener, so I kept it to myself. I hated a complainer anyway.

The interior of the Dupré House was enormous; you could literally go days inside without running into anyone, if that was what you wanted. As vampires, they pinched about two hours of sleep during the middle of the day; the rest of the time they were awake, out and about, mingling with Savannah’s society. Elise loved antique shops. Gilles loved to go to the shooting range and had a massive gun collection. It was all very eye-opening.

I stayed with Eli; there was no question about that from the get-go. The moment I’d arrived, he’d carried my bags and led me straight to the west wing of the third floor, to a massive chamber. Inside were a large fireplace, a king-sized bed with intricately carved posts and headboards, and a gauzy white bed curtain. It was . . . perfect. Gilles and Elise were on the first floor; the others had rooms on the second floor. Philippe the butler had a room in the back of the first floor, and stayed with the Duprés twenty-four seven. He was a cool enough guy, and I always caught him checking out my inks. Pretty damn funny if you asked me. I bet he wanted one himself.

So while my days were filled with boot-camp, Parris Island-type, bad-vampire-slaying training, my nights were filled with edging the darkest, seediest places in the historic district, and tracking the boys. The Arcoses moved to a different place each night, making it more difficult to keep an eye on them. They were chronic, though — dark places where kids looking for trouble would certainly find some. They offered drugs, alcohol, even women. Horrified, I’d witnessed two prostitutes being killed; we’d prevented several others from becoming prey. I knew where the darkest of souls hung out after dark; I used to be one of them. After Kelter Phillips’ death, the Panic Room had closed its doors. Now the Morgue and the Asylum both were filled to the gills. Rarely did Eli let me out of his reach when inside, either. He knew I could fight; he’d watched me kick Luc’s ass plenty of times, although Luc had toned his skills down to match my mortal ones. Still, Eli was severely protective over me and my body. One groping hand to the ass and he’d scatter the crowd just to find out which one did it. Honestly. I’d dealt with scumbags so often in my past that they didn’t offend me. These guys were pathetic, and it didn’t take much for me to jerk an arm behind some pig’s back, or twist a set of nuts until the jerk squealed like a girl. Eli didn’t like others touching me; he secretly loved how much of a badass I was. I knew it.

It was my third night in the Dupré House, and Eli had left me soaking in a bath to go speak to his father. “I won’t be long,” he said, his eyes caressing me, making me shudder. “Wait for me.”

I grinned. “I’m not going anywhere.” I wasn’t usually a bubble-bath type girl, but damn. This wasn’t an ordinary tub. It was a copper tub, and it was freaking huge.

Who could pass that up? So I closed my eyes and rested my head against the air pillow, and honestly, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I did.

I’d hoped being in another vampire’s lair would keep the dreams away; I was so totally wrong. What was worse was that, after the incident with the detective, we’d sort of forgotten about telling Gilles. Rather, Eli forgot — which surprised me. I didn’t forget. I just wanted to be spared the humiliation. I supposed Eli let it go once we settled in together, and the dreams seemingly stopped. They were now back.

I was running through a dark, dense wood. Everything around me was gray, desolate, colorless, yet the forest was alive. I ran, frightened, barefoot, my long black hair hanging free down my back, and a thin, gauzy white slip with thin satin straps clung to my pale body. A light rain began to fall, and soon the slip was completely drenched and see-through, and still I ran, though I didn’t know whether I was running to something or from something. I was afraid. As I passed trees, I noticed him. He wore black breeches tucked into tall black boots, and a white gauzy shirt with billowy sleeves and laces at the neck. His pale, flawless skin was in stark contrast to the darkness of his hair, and dark brown eyes followed me as I ran. When I thought I’d left him behind, he emerged from another tree, then another, without seeming to move at all. This time, he was alone. No other woman. Just him, me, and the forest.

No, I sensed another — another man. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there, lurking. I continued to run until I tripped over a root hidden by fallen dead leaves. He was suddenly there, pulling me up, and I gasped at his beauty. That was when I heard the shrieks overhead, above the canopy of the forest. I knew the winged, fanged creatures were back, and they wanted me. I also knew him now: Victorian. I didn’t want him to know I knew. “If you want your brother freed, you must come to me,” he said, and his eyes turned opaque. “I want you for my own. All those things I’ve showed you are my dreams. Come to me, Riley Poe, but don’t tell the others. Come alone, and I will set your brother free of his curse. Your life for his.” He stroked my breast through the sheer wet material, and I shivered. “You will not regret it.” Upon my chest he laid the bud of an unopened, bloodred rose. . . .

My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself still alone in the massive bathroom. The water had turned tepid; the bubbles had dissipated. A breeze drifted in through the open floor-length window, and when I glanced at the water, my heart seized. Floating beside me was the unopened bud of a bloodred rose. Victorian’s words rang in my ears. Your life for his. I shivered, grabbed the bud, and stepped out of the tub. How had he been here without the others detecting him? Creepy. Sincerely creepy. Why was he so obsessed with me?

It would be a last resort. I’d try the Duprés’ way first. I wanted to actually be around after my brother recovered. But in the end, if it came down to it? Yeah, hell yeah, I’d trade my life for Seth’s. I tried with all my might to envision the Arcoses from the warehouse. It’d been far enough away for me not to have seen their faces in detail — not until they’d transformed, anyway. But I had a difficult time believing that the beautiful guy in my dream — Victorian — was one of the guys at the warehouse. They were — what had Gilles said? Twenty-one and twenty-two? I was having porn dreams about a twenty-one-year-old? Oh, Father.

Like I was saying: Every day was spent training. Though I certainly wished that I’d never have to actually use any of my new skills, I worked hard and hoped that if it came down to a fight, my training would pay off. At night we’d run the streets, stalk the clubs and the alleys outside of clubs, and search abandoned buildings. We’d not been able to find the Arcoses since that night at the warehouse, and time was running out. Soon they’d be fully restored, and Seth’s quickening would be over. He’d kill. He’d become a killer.

Once we’d finished running the streets, we’d go to the Duprés’, and Eli and I would head to our little slice of heaven on earth. He was the only thing that could relieve my mind of the problems at hand, the only soul who could comfort me. There wasn’t a word to describe sex with Eli; I’d tried several out, and all fell short. The man literally made me lose my mind. His look alone turned me on. His hands and mouth made me beg for release. It wasn’t merely sex. It was . . . something I couldn’t define. Something I never wanted to see end. Something I sadly felt would.

When the dreams stopped being dreams and started happening while I was wide-awake — that was when I knew the shit was about to hit the fan. I don’t know how he did it, but somehow Victorian placed thoughts into my head — images, visions, requests. At first, I’d turn around to see who’d spoken to me. I’d find myself completely alone. The words were always seductive: Come with me. I want you. I need you. Let me touch you. Feel me inside of you. Kiss me. Take me. Love me forever.

The words rattled me; I didn’t know what to expect, or whether he could hear me if I responded. I never did; I just kept them to myself.

The day Preacher showed up at the House of Dupré with a dozen Gullah, I knew our time was running short. I made a solemn vow to learn French once this was over. Whenever Preacher and Gilles got together, it was all they spoke.

“The quickening is almost here,” Josie said beside me, listening to them. We were just getting ready to head out for the night when they’d shown up. “Preacher says the Arcoses are nearly fully rejuvenated.” She looked at me. “He’s making sure we protect you.”

I had on my leather pants and boots and a snug black Lycra tank, and beneath the black leather jacket I’d stashed multiple silver blades in the various pockets and holsters. Yes, all that leather in the dead of August. I was as hot as hell, but it was good protection. Eli had loaded me up, and when the hole didn’t quite fit the blade, he made it fit. I had two stuffed into each boot. I just prayed I didn’t impale myself. It was just past sundown when we left.

We made our way on the bikes up Whitaker, stopping by several places with no luck. Not one sign of Riggs, Seth, or the Arcoses. We checked the docks; nothing. We even checked the warehouses at the west end of River Street. Nothing. We ran nearly all night — even once Eli checked in with Ned Gillespie, who claimed zero vampiric activity from the Tybee area. It was almost dawn when we got back to the house, and not once had we spotted a single hoodie. My stomach burned at the thought of the quickening coming to fruition. I wasn’t going to let it happen. And that was why I came up with a plan.

I’d lost my mind. Again. But for my brother I’d do anything.

We walked into the small kitchen area — Gilles and Elise each had a large glass of “V8,” and I sat down and looked both of them in the eye. “I want to stop using the herbs so that my blood will lure Victorian and Valerian out of hiding.”

“No,” Eli said immediately, and not to me. “No way, Papa.”

I ignored Eli’s pleas and searched Gilles’ light blue gaze. “Please. You know it would work. And we have no more time.” I grasped his hands with mine and begged. “I want my brother back. Please.”

“I forbid it,” Eli said angrily. “Riley, hell no.”

Gilles’ stare didn’t waver; he looked nowhere else for approval. “You are a reckless warrior, ma chère,” he said, and his gaze bored deeply into mine. “Do you fully understand what it would mean for you to cease drinking your special herbs?”

“Yes,” I said.

Eli grabbed me and yanked me out of the chair. “No, Riley, you don’t understand!” he said, infuriated. “Have you ever witnessed a pack of dogs penned up without food or water for two weeks? Do you know what they do to anything remotely edible?” He pulled his face close to mine. “That’s what the Arcoses would do to you, as well as Seth and the other newlings.” He shook me. “Get it?”

“Son, let her go,” Gilles said. “He is right, though, my dear. It is risky. We” — he motioned with his hands to his family — “would certainly have to be extra-dosed by Preacher.”

“Papa, you’re not seriously considering it?” Eli said.

“It’s her decision, not yours.”

I didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes. It’s what I want to do.” I looked at Eli. “I’ll be okay. I want this over with, Eli. I want my brother back safely.”

Eli stared at me in disbelief, then gave a cynical laugh. “Oh my God, Riley.” He walked off, hands around the back of his neck. “Fuck.”

“Don’t let his temper worry you, chère,” Elise said. “He’s very protective over you, as you can see.”

“Besides,” said Gilles. “With the herbs out of your system for just one day, your blood won’t reveal full potency. Maybe, though, just enough.”

“That’s a relief,” I said, and gave him a sincere look. “Thank you.”

My internal clock had returned to my teenage schedule: out all night, sleep all day. Only, Eli was pissed, and he wasn’t about to let me sleep all day. By noon he woke me up, angry, desperate to change my mind. He tried everything — including sex. No, as potent as that was, my mind wouldn’t be changed. He stormed off even more pissed than he had been before. We worked out in the donjon. He kicked my ass.

Preacher came by with a supply for the Duprés — the third one that day. Talk about getting tanked. Phin held his washboard stomach as he downed another glass. “I’m too full.”

I found that weird and hilarious at the same time. “Wow. Getting sloshed with unknown herbs just to keep from sucking my blood out. Nice.”

He grinned. Luc grinned. Josie grinned.

Eli remained unapproachable.

By nightfall, we were ready.

“Only one thing to do, ma chère,” Gilles said. “You must wait to do it. Too early and you’ll cause a frenzy that even my children, I and Elise, and your dark brethren may not be able to control.”

“Okay,” I said. “What’s that?”

He pulled a blade from my belt. “You must cut yourself and expose your blood. In its watered-down state it may not have the potency it usually does.”

“Great,” I said, and nodded. “Okay.”

“Wait for Eli’s word,” he warned. “Understand?”

I nodded. “Don’t worry.” Loaded with silver and a body full of tempting O positive, I headed out with Eli. He was tense; anger boiled just below the surface, and it showed.

“You do exactly as I say to do, Riley,” he said, turning and glaring at me on the bike. “Swear to God, you’d better.”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “I promise I’ll wait for you.”

We hit the Morgue and Asylum and came up empty before finding a place called Decay 11 — a punk joint in an abandoned garage off of East Broad. It was new to me — not around in my teen years — and I had to make a few calls to get directions. We found it in a plain metal building that had once housed an automotive oil and repair shop; the smell of stale motor oil still filled the air. Once inside, we noticed nothing unusual — not at first. I’d sidled up to the bar and overheard a guy on a cell phone talking about a party at Bonaventure — a party not for chickenshits, according to him.

“Sounds like a bitchin’ party,” he said, glancing at me and grinning. “Yeah, they’ve already headed out there. I’m right behind you, dude. This place blows tonight.” He closed his cell, pocketed it, and eased closer to me. “Hey, babe. Wanna go to a party with?”

Not a bad-looking guy, with short-clipped brown hair and his eyes a nice shade of blue. I shook my head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m with someone.”

He grazed a thumb over my jaw. “Too bad. Bonaventure if you change your mind.” He grinned and left. I watched him move through the crowd until he drew close to the door. I figured it was worth checking out, especially since we were running out of time. There was only one way into Bonaventure Cemetery after hours, and that was to sneak in. Over the black wrought-iron fence. I was glad this time I had on pants. No moonshine tonight.

Just as I was about to call Eli, he appeared. He moved his hand to my back and leaned close. “I heard. Let’s go.” He looked at me. “For the record, that guy almost lost a finger.”

I didn’t doubt it a bit. Outside, Phin and Luc met up with us — Gilles, Elise, and Josie would meet us at Bonaventure — and we headed down the sidewalk, climbed on the bikes, and headed toward the Wilmington River. We parked the bikes along Thirty-sixth Street, just before it turned into Bonaventure Road, and walked the rest of the way to the cemetery. The full moon, a large white lunar sphere, cast a hazy glow over the cemetery. At least it wouldn’t be dead pitch-dark. Before we even reached the front gates, laughter rose from the river. “They’re in the back near the river,” I whispered, leaning against Eli. “Da hell stone is back there.” I looked up at him. “Why would they do that?”

“No reason,” Eli said, grasping my arm. “Maybe it’s victory to them. Some weird little coup. Who knows?” He glanced at me, his face stern. “I don’t like how this feels, and I damn sure don’t want you here.”

“There’s over a dozen of them,” I reminded him, “and only six of you, plus me.”

“We only need to kill two — the Arcoses,” Phin said. “Besides, Preacher’s boys are pulling in right now.”

I looked, and sure enough, Preacher’s van parked directly behind the bikes. Eight big guys ducked out of the vehicle and started moving our way. “Well. Great,” I said. “My Gullah grandfather is bringing a bag of dust to a vampire war. I feel better.”

“He’s stronger than you think,” Eli said. “Trust me. He can handle himself better than you think.”

“I hope you’re right,” I answered. It still worried me. Preacher was too old to be here.

Eli grabbed me and turned me to him. “This could get . . . ugly, Riley. Really bad,” Eli said. “Don’t forget your promise to me.”

“I know,” I answered. “I won’t forget. I’m ready.”

Eli’s stare bored into mine. “I can smell your nervousness.”

“But can you smell my special blood?” I asked, and hell yeah, I was nervous. I was like a cartoon steak with legs running around a pack of mouthwateringly hungry dogs.

“No,” he said quietly. “I can’t.”

The Duprés’ Mercedes parked, and Gilles, Elise, and Josie got out and walked to meet us. “’Tis time,” Gilles said, as though he’d heard the entire conversation. He and Elise slipped away into the darkness. I’d almost have to see it to believe it — Gilles and Elise in a vamp brawl. Josie must have read my thoughts because she gave me a wicked grin.

I guess the partiers had jumped the fence to Bonaventure, just as I had that night not too long ago. But I was in the company of young, free-running vampires, and they leapt and scaled the gates so fast it made my head spin. I followed — just a bit slower, with Eli right behind me. I was actually proud of my new skills — even though they were much slower than the Duprés’. Once inside, we crept along the iron fence toward the back, following the laughter coming from the river.

“It’s going to be a bloodbath,” Luc said, glancing around. “I can feel it.”

“We’re experienced, not like those newlings,” Josie said. “We’re ready for them.”

As we walked among the graves, a half-moon filtered through the canopy of live oaks and dogwoods and caused long shadows to fall from the ancient headstones and marble statues of Bonaventure. A slight breeze grazed my cheek, and I noticed the moss swaying, could hear the sawgrass rustling at the river’s edge, the water lapping the shore. Still no cicadas, or crickets, not even frogs. My skin felt icy, my insides cold. Like Luc, I had a bad, bad feeling. Eli must have read my thoughts, as his fingers found the small of my back.

We moved silently, and as I passed a white marble statue of a young girl, her arms outstretched, and the saddest expression on her face, I shivered. The way the shadows fell across her and added a menacing expression to her sadness? It seemed dark, terrifying, and . . . just not right. I’d never been afraid of the cemetery, but tonight, I was leery. On edge. Cautious. Adrenaline ripped through me, penned up, anxious to be released.

You belong with me.

I twisted my head left and right, looking for the speaker of the words until I realized it had come from inside my head. It was him. Victorian. I’d now recognize his voice anywhere.

Yes, it’s me. A bloodbath can be prevented if you come to me.

I looked at Eli; he had no clue what was happening. Neither did Luc, Phin, or Josie.

Only you can hear my voice. Not the Duprés, nor your Gullah magic men. Just you, love. Your brother will die tonight unless you end it now. Come with me. I crave you, Riley. I crave your body. I know by your reactions you crave me as well. I have to have you. I vow you will never regret it.

I searched all around me; I saw nothing but the faint flicker of firelight near the river, menacing headstones, shadowy trees. My heart pounded fiercely, and Eli turned to stare at me.

“I can hear your heart racing,” he said, grazing my cheek. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, and after he stared at me for several seconds, we continued. The sultry, thick air tinged with brine hung like a mist over the gravestones; sticks crackled as they were tossed into the fire near the river; beer tabs popped, brew fizzed, laughter rose. We had to hurry.

You were meant to be mine, Riley Poe. You cannot resist me. I’ve watched you in the dreams and felt your tremors of ecstasy. I made you come more than once. Do you remember?

I didn’t answer him. I wanted to, but I didn’t.

It doesn’t matter. I can still hear your every thought. And while you make love to the one in front of you, you’ll forget him soon enough. You’ll know nothing but my touch, my tongue. Forever. I know you burn for me. I’ve watched you.

Just then, chaos erupted around us. From the trees and crypts at the river, the hoodie boys leapt and swung and descended upon the group partying by the fire. The smell of pot wafted on a breeze. My insides froze as no fewer than fifteen kids moved like lightning, and I knew that Seth was one of them. The guys at the fire swore; one threw a can of beer. The kids — newlings — advanced, slowly now. Toyed with them. And then it began.

A hooded kid swung from a low-lying oak branch and dropped into the circle of partiers. With strength that caught me off guard, he grabbed a guy and yanked him up, and in the flickering firelight, I watched fangs drop from his jaws; his young face contorted, and he sank them into the throat of the screaming partier.

Then the screams began.

“We’ve got to move now,” Eli said. He looked at me. “Wait for me.”

A melee broke out at the fire; as the group of partiers tried to flee, newlings leapt and chased, and behind them the Duprés closed in. Luc threw two newlings to the river, another far across the fire to a crypt. Josie fought a younger hoodie — I somehow imagined it to be my brother, although I couldn’t see his face. Phin rushed three hoodies at once, and behind him, I saw Eli. He moved fast, so fast my eyes couldn’t keep up. He fought like a madman and threw three hoodies like rapid-fire rockets. I saw some of Preacher’s kin step in; Gilles and Elise, as well. It was all so surreal, unbelievable; my legs turned rubbery. I couldn’t move. The screams heightened.

Come to me, Riley. You can end all of this right now. I’m here, to your right, across the stones. You can end the killing if you come to me. . . .

As if I had no control, I eased toward the right. I hoped and prayed that Eli would forgive me, but no way was I going to allow these young innocent kids to be slaughtered because of what they became against their will. No freaking way.

All at once, Eli, Luc, Phin, and Josie ran forward, into the mix of hoodies and pot smokers; Gilles and Elise joined them, and it was like watching a medieval battle scene. I wasn’t going to wait another second. Not for the Gullah, or for Eli. He didn’t realize that I no longer needed to cut myself to lure the Arcoses; I had one of them waiting for me. It didn’t seem like the Duprés were stopping the bloodbath. It was up to me. In one fluid motion, I eased a silver blade from my belt, grasped it. I continued to move toward Victorian’s voice.

That’s right. Come to me. I am here, waiting for you.

I ran then, where I didn’t know, but screams from the campfire rose into the night air and hung there, tormenting me. I glanced behind me and watched in horror as the newlings continued their rabid attack. Screams filled the night air, the sickening metallic scent of blood tainted the briny air, and bones snapped. God, I’d been too late. We’d all been too late. I stumbled through the darkness, up a long dirt path that led . . . somewhere. I didn’t know anymore. I just wanted to lure the newlings away from the mortals, and Victorian would be the one to help me. Victorian, and my blood I knew Eli and his family would follow.

Just then, a figure moved from behind a large oak. I stopped in my tracks; my breath shortened; my heart slammed hard against my ribs. I met his gaze as I grasped the blade and yanked hard. I hissed as pain shot through me. I had the most potent of blood sliding from my palm and landing on the dirt and gravestone I stood by. But my gaze became utterly transfixed on him. Victorian. I prayed the newlings would get a whiff of my blood and come after me.

“I knew you would come,” he said, and stepped into the moonlight. Like in the dreams, he was beautiful; he wore nineteenth-century clothing: dark breeches laced up the front, a billowy white shirt, and tall black boots, and his dark hair was pulled back in a loose queue. Moonlight spilled a hazed glow across the cemetery and cast shadows across his stunning face — flawless, pale, just like in the dream. I felt catatonic, awed. He smiled, and his face became even more exquisite. He seemed a lot older than twenty-one.

“Let us leave,” he said, and held out his hand.

“No,” I said, managing to find my voice. “You said you could stop this. My brother — the others?”

“Your Duprés have it under control. All will be well; I vow it. Now, let us move. If my brother — ”

“If your brother what?” a dark, menacing voice said from behind me. He was so close, his voice racked my insides.

I turned quickly and faced another almost equally beautiful young man. Modern clothes, though. Dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin, but different all the same. Harsher. Merciless. That I could tell immediately. Silently, I screamed for Eli. Thankfully, he heard.

“Riley!” Eli’s voice shouted from the river. I knew, even as fast as he was, he’d never make it to me in time.

Valerian’s gaze suddenly shifted, his eyes rolled back, and he inhaled the air. Immediately, he spied my bleeding hand. “Thinking to keep this pet for your own, Tory?” he asked his brother. Two sharp fangs dropped from Valerian’s jaw, and he moved toward me, his eyes turning opaque, boring into me. “He never did like to share.”

“No!” Victorian shouted, and lunged at his brother.

Too late, Valerian had my hand to his mouth, sucking with all his might. Victorian pushed him off, and Valerian flew against a headstone. Before I could blink, he was up and advancing toward me, eyes pure white, no pupils. I reached for the blade jammed into my belt, and by the time I had it palmed, Valerian had grabbed my wrist so hard I felt — heard — my bones snap, and I gasped. The blade dropped, and pain gripped me, causing stars to flicker behind my lids. I had no time to move or shift; he had complete power over me. With one arm, he held me, and his mouth dropped against my throat. The moment his fangs pierced my skin, I screamed. They sank deep into me; I felt every inch, and my body convulsed. He sucked hard for all of three seconds.

Suddenly, Valerian was off of me. Eli stood there, facing him, his transformation complete, terrifying. “Leave her,” he commanded, and moved forward.

Valerian laughed and transformed, but he was different. Very different. Winged and silver skinned, he looked . . . hideous, not even humanlike, and he lunged at Eli; Eli lunged at him, and they met, midair, and fought. Valerian threw Eli against a crypt; he was up and had Valerian by the throat in under a second.

“Come with me,” Victorian said at my side, his voice darker than before. His eyes had also turned and were now staring at the holes in my throat left by his brother. “Forgive me. I . . . cannot resist,” he said, and in the next second, sharp, long fangs dropped. Like his brother’s, they pierced my skin and sank deep into an artery; I was completely powerless and in so much agony, I was paralyzed. He held my body against his tightly, almost like a lover’s embrace, while he drank. One hand cupped my breast; the other held me intimately around the waist. His drinking of my blood was . . . different. His arms touched me lovingly, not brutally. I was dying just the same. I could feel it. I could feel Victorian’s urgency in the way he suckled me. My breathing became more shallow, my heart slowed even more, and I fought to keep my eyes open.

Just as fast, Victorian dropped me, and I was shoved — I knew it was hard, but I had no idea how hard until later. I just knew that I crashed against something solid. I didn’t even know who did it. I lay there, my face pressed against the moist moss and damp pine straw of the cemetery grounds, my heart slowing, and my inhalations far apart. My vision became blurred, and the last thing I recalled was my body being lifted. Someone carried me, and I didn’t know who. Through the haze of my vision I saw chaos: bodies on the ground, blood, tall dark men, opaque eyes, others in the shadows. I felt light, weightless, and my breathing became faint. I wanted my brother. I wanted Eli. Then, complete and total blackness engulfed me. Blackness, and excruciating, mind-numbing pain.