Afterlight

Part 6 Underground

Seeing my brother’s body writhing in a frenzy to escape Eli’s grip — in an attempt to get at me — ripped my heart out and terrified me at the same time. It also kicked in my adrenaline, and I reacted. As scared as I was, I hurled myself at Eli and grabbed his arm. “Don’t hurt him!” I yelled, and pulled hard. “Eli, stop it!”

As if in slow motion, Eli turned toward me, and his beautiful face had grossly distorted into the same elongated, unhinged-jaw, fanged creature Gilles had turned into — only more frightening. I physically flinched, my insides turned frigid, and I froze at the shock of seeing Eli transform, but something snapped inside of me, and I didn’t release his arm. All-white eyes with tiny pupils bored into me, almost challenging me, maybe even a little ashamed. And it was in that very instant that everything became crystal clear. If Seth and I survived, our lives would never, ever be the same.

Over Eli’s shoulder, I glimpsed my brother. Seth didn’t seem to care that a vampire had him by the throat; all he wanted was to get at me, and my unique blood, which now tempted him. Seth’s eyes were wild and hungry, and while his face wasn’t contorted, he clawed and kicked the air as he struggled against Eli’s hold. Deep in his throat, Seth made a noise that . . . didn’t even sound human. Definitely not Seth. I can only explain it as desperate. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he was on drugs, and trust me — I knew the look all too well; his long, choppy bangs were sweaty, his skin pasty, his eyes rabid. If only it were drugs.

“Are you sure you want me to let him go?” Eli asked, and his voice, too, was somehow different. Darker. Edgier. Seth growled and struggled harder.

“No,” I answered angrily, and I hated saying that word more than anything. I knew it wasn’t Eli’s fault that Seth was in transition, but I blamed him all the same, and he obviously read my mind, because he narrowed his eyes. “Leave us.”

I stared first at Eli, then at Seth, and my heart ached to hold him, smack the hell out of him, and shake his lanky adolescent body until he snapped out of it. But I knew that wouldn’t happen, and no amount of shaking would change anything. It killed me to obey Eli, but I did. “Don’t hurt him,” I stated, and stared hard at Eli. He didn’t agree or even acknowledge my request, but I knew by the way he looked at me that he’d not hurt my brother. I turned and headed for the door, and just that fast, a gust of briny air brushed the side of my face. When I looked over my shoulder, they were both gone. Uncertainty and an agonizing pain I couldn’t define washed over me and sucked every ounce of energy from my body, and my knees collapsed. I sat down right there on the floor. I wanted to run to the window, to see where Eli and Seth had gone, how they’d gone; I couldn’t. My insides were locked, and an inescapable feeling of helplessness overcame me. Then, the tears. The goddamn tears. I hated them, hated the weakness they represented, and hadn’t allowed myself the luxury of them since the day I found my mother dead in a bathtub. By the time we’d had her funeral, I was angry and the tears had dried, and I hadn’t shed one more tear until last night. Fuck it. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I locked my arms tightly around them, put my head down, and cried.

How much time lapsed, I couldn’t say; I must have seriously been in a haze, because when next I was conscious of my surroundings, I was in my bed. I could come up with no conclusion other than that Eli had put me there, because I didn’t remember crossing the floor and climbing beneath the covers myself. The lights were out, the room shadowy, and my mind was fuzzy with cobwebs. Pushing up on my elbows, I looked around, noted the familiar stream of light coming through the French doors, and remembered everything I wished to hell wasn’t really happening. I sat up and rubbed my swollen eyes.

“Go back to sleep, Riley.” Eli’s steady voice came from a dark corner of the room. “It’s early.”

“I think you’ve confused me with someone you can boss around,” I answered, just as steady. “Seth?”

There was a long pause, and my heart leapt. But then Eli answered. “Safe for now.”

My body eased at his words, and I shoved my fingers through my hair and searched the darkness. “Why are you hiding?” I asked.

In the time it took me to blink, he was standing over me. The light from the French doors morphed his figure into a silhouette, his face nothing more than a black cutout. “It’s called sentry, smart-ass. I’m watching over you.”

Carefully, I regarded his dark profile. “Thanks for not hurting my brother,” I said, and managed to say it with some sense of strength.

Again, another pause, this one longer than the last. “Had he hurt you, he wouldn’t have been so lucky.”

My insides shook at Eli’s words. I knew he was dead serious, and while it pissed me off, it intrigued me as well, and I couldn’t help asking, “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said flatly, and I knew then he’d never tell me his reasons. “Now, go to sleep.” Still, he stood above me, next to the bed.

I sat there for a while, rebellious and determined that Eli Dupré’s self-prescribed supremacy over me would not get the better of me. Why the hell did he want me to go to sleep so badly? Apparently, I sat there too long. With my next breath he’d pushed me flat back onto my pillow, his arms braced on either side of my head. Although he wasn’t as hot-blooded as I was, the electricity remained, and my whole body tightened at his closeness and the tension it caused. You could feel it in what little air there was between us.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” he asked with a steely, almost angry voice.

“No,” I said just as steely. “I’m not.”

He moved his mouth close to my ear, and the sensation of his breath brushing my neck made me shiver. “You really should be,” he said, and although he meant it as a warning, it turned me on instead. Releasing one of his hands, he moved it to my chest, and with a forefinger grazed the exposed flesh above my heart. “I can hear your heart beating a mile away,” he said, his voice raspy, thick. He laid his palm flat against my chest, his fingers brushing the swell of my breast. “When it pounds harder, or faster, I can feel it inside me. It’s like you’re fucking everywhere — inside my head, my body” — his hand remained against me, heavy, erotic — “and it’s really starting to piss me off.” With a sudden jerk he pushed off of me, the impact causing the air in my lungs to whoosh out as if the breath had been knocked out of me. I gasped, staring after him until his silhouette had retreated into the shadowy recesses he’d emerged from. We were both silent for several moments; I couldn’t even tell how much time had lapsed. I was shocked and still reeling from his intimate touch, alluring admission, and harsh action.

“The body you saw, behind the alley? His throat and chest were ripped open because a strigoi vampire desires blood directly from the heart. So be afraid of me, Riley,” he said quietly from the darkness. “It will keep us both alive.”

I sat up, breathless, and became so conscious of my heavy breathing and thumping heartbeat that I tried to force both to slow. I’d never been known for my shyness, or the ability to keep quiet, so I drew a few more calming breaths, then spoke. “I don’t scare easy,” I said, and I heard Eli snort — or something. “But why both of us?”

Eli groaned, frustration thick in his voice. “Because if I lose control and something happens to you by my hand, the contract will be broken, and Preacher and his kinsmen will destroy me.” He gave a soft laugh. “And my father will let them.”

“Pretty sick contract,” I said, and when Eli didn’t respond, I decided to keep my mouth shut for the time being. It was already difficult enough to try to fall asleep with him in the room; the current in the air between us snapped like it was alive, and swear to God, despite his strigoi threats, I couldn’t help the perverted thoughts that stormed my brain at the memory of Eli’s hand on my body, his mouth so close to my skin. When he was near me like that? A relentless, seductive, feral desire surged through me, one I couldn’t control, and visions of his hands touching me everywhere invaded my mind. I wanted his mouth and tongue on me; his hardness inside me; the two of us naked and slick with sweat; Eli standing and holding me as my legs wrapped around his waist while he pounded into me against the brick wall of my bedroom; and for a half second I thought I’d die where I sat if I didn’t get it right then. There was something else, too — something deeper, something more intimate than mind-blowing, nasty sex, and it was that one thing that made my brain shift into reverse and seize. I couldn’t even name it, but it scared the holy hell out of me.

In the shadows, I heard Eli’s muffled groan — at least I thought it was a groan. Then another sound broke the darkness, barely there, quiet, but I heard it just the same. It was skin against skin, and the only conclusion I could come to was that Eli had read my dirty thoughts and had decided to take care of business himself instead of putting us both at risk by taking me. I could have been mistaken, but I probably wasn’t, and it totally turned me on. All I could do was lie there in the darkness and think about Eli. My mind filled with vivid images of his hands moving painfully slowly over my bare flesh, his tongue and lips tasting my throat, my breasts, down my abdomen, and settling between my legs in a long, erotic kiss that had me writhing with need. My hand moved without command, and the moment I touched myself, I came. I wasn’t as shocked at myself as I thought I’d be, having done that in the same room with the very subject behind the act. In the shadows, I felt him; I didn’t hear him, but he was everywhere.

It irritated me that sexual thoughts of Eli could push their way to the forefront of my mind even in the midst of the chaos that had become my life. Eventually, I drifted back to sleep, but it was a restless, agitated slumber that I fell rebelliously into.

The breaking dawn fell across me the next morning, and I cracked open my eyes and immediately sought out the corner where Eli had last been. He was no longer there, and I really wasn’t that surprised. Sitting up, I scrubbed my eyes with my knuckles and tried to ignore the feeling of the morning after, especially frustrating since we hadn’t actually had sex. Somehow, though, it had felt real enough. I pushed it from my mind, got up, and began the first day of my new life — life as a rogue vampire bounty hunter. That was what I thought of myself as now. Amid the tossing and turning and turbulent sex thoughts of Eli, I’d come to a shocking conclusion: I could no longer whine and cry about what was happening to my brother and me. This was no time to be a wimp. I’d been a tough-ass since age nine and had grown only tougher as I’d aged. I was a fighter, and now was definitely the time to fight. I wanted my brother back, and I’d get him, swear to God. No matter the sacrifice. It’d be worth it. The only thing I’d have to learn to control was my growing desire for Eli. Anyone with a rational mind who actually believed there were vampires among mortals would probably repel the idea of sex with one. They weren’t natural. They weren’t living. They had no souls, and they were damned to hell. Supposedly. To be frank, I thought that nothing more than a load of horseshit. But that’s just me.

With those empowering thoughts in mind, I jumped up, pulled on some ratty jeans and a T-shirt, slid into my flip-flops, brushed my teeth, and headed downstairs. Eli was standing in the storefront window looking out over River Street, Chaz at his side, and both turned when I entered the room. Chaz barked and wagged his whole back end but stayed directly by Eli. I ignored the cold shirk from my dog and reflected on my revelations. I’d shed all my anxieties from the night before; I was ready to kick vampire ass, and not Eli’s but the Arcoses’ — the little pricks. It seemed Eli hadn’t released quite as easily as I did. His penetrating stare shook me, and I knew — knew — he was still thinking of what he’d seen in my mind the night before. He may be a vampire, but at the root of that monstrosity was a dude. A young, hot-blooded, horny dude.

I gave Eli a smile. “First, gotta let Chaz out, then run next door to Preacher’s, then back here to finish your makeover.” I headed for the door. “Coming?” I glanced back, but he wasn’t there.

When I turned around, Eli was at the door, waiting, his hands shoved into the pockets of a pair of faded 501s. “I took Chaz out earlier.”

I lifted a brow, frowned at my dog, then nodded. “Well, good for you. Let’s go, then.” I reached for the door, but he blocked it. “What?” I said, trying to keep the irritation from my voice.

Silently, he moved aside, and we stepped out into the muggy air. The first thing I noticed was a custom chopper, parked next to my Jeep. I knew it had to be Eli’s, and I inspected it. A Martin Brothers Silverback, it was titanium platinum with some pretty sick black scroll-work on the tank and fenders, a wide, fat back tire, and a narrower front one. “Wicked bike,” I offered, and I meant it. I’d always wanted one.

“Ride’s sweet,” he said. “We’ll take it tonight.”

I admitted only to myself that the thought of it thrilled me. At Preacher’s, Estelle bustled about making breakfast, but my surrogate grandfather kept his eyes trained on Eli and me. I could tell he knew something was up. Not that anything had happened, but that there was something in the air between us, something dangerous and palpable. He ignored it, though, and we finished our breakfast and left. I couldn’t help thinking the whole time, What the freak are they putting in my tea? Drinking it just wasn’t the same anymore, which was a little depressing. I’d loved the tea, back when I’d thought it was just tea. Maybe one day, I’d get used to the idea that it was now for the sake of my life, not just for the hell of it.

I made quick work of finishing Eli’s makeover; I snipped his bangs to make them jagged and swept across his forehead, partially hanging over his eyes, and had him change into a pair of black junkie-fit jeans, a gray ripped shirt, and buckled combat boots. I helped him strap on the leather finger cuff and noticed that he already wore a leather band around his neck with a silver medallion. Then I walked around him, examining him thoroughly, and was pretty satisfied with the results. Almost.

I looked hard at him. “You need a piercing.”

Eli raised a brow. “Where?”

Studying his face and following that raised brow, I pointed to it. “Right there. Small silver hoop.”

Surprisingly, Eli shrugged. “Whatever you say.” He glanced toward the door and inclined his head. “My brothers and sister are downstairs.”

“I guess I might as well get them a key made,” I muttered as I jogged down the stairs. I opened the door, and Phin, Luc, and Josie stood, waiting. “Come on in,” I said, and led the way upstairs. “Check out your bro.”

“Whoa,” Phin said, walking around Eli and ruffling his hair. “Goin’ dark, huh, Eligius?” he said, and Luc joined in, patting Eli on the ass. “Nice threads,” he added.

“If you’re going to go where we’re going to go, I suggest you get some of the same,” I said.

“I’ll try the skins, but no one’s touching my hair,” Luc said, threading his fingers through his careless dark blond locks. “Hell and no.”

“Puss,” laughed Phin, then turned to me. “My hair’s too short, but we’ll go along with the clothes.”

“Piercings, too,” I added, then opened a drawer in the kitchen and grabbed a notepad. “Here’s the name of another ink shop that does piercings,” I said, scribbling the address, tearing it off the pad, and handing it to Eli. “It’s on the west side, not too far from Mullet’s. You remember how to get to his house?”

Eli gave me a wicked smile, and it made his blue eyes dance beneath the pitch-black jagged bangs. “Yeah, Riley. I got it.” He glanced at Josie. “You stay here with her, squirt,” he said. “Watch her back.”

“Yes!” Josie said excitedly. “I brought some drawings to show you,” she said to me, patting the backpack she carried. “I’ve got them on my laptop.”

I hid my skepticism at having a fifteen-year-old vampiress watch my back, and nodded. “Cool. I’ve got about an hour before the shop opens.” I inclined my head. “Let’s have a look.” Josie busied herself setting up her laptop, and I found Eli’s gaze; he gave an approving nod.

“We’ll be back in a few,” he said. In less than a blink, the Dupré brothers had disappeared down the stairs. An accompanying roar of three motorcycle engines echoed in the alley behind Inksomnia at once, and I glanced at Josie.

“Boys and their toys,” she said very maturely, and I had no option but to agree and laugh.

“Ain’t that the truth,” I said. For a split second I paused and thought about the Duprés. Even though I’d seen the horror Eli could transform into, I had the hardest time picturing Phin, Luc, and Josie doing the same thing. Especially Josie. It all seemed so surreal, fantastic, and mind-boggling at once, and I wasn’t positive my brain would ever fully comprehend and embrace it.

I turned my head, gasped a muffled scream, and stumbled back. Josie stood no more than two feet away, her sweet, youthful face contorted into the same unhinged-jaw, jagged-teeth terror that I’d seen on Eli and Gilles. Her white eyes stared curiously at my reaction, and once she’d seen it, her face immediately re-formed back to the sweet teen Josie I knew.

“There,” she said matter-of-factly, a bit arrogant, and with a wicked little smile. “Now you don’t have to wonder anymore.” She inclined her head to the open laptop on the counter. “Wanna see my pics?” she said, as if she’d not just completely transformed in front of me.

“Whoa,” I muttered, and tried to force my racing heart to slow its pace. “Okay. Let’s see.” I scrolled through the file and inspected Josie’s art — amazing, highly detailed sketches of everything from Pictish symbols to lizards and spiders to faces reflected in the infamous stain-glassed window of Notre Dame. They literally blew my mind.

“Wow — this is your brother?” Josie said from the living room.

I glanced up and noticed that she was looking at the picture I’d taken of Seth from the top of Tybee Lighthouse in June. “Yep, that’s Seth,” I answered, and just hearing his name out loud made my heart heavy.

“God, he’s so cute,” Josie muttered, and continued to stare at it.

I couldn’t help but grin. “These are seriously fantastic,” I told her, scrolling through more drawings. “Despite the fact that you’re over a hundred and fifty years old, you’re too young for me to hire,” I said, “but I’d love to commission some of your art. They’d make kick-ass tats.”

“Seriously?” Josie said excitedly. “That’d be freaking awesome!”

“Good. Okay it with your mom and dad, first,” I said, then thought how funny it was that her mom and dad were nineteenth-century vampires. “Listen — I’ve got to get ready. Help yourself to . . . whatever,” I told her, and headed to my bedroom. “I’ll be right back.

“Okay,” Josie answered.

After a quick shower, I changed into a pair of black side-laced skinny jeans, a gray T-back Inksomnia tank, and black chunky Mary Janes, and added a black lace choker. Pulling my hair back, but leaving my red-streaked bangs free, I added makeup and was ready to go.

Nyx took right to Josie, and vice versa — just as I’d figured. There wasn’t a soul around who could refuse Nyx — even if that soul was damned. I’d simply told Nyx that Josie was Eli’s younger sister, and after I’d shown her Josie’s incredible artwork, they hit it off.

It was just after noon when Eli, Phin, and Luc walked into Inksomnia, and so stunned was I by their changes that I paused in midink to stare in appreciation. Don’t get me wrong — they were totally fan-freaking-fine before. All three had the bad-boy look, reckless, faded jeans, T-shirt, boots. But now? Now they’d stroll straight into the Panic Room and no one would be the wiser; they’d think the Duprés were truly into the Goth/urban scene. I grinned. “Looks like Mullet did you guys right,” I said, and inspected all three. “Poster boys of Gnaw Bone Brand Urban Wear.”

“Sweet,” Nyx said with approval, and I introduced around the room. Nyx hugged everyone.

Phin’s already close-cut hair fit perfectly with the dark gray urban decayed pants, black ripped T-shirt, and thick-buckled boots. He walked up to me, grinned, and stuck out his tongue. “Ouch,” I said as I checked out the new silver tongue ball. “How’d that feel?”

“I’ll tell ya later,” he said, smirking.

Luc, who, true to his word, hadn’t changed a single strand of hair on his head, stood with his arms folded over his chest, his postapocalyptic jeans and ripped gray shirt making him look like a Panic Room regular. I peered closer and noted the small silver hoop pierced through his bottom lip and the silver balls adorning his ear lobes. I smiled and gave a nod of approval. “Nice.”

Eli stood back, watching me with intensity as I inspected his brothers, until I turned my full attention to him. “Come here,” I said, and he walked closer. A small silver hoop pierced his left brow, and I admit — it was dead sexy. I nodded. “Good job.” I ducked my head back to the tribal serpent I was inking on the shoulder of an army guy, and vaguely listened as Nyx carried on, showing the other Duprés the ins and outs of Inksomnia. She uploaded one of Josie’s art files to our computer, then printed it out as a tattoo transfer. Josie squealed and declared that it was totally cool.

After a while, all four Duprés left and went upstairs for their two-hour vampire siesta. Nyx finished up early and headed out, while I inked a few more clients. Eli strolled in while I was wrapping up a barbed armband on a young woman who taught English to seventh graders. For some reason, I found that freaking hilarious. As I gave her samples of ointment and paperwork, I saw Eli watching me closely. When Gene the Raven cawed as the woman exited Inksomnia, I locked the door and flipped the sign to CLOSED. I stood staring out into the waning afternoon as tourists wearing Bermuda shorts, T-shirts, and capris bustled by, and noticed the dark clouds swirling overhead and moving in over the riverfront. Even indoors I could feel the change as something dark, ominous, settled over the city. Maybe it was because I was privy to it; maybe it was because I anticipated it. Either way, my adrenaline rushed through my body at the thought of facing unimaginable foes — ones who held my brother prisoner — and I couldn’t help but wonder what Seth was doing at that very moment. Or even whether he knew he was Seth anymore. Eli was suddenly standing beside me, his presence heating my skin.

“Tonight will be the beginning,” he said with an assured voice. “If you have any hesitations at all, you’d better speak up.” I glanced up, and at the same time, he looked down. “Once we start, there’s no turning back, and things will only get harder. If they sense you, they’ll hunt you. And trust me — they won’t stop until they have you.”

“Hesitations aren’t in my genetic makeup,” I answered tightly, fearless, even though I was sure by they Eli meant Seth and his friends. “As long as those effers have my brother, I’m in.”

Eli turned me around and pushed me against the wall, his hands braced on either side of my head. He appeared more . . . menacing with his black hair, pale skin, pierced brow, and darker looks. “If they ever caught a whiff of that blood running through your veins, you would not be able to stop them.” He cocked his head and studied me. “They would descend upon you like a pack of hyenas. Your brother’s strength and agility grows every day. Only, their stomachs aren’t prepared for human blood yet — and that’s what saved you the other night. They have the craving, the desire — but don’t know how to act on it.” He frowned. “Yet.”

“So teach me how to protect myself,” I said, sensations rippling through me as Eli crowded me against the brick wall of the shop. I knew then that my desires had become his. Knew it. They’d become powerful and all consuming, forcing the edges of the spacious tattoo parlor to slam in around me. “If I can’t beat them, or outrun them, teach me how to kill them.”

A look of disbelief crossed Eli’s features. “Would you be able to ram a dagger through your brother’s heart if he came after you?” he asked.

Sickening nausea crept up my throat at the thought of it, and I knew I’d die before ever turning on Seth. “No,” I said. I lifted my chin and met his gaze. “But the Arcoses I’d kill. No problem.”

Eli studied me for several seconds, and I waited as patiently as I could. Patience wasn’t exactly a trait I’d ever claimed, and the lack of it was now kicked into overdrive as Eli’s body hovered so close to mine, silent, powerful, exotic. Slowly, he pushed away from me.

“I’ll speak to my father,” he said. “And he’ll speak with Preacher.” Although he’d pushed away from me, he was still close, and I swallowed the desire to grab him by the collar of his already ripped shirt and yank his mouth down to mine. “There are ways for a mortal to kill a vampire, but they’re old ways — primitive, and not for the squeamish.” He dragged a knuckle over my jaw, and I regarded him as his gaze raked over me. “You squeamish, Poe?”

My body reacted without my brain’s permission; I jammed my knee sharply in Eli’s crotch. Although I didn’t get the same reaction I’d gotten dozens of times before with mortals, I was fascinated to watch as Eli’s eyes dilated just a hair, and he stifled the shallowest of gasps. Balls were balls, I guessed. Still, he stood over me, and a small, wicked smile lifted the corner of his mouth. I grinned back. “Not squeamish at all.”

He nodded. “Dirty street fighting will buy you minimal time with a vampire,” he said matter-of-factly. “More than anything, they’ll be intrigued. But it won’t stop them.”

I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest. “So when you say primitive, you mean wooden-stake-through-the-heart primitive?”

His eyes never left mine. “No. That only works in Hollywood. In real life it’s silver, and it can’t just pierce the heart. It has to go all the way through it. Ultimately it’s best if ripped from the chest wall, driven with silver, and burned.”

I considered that. “Sounds wicked disgusting, but I could do it.”

Eli glanced away and gave an arrogant laugh — a totally mortal guy’s move, and it looked even sexier on a vampire. He glanced back at me, then out into the afterlight, and inclined his head. “Go get ready. We leave in an hour.”

“An hour? Why so early?” I asked. “We don’t just show up at the Panic Room at seven o’clock. We have time to kill.” I looked around. “Ever think about getting some ink?” I asked, and inspected him. I admit it. I’d wanted to ink him from the moment I’d laid eyes on him.

Blue eyes fastened to me, studied me intently for several moments. “Really? And why’s that?”

I scowled. “Stay. Out. Of. My. Head.”

With a slight grin, Eli looked away and shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it.” He picked up a design book and thumbed through the pages. “If I decide to do it, you’ll be the first to know. Now, come on.”

With narrowed eyes, I frowned. “Again — you’ve confused me with someone who takes orders.” I turned to go. “Besides. That’s way too early to hit the Panic Room. Learn some manners, Dupré.” Eli’s silence followed me to my bedroom, where I hastily kicked my clothes off and jumped into the shower. With steaming water pelting my back, I measured exactly what I was doing, and what was about to happen, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me a little apprehensive. Before, when I was heavy into partying and getting effed up, things just didn’t matter to me. I thought I was invincible, that nothing and no one could ever hurt me. I could kick ass and was proud of it. But I’d left that life. Now? I was about to dive headfirst right back into it. And the thought of seeing Seth involved in the dark stuff that happened in the back rooms of the clubs I used to hang out in? It made my stomach hurt.

The entire time I showered, I felt a presence, as though someone watched me, and thoughts of Eli crowded my mind. I peered through the clear glass doors of my shower, to the bathroom door I’d left cracked open, but didn’t see him. I didn’t like how drawn I was to Eli; he was deadly, like holding a gun to my temple with the trigger half cocked, hoping the odds would keep it from firing. He of course knew it, too. Although I’d asked him not to read my mind, he did it all the time. Actions I could mostly control; private thoughts I totally could not. So I was pretty sure he knew right now that I wanted him in the shower with me, slick, wet, and totally out of control. My better judgment kicked in, though, and I turned the shower off, wrapped a towel around my body, and climbed out. I couldn’t help one last thought: How long can we resist each other? Maybe Eli could take it longer than me; he was, after all, immortal. I wasn’t, and hadn’t nearly the amount of resistance or control he did.

I dried my hair and left it loose, pulling various strands into tiny black clips. I left my bangs down, and they hung just to my jaw. It was the underground we faced, so the makeup I applied was a little heavier than usual, with dark liner and purple shadow that sparkled when the lights hit. Ruby lipstick and rouge made my skin look paler than it actually was, but beneath the club’s black walls and strobe lights, it’d prove the perfect effect. I added a pair of black webbed earrings; a black lace choker with a silver cross hanging from its center; a metallic hot pink push-up swimsuit top barely covered by a skimpy leather vest that sat about two inches above my navel; my favorite pair of second-skin leather pants, which laced up the sides; and black six-inch spike-heel ankle boots completed my Panic Room attire. I added a few black leather finger cuffs studded with silver, and a spiked wrist cuff, and was ready to go. With a quick final inspection in the full-length mirror in the corner of my bedroom, I grabbed my small black leather backpack and left the room.

“Okay, ready,” I said as I stepped into the living room. Eli stood at the window facing River Street, and he turned to look at me.

Alluring blue eyes slowly took in my appearance, lingering at the swell of my pushed-up breasts and skintight-leather-clad legs. Slowly, he moved toward me, and I noticed then that with six-inch heels I looked him square in the eye. I held my ground as he perused every inch of my body. I won’t lie; I enjoyed it. It empowered me, because I knew I affected him, too. Good. I didn’t want to be the only one on freaking fire.

Finally, after a prolonged, silent inspection of me, Eli met my gaze, and I immediately saw raw male desire laced in those blue depths. “You,” he said slowly, evocatively, “are hot.”

I gave a little smile and a shrug. “Thanks.” I gave Eli a quick assessment, and he looked just as mouthwatering as he had before. “Not so bad yourself. Ready?”

Shaking his head, Eli moved toward the kitchen table and grabbed a box. He handed it to me. “For you.”

With brow raised, I gave him a skeptical look and took the box. “What is it?” I said as I opened it.

“Protection,” he answered.

I nodded. “This size box could hold a lot of condoms,” I said, grinning, and Eli chuckled. Once I got the flap opened, I peered inside and was surprised to see a flat black half helmet with a metallic purple tattooed butterfly painted on the side. I lifted it out and looked at Eli. “Cool. Thanks.” I grinned and gave an approving nod. “Biker chic.”

He shrugged indifferently. “No problem. I already took Chaz out. Let’s go.”

I stopped long enough to scrub the fur between Chaz’s ears, and we stepped outside into the fading daylight. “Where exactly am I going to fit on that bike?” I asked, knowing that Eli’s Silverback had a single scooped seat. I didn’t have a wide ass, but that was definitely a seat made just for one. Then I looked beneath the streetlight at his bike and noticed a single seat had been mounted on the back, and a set of foot pegs had been placed directly behind Eli’s.

“I had it done while we were getting pierced,” he said. “No room for you on the scoop.”

“Yeah, I got that,” I said, and walked to the bike and inspected the seat. I gave it a tug.

Eli pulled on a solid black half helmet, I did the same, and once he’d started the bike I climbed on behind him. The rumble of the engine hummed through my entire body as I settled my heeled boots onto the foot pegs; I wrapped my arms around Eli’s waist, and he took off. As he pulled out of Factor’s Walk, he turned left. I leaned close to him. “You’re going the wrong way,” I said, knowing the Panic Room was off Martin Luther King Boulevard on Williamson.

“You said we had some time to kill, right?” Eli answered, and continued on his way. “There’s something I want to check out first.”

As we rode along President Street, then Highway 80 toward Tybee, I nearly forgot that I sat clutching a nineteenth-century vampire and we were looking for others. Eli’s muscles flinched beneath my hands, and I could feel the ripped abs under his T-shirt. He seemed like an average hot guy riding a chopper; I knew he was anything but, and I found myself wishing hard that things were different, and that Eli wasn’t a vampire, and that Seth wasn’t becoming one. It was useless wishing and an utter waste of time, and yet I found myself constantly doing it. Pissed me off, really.

Highway 80 had its usual backed-up traffic, so it was slow going toward the island. The air was thick with pending rain; it carried that indisputable scent, and it even permeated, or enhanced, the heavy brine of the marsh. It was low tide — I could tell without even seeing the water. The rotting sea life was always thicker at low tide. Cattails and oyster shoals sat visible in the river muck as we crept along.

After we crossed over the main bridge to Tybee, Eli turned into the first subdivision and down several streets before stopping at a stilted house at the end of a cul-desac. An old white caddy sat parked in the driveway. I climbed down, and Eli turned the engine off, threw his leg over the tank, sat, took off his shades, and looked at me.

“What?” I asked, and looked around. “What’re we doing here?”

“There’s something you need to know,” he said, and beneath the streetlight I saw his eyes studying me.

I had no idea what to expect. “Okay,” I said, and waited.

“Remember when you asked if any of Preacher’s people had changed, way back when?” he asked. “And I told you a mortal quickening couldn’t occur unless they drank the blood of a vampire?”

“Yeah,” I said slowly, not liking at all where this was going. “So?”

“Well,” he said just as slowly. “That’s not completely true.”

I could do nothing more than stare and wait for the rest of the explanation.

“More than just the Gullah were used, at first. If a mortal is fed upon, and too much blood is taken, they die. Plain and simple. But if they’re bitten and live, they gain . . . tendencies.” He gauged my reaction. “Vampiric tendencies.”

I shifted my weight and cocked my head. “And they include . . . ?”

Eli shrugged. “It all depends on who did the biting, their genetic makeup. Excessive speed. Ability to jump high, maybe defy gravity for a while. Read thoughts. Crave raw meat.” He shrugged again. “They live longer, with a slow rate of aging. They also have the ability to rapidly heal.”

“Okay,” I said, not fully understanding. “And are there a lot of these people still around?”

“Yes.”

I nodded and considered that enlightening news. “All right. Weird, but okay. So why are we here?” I inclined my head to the stilt house.

“Ned Gillespie. Bitten in 1912, when he was fourteen years old.”

I stared in disbelief. “You bit a kid?”

Eli shook his head. “Josie did.” He looked at me. “But back then, yeah — I would have. We were just learning to be humane, Riley. We couldn’t help it.”

“So why are we here to see Ned Gillespie?” I asked, glancing at the two-story house perched above the marsh.

“He and Josie were . . . close, I guess, until they outgrew one another,” he answered. “Ned knows about the Arcoses — can sniff a vampire thirty miles away.” He climbed off the bike. “I thought maybe he’d heard something or . . . smelled something.” He nodded toward the house. “Come on.”

As we walked up the inclined drive, I glanced at Eli. “Is Ned going to freak me out?” I could only imagine what tendencies he might have.

“Yep,” Eli answered, and I took a deep breath and followed him to the door. Just as we walked under the porch light, the front door opened; there stood a young guy, mid-to late twenties, with crazy brown hair and frosted tips, a yellow and black Led Zeppelin T-shirt, and destroyed jeans. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he grinned and bumped fists with Eli.

“Dude, what’s up? Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said to Eli, then looked at me. “Whoa. Who’s the babe?” He leaned closer to Eli. “Is she a bloodsucker? That’s sick, man.” Then his eyes landed on my dragons. “Damn — sweet tats.” He walked around me, looking. “Sweet.”

Eli shook his head and laughed. “No, Ned. She’s” — he looked at me — “a friend. A mortal friend.” He inclined his head. “Ned Gillespie, Riley Poe.”

Ned stuck out his hand to shake mine, and I allowed it, although I was in shock to see Ned as a young guy instead of a hundred-and-twelve-year-old. Weird. “Well, Riley Poe, this is the dawning of the age of Aquarius, don’t ya think? Vamps, Tendies, and mortals, chillin’ together. Pretty awesome, huh?”

I shot a quick glance at Eli. “Yeah, sure.” I thought I’d fallen through a time warp and straight into one of Bill and Ted’s excellent adventures.

“Well, come on in to my humble abode,” he said. “Come in.”

Eli gave me a glance and a nod, and I went inside first. It was an open floor plan, with cathedral ceilings and a walkway at the top that encircled the entire room. No sooner did Ned close the door behind us than a cell phone rang, and he patted his pockets, then cursed.

“Be right back,” he said, and swear to God, had I not seen it with my own two eyes, I’d never have believed it — even knowing what I now know about vampires, I wouldn’t have believed it. In one leap Ned cleared the wooden railing of the walkway — an easy twenty feet if not more. He disappeared into a room, and in the next second he was leaping down again. He looked at me as he landed.

“Missed call,” he said, as if what he’d done was absolutely normal.

I could do nothing more than lift my brows in astonishment.

“Listen, Ned,” Eli said. “Have you sensed any other vampires lately?”

Ned dramatically lifted his nose to the air and sniffed. “Yeah, dude, I have. It’s not strong, though — so weak actually I thought it was farther up the coast. Why, what’s up?”

“The Arcoses,” Eli said. “You haven’t seen or heard anything?”

Ned looked at Eli, and seriousness replaced the carefree attitude he’d just had.

“There’s a pack of them. Young, not fully transformed, but a load of trouble, if you know what I mean,” Eli said, inclining his head toward me. “One of them is her brother.”

Ned regarded me. “That sucks.”

“Have you sensed them around here?” Eli asked. “On the island?”

Ned shook his head. “Been in Atlanta at a gaming convention.” He glanced at me and grinned. “I created Urban Bloodsuckers,” he said, waiting for me to comprehend. “The computer game? You know, software? Badass.”

“Congratulations,” I said, and he shrugged.

Eli and Ned exchanged few more words, and then we said good-bye, with Ned’s promise that he’d contact us if Seth or the others showed up on the island. I felt skeptical — Ned seemed to be in his own little software world despite the superpowers having been bitten by a vampire had awarded him. “Live long and prosper,” Ned hollered from his front door as we climbed on the bike and left. Eli explained over his shoulder, “He’s a big Trekky.” I fully could see that — especially since he’d been around since before Captain James Kirk was even a spark in his daddy’s eye.

A spitting rain had begun just as we turned off of President Street and onto Bay, and we made it to the Panic Room just before the bottom fell out. A nondescript brick building, the club was completely void of neon lights or signs; the entrance was a plain set of haint blue double doors, and if you didn’t know of the Panic Room, you’d never have found it on your own. It was sort of a word-of-mouth type of place, and only a select few could waltz right in. A lot of shit happened in the Panic Room — drugs, sex, prostitution — but the owner’s attorney was a pit bull. They’d already sued the city for a bust without probable cause and a warrant, and not only did the attorney rake in the dough because of it, but the incident had made the SPD extremely cautious about raiding the Panic Room again. We parked the bike along the sidewalk and hurried to the entrance.

“Who’s the big guy with the braid?” Eli leaned toward my ear and whispered.

I turned into his neck and was surprised by the thrill that shot through me at the intimate closeness. “Zetty’s in his midthirties, from Tibet. He serves as the Panic Room’s resident doorman.” Zetty, with a black braid that reached his waist, always dressed in traditional Tibetan clothing, with a long red yak-wool wrap and black baggy pants tucked into a worn pair of shin-high leather boots. “He was once a Shiva follower,” I said. “See the symbol of a god inked into his forehead?”

Eli looked down at me. “Yeah.”

Tattooed into Zetty’s forehead were brightly colored squares of yellow and red adorned with dots that extended just down the bridge of his nose. He wore round, brightly colored stone earrings and carried a traditional Tibetan knife in a multicolored, handwoven sheath secured across his chest. “I’ve seen him use that knife, too, so don’t be stupid.” No one fucked with Zetty.

“Don’t worry,” Eli said, and placed his hand to my lower back and urged me forward.

Zetty smiled at me as we drew close, and recognition made his eyes shine. It was the kind of look that made his already intimidating features even scarier. “Riley Poe. What are you doing here?” he said in his heavy Tibetan accent, and grasped my shoulder.

Eli immediately stiffened and moved slightly in front of me, causing Zetty’s gaze to move from me to Eli. Zetty frowned.

“It’s okay,” I said quietly to Eli, and placed my hand on his back. “Zetty’s an old friend.” I looked at the bouncer. “Just here to hang out. So how ya been, Zetty?” I asked.

“Cannot complain,” he answered, but his attention was now on Eli.

“Good. Nice seeing ya,” I said, and tugged on Eli’s arm.

Zetty turned his eyes on me. “Stay out of the back rooms, Riley,” he said with a deadpan tone. “Nothing there for you anymore.”

We walked away, and I averted my gaze from Zetty.

“What’s up with him?” Eli asked as we passed through the small foyer where the music reverberated through another set of double doors that led into the club. “He seems too protective over you.”

“He probably thought the same thing about you.” I smiled. “Zetty does his job and only his job,” I said, glancing at him. “He always hated that I’d gotten messed up, and while he knows what goes on in the back panic rooms, he doesn’t get involved.” I shrugged. “Except for once. He pulled me out of a bad situation and almost killed a guy doing it. Otherwise, he merely stays up front and keeps the peace.”

“He knows what I am,” Eli said matter-of-factly.

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” I answered, knowing he’d read Zetty’s mind, and to be honest, I wasn’t all that surprised. Zetty had been sort of a mystical man in Tibet, mysterious and deadly. I was always grateful he liked me, for whatever reason.

As we pushed into the crowd, the black walls and strobe lights swallowed us, and “The Raven and the Rose” by My Dying Bride slammed through the sound system and hummed through me; Eli’s body crowded mine, his palm and fingers pressed possessively to the bare skin of my lower back as he guided me through a sea of smoke, black leather, silver spikes, and exotic makeup. This part of the Panic Room was tame — the club part, the dancing, the music, the drinks, and most of the people. What I knew lay in the back rooms — the dark panic rooms — was something else altogether. I’d experienced them, and I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t bother me to be back. And yet with Eli’s hand against my skin, and the music bounding through my body, it sort of thrilled me, too.

“I’d ask what’s wrong, but I already know,” Eli said, his mouth grazing the shell of my ear as he leaned close. I turned and looked at him, our faces close, intoxicating, erotic. His eyes were mesmerizing, and I was drawn to them. Him. I was drawn to him.

“This is the easy part,” I said, and I knew he understood that I meant where we were now. “Kelter Phillips owns this place. I know how to get in, know how to act. And I know exactly what to do to be accepted back.” Now I pushed my lips to Eli’s ear. “You say the Arcoses are into the dark stuff, right? It’s where they’ll gather their freaky vampiric army?” I purposely pressed my mouth to Eli’s jaw. “Then it’s this place they’ll come, and I swear to God, I’m not leaving here tonight without finding something out about my brother or those assholes that have him under their control.” I pulled back and held Eli’s gaze with my very determined one. “You’re going to have to back off, Eli, and trust me. These aren’t vampires. They’re people.” I lifted my chin. “I can damn well handle people.” He stared hard, contemplating probably, then gave a begrudging single nod, and his eyes flared as they bored into mine. I couldn’t tell whether he was impressed or turned on. With his hand resting on my hip, Eli guided me to the bar; I ordered a shot of whiskey, and to my surprise Eli did the same. As I lifted the glass and swallowed the fiery liquid, Eli watched, his gaze following the path of the whiskey as it slipped down my throat. Raw male power and deliberate sexual hunger lit his eyes, and to say that the sensation it stirred within me was erotic was a freaking understatement. He was driving me crazy, and I had to literally make a conscious effort not to put my hands on him. It was so easy to submerge into the seductive darkness of our surroundings; the music, the forced intimacy, the whiskey — they were all drugs in their own right. And I was an ex-junkie to it all.

“Someone’s coming, and I don’t like him,” Eli said close to me, and he turned to the bar. I waited, although I knew who it’d be. I was right.

“Riley Poe. Damn, it is you,” a throaty voice said behind me. “All grown-up.”

I turned and amid the strobe lights stared into a face from my past — one I hadn’t ever planned on encountering again but knew I’d run into tonight. Average-sized, Kelter Phillips wore his usual attire: a collection of black leather, chains, spiked cuffs, and collars, and his signature bald head and black goatee looked exactly as they had when I used to hang with him. Ten years my senior and filthy rich, he now sported a large tat that started at his brow and stretched over his head in a six-inch-wide strip, Mohawk style. The tat was a list of the seven deadly sins, written in Old English and inked in black, with black vines and bloodred roses along the side. The words above his brow read Fuck Virtue, followed by lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride in intricate calligraphy. Damn, he always thought he was a badass. He could smell fresh meat a mile away, and to him I’d always been meat — only back then, I hadn’t known or cared. I pushed past my revulsion and gave Kelter a seductive smile. Eli tensed beside me. “What’s up, Kelter?”

Kelter gave Eli a curious glance and a nod. “Friend of yours?” he asked.

“Yeah, a friend,” I assured him. I’d get nowhere fast if Kelter thought I had the scrutiny of a boyfriend, and I nearly snorted out loud when I thought of what he’d think if he knew Eli was a creature of the afterlight. Beside me, Eli smothered a chuckle. Get out of my head, jackass, I thought. I knew Eli had heard.

“Come with me,” Kelter offered, completely ignoring Eli, and I tried not to shiver with revulsion when he placed his hand on my bare lower back.

“Sure,” I said, looking directly into Kelter’s black-lined eyes. I slid from the barstool and allowed him to guide me into the throng of people dancing. Before I got too far, I glanced over my shoulder; Eli sat watching me with a deadly glare in his eyes. I’ll be okay, I told him in my mind, and allowed the crowd to swallow me up. I wasn’t kidding myself; I knew Eli could see me, hear my heart, and would hear if called for him.

And God help anyone in his path.

Megadeth’s “Bite the Hand” roared through the Panic Room, and I moved seductively to the music; strange bodies moved with me. With my peripheral, I noticed someone standing close to us, and when I turned, the person had slipped back into the crowd. I stared hard through the smoky darkness. It was Eli, and he was everywhere, moving so fast the human eye couldn’t track him. I knew to look for him, and although I couldn’t see him actually change locations, I glimpsed him hovering closer, like a hawk. I got one glimpse of his face; he looked like he wanted to rip Kelter apart. Take it easy, Dupré, I said in my mind, and turned my attention back to the scumbag I was forced to deal with.

Kelter watched me intently as his hands slid down my hips and pulled me closer, and I knew he was already half lit and turned on, the smell of whiskey, marijuana, and cigarettes clinging to him. Suddenly, his hands were on my ass, his crotch grinding against me, and his mouth pressed to my ear. “You look good enough to fuck right here,” he said, obviously thinking his controlling dirty talk would do it for me, and it made me sick to think that at one time, it had done it for me. Now it made me profusely sick, and I tried not to let it show. “That ink is goddamn hot,” he said, and traced my dragons up both arms, then back down again. “All professional now, huh? Got your own business,” he said, moving behind me and groping my hips, pulling me hard against him. His dick was already hard — it probably stayed that way. With all the crap Kelter took, it wouldn’t surprise me to know he’d added Viagra to his repertoire of drugs and walked around with a twenty-four-hour woody. “Wanna go to the back?” he said in my ear, and turned me back around to face him. “Old times, huh, Riley?”

“Depends,” I said loudly over the pounding music. “On what you got back there.”

Without warning, Kelter grabbed my hand and pushed it against his crotch, and he throbbed beneath the leather pants at my touch. I tried to control my reaction; seriously, I did. But a lot had happened since my wild, reckless days at the Panic Room, and I reacted. I grabbed his balls hard, yanked upward and in, and twisted; Kelter’s eyes widened, and he smothered a painful gasp. I could tell he was getting no air at all if the squeaking from his throat and stretched eyeballs meant anything. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.

“Nobody forces me anymore,” I said, staring deadpan at Kelter’s agonized face. I squeezed harder. “Like you said — I’m all grown-up, and I didn’t come here for a lay. I don’t trade shit for it anymore. I’ll pay. Cash.” I glared at him. “Understand?”

Kelter nodded because he couldn’t breathe, and I released him. He coughed and drew a few deep breaths, and finally gave me a skeptical look. “Always did like it rough, didn’t you, Poe?”

I shrugged and turned to leave. I knew he’d stop me. He did.

“Okay,” he said, nearly grabbing my arm but thinking better of it. “Come on.” He inclined his head but didn’t touch me. “You remember the way?”

“Yeah,” I said, and followed him. Weaving through the sweating bodies and haze of cigarette smoke, I made my way to the panic rooms. Behind the main floor of the club was a horseshoe-shaped, dimly lit corridor that held the bathrooms. It swung in a half circle back to the main hall, and I knew that in the back was a set of double doors that led to six small rooms — rooms where crazy-weird stuff went on: sex, prostitution, drugs, fantasy role-playing — just about anything. As we squeezed past the people in the corridor, I winced as memories of my old self resurfaced. Near the back, a couple made out against the wall, her short leather skirt riding up her hips as his hand disappeared between her legs. She looked over his shoulder as I passed by and gave me the slightest of smiles, just before her eyes rolled back. Turning my head, I ignored her and continued on. Another small group of people hovered close by, and one guy in particular who stood off alone didn’t really surprise me: Eli. His head was bent, but as I passed he lifted it, and a hot, penetrating gaze met mine, followed by a look of pure hatred at Kelter. I got it, I mouthed to him, but it didn’t change his glare. All I wanted to do was get back into the scene, or at least make Kelter think I wanted back in. Lowlifes of various ages abounded in the panic rooms — but they were mostly buck-wild teens whose parents had no effing clue what they were up to, and Kelter, the sicko that he was, supplied whatever, whenever. Perfect recruits for the Arcoses. Not if I can help it . . .

Kelter stopped at the double doors, withdrew a key from his pocket, and opened the lock. He inclined his head for me to enter, and I did, and the moment I stepped through, the heavy scent of marijuana billowed out. My eyes burned as we walked down another short hall to Kelter’s office. He opened the door, and in a rush, a body flew by me, slamming into me so hard that I stumbled and fell against the wall.

“Goddamn it!” Kelter yelled. At the door, the figure stopped and turned. The figure wore dark ratty jeans and a black hoodie, and a pasty white face peered back at him. My insides froze to ice. It was Riggs Parker. And he turned directly to me and stared.