Part Seven
BLOODLUST
“All the ways you wish you could be, that’s me. I look the way you wanna look, I fuck the way you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways you are not.”
“The word monster means something a little different for everyone, I guess, but let me tell ya—to me, it defines every vile, fanatic, horrific dark evil you could possibly ever conjure up. It’s the thing that wracks your body with unstoppable quivers, terrors so mind-numbing you pee your pants just thinking about it. That’s him—the monster whose feeds I’ve been witnessing. I haven’t peed my pants yet, but I damn sure almost did. Never has something petrified me so badly. I’m now not only hesitant to fall asleep, but to not fall asleep, because that bastard shows up at any given time, day or night. It’s dragged bad memories of my past out of the dusty recesses of my once-juvenile mind and pushed them to the surface. I’m seeing my mother’s death all over again; feeling her lifeless body limp in my arms, her wide dull stare fixed but not seeing. I’m scared I’m losing my friggin’ mind, and to top it off, I’m faced with fighting a fuck-load of newlings in some sadistic fight club. Bullshit, man. Simply put, bullshit.”
The TV was on in the living room; I knew the Duprés
were just chillin’ while the mortals rested. I rose, worked out on
the bag for thirty minutes, showered, and dressed. As I stood in my
bra and panties, I adjusted my blade straps; one on each upper
thigh, inner and outer; one on each calf, inner and outer; one at
my lower back, one on each hip. I stared at myself in the
full-length mirror, satisfied that the lightweight sheaths Preacher
had had made for me out of moleskin were adjusted just right, the
weight of the blades perfect, easily retractable. Turning halfway,
I stared at the reflection of my back; the dragon tattooed up my
spine, down my arms, the black angel wing at the corner of my eye,
and me, standing in black bra and a black thong with eleven pure
silver knives strapped to various body parts. I had fifty more in
my bag.
I confess, I looked
badass—Marvel badass.
I prayed I could be
Marvel badass when faced with a dozen vampires.
“You can,” Eli said,
studying me from the doorway through my mirrored reflection. “And
you’re definitely Marvel badass.”
I grinned. “Thanks.”
Seeing him there shot a thrill through my insides.
Eli smiled wider.
Sexy as hell, that one.
I pulled on a pair of
loose knees-blown-out boyfriend jeans that sat low on my hips, a
black tank, and a lightweight black Adidas jacket. No need for a
trip to Mullet’s this go-round. I was dressed for comfort,
movement, jumping, stabbing, throwing. Pulling my hair into a
ponytail, my feet into my worn black Vans, I grabbed my bags and we
left the room.
Zetty, Jack, and Tuba
seemed to be waiting for me to appear around the corner; they were
already staring at me as I entered the living room. All gave a
nod.
“Hey guys,” I
offered, then found Seth, seated on the floor with Josie playing
Burnout 3 on Xbox 360. Phin and Luc were at the kitchen table, both
with their special V8’, and Luc inclined his head for me to join. I
walked over and set my bags on the floor.
“We ready or what?” I
asked. Chaz walked over, nuzzled my hand, and I scrubbed the fur on
his noggin. He’d been fed, watered, and walked, but the old guy
just needed a little reassurance. Moving to the fridge, I opened
it, pushed past the Duprés’ bag-o-meals, grabbed the OJ, and
swigged from the carton. Sweet juice and pulp filled my mouth and
slid down my throat.
“How’re the sheaths
Preach made for your blades?” Phin asked.
I nodded. “Feels
great. I barely even know they’re there.” I took another swig of
juice. I knew Zetty carried silver; was pretty sure Jack and Tuba
did, too, amongst other Gullah stuffs.
“Yeah, mine, too,”
said Seth, never even glancing away from his game.
“Good,” Phin said.
“Jack brought his truck. Tuba will ride with him. Josie and Seth
can ride with me. We’ll split the bikes and gear between the two
trucks. Luc and Zetty can ride with you and Eli,” he said to me. I
nodded.
“We’ll drive straight
there and set up,” Eli said. “Then a quick tour of the city.” He
regarded me. “Maybe not so quick. How long has it been since you
were in Charleston?”
I thought. “A while.
Maybe last June? Even then, I didn’t know my way around town,
except how to get to the battery, and city market.”
Eli regarded me.
“You’ll know it well by tonight.”
“Yes, I guess I
will,” I said. I squatted down to say good-bye to Chaz, holding his
fuzzy face between my hands. “I promise you some quality time when
I get home. In the meanwhile, you be good for Nyx. Go take a nap;
she’ll be here before you wake up,” I said to the dog, and allowed
his big, slobbery lick across my cheek. I kissed his muzzle,
scrubbed him between the ears, and stood. I grabbed my bags and
said, “Let’s go.” Eli quickly relieved me of them. “I got these,”
he said. Even when going to fight vamps, he was a
gentleman.
We hit the lights and
left. Outside, a thick, muggy fog hung over the city and wrapped
around us. I had the top off the Jeep; I preferred it that way.
Within fifteen minutes we had both Phin’s and Luc’s bikes and gear
loaded and were pulling out onto Bay Street. Phin led the way in
his black Ford F-150, both bikes strapped in the bed, followed by
Jack in his wicked-restored blue ’59 Chevrolet, and trailed by
me.
“Nice creepy morning,
huh?” Luc said from behind me as we sat at the red light. “Reminds
me of the old days, before electricity. Nothing but gas lamps
throughout the city.” He looked at me in the rearview mirror. “You
could hear them hissing as you passed by. Remember that, Eli? Ahh,
the clop-clop of the horse’s hooves on the cobbles, the hissing gas
lights.” He leaned his head on the seat rest and sighed. He turned
and looked at me. “Not that I’d give up cell phones and hot water
for it.”
I grinned. “Don’t
blame ya.”
Zetty remained
silent.
“The hissing gas
lights were pretty cool,” Eli offered.
The light changed, I
eased off the clutch, built up speed, and shifted into second gear.
It wasn’t light out yet, and a filmy haze hung over the city. I
felt irritable, anxious, and edgy. I wanted this to be over. I
missed . . . normalcy. And it was time for my period.
“Oh,” Luc said,
nodding, apparently reading my thoughts. “Gotcha.”
I shot him a glare.
“Put your seat belt on.” I shot Zetty a similar one. “You, too.” A
final one I shot at Eli, who’d already started to pull his on.
“That’s better.” He merely grinned.
I glared at Luc in
the rearview mirror. In the early-morning light, his skin nearly
blended with the fog. He smiled and did as I asked. “Sure thing,
babe.” Zetty also complied, but silently. I learned that most of
the time the Tibetan didn’t have a whole lot to say.
Once we pulled out
onto Interstate 16, I flipped the stereo on, shoved in a Drowning
Pool CD, and cranked the volume to rise over the wind. “More Than
Worthless” rocked us all the way to the Interstate 95 exit where we
headed north. More than once I glanced at Eli, who silently
returned my look. His hand rested on my thigh. We didn’t talk. Luc
was pretending to be asleep; I suppose he was simply enjoying the
ride. His crazy long hair blew all over the place, a content,
peaceful look settling into his flawless features. And as the
morning light grew stronger, it winked off the silver hoop in his
lip.
“Flawless, huh?” he
hollered over the wind. “Thanks, babe.”
“Stay out of my
noggin,” I yelled back. He smiled. We continued on.
Ten miles later, my
fuel light flashed. “Wanna call Phin and Jack? I need gas,” I said.
Luc pulled his cell from the pocket of his baggy cargo shorts and
called his brother. At the next exit, I pulled into a Sunoco and
stopped at one of the empty pumps. Phin, Jack, and Tuba pulled in
and parked near the exit. Eli unbuckled his belt to get out. “I got
it,” I said, and waved him down. “Won’t take but a sec.” Eli stared
at me for a moment, then gave a nod, and I slid from my seat. Only
then did I notice the debit card feature wasn’t working. “Please
see manager inside” was written on little white pieces of paper, on
all the pumps. “Damn,” I muttered, tempted to drive off and choose
another gas station. Instead, I started across the parking lot. One
pickup truck and a semitruck, parked in the back, were the only
other vehicles around. I pushed inside and walked up to the counter
where a middle-aged woman, rail-thin with hard life written all
over her, gave me a nod.
“Mornin’,” she said
in a smoker’s raspy voice. Her gaze went to my dragon-inked
arms.
I handed her my debit
card. “Forty on number three,” I said, then thought better of it.
“Wait.” My ravenous appetite kicked in, and I suddenly wanted junk.
Turning up the candy aisle, I grabbed a handful of Chick-O-Sticks,
a bag of salt and vinegar chips, and a package of those cupcakes
with waxy icing on top and gooey white cream in the middle. While
debating on a pouch of spicy roasted peanuts, I felt a presence
behind me. I glanced; a pair of big, dirty knobby-toed boots stood
close. Too close.
It happened all too
fast.
“Drop the shit and
get up. Nice and slow,” the voice belonging to the nasty boots
said. His hand grasped my ponytail and pulled, slowly but firmly.
“And don’t cause a scene. I know you got boys
outside.”
I momentarily closed
my eyes. “Are you freaking kidding me?” I said under my breath. I
left my junk food in a pile on the floor and slowly rose. “Dude,
you really don’t want—”
“Shut up,” the voice
commanded. “To the back of the store. Exit door by the head. Do it
now, bitch.” I felt the cold press of steel against my ribs through
my shirt. “I’ll stick you if you make a sound.”
Even before I’d been
introduced to my new tendencies, or to the vampiric world, humans
hadn’t scared me. This guy, with his knife that he’d stick me with,
damn sure didn’t scare me. He was a loser punk who hung out at gas
stations robbing people on the interstate. He was the very least of
my problems. But something wasn’t right. It wasn’t three o’clock in
the morning. It wasn’t the middle of the night. It was like when
you noticed a nocturnal animal, like a raccoon, out in the middle
of the day, you knew something was wrong. That raccoon had to be
sick. This guy had to be sick. Not wanting to cause the cashier any
stress, I did as he asked; I’d take care of him out back, get my
junk food, gas, and leave.
I eased out the exit
door, and a second later, the idiot followed.
Before the door
closed, I swung my leg high and around, knocked the knife from his
hand, and shoved him hard against the concrete wall. It was the
first look I’d had at him, other than his booted feet. My height,
stocky, and appearing to be late twenties, he wore an Atlanta
Braves baseball cap pulled down over a burred head of sandy hair.
He wore shades.
Just that fast, he
turned and knocked me to the ground. I managed to sweep him with my
leg before I hit. I landed on my backside. He landed on his
backside. His shades fell off. Opaque eyes stared hard and angry
back at me.
Well damn. Didn’t see
that one coming. Frickin’ frackin’ newling at the Sunoco. Go
figure. He must’ve gotten loose from whatever changed him. Great.
Freeroaming newlings.
I leapt up just as he
lunged; we met head-on. He was wild, uncontrolled, unaware of his
powers. I was not. Just as his fangs dropped, I reached for the
blade sheathed at my back. The silver flashed in the early-morning
light, and the newling’s eyes widened. A nasty snarl curled his
inhuman lips.
“You’re her,” he
murmured, and shoved me.
Just then Eli
appeared, Luc and Zetty right behind him.
The newling’s eyes
grazed both, then back to me. “Later,” he said, his voice not
matching the newling face. With a fierce shove, he flung me against
the wall. By the time I scrambled up, he was across the parking lot
and disappearing into the dense copse of tall planted pines behind
the Sunoco.
Grasping my knees, I
breathed hard, catching my breath. First, I kept my eyes trained at
the tree line. Then, the silence drew my attention to my parking
lot companions.
Luc stood, frowning.
Zetty stood, frowning more.
Eli took off after
the newling.
“What the freak is
wrong with you, Riley?” Luc said. He shoved his fingers through his
hair, staring hard at me. “Do you honestly think you can handle
everything by yourself?”
I rose and met his
gaze. “Sure. Why not?”
Luc continued to
stare for several seconds, as though trying to see something, then
blinked. “Unbelievable.”
I jammed the blade
back in its sheath. “What?” I asked.
Luc shook his head.
“Never thought I’d see a head harder than Eli’s. Do you have a
problem asking anyone for help, or just from me? Or
Eli?”
I shrugged. “I had
him, Luc. If I’d needed help, I would have definitely asked.” I
scratched my jaw. “He said, ‘You’re her.’ What’s that supposed to
mean? And why was he out here in the early morning, alone? Don’t
newlings usually run in groups? At least, for a
while?”
“Usually,” Luc said,
and led the way into the store. “But we’re dealing with Romanian
magic—or so Ned says, and I tend to believe him. There’s no telling
what we’re up against anymore.” He rounded on me as we stopped at
the pile of junk food sitting on the floor where I left it. “Which
is why you freaking need to call for help”—he tapped my
temple—“when something’s going down. Got it? Or do you really want
to see Eli kick my ass?”
I glanced at Zetty,
whose dark gaze remained fixed on mine. He merely
shrugged.
A cynical laugh
slipped from my throat. “Whatever, Dupré.” I bent down and gathered
my junk food, then headed to the cooler. “I gotta tell ya—I’m
pretty sick of hearing how Eli’s going to kick everyone’s asses for
me getting into trouble.” I flung open the cooler, grabbed a
Yoo-hoo, and let the door slam shut. “Where is he, anyway? It’s
been too long.”
Eli walked through
the front door. He shook his head. “He’s fast. Got
away.”
Luc and Zetty
followed me up to the front. The cashier, who’d stepped out the
front to smoke, was just making her way back behind the counter. I
set my junk food on the counter. “You can add this stuff to the
gas,” I said. She rang it up, looking at me uncertainly the whole
time.
“Receipt?” she
asked.
“No, thanks, “I
responded, scooped up my stuff, and left.
My cell vibrated. I
dumped my junk food in my driver’s seat and grasped the phone from
my back pocket. I glanced at the screen and rolled my eyes when I
saw Phin’s name. I answered. “Hey.” Eli glared at me.
“The next time you
pull something like that, Riley I will personally kick your ass,”
Phin said.
I hung the phone up
and flashed him the bird.
I was really, really
getting tired of all the ass-kicking threats.
Already, I was
getting irritated, and it wasn’t even eight o’clock in the morning
yet. I opened my gas cap, lifted the fuel nozzle, and jammed it in.
“Aren’t we going to go after him?” I asked about the newling. “He’s
pretty close to Savannah.”
“No,” Eli said,
leaning against the Jeep’s fender. “I told Papa. He and my mother
will take care of it. Just like I will take care of
you.”
I eyed Luc in the
rearview; his grin spoke volumes. Finished pumping, I stuck the
nozzle back in the pump, screwed the gas cap back on, and looked at
all three of my Jeep occupants. “Let’s get out of
here.”
I’d already had
enough newling excitement for one morning.
Twenty-seven miles
later we merged onto US 17 North. I’d shucked out of my jacket, and
cars filed down both lanes. Palm trees and live oaks dripping with
Spanish moss gathered along the highway, along with the occasional
Gullah woman, sitting out beneath a pitched half tent, or a beach
umbrella, in a plastic and metal lawn chair with a quilt spread on
the ground and dozens of sweetgrass baskets for sale. Small country
stores advertising homemade peach preserves and boiled peanuts,
along with fruit stands, gathered at the edge of the highway. In
between those fruit stands were pieces of plywood nailed to trees:
PEACHES, WATERMELONS, PECANS, FIVE MILES. It was all unique, very
South Carolina. Very Charleston.
“You like it here,”
Eli said, peering at me behind a pair of aviators.
I regarded him behind
my own pair of shades and smiled. “I remember my mom taking Seth
and me here, to Folly Beach, when we were very young,” I said.
“We’d stay at the Holiday Inn, and Seth and I would hang out at the
ice machine, eating it by the handfuls. Nice
memories.”
“They’re good to
have,” he answered. “Hold on to them.”
It was the best piece
of advice I’d been given in a while.
By the time we drove
the sixty-plus miles to Charleston, the sun drove harshly into the
open top of my Jeep. Overhead, white fluffy clouds drifted in a sky
of pure blue, and the breeze that whipped at my face and my
ponytail, felt warm, at times smoldering—typical dog days of
summer. One would never think such ease and beauty would lead to
immortal monsters jabbing their fangs into the hearts of humans, or
crazy vampire cult fight clubs taking place while the city slept.
Or worse—newlings hanging out at the Sunoco, waiting for victims.
Fucked up, I tell ya.
More palms and mossy
oaks stood along old neighborhood streets as we hit the historic
district. Spearing the sky was the tall, spindly spire of St.
Michael’s, and farther along Church Street, the well-known and aged
French Huguenot Church. I downshifted with the slower traffic along
Market Street, glancing over at the Gullah women and their wares in
the city market. Sweetgrass baskets of all shapes and sizes and
strip quilts covered the market stands, filled with goods varying
from fruit preserves to handmade jewelry. We didn’t stop; instead,
we continued toward the harbor, following Phin, east of the Ashley
River and all the way to South Battery. We pulled in behind the two
trucks Phin and Jack were driving. We were parked on the driveway
of a large, white, three-story historic home. It looked like
something out of Southern Living
magazine. I’m talking full-front verandas, large-paddled ceiling
fans, white rocking chairs, and dozens of huge green Boston ferns,
and flanked by tall palms, crepe myrtle trees, and aged magnolias
with large, waxy green leaves. It sat in the famous line of battery
houses overlooking Charleston Harbor. We pulled around back and
parked in the shade. I threw the Jeep into neutral and yanked the
emergency brake.
I looked at the
battery mansion before us. “Whose place is this?”
Eli looked at me over
his shades. “Belongs to Jake Andorra, but he won’t be here. It’ll
just be us.”
“So where’s Jake
Andorra if he’s not here?” I asked, unfastening my seat belt and
sliding out the Jeep’s door.
Luc grinned and
answered. “London.”
“And . . . how long
has Jake Andorra been dead?” I continued.
“About four hundred
and sixty years,” Eli said with a laugh. “Good thing he’s not
here.”
“Why?” I asked,
pushing my shades up into my hair.
Eli stared at me for
a moment, his grin widening. “He’d like you too much.”
I shook my head. Eli
grabbed my bags and his from the backseat and rounded the Jeep; Luc
did the same, as did the ever-silent Zetty. We walked toward the
others. I glanced at Luc. “And does he drink V8’ like the Duprés,
or—”
“Don’t ask,” Luc
replied. I couldn’t tell by his expression what that meant exactly,
so I dropped it.
Phin, Josie, and
Seth, loaded down with backpacks, and Jack and Tuba, loaded down
with . . . something, turned to us as we walked up.
“We’ll get our gear
inside. Zetty, Jack, Tuba, and Josie will make the place safe while
you and Seth learn the city,” Phin said. He stared at me.
“Ready?”
“Have been,” I
answered.
“Me, too,” Seth
answered. He glanced at me and smiled. I can’t say I was happy at
all to have my baby brother facing fight club vamps, not to mention
be in the same city as the monster in my visions. All I can say is
that his tendencies were smack-daddy kick-ass, and to have him
backing me up made me feel a helluva lot better.
With a nod, Phin led
the way into Jake Andorra’s mansion.
Inside, everything
was spotless. Yet empty. Vaulted ceilings and an open plan made it
look even emptier. Just at first glance, as Seth and I walked
through to the second level, I noticed no photographs; very little
home décor—a vase here, a plant there, probably fake—and everything
squeaky clean. Yet empty. It was a fully stocked home with no
personal touches. Upstairs, the rooms were massive. Phin led us
past a mammoth library that I barely glimpsed. Then, into my room;
our room, rather—mine and Eli’s.
“Home sweet home,
Riley,” he said, then inclined his head to Seth. “Come on. Yours is
across and down the hall.” Seth grinned and wagged his brows at me,
adjusted both packs on his shoulders, and followed Phin
out.
Any woman would just
melt in a house like this. I glanced around, only slightly miffed
that this was no vacay but instead, a vamp hunt. But day-yum, it
should be. In another life, maybe. The room held an enormous king
bed piled high with pillows and topped with a down comforter,
fireplace, ceiling fan, and various pieces of antique furniture. A
wicker love seat sat close to the white-painted French doors
leading to the veranda outside the room. I dumped my stuff on the
floor next to the bed. I wasn’t an indulger, but I couldn’t help
opening the door and taking a step out. The air smelled like home,
heavy and tinged with brine. I breathed it in and took in the view.
Charleston Harbor was just across the way, and, in the distance,
boats dotted the water. Nice. It was . . . nice. With a deep
inhalation and slow exhalation, I resigned myself to doing what I
did, being who I was.
“You like it?” Eli
asked.
I nodded.
“Definitely.”
“Ready, guys?” Seth
asked from the door.
“Yeah, Bro,” I said.
“We’re ready.”
After a quick trip to
the bathroom, we headed downstairs and rounded the corner just in
time to see Luc lift a small vial to his mouth. I sidled up next to
him. “What’s that stuff?”
Luc grinned.
“Preacher gave it to us. It masks our origins to other vampires and
allows us to slip into their zone without being detected.” He
slurped the last drop and set the vial on the counter. “Lasts for
about three days,” he said. He handed Eli a vial.
“You have more,
right?” I asked. Three days wasn’t a long time.
Phin walked up, Luc
tossed him a vial, and he and Eli downed theirs in one sip. “Yes,
we have more. Preacher gave us a decent supply.” He wiped his mouth
and set his vial next to Luc’s. “And this is our second vial. Took
the first one a few days ago. You two ready to learn the city?” He
glanced at Seth and me.
I looked at my
brother, who seemed overly eager. “Yep,” I answered, and we headed
outside.
“I’m sitting this one
out,” Eli said. “I have some things to get in order with Noah.” He
kissed me, and the others made goofy noises. “See ya in a
bit.”
“Okay,” I answered,
and gave him a saucy smile.
Jack and Tuba had
unloaded the bikes. I rode with Luc; Seth with Phin. Before Seth
slung a leg over Phin’s bike seat, I stopped him with a quick
pat-down. Seth’s green gaze, slightly humored, met
mine.
“Yeah, I got my
silver, Sis. Don’t worry so much,” he said, then kissed my nose,
pushed my glasses down and in front of my eyes, and slid his shades
on. Phin handed him a half helmet, despite the no-helmet law of
South Carolina, and Seth snugged it in place.
My brother looked and
acted way older than fifteen these days.
“Just checking,” I
answered, then threw my leg over Luc’s bike seat. He turned, handed
me my half helmet, and grinned. “Law or not, I’m not taking any
chances with yours or your brother’s noggins.” He looked at me over
his shades. “Ready?”
I pulled my helmet
on. “Been.”
With a laugh, Luc
jumped and kick-started the bike; Phin did the same, and we pulled
down the driveway, past two tall palms, and onto the
street.
For several hours
after, we rode every street and alley of historic Charleston; from
Market Street, to Church Street, past the white exterior of the
French Huguenot Church, the unique salmon-colored Unitarian Church
in Charleston with its square-topped steeple, up to Marion Square,
and then down again. We learned King Street, Queen Street, Meeting
Street, the open market, the historic district. The church district
lent tall spires that stabbed the sky, and the French district had
cafés and shops. That was all pretty easy to get the hang of. It
reminded me a lot of Savannah, although we had more squares. Still,
it was pretty easy to get, and simple to get the feel for. For a
couple more hours, we rode; no alley, no side street next to a
tourist shop, no restaurant, went unsearched. Late afternoon
approached fast.
Then we rode out a
ways, to the industrial part of the city, where the scenery wasn’t
so picturesque. Compared to the clean-lined historic district, with
its palms and white buildings and pristine parks, this part of the
city had an underground, postapocalyptic feel to it. These streets
and barred-windowed businesses were purposely kept out of the
travel mags and tourist brochures. Everything looked . . . dirtier.
Rather, forgotten. We pulled up to what appeared to be an old brick
warehouse. In faded red letters against a gray metal sign, the
words MALLORY’S FISH MARKET stretched in an arch. The moment Luc
killed the motor, a single door opened and Noah Miles stepped
out.
He looked dead at
me.
“Know the city now,
do you?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said, and
glanced around. “Where’s Eli?” I asked.
“He left about an
hour ago. Had to go make arrangements with Garr, Preacher’s
cousin.”
Luc braced the weight
of the bike with his legs, and I stayed on the bike. “So where’s
the fight club?”
Noah rubbed his jaw
and grinned. “Not anxious, are you? Already packin’
silver?”
“I’m ready to get
this over with,” I answered. And dammit, I was.
He nodded, and the
others we’d met at the Dupré House the night before filed out and
stood behind Noah. Street tough and ready to fight as they were,
one would have a hard time believing they were actually vampires.
Jenna, no more than nineteen, was of medium build and had long
blond dreads she wore pulled back, similar to Noah’s. Saul was
Asian, early twenties, and had zero readable expression on his
face. Cafrey and Tate, I’d learned, were brothers from Arkansas,
both with buzzed hair with a sturdy, kick-ass build.
“So,” Noah said,
“screw the pleasantries, yeah? Welcome to Charles Town. Now, before
we get dirty, which only happens after the sun dips, there’s
someone we gotta see.”
Getting dirty meant
free running, which I’d later discover, Noah and his guys were
totally sick at. But we had a few hours of daylight left, and
apparently, someone wanted to see us. “Who?” I asked. “And
why?”
“Garr,” Noah said.
“He’s waiting for us just a ways out of town.” He grinned at me.
“Eli’s there, too. And not only do you mortals need to eat, but he
wants to see da crazy painted white girl Preacher man been talkin’
bout, dat’s right.”
“Well,” I said,
unable to stop the grin from tipping my mouth upward. Noah sort of
had that effect on people—on me. He had that cocky, quick-witted,
smart-ass attitude that, I don’t know, I thought was pretty funny,
I guess. I met his gaze. “I’m starved, so let’s go meet
him.”
I gave my brother a
glance; he grinned. Then, Noah and the others disappeared back into
the building. Minutes later, one of the garage doors lifted and
Noah backed out in a kick-ass blue restored muscle car. I had no
idea what it was, but I had to say it was totally
Noah.
“It’s a ’sixty-nine
Camaro Z28 RS with hooker headers, four-speed mucie, 373 psi, and
four-wheel disc brakes,” Luc offered. He turned and looked at me,
the sun glinting off his silver hoop. “In original Leman’s blue
with a black leather interior. Saved it from the junkyard and
restored it himself. Pretty sick, huh?”
Noah pulled the car
alongside Luc’s bike and gave me a smile any other woman would have
fainted dead over.
I merely shook my
head and grinned.
“Boys and their
toys,” I said. “Dead, undead—you’re all the same.”
Noah flashed his
white teeth. “Follow me.” He pulled out, his exhaust rumbling, and
we fell in behind him.
Heading north on
Highway 17, we eased out of Charleston following Noah.
Approximately twenty-eight miles later, we hit the small town of
Awendaw and turned east toward the river. I held on to Luc as we
turned down a narrow gravel lane that led back into the wood. The
sun was beginning to drop lower in the sky, and shadows fell long
and jagged from aged live oaks across the palm fronds and
sweetgrass hugging either side of the lane. I knew we grew closer
to the river; the pungent smell of sea life clung to the humid air
like fog. Up ahead, Noah’s taillights lit up as he pulled in front
of a small, older river house; painted green several years before,
it had a screened-in porch and a single yard lamp. Luc pulled next
to the Camaro and killed the engine. I swung my leg over and off
the bike.
“Come on,” Noah said,
grinning, suddenly at my side and grasping my elbow. A deep,
singsong voice that sounded strikingly familiar broke through the
night air.
“Awe, now, dere she
is, den,” a tall, wiry black man said from the top step of the
screened-in porch. “You come on over here, Riley Poe, and bring
your brodder; dat’s right. Let me take a look at you
two.”
I threw one more
glance at Luc, whose back was to me as he spoke, and for a second I
thought to crank up my strigoi hearing and eavesdrop. I didn’t get
the chance. Garr, Preacher’s cousin, stopped me. No—I mean
literally. He stopped me—with a lot more strength than an old man
should have had. I stared at him.
Garr flashed me a
gap-toothed smile.
Then, it hit me. He
had tendencies.
A little something
Preacher had left out.
As Garr led me up the
steps into his river cabin, Noah, Phin, and Seth on my heels, he
let out a deep, amused chuckle.
“Well, baby,” he
said, and we stepped into the cabin. “We got some catchin’ up to
do, me and you.” All of six feet five inches, he looked down at me.
The ceiling fan whirring in the living room seemed about to take
his head off. “Now, we ain’t stoppin’ in here, no, sir.” He
inclined his head, adorned with a faded Awendaw Blue Crabs cap,
perched slightly crookedly. “Straight out da back door, to da
pavilion. Your Eli is waitin’ for you out dere.” He narrowed his
eyes at me. “You like crabs, don you, girl?”
I smiled. “Yes, sir.
I do.”
“Good, den. Let’s get
out dere before dey all get eaten.”
Garr left no chance
for me to discuss anything with Noah or Phin. He continued to pull
me through the little river house, straight out the back door, and
down a long wooden dock over the marsh. A slight breeze kicked up
and blew briny air across my cheeks, and the rustle of saw grass
blades scraping against one another nearly soothed me.
Nearly, but not
quite.
Once at the end,
three other Gullah standing by Eli raised their heads and grinned.
Two were older, maybe in their late fifties, and one was younger,
midtwenties. The barefoot younger guy, bare-chested and wearing
cut-offs to his knees, was dumping a basket of live crabs into a
large pot of boiling water. Metal crab baskets lined the dock, and
two long metal, green-netted scoop nets rested against a lawn chair
in the middle. Two large coolers sat beside them. The boy nodded,
keeping his gaze trained on me. Eli walked toward us.
“Come on in here,
girl,” Garr said, and led us into the screened-in boathouse. A
long, well-used wooden table and benches took the length of the
small house; covered in newspaper, a large pile of boiled crabs,
red from cooking, sat heaped in the center.
“Sit,” he said, and
crossed in front of me to sit on the other side. “Eat.” Old gnarled
hands picked up a crab, pulled off the claw, and pulled the pincers
apart. He sucked the juice from the claw, then cracked into the
meat with a tiny hammer.
Eli stepped inside
and found a seat beside me. Seth slid in next to me, on the other
side; Noah and Phin crossed over and sat on the other side, next to
Garr. A few minutes later, Luc wandered in and sat next to Seth. We
all ate. The young Gullah brought in plastic cups and a cold gallon
milk jug filled with sweet tea, then poured our glasses and
left.
“You see, girl,” Garr
started, in between bites of white claw meat, “Charles Town in a
bad way, dat’s right. Just like Savannah. Maybe worse,” he said.
“Dat Preacher, he told me what happened over dere, with da hell
stone.” He shook his head. “Dat’s bad stuff, dem Arcoses. But dem
Duprés, dey handled it good, wit your help.” He glanced at Seth.
“You all right, boy?”
Seth nodded. “Yes,
sir.”
Garr nodded. “Well,
we glad to have your help here in Charles Town. Been a long time
since we had much trouble here, dat’s right, Noah?”
Noah gave me a quick
glance. “Yes, sir.”
Garr leaned forward,
crab meat sticking to his fingers. “Well, we got it now, doh. Dem
Arcoses, dey turned some, dey left some wit tendencies, dey killed
some. No tellin’ how many runnin’ round now, doh.”
“Preacher says we
have to entomb them again,” Eli offered. “Maybe just one of
them.”
Garr nodded. “Probly
so.” Eli had already explained to Garr Victorian’s explanation, and
about me. The whole while, Garr said nothing more. But he watched
me with ancient, wise eyes.
We finished eating; I
don’t think I’d ever eaten so many crabs at once. They were good,
with just the right amount of seasoning. Some of it I recognized as
normal, regular, everyday spicy crab boil seasoning; some I did
not.
“To keep up your
strength,” Noah said, staring at me from across the table. He
wagged his brows.
By the time we
finished, the sun had nearly set; the gloaming, Noah had called it,
with no sun, no moon, and the eerie glow of afterlight. Usually,
the gloaming was filled with bugs and birds and frogs, calling,
mating, singing—not so much anymore. Funny how nature knew what was
going on, but humans didn’t.
We left the dock, and
the afterlight, behind.
Inside Garr’s river
house, he pulled something from the pocket of his white T-shirt and
stopped us one more time. He handed a vial each to Seth and me.
“Drink up, Brodder and Sister,” he said. “Dis will let dem newlin’s
tink you mortal all de way. Might help for a spell, dat’s
right.”
Neither Seth nor I
hesitated; we unscrewed the small little lid and turned the bottle
upright. We drained every drop. It tasted a mixture of sweet and
tang, but with no aftertaste. We handed the vials back to
Garr.
“Dere now. You go and
take care of stuff. I’m here if you need me,” he said.
“Thank you,” I
returned, and before I could go, he grasped both of my hands. With
aged fingers he trailed the dragons on my arms, scraping the wings
at my cheek.
“You mind dem Duprés,
girl,” he said. “And dis Noah, too. Dey keep you and your brodder
safe, and Preachers boys and dat odder big dark fella.” He narrowed
his eyes. “Don be a hardhead, girl. You can’t take dem all on by
yourself.”
“Yes, sir,” I
answered, and could only wonder what sort of conversations he and
Preacher’ had had about me.
Garr grinned. “Wasn’t
no Preacher, girl. Was Eli Dupré. Now git.”
I could do nothing
more than stare.
Garr laughed and
shooed us out of his little old green river house. Eli grasped my
arm and pulled me close.
As we crossed the
yard, the lamplight cast an amber half circle around the house.
Beyond the circle, fireflies blinked in the night. It felt surreal
here, on the Awendaw; almost disjointed from the hell in
Charleston. I knew better, though, and by the time we left and
headed south on US 17, complete darkness had fallen. This time, I
rode back with Eli on his bike.
Just as we hit the
city limits, I felt Eli’s hand grasp mine, wrapped around his
waist, and squeeze. He said nothing. He didn’t have to, and I
wasn’t going to ask.
No sooner had Eli
stopped the bike than Victorian’s voice fill my head.
Please, Riley—you don’t have to do this. It is a fight you
will never win, love. Don’t you see? There’re too many of them, and
I cannot stand the thought of your putting yourself in danger. I’m
begging you—leave now. Please? And yes—you can answer me in your
head. Another strigoi quality. Just think to me. . .
.
“What is it that you can’t stand the thought of? My
killing your kind? I’m in constant danger, Victorian. Whether I’m
in the fight or not. You know me by now—I will not sit idly by and
watch others die. Maybe you can live with that, but I can’t, ” I
thought.
“Ah, see? Just that easy. You’ll find more abilities as
time goes by. And this—it’s one of the many qualities I adore about
you, Riley. I so wish I could just take you away. You and I,
completely alone somewhere, far away from the melee you’re about to
subject yourself to. I dream of nothing, day and night, but you;
the smell of your skin, the taste of your lips, the feel of your
hands on me. It’s . . . almost painful.”
“I’m not getting into that with you right now, Victorian.
You know where my heart lies,” I thought to
myself.
“I know where you think your heart lies. I aim to prove
otherwise. For now, love, I beg you; listen to those around you.
Let them keep you safe. My existence would be no longer if you
perish.”
“I can’t make promises, other than I will be careful. Now,
go away. You’re distracting me.”
Ah, a promising gesture indeed. Distraction. I have more
hope now than before. I shall see you soon, love. Stay
safe.
“Ri, what’s
wrong?”
I blinked, and just
that fast, the conversation was over. I focused on Eli’s face. I
could tell he couldn’t hear my conversation with Victorian. “I just
carried on a conversation with Victorian. In my head,” I said,
closing my eyes briefly. I looked at him. Eli’s eyes were harder
than usual, but he said nothing. “He says it’s my strigoi blood
that gives me the ability, and no,” I said, meeting his angry gaze,
“I don’t want it. But I’m stuck with it. And he was begging me not
to fight.” I wasn’t lying—Victorian was a distraction. Eli was a
distraction. Anything right now was a distraction. I had to get my
mind in the game and erase all other distractions from my thoughts.
It was bad enough my little brother ran beside me in all this; I
had to do things right the first time and get this shit over
with.
“Thank you for
telling me,” Eli said. “No more secrets, Riley.”
My stomach turned.
“No more secrets.”
“We ready to get
dirty?” Noah said, walking from the garage and standing before me
in the beam of street light.
I glanced at Luc, who
rolled up and pushed his bike in next to the Camaro.
“Yep,” I said. “Let’s
go.” Noah’s guys appeared from the building; Zetty with them. Phin,
Luc, Seth, Eli, and I gathered.
“This way,” Noah
said, and took off running. His team followed.
“Ladies first,” Luc
said, but Eli grabbed my arm when I started off. “Riley,” he said.
“Be careful. I mean it.”
“I always am,” I
said, and hoped he could detect the sincerity in my gaze. He gave a
short nod—meaning he understood—and we took off after the
group.
Jenna, in her baggy
jeans, T-back, and black high-tops, could just about outrun Noah.
We moved through the city’s industrial section on foot, bounding
off rooftops, treetops, cars and awnings; there wasn’t a flat
surface we couldn’t use. Zetty, whom I hadn’t done any free-running
with, surprised the hell out of me. That big guy could haul ass and
jump just as high as Phin. He wasn’t quite as nimble, maybe, and
obviously not as experienced; Phin had been doing it a lot longer.
Still, he was impressive.
The brine of the
city, mixed with the dirt and trash and urine of downtown
industrial Charleston, hung thick in the air, trapped in the same
fog of humidity as Savannah. Dark clouds had formed, just before
dark, and a slight rumble sounded in the darkened distance. Every
once in a while, heat lightning would flash across the
sky.
It brought back
heated memories of Eli and me on the barrier island, not too long
ago, and he must have remembered, too, because our gazes met
frequently and there was always something there, heated, between
us. It thrilled me and urged me on.
As we ran and leapt,
my anger, anxiety, fear, propelled me. I pumped my arms, used my
thigh muscles to spring from ledges, and moved with all my energy
until I burned. It felt good; the weight of my blades, sheathed in
moleskin made by my surrogate grandfather, felt more familiar;
adrenaline built up. By the time Noah led us to a dilapidated
redbrick building in a row of other old buildings in the very slums
of Charleston, I barely recognized it as an old church; after I
noticed the double wooden archways, I wondered if it’d once been a
carriage house. Graffiti in white paint marked the double doors—two
large M’s, whatever that meant.
Crouched atop the roof across the street, we peered at the row. I
could hear the roar inside. With my sense of smell I detected
sweat, piss, and the metallic scent of blood. I struggled to keep
the exaggerated oscillatory sounds of the city out, and after a few
moments of concentration, I filtered out most. I glanced upward.
One small oval window, near the top, flickered with light. Noah
moved next to me. Eli stood protectively on my other
side.
“No cops wander this
side of town,” he said. “They skirt it, avoid it, and it’s always
been bad, and I don’t mean vampire bad.” He glanced at me. “That’s
a new development. I mean street gangs, drugs, whores—you name it.
It’s just easier for the cops to let what happens, happen. Not
enough room in the prison for all this.”
I looked at
him.
He pointed up the
street. “See that convenience store?” I looked. “Whatever kind of
shit you want, you can get out back next to the Dumpster, right
along with a loaf of bread, a bag of Chick-O-Sticks, and a six-pack
of beer.”
“Sweet place to raise
a family,” I offered. “Now, are we headed in or what? I don’t want
to be in the middle of a fight when a vision comes over me again. I
go totally out.”
“I know,” Noah said,
his mercury eyes regarding me, then shifting to Eli. “I can always
pull you out of it.”
“The hell you will,”
Eli said, his voice dark and threatening.
I narrowed my gaze at
them both.
He laughed. “Okay,
Riley Poe. Bro. Chill.” He inclined his head. “Once we’re in, we
separate. If any of the newlings notice us all together, they’ll
get suspicious and come after us, despite the Gullah potion we all
drank. You wanna try and save a few in the quickening,
right?”
“Yeah,” Phin
answered. “As many as possible. Garr’s ready for them,
right?”
Noah nodded. “Yep.
They’re waiting at our place. One call and his guys are here to
haul them off.”
Phin nodded. “Good
deal.”
Noah continued. “All
right. Eli, Luc, stay with Riley. If she goes out, get her out.
Josie, I’ll be with you and Seth.” Noah gave my brother a hard
look. “And don’t zone in on your sister. She’s our concern tonight,
not yours. You watch your own neck. We’ll watch hers.”
“You can use Luc on
someone else. I got Riley,” Eli said, moving close.
Noah grinned. “Luc’s
for you, man, in case you get out of control.”
I looked at Eli’s
face. It darkened. “I’ll be okay,” I assured. It didn’t seem to
help much.
Seth threw a glance
my way. The wind caught his dark brown hair and tossed it into his
eyes. I could tell he hated this, and for a second I wished like
hell we could go back, to before the Arcoses were released. I
missed his innocence. Love you, he
mouthed to me. I mouthed it back, then nodded to Noah.
“Okay.”
Noah gave him a
return nod, then turned to the others. “Phin, you’re on Zetty. My
guys, scatter. Keep your eyes peeled and stay close—but not too
close. We don’t want them knowing we’re all together.” He glanced
down at the street and pointed. A group of four guys had turned the
corner and were headed to the entrance. “Mortals. Perfect. Let’s
follow them in. And hey—we’re not here to cause shit tonight. The
killings won’t happen until the end of the week, anyway, so keep
your head on straight.” He looked at me and smiled. “Follow me,
darlin’.”
I looked back at Eli,
who inclined his head to follow Noah, and I did. Luc stayed behind
us. We swung down, bounded, and leapt, until we dropped to the
sidewalk. In the distance, a siren blasted over the city, and close
by, a baby’s unhappy scream seeped out of an open window and ripped
through the night. It gave me chills to think of a baby being
raised in this environment. I knew there were thousands more I’d
managed to tune out.
I followed Noah to
the front entrance, and we filed in behind the mortals. Inside, the
fanatic boom of heavy metal music thumped against the walls, joined
by the muffled rumble of hollering, objects being slammed against
surfaces, swearing, cheering.
Screams.
We found more
graffiti inside. The whole place was dim, with a few candles
lighting the interior of the shelled-out church, with a fading
charred outline of Christ on the cross where it used to hang on the
wall, obviously before a fire took it out. Charred rafters overhead
and a set of narrow steps leading upward near the back made up the
room. We headed to the stairs. The mortals had already started up.
Hurrying across the floor littered with cans, trash, liquor bottles
and cigarette butts, we followed them up and pushed into a crowded
room above. Our group instantly separated. The scent of kerosene
burned my nostrils as I followed Luc around a ring of spectators.
Inside were two fighters; bare to the waist, wearing ripped jeans,
and barefoot. Both were mortal. As I squeezed through the crowd, I
glanced around and noticed several guys wearing dark
shades.
“Newlings trying to
hide their freaked-out eyes,” Luc offered. “Keep up.”
I pushed closer to
Luc. “Why is it mortal against mortal?” I said into his
ear.
He looked at me. “To
weed out the weak,” he offered.
Just like Noah had
said, the newlings were looking for the strongest of the mortals to
lure into their band. It made sense.
“Let’s get in here,”
Eli said, and pushed in next to a pair of guys at ringside. Two
guys fought, their faces cut and bloodied. I could literally sense
the bloodlust accumulating in the room, vying with an immense
overload of testosterone. How the newlings were keeping their cool,
I had no friggin’ clue.
“Whoever created them
is controlling them—that’s how,” Eli said against my ear. “With one
thought he could tell them to maul and devour everyone in this
room. That’s why I want you to watch your mouth, your ass, and not
to do anything stupid.”
I looked at him hard.
“Yeah, I got that, Dupré. Stop worrying so much.” The guy next to
me jumped, and I fell hard into Eli’s side. “Does that mean he’s
here?” I asked.
Luc pushed beside me
and shook his head. “He’s not here.”
The crowd cheered as
one of the fighters roundhouse kicked the other in the face and
knocked him down. One of the newlings, dressed in dark jeans, a
dark tee, and a black skully with dark shades, walked the perimeter
of the man-made ring, watching everything—including what went on in
the crowd. Across the way, I noticed Noah and Seth. My stomach
lurched at the thought of watching my brother fight. He normally
wasn’t a fighter. He was sweet, and he had a kind, cheerful
soul.
“Now he has a
kick-ass soul,” Luc offered. “Pay attention, Riley. Head in the
game.”
I swore in Romanian.
Eli pressed against me, probably to make sure I knew he wasn’t
going to put up with my being pig-headed, and continued to watch
the fight.
The guy beating the
holy crap out of the other thought he was one tough bastard. Even
when the other guy was on the floor, he stomped and kicked him in
the ribs. The more the crowd cheered, the more brutal he became. We
watched him fight one more guy, nearly beating him to death, before
I could take no more. The weaker one kept trying to get up, would
make it on one knee, and the other would smash into his face with
his elbow, then his heel. I pushed the guy in front of me, heard
Eli swear as I rushed the floor, and I knew Luc had restrained him,
because he didn’t follow. Just as big bully badass was about to
drop his half-dead opponent, I roundhouse kicked him in the ribs. I
heard Eli behind me say, “Fuck!” just as my new opponent dropped to
one knee.
The crowd
roared.
From the corner of my
eye, I noticed the newling moderator move toward me. I challenged
him. “What?” I threw my hands up. “You got a fuckin’ rule says I
can’t fight him?”
A slow smile spread
across his face. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I knew they were
weird and opaque behind his shades. His skin was pale—almost a blue
hue. Funny how no one else seemed to notice. His gaze raked over my
inked skin. “There are no rules, bitch. Go for it.”
The moment he said
it, the crowd roared, and my opponent, jumping up, lunged toward
me. I dodged and swept a leg out. He tripped and hit the
floor.
I really, really
didn’t want to fight a mortal.
I didn’t dare look
behind me, back into the crowd. Eli’s anger hit me like a wave, and
I could only imagine Luc was having a helluva time restraining
him.
It was like fighting
a toddler—unfair; no sport—and it wasn’t accomplishing anything. I
wanted to kill vampires. I wanted to kill him, the monster.
I let my opponent
land a few hits, just for show. They hurt. I dealt. I made sure no
blood was spilled.
Unavoidably, my gaze
hit the crowd. Twice I found Eli glaring at me. Luc grinned. I’d
caught Noah’s stare as well, but his was a slight smile instead. He
was diggin’ it, I could tell—freakazoid.
His smile broke
wider, and I shook my head.
Finally, I grew tired
of playing around with the mortal dude. I’d made my point—to the
crowd and to the newlings. With an elbow to the gut, and a double
fist to the nose, I sent him to la-la land. The crowd roared. I
feigned slight exhaustion, grabbed my knees, and breathed. I lifted
my head slightly; Luc’s expression had softened. Eli’s had not. But
a slight nod assured me to keep going.
Next, I fought a
girl: early twenties, solid as stone, mean as shit, and high as a
friggin’ kite—high, but not wasted. She was totally pissed at me
for some odd reason, and once we got the go-ahead nod from the
newling ref, she threw herself at me like some crazed banshee,
squalling and screeching. She scared the holy hell out of
me.
“Come on, whore,” she
said, dancing around me and taking pokes with her balled-up fists.
I didn’t even flinch, her marks were that off. “You scared or
somethin’? What’cha waitin’ for, huh, bitch?”
Bap. I took her down, just on principle. One punch
and she was out cold. I still hadn’t broken a sweat. Again, the
crowd cheered.
Somebody dragged her
off the floor.
I noticed two
newlings standing together; something I hadn’t seen all night. They
were talking, and once I honed in on them, I realized they were
talking about me. I wasn’t exactly sure if that was a bad thing or
not.
I fought two more
guys before I noticed Eli in the sidelines waving me out. After I
took the last one out, I once again pretended exhaustion, and I
staggered from the fight floor. It was covered in blood, spit, and
something else I dared not to try and identify. Disgusting. At
least it wasn’t my blood—or any other body fluid.
“Hey,” the one
newling who’d been watching me closely for the past two hours said,
grabbing my arm. “You wanna come back Friday night?”
I glared at him. “I
don’t know. You got somethin’ more than a bunch of pussies and
druggies for me to fight?”
I heard Eli hiss
behind me.
A slow smile spread
across his pale face, and I noticed his brows were so blond, they
blended in with his undead skin. The black skully he wore stood in
stark contrast to his pastiness. Some would be scared. I wanted to
beat his arrogant ass. And it suddenly struck me how well the
potion Garr gave the guys—the vampire guys—worked. They paid them
no attention. Cool. “Yeah. Come back Friday night and find
out.”
I gave him a hard
glare and knocked his shoulder with mine as I passed. He smiled,
knowing I’d be back, and I bet he was looking to try and whip me
himself.
“What about you?” he
asked Eli. “You here to watch your woman fight? You a pussy or
somethin’?”
The air around us
stilled. “What you got for me?” Eli said, his voice
deadly.
The newling’s mouth
lifted at the corner, and he inclined his head to the ring. “Come
on and find out.”
Eli didn’t even spare
me a glance. He followed the newling.
At the ring, the
newling nodded at another, and in seconds, a big, heavily muscled
guy in his midtwenties stepped up. He had to be all of six feet
seven—taller than Eli. I could tell he was on something. Eli
shrugged out of his shirt and stepped into the ring. The big mortal
came at him like a truck.
Eli gave a good show.
He toned his strength way down and let the guy get in several good
punches. I watched in fascination the movement of muscles across
Eli’s back, his biceps, and the raw power he managed to restrain as
he fought. Finally, he popped the guy in the jaw and the mortal hit
the floor, out cold. Eli spit on the floor beside him and stepped
out of the ring. The newling moved, said something to him, and Eli
made his way back to me.
His firm grasp on my
arm was almost painful. Eli’s mouth pushed to my ear. “Let’s get
the fuck out of here before you do something else stupid and get
pulled back into the ring.”
I glanced over my
shoulder as we moved through the crowd. I limped for good measure.
“Yeah? It seemed like the right thing to do, Dupré. That first guy
was gonna kill that kid.”
“And what do you
think’s been happening all along? What’s going to happen tonight?
We can’t stay and babysit them all.”
I rounded on him the
moment the crowd thinned. “I didn’t come here to fight mortals. I
thought we were here to take care of a bloodsucking
problem.”
“You fightin’ again,
Bro?” Luc asked.
Eli nodded. “Yeah. So
it seems. Luc’s head lifted, and he gave a short nod. “Let’s go.
We’re meeting the others outside, rooftop.”
I felt the newlings’
eyes on me the whole way out.
Luc, Eli, and I were
first out the door, so we free-ran to the rooftop across the street
and down a ways, and waited for the others.
I paced.
“Why couldn’t we just
round up all the newlings inside? Trap them in? Gather the ones in
the quickening phase, destroy the newlings, and take the freaking
hell off?”
Luc shook his head.
“Riley, Riley, Riley. No patience, huh? Just like before, there are
reasons you can’t just rush in and do.” He tapped my temple.
“Think, smartypants. Remember how the Arcoses could control the
boys from before with a single thought? Well, whoever is
controlling this band—Valerian reborn—can do the same thing. He
gets one whiff of interference and things could turn really, really
ugly. They outnumber us.”
“And they’re mixed in
a building filled with mortals,” Noah said, leaping up beside us.
The others joined him. He grinned at me. “No matter how much of a
dick some of them are.” He punched my arm. “Crack shootin’, Poe.
I’m impressed.”
Eli glowered and
moved closer.
Seth interrupted,
angry. “Riley, you didn’t have to jump in like that.”
I looked at my
brother. Worry etched his green eyes, and the muscles in his jaws
clenched, dark brows slashed into a frown. “I could’ve done
it.”
“Hey,” I said, and
hugged him. “You know I’m unpredictable. I couldn’t stand seeing
that one guy log into the other one. He’d have killed him. It was
instinct, not a plan. I promise.”
Seth pulled back and
met my gaze. The wind caught and pushed his hair to the side. “You
gonna do it again?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“But you are all going to be there to back me up. I have the
newlings’ attention. We’re getting somewhere.”
Seth frowned. “I
don’t like it, Ri. But okay.”
Noah walked over and
draped his arms over each of us. “You two are just so darn cute,”
he said, mercury eyes twinkling. He glanced at Eli. “But let’s go.
That is, if you want to save a few souls.”
Seth threw me a
whatever glance. I couldn’t help but
grin at Noah’s ridiculousness, and we followed him and his roof
jumpers over the ancient city of Charleston. Eli ran close to me—so
close I could feel the air he moved.
One major difference
between vampires and mortals with tendencies I’d like to quickly
point out is mortals have to pee. “Guys, no way can I leap from one
more rooftop with a full bladder,” I said as we stopped to inspect
the area. I glanced down. “There’s a Denny’s. Open twenty-four
hours. I’ll be right back.” I turned to descend.
“Whoa,” Eli said.
“Wait up.”
I quickly stopped.
“Oh come on, Eli. Gimme a friggin’ break. It’s right down there.” I
bent down, rested the heels of my palms on my knees, and peered
down and into the restaurant. I pointed. “Look. You can see the
bathrooms from here. Straight in the back.” I rose and glared at
Luc. “I pee alone. Got it?”
“Got it,” Eli said.
“I’ll be right outside the bathroom door. Waiting. While you pee
alone.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Whatever. Let’s go.”
In a flash, as I
praised God I did regular Kegels, we descended the building, leapt
against the trunk of a magnolia, and fell to the sidewalk in a
crouch. I glanced around and ran across the street and into
Denny’s. Eli ran beside me.
“Ma’am, this isn’t a
public restroom,” an older waitress said.
I hurried past her.
“Honey, will you order me a burger to go? Rare,” I said to Eli. He
growled. Seriously—what was she gonna do? Drag me off the toilet? I
all but skipped to the back and pushed into the women’s restroom
while Eli stayed behind to deal with Mrs. Denny’s. I hit the end
stall, made fast but careful business of taking care of business
(eleven blades strapped to my body, don’t forget) and, relieved,
finished. Flushing the toilet with my foot, I moved out of the
stall and to the sink to wash my hands. I splashed water on my
face, rubbed my eyes, and when I opened them, she stood behind me—a girl, dressed in black
destroyed jeans, clunky black biker boots, a black and red ribbed
tank with spiked studs along the collar and arms, and a headful of
black dreads. Gaze fixed, she stared at me through the mirror,
unblinking, at the pulse near the base of my throat. She licked her
lips.
I knew then what she
was.
In the next second
her face contorted, her jaw unhinged unnaturally, and jagged fangs
dropped. Her eyes went white, the pupils pinpoint red, and she
lunged.