Eventide tdic-3

by Elle Jasper

  I’ll never have it back.

  “How are you feeling?” Eli asks. His hands move to my shoulders and he squeezes gently.

  Moving out of his grasp, I start cleaning up my station. “Better. Are we heading out tonight?” Meaning, are we tracking newlings.

  “Are you up for it?” he asks.

  I glance at him. The lines of worry mean he really doesn’t want me to go. But I’m going anyway. “Absolutely.”

  Nyx’s client leaves and she shuts and locks up the shop behind him. My friend, dressed in the style of a street mime from the fifties with black skinny jeans, black loafers, and a white and black striped shirt, minus the white painted face, turns to face me. Her high ponytails on either side of her head swing with the movement. “Riley, are you sure? I don’t think you’re well. You could”—she waves her hand in the air as if trying to imagine something—“fall from a building or something if you have an episode.”

  “I don’t have episodes, Nyx,” I say, and move to the back and head upstairs. “I’ll be okay. Promise. See ya in the morning,” I call down.

  “Bye,” she returns, but I’m already in my room changing.

  In nothing but my bra and panties, I stand before the floor-length mirror and start fitting the blade sheaths to my waist, thighs, ankles. In the next second, and so fast that I didn’t even see him enter the room, Eli stands next to me, my shoulder harness in hand. He helps me into it, adjusts the straps, and secures it in the front. One by one, he fills the sheaths with pure silver blades. His eyes are on mine the entire time.

  The fact that he’s so close to them makes me pause. “I can do that,” I say, but Eli continues anyway. I let him. When the last blade is secure, he pulls my face to his and kisses me. For a moment, I lose myself in his possessive seduction. His tongue on mine. Teeth grazing and tugging my lips. Strong hands drag across my abdomen, my hips. Then, he envelops me in his embrace. My blades press tightly against my skin at his weight. Everything he does, I realize, proves his love for me. Proves his possessiveness for me. And I can’t even return the verbal sentiment? Worse yet, his over-protectiveness is starting to really grate on my nerves. God, I’m such a bitch. A messed up one at that. Damaged goods to the nth degree.

  “You’ll run with me tonight,” he whispers against my temple. “Until I’m sure you’re okay, the only thing you’ll do alone is pee.”

  I laugh, because Eli knows how I love my bathroom privacy. “I’ll run with whomever I want to, and you bet your ass I’ll pee alone. Goddamn, Eli, give me a freaking break, will ya? I’m fine. I can handle myself. Your own parents have taught me how. So, seriously. Step off a bit. Okay?”

  Eli pulls back, holds my face in his hands, and studies me for several long moments. His eyes search mine. “I won’t lose you, chère,” he says, his French accent thicker. Demeanor determined. “I won’t. But you can have your space. As long as everything goes smoothly.”

  I’m not that kind of girl who enjoys being the victim. I don’t need the stereotypical knight in armor to rescue me. I am a strong, independent woman who has no problem handling her own goddamn self. But, I admit—this feels…nice. Eli is the epitome of strength, and I trust him completely. I revel in his embrace for a few more moments because somehow, I have another feeling, boring deep into the pit of my stomach, that this won’t last.

  Or at the very least, I won’t remember it.

  My annoyance dissipates momentarily, and I thread my hands through Eli’s crazy, sexy hair, pull his mouth down to mine and kiss him thoroughly. He sighs against me, a deep groan inside his chest letting me know precisely what the gesture does to him. I end the kiss, smile, and move to my closet to get dressed. Eli watches in silence as I pull on a pair of low-waist khaki cargo pants, a snug black long-sleeved spandex shirt, and my worn Vans. Strapping on my holsters around my thigh, hips, and shoulder, I slide the sharp silver blades into place. The night will hide my weapons, so no need to wear a coat over them. I redo my ponytail, pulling the band snug, and I’m ready to go. When I get downstairs, Luc is just coming inside with Chaz. Nyx is sitting in the foyer, staring at me.

  “I thought you were headed home,” I say. I can tell by Nyx’s expression that I’ve hurt her feelings.

  “She’s going to stay with Mama and Papa,” Luc says. “I don’t trust Valerian not to seek her out again, despite the Gullah charms protecting her place.”

  I simply nod. “Good idea.”

  Nyx jumps up and faces me. “Be careful tonight, okay?” she says, and pulls me into a hug. I hug her in return, but only briefly. I fear what happened earlier might repeat itself. I sense my lucidity is slipping. I really hate that.

  I look at my best friend and smile. “I will. And I love ya for caring so much.”

  Nyx beams. “Love you too.”

  I hate that my confidence and assuredness seem so fake and put-on to me, but right now, it does. I know this other thing exists inside of me, and it grows stronger. I fear losing my loved ones. I fear losing myself.

  I have no choice but to fight it.

  Fight it, and fucking win.

  Nyx and Luc take off on Luc’s bike. Eli and I take the Jeep. Within minutes we hit Monterey Square. I pull into the Duprés’ drive and park. Zetty and Riggs get out of Zetty’s truck. The Tibetan one-time bouncer for the Panic Room club had nearly become a newling but was also cleansed by Preacher, along with me, Seth, and Riggs. Now he’s a human with wicked tendencies. We exchange greetings and head inside.

  Zetty’s eyes are on me the whole time. He’s hard not to stare at, with his unique Shiva patterns tattooed across his forehead. At the advice of Gilles, Zetty had decided to wear less attention-grabbing clothes. Out with the traditional Tibetan wear, in with pretty much all black attire. Blend in with the shadows, so to speak. His long single braid down his back still gives him that unique and exotic look. Zetty is a badass. With or without tendencies. With them, though, he’s a lethal badass. I’m glad he’s on our side.

  We don’t speak. Simply bump fists as we enter the Dupré house.

  I catch Riggs’s eye as I pass. He smiles. I’m surprised the prepubescent little perv doesn’t slap my ass.

  He chuckles behind me. If I didn’t know any better I would swear Riggs could read my mind.

  Philippe Moreau, the Duprés’ butler and all around trusted man, meets me at the door. His gaze lights over me and he gives a slight nod. “Ms. Poe. Ever so nice to see you.”

  “Phil, same to ya,” I say, and it draws the slightest of grins on his usually serious mouth.

  Inside, I follow the others upstairs. It’s become sort of our meeting room, along with our training room. Gilles, dressed casually in pressed khaki trousers and a white button-up shirt, stands next to Elise, in classic she-loafers, black dress pants, and a plum silk blouse that accentuates her flawless pale skin. Both bespeak old Southern charm.

  “Riley, sweetheart,” Elise says, and grasps my shoulder with her petite hand. “How are you feeling?”

  I shoot a look at Eli. He must’ve told her. With a sigh, I nod. “Much better, thanks.”

  While Elise Dupré looks sweet and demure, trust me—it’s totally deceptive. She can kick serious, serious ass.

  Elise’s brow pinches together. “Something’s wrong.”

  I shrug, because I know she’s trying to read my mind and is unable. “It’s a new development I guess.”

  “Here, love,” Gilles says, and moves closer to me. “Let me try.”

  I almost laugh as Gilles concentrates, staring into my eyes. The only thing he doesn’t do is the hypnotic hand wiggle thing Dracula does. After a few seconds, he huffs. “I cannot believe it, ma chère,” he says. “I’m positive I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I,” mumbles Eli.

  I say nothing but I keep my gaze locked with Gilles’s.

  “Very well,” he finally says, and addresses us all. “Ned tells me several rogues have moved into the area, unrelated to the Arcoses. A body was found this m
orning. Ravaged, with no control whatsoever. The work of a mindless newling.”

  My heart leaps, thinking of Bhing. But I’d seen her earlier, so it had to be another innocent. Or had any of it even happened? God, it hurt my head to think of it. Bhing hadn’t acted any different toward me. Maybe it’s all in my mind.

  “I suggest we split up into threes,” says Phin, perched on the windowsill. “Eli, Riley, and Riggs. Me, Seth, and Josie. Luc and Zetty, you’re on your own.”

  They both nod.

  “Let’s split the city up,” Eli says. “And meet back at the historic district and take that section together.” He glances around. “Preferences?”

  “We’ll take Tybee Island, Skidaway Island, and Isle of Hope,” says Phin.

  Luc nods. “We got the South side up to Victory Drive, east and west.”

  Eli nods. “All right, we’ll take Garden City and work our way through the industrial area and meet up at Forsyth Park. You know the routine. Clubs. Businesses. Dimly lit areas. Hangouts. These newlings aren’t breaking into homes. Too much work for them. And they’re looking for more youths.”

  “What about Noah?” Luc asks.

  Noah Miles is a vampire, also bound by Gullah pact to protect Savannah’s sister city, Charleston. He’s probably one of the most beautiful beings I’ve ever laid eyes on, with his unique dreadlocks and flawless pale skin and mercury-colored eyes. He knows it, too. When we’d fought against Valerian’s newling army in Charleston, Noah had been right there with Eli. Only Noah eggs me on. He wants to see me fight and trusts me to handle myself. Unlike Eli.

  “They have their hands full right now,” Eli says. “There are just as many newlings running in Charleston and surrounding areas as there are here.” He glances at his father. “To break this, we have to break Valerian Arcos.”

  “And that seems impossible since he can shift bodies,” Phin says.

  And if what Vic says is true, Valerian can’t be killed anyway.

  “Okay, let’s get going,” Eli says. “Mama, Papa”—he heads to the door—“be good.”

  “Always,” Gilles answers.

  At the door, I stop Seth. “Hey,” I begin. “I’m sorry, okay?”

  My brother looks at me with those big, expressive green eyes, and right now they’re filled with hurt. He hugs me. My heart melts, and I hug him back. I want to keep him in my arms forever. Safe. Alive. Sweet. “I’m just not myself, Seth. I don’t know what’s happening.” I pull back and look at him. “My DNA, I suppose. It’s acting all crazy and I can’t control it. I’m having wicked dreams that seem so realistic, and I guess it’s putting me in a terrible mood.” I shake my head and knock Seth on the jaw lightly with my knuckles.

  Seth studies me for several seconds, and he pulls me into one last embrace. He kisses the top of my head. “I love you, Sis,” he mumbles, sounding like the much more grown-up sibling. “Be careful.”

  “I will, and love you, too,” I say. “And you be careful.”

  Riggs is leaning against my Jeep when I walk out. Ankles crossed, arms over chest, looking way too cocky for his own good. “What say I ride up front with you, babe?” he drawls and glances at Eli. “You won’t mind, will ya bro?”

  Eli smacks him on the back of the head as he gives him a shove. “In the back, Squirt.”

  Riggs shrugs and gives me a sympathetic look. “Sorry sweetheart. Maybe next time.”

  I can do nothing more than roll my eyes and shake my head. What a goober Riggs is. “Maybe so,” I respond. He smiles. I climb in the front seat, and Eli drives. We take off for Garden City.

  Even though the October night air is cool, we keep the Jeep’s top off for easy access in and out of it. Besides, Riggs and I both handle temperatures a lot differently now, so it has to be really cold for us to be bothered, or really hot. This night, my long-sleeved shirt is all I need. The temp is about sixty-two degrees.

  Eli downshifts as we hit the squares, the night air cool as it brushes my cheeks. I close my eyes against the wind and inhale the brine of the salt marsh. Unfortunately, the closer we get to Garden City, which is just outside of Savannah, the brine turns into a stinky sulfur smell. Paper mill. It’s enough to make you gag sometimes. Thankfully this night, it’s not too bad.

  Eli’s hand slips over my thigh and rests there as we drive, and the sounds of the night, the wind, lure me into a calm rest. I’m not asleep; I still hear Riggs’s iPod blasting in his ear. But I’m lulled. Yeah, that’s what I am.

  A flash of light illuminates a face hidden in a dark hoodie. Jaw unhinged. Fangs dropped. Eyes white, pupil pinpoint red. He lunges at me—but the face isn’t a newling. It’s me. I scream—

  “Riley?” Eli says, his hand wrapped around my arm, shaking me. “Wake up, we’re here.”

  My eyes flutter open, and the moment they focus on Eli, he shifts, his jaw unhinges, his fangs drop, and he lunges for me.

  Part Three

  Malevolence

  This is all new to me. I mean, I know it’s not old shoe to Ri and Seth, but they’ve been involved a lot longer than I have. They’ve had time to adjust. They have powers. Almost like…they’re not all the way human anymore. I am. One hundred percent. Which means vulnerability to the nth degree, and it scares me. I’m scared of losing Ri and Seth, and I’m scared of…monsters. Of what they’ll do to me. Luc promises to keep me safe, and I believe him. But who’s going to keep Riley safe? She’s not herself lately. Not at all. She’s…mean-spirited. And there’s a look in her eye that seems, I don’t know, predatory to me. I don’t understand what’s going on with her, but I hope to God this is all over with soon. I know our lives will never return to normal, but as close to normal as possible is okay by me.

  —Nyxinnia Foster

  “Riley?”

  I blink, and Eli’s face returns to normal. “Yeah?”

  He studies me longer. Scrutinizing. “We’re here.”

  The night air surrounds us, a blanket of darkness void of streetlights. I blink. We’re at the Amtrak station just off of 516. These hallucinations are beginning to be a pain in my friggin’ ass. “Okay, let’s do it.” I unbuckle and swing out of the Jeep. Riggs is already standing at the hood.

  He draws a deep breath, then jumps onto the hood. He glances first at Eli, then me. “I can smell ’em.”

  “Well let’s go then,” I say with way more enthusiasm than I really feel. I’m getting used to hiding my true feelings again now that Eli can’t read my thoughts. Dangerous. Seriously dangerous.

  I don’t know what you’re thinking anymore, but I can certainly interject my thoughts into your mind. Just as you can. So if you need me, Riley, for God’s sake, call me.

  Startled by his sudden mind infiltration, I look at Eli over my shoulder. Is it a coincidence, my thinking of his inability to read my mind and his weird interjections? “I will.”

  I mean it.

  So do I.

  “Better,” Eli says. “Now come on.”

  The three of us head out into the night. It’s about nine p.m. With the Jeep stashed down an unused maintenance lane, we cover the mass of metal as we search the yard, old train cars, unused track, toolsheds. In the distance, the main Amtrak station depot has a faint glow as the lights burn. I can hear the people inside, what few there seemed to be. Some wait to catch a train. Some to pick up a passenger. All going about their ordinary lives.

  None privy to the extraordinary creatures that slip through the night.

  The train yard is full of shadows, and Eli leads us to a row of empty cars. In unison, we swing and bound up the side of the car closest to us until we land on top. The wind blows and I catch a whiff of something dead. A rabbit maybe? It’s been dead a while, I can tell that. The stench is nauseating. I almost gag.

  Eli stands, a silhouette. He turns his head, inclines it, and without words, Riggs and I follow as the eldest Dupré begins to leap the train cars. Eli’s eyesight is nocturnal—he can see just about anything, at any distance. His hearing is acute, but not
as severely as mine. Nor is his scenting as specific as mine.

  I sense them. They’re here. Three of them. I sniff the air. They’ve just fed.

  Across the yard to the left, behind the maintenance sheds.

  Eli doesn’t question me; he doesn’t even look at me or acknowledge the words I slipped into his mind. Instead he leaps off the train car and moves in the direction I say, then cuts left behind the sheds. I head right. Riggs is two steps behind me. We silently bound over stacks of railroad ties, steel beams, cargo trailers. In seconds we’re in a maze of metal and wood. In the distance, the nine-thirty overnight train to Chicago blows its whistle. No, I can’t tell the destination by the whistle. I Googled the train schedule on my iPhone.

  Ahead of us, between two cargo trailers, are the newlings. On the ground, a motionless heap that had no doubt been a live heap not too long ago. The scent wafting off the dead human sickens me, and I suddenly realize it isn’t rotting flesh or decay. The trace of remaining blood is stale. Stagnant. Dead. It all but chokes me.

  I wonder how I can even detect it. Or worse—why it bothers me so much.

  All at once, Eli, Riggs, and I surround the newlings. The first one notices us and instantly morphs. He lunges straight for Eli. I take my eyes off of them and find the other two. Behind me, I hear the newling gurgle as Eli twists off his head. I’ve learned that sound and know it anywhere. Both remaining newlings have turned, fangs dropped, and they bound for Riggs and me. Briefly, I keep my eye on Riggs. I forget how talented the little prick is. He sweeps a leg out and knocks one newling to the ground and is on him immediately, plunging a silver dirk into his heart. I turn and almost get coldcocked by the newling attacking me. He’s big, out of control, and as rabid as a new vamp comes. I know he will not go down easily.

  This newling is fast. Fucking fast. In the blink of an eye he’s on me, has me by my throat and is lifting me up. My hearing picks up Eli’s voice. He’s swearing. Now he’s running. Unlike a newling, I have to have air to breathe, and this idiot is squeezing so hard I can barely draw in a breath. I can feel my larynx crushing under the weight of his fingers. But before Eli reaches me, I’ve got my legs wrapped around the newling’s neck. He’s strong as hell, but so am I. With one hand I reach for the silver sheathed at my waist, grab it, and jack it upward. It plunges into the newling’s eye and, as I thought, he turns me loose. I yank out the blade and bury it in his chest. He stands there, stunned, and begins to convulse. I deliver a single kick. Down he goes. Standing there in the train yard, surrounded by shadows, I bend over at the waist and breathe.