Afterlight tdic-1

by Elle Jasper

  Eli actually grinned. “That look was hot back then.” He held his arms out. “Velvet coat with tails to match. Yeah, ruffles, too. I was badass.”

  I chuckled, although I didn’t feel the joy of it go past my face. “Yeah, whatever. Wicked hot, I’m sure.”

  “You’ve no idea.”

  I studied Eligius Dupré and, again, had the hardest time seeing him as anything other than what faced me now: a hot guy with a hotter temper. A vision of his father’s frightening features flashed in my mind, and I tried to put the same horribleness to Eli. It didn’t work. I knew eventually I would have to see it for myself to believe it. Right now? Hell no. Even I could handle only so much at one time. Other than going on just his word, I couldn’t imagine him killing. In my gut, though, I knew just how wrong an assumption that truly was.

  I looked at him. “Now?”

  He stared back. “Now what?”

  “You get your essentials in what way?” I had to ask; no way were the Gullah still forming a soup kitchen for their blood.

  A smile pulled his mouth, showing beautiful, straight white teeth. “The members of Preacher’s community are still our donors, Riley, but like us, their methods have moved with the times. They have their own Red Cross, if you know what I mean. The blood comes packaged, and premixed with hoodoo magic.” His smile widened. “And only God knows what else. And yeah,” he said, meeting my gaze, “we pour it in a glass and drink it.”

  I gave myself a quick reminder to think V8 if I ever watched him drink. Another thousand questions hit my brain at once, and yet my body screamed to get some sleep. I glanced at the clock hanging above the small stone fireplace — almost two in the morning. “I’m in overload,” I mumbled, then glanced at Eli. “I’ve got to get some sleep or I’ll be worthless tomorrow.” Reaching down, I picked the damp towel up off the floor. “Do you sleep at all?” He looked refreshed and ready to go.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Just like in the movies, only not all day long.” Again, he smiled. “Just a couple of hours, and it’s when the sun is at its highest.”

  I nodded. “Is that the same for the Arcoses? Seth?”

  “No. Our genetic makeup is different, and a lot of it’s altered because of the hoodoo. The Arcoses will sleep from sunup to sundown, every day. Seth and the others aren’t fully transformed; they might wake up, and they might show up here.”

  “Okay.” I moved toward my bedroom. “Do you eat?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder. “Other than your . . . Red Cross donations, I mean.”

  “Yeah, I eat. It’s strictly for pleasure, though. We get no nutrients out of it, or feeling of fullness.”

  Stifling a yawn, I motioned to the kitchen with my hand and continued down the hall to my room. At my door I stopped and looked out at him. “Do I have to bolt my door?”

  Eli’s stare pinned me to the floor, and I was once again reminded that I didn’t see a third of what he really was. “It wouldn’t do any good.”

  I stared at him for a few seconds. “Don’t piss me off.”

  He grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Get some sleep. You’re gonna need it.”

  Without another word, I left Eli, brushed my teeth, pulled my hair into a high ponytail, and climbed into bed. In the dark I lay there, my eyes fixed on the beam of light from a streetlamp on River Street streaming in through the French doors of the balcony. Despite how exhausted I was, I knew I’d not find sleep very fast; there were things my brain refused to accept with such little explanation, and vampires were one of them. That one was parked in my living room watching NCIS was inconceivable. Yet . . . it was true. I believed it. Without having seen any proof other than, well, Gilles’ face totally contorting into something out of a friggin’ nightmare, his children and wife moving so fast that my eyes couldn’t follow, and Eli’s impossible strength.

  Okay, I take it back. I guess all that was proof enough. It was weird, and for me to think that was something. I’d spent the last seven years under the influence of dark African magic; weird and unusual weren’t strangers to me. But when something like this happened — like what happened with Seth — hit so close to home, its in-your-face reality. My brother was — God, I hated to even think about what he might be doing this very minute, what he was going through — and I couldn’t help but wonder if he even knew he was going through it. Tears welled in my eyes when I thought about the last time we spoke, saw each other — minus the incident in my bedroom. He’d been so cold and disjointed, so . . . not Seth. Yeah, Preacher might slap old newsprint all over his walls to keep the wudus busy, but he was an herbalist and conjurer, first and foremost. He’d brought me to the Dupré House because it’d been a last resort. He and Estelle had never forced their beliefs on Seth and me; they’d simply offered explanation and left it up to us to do the believing or disbelieving. And you can bet your sweet ass I now believed it all. In three weeks, my little brother could turn into a vicious killer.

  I wasn’t going let that happen.

  With an exasperated sigh, I turned onto my side, punched the pillow, and tried to settle down. Somewhere below, in the street, two loudmouths were laughing it up and talking trash — one of the drawbacks of living on River Street, I supposed. Rolling out of bed, I moved to the dresser, grabbed my iPod, and jumped back into bed. I popped in my earbuds and ran through the selections until I found 30 Seconds to Mars. Maybe their music would help drown out not only the drunks on the river walk shouting perverted names at each other, but my constant, nonstop thoughts of what exactly was happening. Although I fought it, I finally drifted off, and a restless sleep claimed me.

  Sometime during the night I woke from what would be the first of many dreams. In the dream I was waking from a dream. But my room wasn’t my room; my apartment wasn’t my apartment. I was somewhere completely different and unfamiliar, and I immediately knew it was a place where I was definitely not welcome, a total stranger. As if I inhabited some weird apocalyptic world, I lived in a derelict warehouse with rats, flaking paint, and broken windows, and when I looked outside, everything was gray, bleak, and lifeless — except for me. Then I saw them — vampires — and at first they were on the street below, maybe eight or ten of them; young, raggedy punks. In the next second, they’d leapt onto my balcony, and I stumbled back, then started to run. All through the warehouse I tried to escape, but they were all around me, leaping from the rafters overhead, toying with me, laughing; I knew then I’d never outrun them, so I turned to fight. I was surprised to find a small silver blade strapped to my thigh; it hadn’t been there before. Against a wall I turned, drew my weapon, and aimed. One flew toward me, face contorted into monstrous bloodlust and hatred, jaw hyperextended. It was Seth. My fingers froze on my weapon. I couldn’t do it. Then the others joined him as they descended upon me, merciless and horrific, and I screamed my brother’s name so hard the lining in my throat was scorched.

  In the next second, a pair of iron hands shook me out of my nightmare, and when I came to my senses, Eli Dupré’s face was the first thing I recognized. In the shadows of my room his eyes were angry, illuminated; at least I thought they were. He sat on my bed, facing me. Everything was confusing to me now, and for the second time in my adult life I felt helpless and out of control. “I can’t stop shaking,” I muttered, and was — freakishly so. I was now sitting up, Eli’s hands still grasping my shoulders, and I wrapped my arms tightly around my legs and pushed my forehead to my knees.

  “Breathe, Riley,” Eli said, a bit rough, then crooned in French, and it totally changed his voice. “Calme-toi.” I was clueless to the meaning, and swear to God, I didn’t care. The sound soothed me, and within seconds, the shaking stopped. His hands stayed on me. I wanted them there.

  “I hate this,” I said quietly.

  With a grip only slightly less ironlike than the one on my shoulder, Eli grasped my chin and made me look at him. “It’s not going to be easy,” he said, “but you’re going to have to try.”

  Through bleary eyes I studied him. �
��That dream was horrible and . . . so realistic. My brother wanted to kill me; they all did — like I was effing dinner.”

  “You’ve no idea how potent your blood is,” he said, still grasping my jaw. “Just knowing it’s there, masked though it may be, it is a heady temptation.”

  I blinked, and to be frank it was getting harder and harder to concentrate with his hand on me. “And Gilles sent you to guard me because . . . ?” I let the question hang, anxiously awaiting a decent response.

  Eli laughed softly. “Because while I’m probably the most lethal of my siblings, I also have more control. And your Preacher would have no less.”

  I nodded, he dropped his hand, and I was completely aware of how close his body was to mine. I drew a breath and boldly met his steady gaze. “I learned a long time ago not to depend on anyone’s shoulder to cry on, so all this . . . consoling is very weird for me.”

  Eli’s eyes left mine and moved to my shoulder. Without permission, he lifted my left arm, leaned over it, and traced my dragon’s lithe body from my collarbone to my index finger, inspecting it closely. My skin warmed immediately. “I think you hide behind your art,” he said evenly, then set my arm down and looked at me. “Just because you curse, fight like a dude, and ink your skin” — he lifted a forefinger and traced the wing at my eye — “doesn’t mean you don’t need a shoulder.” He rose. “Everybody needs one of those, Riley. Even . . . us.” He gave a slight smile. “I think you’re bullshitting. Beneath all that tough-ass exterior you really want someone to rescue you.” Crossing my bedroom floor, he stopped at the door while I remained speechless. “Lucky for you I’m not exactly busy at the moment.” With a final look of victory that I wanted to smack right off of him, he left the room.

  The pillow I threw landed too late; it hit the wall beside the door, and his easy chuckle sounded from the living room. Frustrated, I jumped up, retrieved my pillow, and climbed back into bed. Arrogant bastard. “What did that mean, anyway?” I hollered into the living room. “That Frenchy stuff?”

  “Quiet down, painted one.”

  Somehow, those four words affected me. Eli might think it, maybe fully believe it. But I’d never — never — admit that he was sort of right. Not completely right, but yeah — sort of. Shoving my earbuds in, I cranked up “Heads Will Roll” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and fell hard asleep.

  When next I woke, the morning sun was beaming in through the balcony door. My very first thought was Seth. And no lie, my second thought was Oh, shit — I have mouthwatering, one-of-a-kind blood. Third thought? I have a hell of a hangover. Crawling from the bed, I walked into the living room and stopped short. I found Eli on the sofa, Chaz beside him with his big furry head resting in Eli’s lap. Chaz saw me and didn’t budge; simply wagged his hiniesca (he has no tail).

  “Get any sleep?” Eli said, looking like he’d showered and changed — two things I didn’t think a vampire would even bother with. He was scrubbing Chaz between the ears.

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I frowned. “What did you do to my dog?”

  Eli shrugged. “We’re friends now.”

  “Right.” I glanced at the clock. “Any bodies turn up this morning?”

  Eli regarded me with solemn eyes. “Not yet. But they won’t all turn up, Riley.”

  I nodded. “Gotta get next door and back in forty minutes. My first appointment is at eleven today.”

  I hurried from the room, hastily brushed my teeth, and pulled on a pair of black board shorts with a small skull and crossbones, a lightweight hoodie, and flip-flops, and walked to the door. I patted my thigh. “Come on, boy. Wanna go out?”

  Chaz glanced up at Eli, as if asking permission. Eli inclined his head. “You heard her. Let’s go.”

  My traitorous dog leapt from the sofa, barking. I glared at Eli as we headed downstairs. After a super-quick walk, I put Chaz back inside, fed him, and we hurried over to Preacher’s. The moment we walked in, Estelle’s greeting shocked me.

  “Oh, dere’s my boy!” she said, completely ignoring me and rushing to Eli’s side. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged tightly. He hugged her back. “Where you been, boy? I been dyin’ to see you.” She pulled back and looked up at him. “How long’s it been? Why you stay gone so long?” She shook her head and swatted him on the backside. “You shoulda come home a long time ago, Eligius Dupré.”

  I watched their odd, affectionate exchange in fascination for a few moments. Eli had been gone? And all this time, he’d been close to Preacher and Estelle? Weird how I’d never noticed. I headed to the kitchen to sit with Preacher, and he was, as faithful as ever, waiting for me at the table, tea at the ready. We met each other’s gaze as I sat, he gave a slight nod, and I started in on my first cup of tea. I poured it from a steaming pot into a mug and stared at Preacher through the mist. “I look at this tea a little different than before, Preacher man.”

  “You’re alive because of it,” he answered simply, and I knew it to be the absolute truth.

  “Why have I never met him before?” I asked, inclining my head to the first floor, where Estelle’s high-pitched voice could still be heard gushing over Eli. “Or any of them, for that matter. I mean, it’s kinda hard to miss an entire vampiric family in Savannah, don’t you think?”

  “The others you’ve encountered before; dey jes don’t make a habit of comin’ into Da Plat Eye, right?”

  The sound of Estelle’s and Eli’s feet coming up the steps sounded, and Preacher looked at me. “Dat boy dere has been gone a few years,” he said, taking a bite of bacon. “Twelve. But you have to ask him why. Dat’s a tale for him to tell.”

  “Well, no wonder I’ve never seen him around,” I said. “I was just a punk kid in juvy for the hundredth time when he was here last.” I couldn’t imagine what had taken Eli away from his family for such a long time, unless when you’re immortal, twelve years was just a flash second. Maybe he wanted to travel the world, see new places. But then, how’d he get his donated hoodoo-tinged blood? That thought made an involuntary chill course through my spine, and I wasn’t positive I wanted the answer.

  “You don’t see dem around ’cause dey know to stay away from you,” Preacher said, looking at me over his teacup. “Dat blood inside you is powerful to dem — like drugs, even wit our magic in dem. You don’t go wavin’ drugs in a junkie’s face when dey’re tryin’ to get clean, dat’s right.”

  The tea still steamed out of the spout as I poured another cup. “Why didn’t you ever tell me, Preacher?”

  “Didn’t need to know till now.”

  “Does Seth have it? My mom?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “So how’d I get it?” I asked, frustrated. Trying to pry information from Preacher’s lips was like trying to crack open a stubborn oyster.

  His wise eyes stared at me for several seconds. “Don’t know, Riley. Could be passed from your grandmamma or granddaddy, or their grandmammas and grandaddies. No tellin’.”

  I sighed. “Figures.”

  “Oh, Preacher man, look at dis boy now, yeah? Ain’t he purty?” Estelle said, shuffling Eli into the kitchen and the chair next to me. “Don’t worry, girl — he won’t bite you. Will you, Eligius Dupré?” she said, then laughed and handed Eli a plate of biscuits and bacon.

  “No, ma’am,” Eli said politely. He looked at me and lifted a brow, then jammed a piece of bacon in his mouth.

  “Good — ’cause dat would be bad, right,” Estelle said and looked at me. “’Bout time you knew things, Riley Poe. I always kept tellin’ your Preacher man, dat girl needs to know things, ’specially wit dat crazy blood inside ya, dat’s right.” She walked over and hugged me tightly, and I nearly spilled tea in my lap. “Don’t you worry, girl. If dere’s any one body who can get your brodder back safe, it’s dis boy sittin’ beside you.” She grabbed my face with both hands and squished my cheeks together. “You can trust him, Riley Poe. And, girl, you better eat. Your backside’s gettin’ bony.”

  “I can’t, Estelle.
Just not hungry.” My gaze slid to Eli’s, then to Preacher’s, and back to my surrogate grandmother, who frowned. “Yes, ma’am,” I said, repeating Eli’s words. “I’ll try.”

  She let me go. “Good. Now, eat up.”

  I managed a piece of toast with jam, and just as we finished, Preacher turned to both of us. “Dos boys have gone underground, and Riley here knows dos places better dan anyone. She’ll take you, but only after a day or two.” He looked at me. “I know you’re anxious to do somethin’ and you’re itchin’ to fight. But you gotta wait, girl. Your brodder won’t long recognize you as his sister anymore, right? He might know somethin’ is familiar, but not your person. If you go too early, he will know you, and dat could mess things up. You watch each odder’s back, you and dis boy here, and don’t go dere for long. Just long enough to get noticed by odders and dey let you back in. Dat’s where dos boys will be — dem bad places. Easier to bring victims back to dem bad brodders if messed up wit da drugs. Right?”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir, okay,” I said, knowing messed up really meant fucked-up. The thought of going back underground, slipping back into a crowd I’d long ago left behind, made me sick. But I’d do it, and no one but me would know how it killed me to go back to the place I’d worked so hard to escape. And not just the clubs; it was rarely the clubs themselves. It was just certain crowds, and I knew Preacher meant dos people. And it was in those crowds that I became mixed up with the wrong guy. It’d ended way worse than just a broken heart or an overnight trip in the tank. I pushed the painful memory aside and glanced at the clock. “Oh, gotta run. Shop opens in a few.” I kissed Preacher and Estelle good-bye, and we left.

  “We’ll spend the next day or so going over changes,” Eli said as we crossed the cobbles to Inksomnia’s back entrance. “There are things you’ll need to know and expect. I don’t want you sucker punched.”

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  Out of nowhere and all at once, a thought struck me, and it hit so hard I nearly gasped. I turned and looked Eli in the eye. “A young guy was found murdered a few days ago. Nineteen years old, about to leave for Parris Island. I’d inked him the day before.” I knew in my heart the answer, but I asked anyway. “Did Seth and his friends do that?”