LITTON AVENUE was clear of trick-or-treaters, but the night offered the scents and sights of Halloween through the open car windows—the smell of gutted pumpkins heated from the inside by small candles that flickered through triangular eyes. Stitched mouths with sinister toothy grins were carved into the flesh of jack-o-lanterns, and the aroma of pumpkin pies and roasted pumpkin seeds carried on the crisp night air.
About two thirds of the way down the street, Lauren’s headlights reflected off something in an alley. A half-destroyed sign: Basker Street. Could it be the same Basker Street scribbled in the book Paloma gave me? I’d never noticed the sign before, but that wasn’t the first time I’d had that experience. Many times I would swear I’d never seen something, only to start seeing it everywhere I went.
Coming back tomorrow was always an option, but we were already here, and the voices had only been growing in intensity. As the Cruor blood faded from my system, a permanent solution became more and more important—and the truth surrounding my ancestor’s death was the only stone I’d left unturned.
“Stop the car!”
Lauren jerked her 1978 orange Ford Pinto to a halt. I jumped out and popped my head back inside the passenger window. “I want to check an address. Be right back.”
“Wait!” Lauren scrambled after. “I want to come, too.”
“Hey!” Ivory stepped out and yelled after us. “Where are you going?”
“Come with us,” I called, halfway to the alley. I waited for Ivory to catch up while Lauren plowed ahead.
We caught up with Lauren. I expected consuming darkness, but light slanted in from streetlamps to reveal shoe-printed gum and stains of oil on the concrete. Doors with padlocks on the outside and broken windows repaired with plastic bags and duct tape lined the alley.
Toward the end, dirty bricks framed a plain wooden door. The numbers seven and nine hung above the knocker. I could see the outline of another number; there were dirty spots around the edges, and the rest of the door was sun bleached, leaving the shade of a number three.
793 Basker Street.
“This is it.” I traced my fingers over the numbers. “This is the address from my book.”
Ivory stepped closer. “What book?”
I put my finger to my lips, trying to hear the muffled voices behind the closed door and boarded windows, but the whispers clattering in my mind prevented me from focusing on what the people inside were saying.
I frowned. Now what? Knock on the door? When I turned back to offer my friends some kind of explanation for why we’d come here, a shadow shifted behind Lauren. I screamed. She screamed in response, and Ivory laughed.
“Damn it, Charles! Don’t sneak up on me.”
He grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the door. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice dark, maybe even a little angry. “You said you were going to the cemetery.”
“I saw this address in a book.” I tilted my head. “What are you doing here?”
“Taking you and your friends to dinner.” His offer didn’t sound friendly.
“How did you find us?” Did he see the car parked on the side of the road? Why was he on Litton Avenue?
“We’re leaving,” he said. “Now.”
I grasped Lauren’s hand and started to follow Charles. Ivory stayed a few steps behind, and Lauren kept flashing narrow glances my way.
“What’s his problem?” she asked.
“I have no—”
Several strangers jumped from somewhere above, landing almost silently to block our exit. To my left, several more stood on a fire exit, all dressed in familiar brown cloaks. They peeled back their hoods, some male and some female. Each had the same unnatural pallor, the same glistening fangs.
And they weren’t dressed for Halloween.
They must have been Cruor. Judging by Charles’ earlier reaction, he knew this too—and had known since before they showed up. So much for the idea I’d be safe traveling in a group.
There were at least a dozen Cruor. Most stood as if frozen by pain, hands balled in tight fists, teeth pressed firmly together. A few leaned toward us, some inched closer. None looked like the type I wanted to invite over for tea.
I backed away, heart speeding. Charles turned to me, jaw clenched. Lauren moved aside, pressing her back against the building’s brick wall—even she sensed something was off. Ivory took a protective stance in front of her, but I was too stressed to be surprised.
I glanced over my shoulder. More Cruor crowded the other end of the alley. There must have been three dozen or more in total. I stepped closer to Charles, and he wrapped his arm around me.
A petite, dark-haired woman stepped out of the gathering. She circled us, seemingly more at ease than her companions, then stopped by Charles and rose on her toes to put her lips close to his ear.
“Hello, Charlie.” She drew out each word and emphasized his name with a giddy lilt. She ran her fingernails slowly down the back of his neck. “Who are your friends? We’ve never met them before.”
Charles recoiled from her touch.
A tall Cruor-man with cropped blond hair glided over. Ivory pulled Lauren farther behind her.
“They don’t know anything,” Ivory said.
He tilted his head, and his lips pulled back. The expression was too unnatural to call a smile. “I could enlighten them.”
He peeked around Ivory and waved at Lauren.
“Back the fuck off,” Ivory warned.
Lauren glanced to me, but I had nothing to offer. This was one of those times where I was too scared to freak out. Whatever part of the brain reacts to such events just shut right down. Just like it always did when a situation was too much for me to handle.
Lauren clutched Ivory’s hand, her eyes wide, her stance wooden. Her olive complexion paled, and the skin above her cheekbones and around her lips turned ashen. Clearly her freak-out meter wasn’t broken like mine.
The dark-haired Cruor circled behind me. She placed her hands on my arms. My skin crawled, and I shrank closer to Charles. Her hair grazed my neck as she leaned over my shoulder.
Charles pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length, and glared at her.
She giggled. “She’s cute. Is she your new girlfriend, Charlie?”
Each time she said his name in her singsong way, anger overtook my fear. I locked my gaze on him. “Do you know her?”
Her irritating grin stretched into something plain sickening. “Of course he knows us, honey. Or hasn’t he told you?”
{thirteen}
THE DARK-HAIRED Cruor-woman looked at Charles and laughed. “This is rich. You should drop by more often.”
His fists clenched—one at his side, the other at the base of my spine. “Back off, Thalia.”
She giggled. A tangle of eggplant-black curls tumbled down her back as she sauntered in front of him and snaked her arms around his neck. “Oh, don’t be like that. You used to be fun.”
She walked her fingers up the side of his arm and clicked her teeth. “Don’t you remember? Oh, but these last few months—where have you been? I’ve been so lonely.”
The pout on her face filtered into her voice. I wanted to smack her. My hearing blotted and my stomach churned. The stress frenzied the voices in my mind worse than ever, but soon a warm push at my mind calmed them away. The Cruor were trying to influence me. I pushed back. Not this time.
“Cut the crap, Thalia,” Charles said, a warning cloud settling across his features. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
“I’m just playing, Charlie.” She cinched her gaze on my friends and me. Violet rimmed her large pupils—two large voids illuminated with an eerie glow. At least she wasn’t hungry, not with such a bright glow to her eyes. “How did you meet these . . . girls . . . anyway?”
Charles’ energy was palpable; a barely controlled anger coiled in his body as Thalia spoke. He shoved her away and grabbed my hand. “We’re leaving.”
“Not so fast!” She snapped her finge
rs, and two stocky Cruor emerged from the crowd. They blocked Charles’ path. A willowy, red-haired woman appeared at their side, her smile unnatural.
Thalia scowled. “Check them, Circe.”
Circe’s large green eyes widened. “Yes,” she hissed. She flitted between my friends and me, grasping locks of hair and inhaling deeply. Her nostrils flared at Ivory’s scent, but she passed her over. She reached me and nuzzled a long strand of my hair. As I leaned away, she smiled and stroked my head. “Such a life, this one!”
“Enough, Circe. Thank you.”
Once Circe disappeared into the crowd, Thalia smiled at Charles. “That one”—she bit her thumbnail and indicated me with her pinky—“would be valuable.”
A vein pulsed in Charles’ neck and a soft hum vibrated through his body. Why didn’t he just shift?
“Surely you aren’t attached?” she asked, dropping her hand away from her mouth.
“You are outside your rights, Thalia.”
“Temper, temper.” She sighed, the sound sickening coming from her. “But, my sweet Charlie, we’ve missed you. And what of Adonis and Blake? Have you forgotten who your real friends are?”
“These women know nothing. Do not cross me.” His voice sounded rougher, more gravelly.
“Cross you? Oh Charlie, I’d never cross you.” She patted his chest and winked. “You’ve already been crossed.”
A young, scrawny Cruor pushed his way through the crowd. He bowed toward Thalia. “I’m sure Charles can handle this . . . misunderstanding. He’s been around longer than both of us put together.” He arched his eyebrows.
Thalia stepped back, cocked her head to one side, and tapped a finger against her cheek. “Fine. We have their scents.” To Charles, she added, “Pray you handle this well.”
She turned up her nose and spun on her heel, then threw her hand to the air as she stormed off. The Cruor scattered, some following her into the house while others disappeared into the shadows.
The young Cruor remained. “You owe me.”
“Thanks, Adonis. Could you . . . ?” He nodded towards Lauren, who trembled behind Ivory. “Escort them to their car first. We’ll meet you there.”
“You got it,” Adonis said. “But be careful, man. Thalia’s been into some things lately . . . And Blake—”
“Blake doesn’t concern me.”
Adonis lifted his hands. “Just keep an eye out, that’s all.”
“I always do.”
I looked back as we walked away. “What about Ivory and Lauren?” My voice shook uncontrollably, and I realized how much my body was shaking. I felt cold and sick, as though I would never sleep again.
“Adonis can erase and change human memories. We’ll circle back and meet them at the car. Lauren’s memory of tonight’s events will not be the same. You’ll have to convince her to go to the diner instead of the cemetery.”
“But Ivory—”
“Adonis knows her. She’ll help.”
We walked in silence. Maybe if I waited long enough, my heart would slow and breathing would come easier. When no peace came, I turned to Charles.
“What were you doing here? Why didn’t Adonis want to erase my memory?”
He stopped walking. “We need to talk.”
“That thing . . . Thalia . . . knew you.”
“I stayed with them for a while,” he said, dropping his voice so low I barely heard. Even the Cruor, with their enhanced senses, wouldn’t be able to hear him now—not at this ever-growing distance Charles had placed between us and them. “I used to hunt with them.”
“Stayed with them?” I rubbed my palms against my thighs, wiping the cold sweat on my jeans. “Why would you do that?”
He stuck his hands deep in his pockets and his shoulders hunched forward. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
“Such as . . . ?” My heart sank, dreading the untold news.
“There’s more you need to know, things I hoped I wouldn’t have to tell you.”
I nodded for him to continue.
“Some of the Strigoi hunters didn’t only hunt the inhumane Cruor. They turned dark, hunting all Earth elementals, good and bad alike. The Universe tried dealing with this by creating air elementals—the Ankou.”
“There are others?” I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. Of course there were others. “I’m not sure I want to know any more.”
“You need to hear the rest to understand what I need to tell you.”
“Those were Earth elementals.”
Charles gently squeezed my hand, regret etching into the lines around his eyes. “The Ankou were sent as grim reapers of the evil Strigoi and also to collect the spirits of elemental who have met a final death. With their magic, however, came the ability for elementals to crossbreed. The blending of bloodlines caused discoveries to increase. Humans attacked the elementals out of fear. Many innocents died.
“As a result, the Maltorim banned the mixing of bloodlines to protect the elemental species as a whole, as well as many innocent humans. The Ankou were enslaved to perform purifying procedures, using their gift of advanced supernatural medicine to get rid of one or other of the bloodlines in each dual-breed. But the results were unreliable, and so the Maltorim decreed death to all of the dual-natured.”
“I still don’t see what that has to do with the Cruor back there or how you know them.”
“The Maltorim will kill all dual breeds and anyone who associates with them.” Charles gave me a long look. “To answer your question, Sophia, Adonis doesn’t want to erase your memories because he believes I will.”
“You? But—”
“Those Cruor . . . they think I’m a pure Cruor, too. If Thalia learns any different, she’ll have me and my family killed.”
I shook my head. “They can’t do that.”
“They can, Sophia. They do so all the time.”
“How do you pretend to be Cruor? Can’t they tell? I don’t understand.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Please don’t tell me—”
“I didn’t choose this.”
Shit. Charles was dual-natured? “But I’ve seen you, every day. I mean every day . . . in the sun.”
“Being Strigoi—being born instead of turned—changes things. I shift slower, but can tolerate sunlight. I’m not as strong as the Cruor, but I’m faster.”
“But the daffodil oil. You never had a problem coming into my house.”
“This is the very reason the Maltorim sees dual-breeds as a threat to the supernatural race. Despite our strengths being less potent, so are our weaknesses less severe. Our tolerances to such things—sunlight, silver, daffodil oil—are remarkable. It’s a bit draining and makes us feel . . . off . . . but we can still function.”
“Does Adrian know?” I asked quietly.
Charles’ Adam’s Apple bobbed. “Ivory and Adrian are the only ones who know I’m dual-natured. And obviously my parents. Now you, too.”
“You should have told me.”
He swept a lock of hair from my face, his hand warm against my chilled skin. “I didn’t want to scare you. Or put you in any further danger.”
“Who you are means more to me than what you are,” I said, knowing I was in no place to point the finger. I had my secrets, too.
His eyes burned into mine. He caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers and slid his hand down my arm to my hand. Goose bumps rushed over my skin and my heart quickened as our faces inched closer together, his breath feathering against my cheek. All those times before we’d been this close I hadn’t been sure what I wanted to happen, but now I had no doubts.
He lifted a hand and trailed his thumb over my bottom lip. His gaze lowered to my mouth and then he tilted his forehead against mine, locked his eyes on mine, and lowered his voice. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to kiss you.”
In the limited light, through the shadows frozen between our faces, I could make out the lines of his face and the brightness of his eyes. I wished he would
kiss me. Wished to drum up the nerve and kiss him myself.
Charles closed his eyes and bent his head closer to mine. My eyes closed, too, and the world was silence and we existed in the darkness behind our eyelids. A breeze slipped between us, and, for a moment, I thought possibly his lips had brushed mine.
He pulled away, eyes full of regret. “I may never be able to give you what you want. It’s better for you if I don’t . . . if I—. Sophia, even if I wanted to grow old with you, I could not.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered, but I wasn’t sure what ‘okay’ meant. The one hope I’d had of a future between us being possible had just been torn away.
“Can you understand why I didn’t tell you?” he asked. “If they knew I was the Strigoi who had helped you at Club Flesh, they’d realize I wasn’t pure. That would have ended badly for us both.”
I cringed at the word ‘pure’. Now I understood why he’d feared being followed when we’d met at the club. Did he live his whole life this way, always questioning the intentions of anyone who crossed his path? Always wondering if someone was ‘onto’ him?
“I would never say anything,” I told him, giving him a long look to impart the sincerity of my promise.
“You might not have to.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked into the distance. “How did you say you found this place?”
“A book my mentor gave me had the address. And some code: LC 47.”
“Local Coterie 47,” he said, returning his gaze to mine. “Every Cruor coterie has a number. What book was it?”
“Maltorim records for the Salem witch trials.”
“Sounds like one of Adrian’s books.”
One of Adrian’s books? It made sense, I guess. Perhaps Ivory had borrowed it and accidentally left it at Sparrow’s Grotto. Paloma probably thought it had shown up out of nowhere.
“So what are we going to do about the Maltorim?” I asked.
Charles frowned. “They must be aware something’s up. That a Strigoi saved you and now you’re with me. If they put it all together . . . ” He shook his head. “We can’t risk drawing more attention to ourselves. Marcus’ interest in you was bad enough. Now he’s finally back in Damascus, and you’ve got Thalia’s attention instead.”
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