“The woman found dead in the park?” I stated, already knowing the answer.
“Yes.”
My insides grew icy cold as I thought of the woman found at Daffin Park, and I slowly rose. “And the guy in the alley?”
Eli nodded. “Yeah.”
I drew a deep breath. I also recalled that first morning, when I’d found Seth asleep and his window wide-open. “Why didn’t they kill Seth?”
Eli shrugged. “The Arcoses are weak. They need help subduing victims until they’re fully restored.”
I stared, speechless as that information sunk in. “You mean my little brother is luring innocent people to their deaths?” Yanking the towel from my head, I shook the tangles in my wet hair with my fingers until it hung limp, nearly to my waist. I threw the towel down. “I can’t believe that.”
“You’d better believe it,” Eli said harshly, and drew closer. “A vampire, even in its weakest form, can manipulate a mortal’s mind and make him do anything they wish.”
We stood now, face-to-face, and yeah—I thought about how easily Eli could manipulate me. But this wasn’t about me. “Why aren’t we out looking for them now? Why can’t we just bring them in, and take them somewhere safe? Why can’t we just kill the Arcoses?” Desperate panic began to seize me again, and I didn’t know how to control it. “Why do we have to wait?”
Eli’s hands grasped my shoulders hard, and I noticed for the first time that his skin was surprisingly warm. “I’m going to say this one last time, and you’d better let it sink into that thick skull. While the Arcoses’ physical beings are weak, their minds are as strong as ever. They can’t know we’re looking for them, or Seth and his friends. They could command them to do things you wouldn’t want to imagine—and with just a single, solitary thought. They wouldn’t even have to be in the same room with them.” His eyes bored into mine. “They would do some messed-up shit and do it just because the Arcoses said to do it. Probably already have.”
My mind reeled with every horrible thing a human being could do to another, and I felt sick at the images. “Then what the hell do we do?” I asked, looking into the clearest pair of light blue eyes I’d ever seen. “What?”
“We watch, and we wait. Right now, Valerian and Victorian are too weak to move stealthily through the city. That’s why they’ve got Seth and his friends.”
I stiffened, getting more pissed by the second. “We wait and do nothing?”
The look on Eli’s face reeked of irritation. “No. We wait; we watch. We try to defuse as many situations as possible. They cannot be destroyed until their physical bodies are fully restored.” He looked hard at me. “It’s just the way it is.”
“Do they know you’re here?” I asked, and pulled away as thousands of worries and questions stormed my brain. “Do they know of the contract?”
Eli crossed his arms over his chest and stood, legs braced wide. “The contract was made after they were entombed, and Gullah magic has been in our system for nearly two centuries. They may suspect we’re here, but they can’t detect it. Our scent is masked—just like yours.”
“Can they recognize you? Like, do they know what you physically look like?” I asked.
For the first time in our heated, serious conversation, Eli’s expression lightened. “They know what we looked like in 1848. Together, as a family, they’d probably recognize us as the Duprés. Maybe. My mother and father look very much the same. But each of us in a crowd, or walking down the street?” He scrubbed his chin and shook his head. “No. Me, my brothers, and sister—we’ve evolved with the times.”
“Given that you probably used to wear . . . velvet bloomers, lace, high heels, and a ponytail, yeah—I guess you have changed a little,” I said, and gave a slight smile in hopes of easing the depressing mood. He must have been putting the mind-whammy on me; I was even beginning to feel somewhat better.
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 c
lose 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.