I stand in a dank brick courtyard amid tall oaks and overgrown shrubs. A stone apartment complex rises before me. A window on the second floor is open, and a ripped curtain hangs in the gaping hole. No lights are on. I can’t tell what time of day it is; no sun, no shadows. Just murky gray. A light rain falls. Shouting falls from the open window, and a thick, heavy accent trails out.
“Ya fookin’ loser!” The sound of fist connecting to bone rings out, and a slight whimpered growl follows it. “I told ya tae give me all o’ it! Dunnae ya hide the quid from me, boy!” Another punch. Another growl. “What do ya have tae say for your pathetic self? Pathetic, aye, just like your fookin’ useless mother!” A slap this time, and another. Another. A scream this time. A woman’s scream. Laughter. “Och, boy, you dinnae like your whore mum tae be slapped, aye? Too fookin’ bad, then.” Slap.
I can move, and I race toward the doorway leading into the apartment. Inside, the stairwell is cold and smelly, and I creep up the steps to the next floor. I open the door and move into a hallway lit by a single bare bulb at the end of a corridor. Beneath my feet, ratty red-and-blue-plaid carpeting. Three doors to my left, I stop and listen. The door is cracked, and I step inside.
The moment I’m inside, I see Rhine. He’s kneeling beside a woman, lying on the floor. Rhine looks a little younger than he is now. Maybe fifteen. His hair is longer, and it curls at his ears, the nape of his neck. He has a huge red welt across his porcelain cheek, and one eye is swollen and blackened, and his nose is bleeding. His lip is split and bleeding. He looks a goddamn mess.
All from the hands of his father. I know it’s his father. Rhine looks exactly like him, only his father is older, bigger, meaner. And drunk as hell. Holy shit.
Rhine is comforting his mother, who’s whimpering, sobbing. He’s shielding her from the hands of his abusive dad. God, I hate abuse. In any form.
Rhine’s father grabs him by the back of his hair and hauls him off his mother. I stare at Rhine’s face, and it’s awash with so many emotions; I feel each one. Fear. Hatred. Love. Loathing. Pain. His father yanks his head back and turns him, slamming the young Rhine against the wall. The older man holds him there by his throat.
“You dinna fook wi’ me, lad,” he says. “I’ll kill you and that whore on the floor.”
Rage illuminates Rhine’s green eyes. Just as a burst of energy surges out of him, and he uses all of his young might to throw his father off him, a figure moving so fast I almost don’t notice it hovers over the woman on the floor. He stands there, looking down, and I can only see the back of him. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark blond hair, long, tied back.
And pulseless.
I blink. A vampire?
“What the fook are ya doin’ in my house?” Rhine’s dad yells. He shoves Rhine down and faces the newcomer. Rhine scrambles to his mom, grabs her by the shoulders, and helps her up. Rhine’s father is a big guy—easily six feet five—and the vampire is eye to eye with him. Then the drunken man glances at Rhine and his mom, then back to the vampire. He throws back his head and laughs. “Och, you fookin’ that whore? You fancy that, aye?” He laughs again, and the vampire remains silent. “You best check your cock, make sure it hasna rotted off—”
The drunk man’s words die in his throat as the vampire lunges, morphs, and piranha-like fangs drop jagged from his gums. Without a single sound, he clamps down on the man’s jugular, shakes his head a time or two, and Rhine’s father’s head comes clean off. The vampire spits it out and it rolls across the floor and stops an inch from my feet. Widened eyes filled with frozen disbelief stare up at me. Blood oozes from the torn ligaments and flesh. I fight the urge to throw up. The rest of the body on the floor begins to quake, convulse.
Rhine’s mother screams; Rhine throws his arms around her and pulls her face to his chest, guarding and shielding her, and she sobs against her son. Those haunting green eyes of his stare at the vampire, who’s now completely changed back. I can feel the pounding of Rhine’s heart as he battles his fears, and as adrenaline charges through his veins, it also rushes through mine. The vampire crosses the room and stops a foot in front of Rhine. For the first time, he speaks. I can see his face now. Chiseled jaw. Straight nose. Long lashes. Gray eyes.
“I’m sorry I had to do that,” the vampire says. “I had no choice.”
His accent is . . . not Scottish. It’s something else. Not English. Not Irish. Something I can’t place.
“Lela, ’tis me.” The vampire reaches a hand out to Rhine’s mother. Rhine slaps his hand away, and the vampire smiles. But his mother turns her head, and she gasps.
“How did you know?” she asks the vampire. She looks up at Rhine and caresses his cheek with her hand. “It’s okay, son. He willna hurt you.”
Rhine’s heart is beating hard; his breath is fast. He holds his mother tightly. He says nothing, but his eyes drift to the form of his headless father, lying crumpled and dead on the floor in a pool of blood.
“Rhine, I’ve loved your mum for as long as I can recall,” the vampire says. “And it’s pained me to see you both endure this hell. ’Tis over now. This . . . is no more.”
Rhine slowly lifts his gaze to meet the vampire’s.
The vampire reaches into the pocket of his long black trench and pulls from within a sheathed knife. Flipping the snap that keeps the blade secured, he takes it out. He shows it to Rhine. “’Tis pure silver, boy, and ’tis the only thing that will kill others like me. They’re no’ all good. Most are killers. Your father was one. Did you know that?”
Rhine, wordlessly, nods.
I’m slightly in shock. Rhine’s father was a vampire? An abusive, drunken wife- and child-beating vampire? What the hell? How is that possible? Didn’t see that one coming.
The vampire turns the blade, hilt first, and offers it to Rhine. He takes it.
“Keep it with you, boy,” the vampire says. “Straight into the heart is the fastest kill. Be sure before you use it. We’re not all killers.” The vampire casts a long, loving glance at Rhine’s mother. “You’re a fine son. Keep a watchful eye over your mum here. She loves you verra much.” He again reaches into his trench; this time, he withdraws an envelope. He hands this to Rhine as well. “Take this and go. Gather what little means something to you, and leave this hellhole. There’s enough here to buy a house, new clothes, a car, and whatever else you might need. For years.” He glances at Rhine’s dead father’s remains: a pile of ashes. “Just leave that here.”
Before Rhine can respond, the vampire moves. He’s gone. Out of the apartment. I glance around. He’s nowhere.
I blink, and I’m back, standing in the guesthouse, directly in front of a grown-up Rhine. My hands still hold his, and his green eyes, aged beyond his years, stare down at me. He doesn’t say anything; he’s waiting on me.
“Do you know what just happened?” I ask.
A grin tips his mouth. “Aye. My theory’s accurate. You’re a bloody voyeur.”
His friends laugh.
I glower at him, and he gives me a nod. “Aye. You saw a rather nasty chunk o’ my life.” He sighs. “And now ya know my horrors.”
I drop his hands. “But you’re human.”
One side of his mouth lifts into a smirk. “You’re no’ the only one wi’ a few tricks, girly.”
“So you have traits, like me,” I say. “Like what?”
Rhine shrugs. “No’ much, mind ya. I canna run, or jump like you. I canna go at will into others’ memories.” He sighs. “But I can sniff out a bloodsucker. My hearing’s pretty sick.” He shrugs. “I’m fairly strong.”
His band members chuckle. “Och, that’s the verra least, eh, Rhiney boy?” Pete says.
Rhine shrugs again. “I’m no’ much of a braggart.”
“Let me get this straight,” Noah says from behind us. He walks up and stands next to me. He looks at Rhine. “You have tendencies? Care to clue me in?”
“His father was a vampire,” I offer, keeping my eyes on Rhine’s. He stays silen
t and lets me do the talking. “He carries traits, like a human with tendencies.”
“Father was?” Noah asks.
“My da had a unique disorder,” Rhine says, and we’re still watching each other. “Liquor fooked him up.” His eyes soften a little. Saddened, maybe. “He wasna always like that, though. I can remember him as a wee lad. He . . . treated me and my mum well.” He sighs. “But once the liquor got in him, it dulled his vampirism. Eventually, it overcame him. He became a typical, fooked-up drunken vampire. Similar to drunk humans in that they eat very little whilst they drink ou’ of their gourd. He still fed on human blood occasionally. But his body became absorbed with alcohol. It changed him. Still a vampire, aye, but only a shadow o’ one. Sloppy. His brother came one day and, what would you call it?” He smiles at me. “Intervened?”
The pain in Rhine’s eyes makes me sad for him, and I know he can tell it. “Anyway, my mum died no’ too long after that. Cancer. My uncle came back after that, made sure I finished school and didna become a street punk.” He grins at his friends. “Taught me things. Valuable things.” His green eyes turn stormy. “Then a couple o’ years ago we had a surge in rogue vampires here. My uncle was killed. And it’s been me and my mates ever since.”
Noah glances at me, then the rest of the band. “And what sort of tricks can you little humans perform?”
“Och, they’re just the fiercest fightin’ fookers you’ll ever meet, lad,” Rhine tells him. “They’ve helped me keep Inverness fairly cleaned up ever since. No one faster with a blade o’ silver.” He glances at me. “Except mayhap the dragon girl here.”
Noah rubs his eyes, and sighs. A big, exaggerated, airless vampire’s sigh.
“We need the help,” I offer to Noah.
He glares at me. “You’re not helping.” Then his silvery gaze turns to Rhine. “What you saw in the club? Even we aren’t certain what we’re dealing with. The male?” He inclines his head toward me. “That’s her fiancé. He hasn’t always been a prick.”
“Nice,” I say.
Noah goes on. No holds barred. Holding nothing at all back. “He’s possessed or something. And you saw the female. She controls him and has a power even I’ve never seen before.”
A smile lifts Rhine’s mouth. It’s a characteristic of his that’s pretty damn appealing. Poor, poor young human girls.
“I have.”
Me and Noah both look at Rhine. The others chuckle.
Rhine rubs his jaw. “As I said before, you’re in the Highlands, my friends. ’Tis a place unlike any other. Like a kaleidoscope, ’tis nothing ever the way you think it is.”
“Stop with the rhymes and tell us what you mean,” Noah says. “My patience is growing thinner by the second.”
Rhine laughs. “Aye, well, that female? She’s old. An’ before she was a vampire, she was a fookin’ witch.”
It’s almost . . . funny, the way the Scots swear. It’s not as menacing, or as vulgar, as the American version. Like, it’s okay to swear. It’s almost distracting. Every time Rhine says fookin’, I want to laugh. “So, how do you know all of this?”
Rhine shrugs. “I’ve seen one like her. When my uncle was killed. Fookin’ witchpire cast a bloody spell that controlled his mind long enough for her tae take his bloody head. I’ll ne’er forget it.”
“But you’ve never seen Carrine before?” I ask.
“Never. That night at the club was the first time. She’s a slippery one, though. We’ve no’ been able tae track her. Fookin’ witchpire.”
“So, she’s a witchpire. Great,” Noah says. “So you boys are experts on all things paranormal, or just vampires?”
Rhine shares a look with his bandmates, then turns to meet Noah’s gaze. “Aye, we’re pretty much experts on everythin’. Ghosties, vampires, werewolves—you name it. We keep Inverness safe. My uncle taught me everything he knew before he died.”
Noah glances at me. “How ya holdin’ up?”
I nod. “Okay so far.” I know he means my mind, and whether or not Carrine is prying into it again. I look at Rhine. “Have you heard of St. Bueno’s?”
Rhine gives a single nod. “Aye. O’ course.”
“My fiancé and another were cast into another realm. A Hell-like realm. I went after them. Got them both out. Only my fiancé changed.” I hold his gaze, filled with questions, curiosity. “I think he’s being commanded to kill me now. And he and the female may be behind the random killings here.”
“That’s shit luck, lass,” Pete says. “Damn sorry for it.”
With a slight nod, I acknowledge Pete’s words.
“I’ve heard of those realms,” Rhine admits. “Ne’er been in one myself, though.” His eyes search mine. “You’ll have tae tell me about it, lass.”
“So just you five keep Inverness safe?” Noah asks.
“There’re more of us,” Rhine claims.
Noah and I share a quick glance. “What do you mean?” he asks.
“After my mum died, it left just me,” Rhine begins. “And my band here, o’ course. We’ve grown up together. But I knew it was up tae me, tae us, to keep this city right. There was nowhere else for us tae go, so we set out tae make sure the bloodsuckers stayed clear. We went tae the streets, gathered forces.” He gives me a lazy smile.
“How many?” I ask.
Rhine shrugs. “Fifty or so.”
Impressive. “All human?”
Rhine nods. “There’re a few English in the bunch. Do they count?”
The other Ness boys chuckle.
Rhine holds my gaze. “Many make the mistake you both did. Thinkin’ we’re street thugs. It keeps us covered well enough.”
“How do you know where to look?” I ask.
There’s a flash in Rhine’s green eyes that makes me like him. “We just make ourselves seen,” he admits. “And we always run in packs.”
I grin back. “Like some vampire-hunting Lord of the Flies ring, huh?”
“Och, girly,” Tate says. “We hardly limit ourselves tae vampires only.”
“Aye, that would be bloody boring,” Gerry claims.
I turn, looking at Noah. We can use their help. We’re running in circles right now, and Jake and the other WUP members are tied up in a wolfy war.
They’re humans, Riley. No offense, but any one of them could be killed, at any given time.
Noah. We’re outnumbered and alone. Rhine and these guys? They run in packs. You take a lion. Fierce. Lethal. Deadly. But you surround it with a pack of angry men with spears and guns? Lion doesn’t have a chance. We need them.
We stare at each other, me convincing, Noah deciding.
“Och, you two are bloody talkin’ tae each other, aren’t ya?” Tate asks.
I slide a look his way and lift an eyebrow.
“Magic,” he says in a low voice. I soon realize Tate is the Ness Boy with no filter.
All right, Riley. I guess we’ve got no choice.
We don’t. And I trust them. Whatever happens, I trust Rhine. He went through some major shit as a kid. It’s made him stronger. Like me.
Noah gives me one last, long stare, then turns to Rhine. “There’re a few things you need to know.” He inclines his head to me. “About her.”
Rhine meets my gaze and nods. “Then it’s best if the whole lot o’ us knows at once.” He smiles. “I dinnae know ’bout you, but I hate repeatin’ myself. You can stay at our place.” He looks at Pete and the others. “Meet the boys o’ the ’Ness.”
Noah gives me a quick glance, and I nod. Pretty cute bunch of guys. Yeah, they look like punks, but if you look deep and hard enough, you’d think you were staring at a hooded lot of Abercrombie models. Yet they fight vampires. Who would’ve thought?
“Let’s pack up,” I say.
So we do. As Rhine and the others wait, Noah and I gather what little belongings we have, throw our weapons into our gear bags, and clean out the fridge. An unexpected turn of events, to be sure. I mean, who in the hell would ever have guessed a gan
g of human boys was running the show in Inverness? Rhine being the only one with a tinge of tendencies. It blows my mind. They all must be some tough little bastards.
Being good tenants, we place the trash in the can outside, and the key in the drop box. Rhine walks up to me at the curb. “Your chariot awaits.”
I glance over his shoulder at the two Rovers, parked with engines running.
“Need a hand wi’ those?” he says, inclining his head to my two duffels.
I shrug out of the one holding my clothes and hand it to him. “Thanks.”
Rhine takes it and walks to one of the Rovers. He opens the hatch and throws it in. Noah’s at the other Rover, and he glances at me. “See ya there,” he says, and climbs in.
“Guess you’re ridin’ wi’ me then,” Rhine says with a mischievous grin. “Let’s go.” He quickly introduces me to the driver, Chess, and we head out.
The Scots, I notice again, have a wicked accent. I never tire of hearing it. We climb into the backseat, and both Rovers pull out onto Montague Row.
“Where’re we headed?” I ask Rhine.
“My da’s brother left me a fair bank account when he died,” he says. “I used it wisely, as he had advised me. Invested some, saved some, and bought the Rovers, a motorbike, and an old hotel on the other side of the river.” He stares at me. “So tell me about this fiancé o’ yours.” He mock-frowns, his dark eyebrows stark against his alabaster skin. “You sure you want tae marry a bloodsucker? Or is there a chance you might fancy a younger human wi’ no’ so many tendencies?”
I shake my head. “Obviously excessive flirting is one of them.” I glance out the window as we cross the river. “I’d die trying to save Eli from whatever fucked-up hell he’s in,” I say, then turn back to Rhine. “But I’m not sure that’s going to happen.”