Then I see Noah. He’s on foot, running through the trees. He’s wearing brown pants, boots, a cream-colored long-sleeved shirt, and a brown vest. His hair is different—long, gathered at the nape of his neck, no dreads. He wears a tricorn hat, and is hauling ass. In one hand, a hatchet. The other, a rifle. Three men in red coats are chasing him.
Revolutionary War. Noah is a militiaman.
A shot rings out through the wood, and when I look at the redcoats, one of their rifles is smoking. The other two fire at Noah. One misses. One hits him in the shoulder, knocking him sideways and down. I fight not to run to him; it will do no good. I’m a bystander, watching a memory that’s already happened.
Just as fast as he fell, Noah rolls and gets back up. He’s now rounded and running directly toward the redcoats. All three are on their knees reloading their guns. Noah throws down his gun and with a wide arc, swings and sinks his hatchet right into the British soldier’s chest. With his foot, he shoves the soldier off the blade and runs right at the other two. Blood is oozing from Noah’s shoulder, but he ignores it and takes a lethal swing at the first soldier’s throat. His head nearly comes clean off.
One redcoat left, and he’s waiting for Noah and uses his gun to reflect Noah’s powerful swing. The two fight, struggle. It’s only now that I realize Noah’s not a vampire. He’s mortal. Impressive fighter. I can feel his rising adrenaline as the pair struggle to gain control.
Out of nowhere, another redcoat appears, and with a sword drawn, he runs it straight through Noah’s back. Noah’s scream pierces my ears, and every ounce of pain and anger coursing through him, I feel inside me. He sinks to his knees, his hand still tightly gripping his hatchet.
From the canopy above, a figure falls from the mist. The moment he drops and lands on his feet, I see it’s Eli. He’s dressed like Noah. His hair is longer, pulled back at the nape of his neck. His cerulean blue eyes almost glow through the mist.
In a blur, Eli moves, and he is suddenly at both men. He grabs one redcoat by the throat. The other, by the front of his shirt, and pulls him close. As I watch, Eli’s jaw extends, his teeth drop long and jagged from his gums, and he rips into the soldier’s throat. He throws him down and does the same to the second redcoat. The bloodlust that rushes through Eli also rushes through me; I can feel it, the scent, the craving, almost as if I were experiencing it instead of him. Motionless, I stand there and watch as Eli drops to the forest floor to Noah. Eli’s no longer morphed as a vampire. He’s Eli. And I can see pain etched into his features as he stares at Noah.
“I won’t make it,” Noah says. His accent is still tinged with Southern drawl, but it’s older. “Find Elana. Take—” Noah starts coughing, choking. He grabs Eli’s arm. “Take care of her, brother. I promised her I would care for her always. I . . . have to break this promise.” He coughs some more, and it’s more of a crying cough than anything else. It’s filled with pain. Not physical pain, but emotional. I feel it inside me, too. “Do this for me,” he begs Eli. “Please.”
All of Noah’s emotions run through me. He loves this girl, Elana. Was it his wife? His fiancée? Either way, the sorrow he’s experiencing is mind-numbing. It’s a different Noah than I know. I watch as Eli lowers his head closer to Noah’s.
“I can fix this,” Eli says. “I can fix you. You can take care of Elana yourself.”
Noah’s breathing quickens, and he chokes.
“You must hurry and decide,” Eli urges. “Now.”
“I’ll be like you?” Noah asks.
“Yes.”
Noah closes his eyes for a moment, and his lips are moving. He’s praying. Suddenly, his eyes open again and he’s staring at Eli. “Do it.”
Eli doesn’t ask if he’s sure; nor does he hesitate, not even for a second. He moves so fast I don’t see Eli’s face change. Don’t see his teeth elongate. I only see his mouth move over Noah’s throat and stay there for several seconds. When his head lifts, and he wipes his mouth across his sleeve, his face is Eli’s. Not vampire. Noah is deathly still. I see no breath rising in his chest. His mercury-colored eyes stare blankly skyward.
Suddenly, Noah jerks, his body begins to quiver, convulse. Eli grasps his shoulders, holds him down. “Be strong,” Eli growls, and his French accent is heavier now.
Noah’s painful scream rips through the misty forest. Then his eyes flicker open.
Voices, footfalls in the forest. Eli’s gaze snaps up, his hands still holding a now-ferocious and fighting Noah down. It’s like . . . he’s crazed, and those emotions soar within me, too. I can barely stand still.
I look in the direction Eli’s staring, and I see what he sees. More redcoats. A lot of them. Like a rag doll, he throws Noah over his shoulder and starts to run. I try to move, to follow, but I can’t. Moments later, the British soldiers rush by me. They’re so close I can see the whiskers on their faces. They’re chasing Eli and Noah, and before long, the mist swallows them all up. Gunshots ring through the air. Screams. Terrified screams—
Suddenly, my eyes snap open, and Noah’s shaking the holy hell out of my shoulders. So hard I feel like my teeth are clanking against one another. I focus on his face, his eyes. “Stop shaking me,” I say.
Noah’s jaw clenches. “I could’ve used my special method of pulling you from your mind explorations,” he answers. His eyes lighten. “The one I reserve only for you.”
He leads me to a chair and I sit. He squats down in front of me, and I look at him. “You never told me Eli is the one who turned you.”
A smile tips his mouth. “You never asked. So what else did you see?”
I inhale, exhale, and look at him. “I saw you fighting British soldiers. But you were dying. Pleading with Eli to take care of Elana.”
For a moment, Noah’s mind goes elsewhere, and I know this because the look in his eyes softens and deepens and he stares away at some other point in the room. He finally looks back at me. “We were engaged to be married. She was . . . the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.”
“What happened?” I ask. “After Eli changed you.”
Noah rubs his jaw, and I can tell it’s painful to recall the memories. I regret asking. “You know how it is when you’re first changed. You’re . . . out of your mind with bloodlust.” A smile touches his mouth. “I don’t remember everything, but Eli later told me I gave him a helluva ride. He took me all the way south, to Preacher’s kin. He left me there for them to cleanse me. The same way you were. Hasn’t changed a bit.”
I hesitate to ask more, but I might as well. Noah’s my partner. My friend. Eli’s best friend. I want to know. “What happened to Elana?”
Noah looks down at the floor between his knees. “By the time Eli made it back to watch over her until I was ready, she and her whole family had been killed.” He looks up at me now, and his liquid silver eyes are watery. “Elana, her parents, and six brothers and sisters. All dead. Their house had been burned to the ground.” He rises and walks to the window and looks out. “I . . . went nuts for a while. A controlled rampage, you might say.” He turns and looks at me. “It started out that way, anyhow. Revenge, I assure you, can quickly turn into bloodlust. Eli had to come after me. I had to go through vampire detox once more.” His eyes aren’t sad now, but he’s not smiling. “I avenged Elana and her family. But it was almost at too high a price. If Eli hadn’t stopped me . . .” He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Riley. I’m pretty sure you and I wouldn’t be sharing the same guesthouse if it hadn’t been for Dupré’s determination to save me from myself.”
I punch Noah in the arm. “Damn glad he did, then. There’s no one else, except Eli, that I’d want watching my back.”
We stand there in that little Inverness guesthouse kitchen, and we’re silent for only a handful of seconds. But we know each other. We understand. And I understand a little more about the predicament Eli is in right now.
Noah’s fingers lightly grasp my chin and pull my gaze to his. His eyes search mine for a few moments. “I know Eli bette
r than anyone, Riley. He’s a strong-willed soul. He’ll come out of this. I swear I feel it.”
Noah’s encouraging words wash over me, and I’m soothed. I smile at him. “I needed that.”
His perfect lips pull back into a wide smile. “I know.” He kisses my nose. “All right, enough mind-diving for now,” Noah says. “We got work to do.”
“Hey, I told you I had no control over where the memories take me,” I remind him. “I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what it is you’re hiding from me later.”
Something stirs in Noah’s eye, but I ignore it. No need to goad him.
“Smart girl,” he says.
We get busy.
As we study the city map, I circle all of the most likely places a rogue or newblood would hunt. But as I stare at my markings, it starts to all seem useless. The red permanent marker I’m using starts to take up a lot of space. I shake my head, snap the pen lid back on, and throw it down. “Their attacks are too random, Noah. We’re chasing too many directions. Too many damn what-ifs.” I look up at him, and his eyes are glued to the map. “I feel like the only thing we’re doing is running on my supersonic senses. So far, it hasn’t been a hundred percent on the mark, either. Carrine has been able to control my mind, and she’s killed an innocent before I had a chance to pick up on it.”
He looks up at me now. “She controlled your mind, and mine, because she’s strong as shit, Riley. Plus, you’re distracted by Eli. We’re not seeing it, but somehow it’s all tied in together. Carrine, Eli, and the random kills.” He shakes his head. “We need to find out more about her.” He pushes away from the table and grabs his cell off the counter.
“Who ya calling?” I ask.
“Gabriel,” he answers. “He’s been in Scotland a long time. Maybe he’s heard of her.”
Gabriel not only has no last name to mention, but he’s an immortal druid from centuries ago. He’s WUP’s Scotland contact. We stayed at his place, the Crescent, back in Edinburgh when we fought the Black Fallen. It’d be nice to have him here.
As Noah talks to Gabriel, I get up, nod toward my bedroom, and head to the shower. My body aches, and the beginning of a headache is nagging at the base of my skull. In my room I dig through my meager belongings—just the bare necessities, I guess. I grab clean panties and a cotton camisole and head to the shower. Once in the bathroom, though, I stare at the large porcelain claw-foot bathtub just a little too long. I decide to soak. Think.
Forget.
Turning the water on full-blast hot, I undress and wait for the tub to fill. I wrap my hair into a ball at the nape of my neck and bind it with a ponytail holder. Staring into the mirror at my reflection, I have to wonder where all of this is going. What’s going to become of Eli? Of me? Of us?
No sooner do I slip into the water and lay my head back than the voice returns.
You make it very difficult to speak to you, Riley. You’re so beautiful.
My eyes flash open and I glance around. Although I lost most of my modesty years ago, I drape my arm over my breasts. This time, I answer the voice.
Where are you, Athios? I ask in my head.
Prison. Hell. Call it what you will.
Athios was wrongfully nailed with the sin of a Black Fallen—a fallen angel engulfed in the darkest of magic. We defeated the others. He saved my life, all of our lives, by submitting his own. What are you doing slipping around my bathroom while I bathe? I ask.
It’s hard to get you alone these days. Forgive me for indulging in your beauty. ’Tis all I have left.
Who is the female? Carrine? I ask.
She’s apparently someone who wants your fiancé just as badly as you do.
That angers me. Damn it, Athios. Are you going to help me or not?
He laughs softly, almost a whisper. You ask much of me, Riley Poe.
Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Athios. I wish there was a way you could escape . . . wherever you are.
Athios sighs. What would the difference be? I’m in here without you, or out there, without you? Same prison to me.
I love Eli, and that’s never going to change. I have to help him.
I know. Which is why I even bother putting myself through this torture. To see you like you are, in my head, and know you’re unobtainable. I’d rather be sliced in half.
Athios.
Another laugh. I’ll see what I can find out. Mind combing is a tedious endeavor, you know. And it’s all I have at the moment. I’m bound here, in this place, Riley. And I don’t know Carrine, except, of course, what she is. And that she’s very, very powerful.
I know. With a wave of her hand she caused some sort of a sonic boom in the club we were in. Blew out all of the glass. I had no power against her
Well, keep in mind that powers of the mind must be practiced, just as one practices swordplay. Practice on your partner. You’ve not even scratched the surface of your capabilities, Riley. Remember. Besides your own unique blood, you have all that vampiric venom floating about in you. I’ve seen your powers. They’re only half developed.
I smile. Is this a pep talk, Athios? Something to lift my spirits?
You aren’t hearing me, are you? Whilst you may have pushed aside our time together, I most certainly have not. It’s all I have, those memories.
Guilt washes over me. Yes. I admit there was something between Athios and me. Something strong and powerful that I could not fight. We made love, after I thought Eli had been killed. It’s something I’ve had to come to terms with. It’s something I don’t regret. And if I ever get Eli back to Eli, I will have to tell him. Hell, he may even already know.
It soothes my soul to know you at least don’t regret our time together. But my point is, Riley, that you have a little Black Fallen in you, too. Along with all of the vampiric abilities. You’ve simply ignored it. And unfortunately, I cannot help you. Only you can bring them to light.
I close my eyes, and let my head drop against the hard porcelain tub. I purposely knock it a few times. And I groan. I feel like I’m talking to Yoda. In riddles. What are you talking about, Athios?
Who is Yoda?
I almost laugh. No one. Just tell me what you mean instead of talking in circles.
You have a few of my abilities inside you, Riley. When we made love, we became one, even for a brief bit of time. I left inside you a piece of me. My skills of the mind. Core energy that you can command. And perhaps a few powers that can help you manipulate the elements. Forces of nature. You can use them to fight Carrine, or anyone else who poses a threat. Hone them. Use them. I must go. If I’m caught, I may lose this. And I can’t survive without at least speaking to you every now and then. I’ll see what I can find out about Carrine. Watch your back. Stay close to Miles.
I will.
Just that fast, I know Athios is gone, out of my head. I can sense his presence is no longer there. I can’t explain it, but I’m left with a sense of loss. Not the same loss that I feel with Eli, though.
That’s becoming more and more unbearable.
Reaching up, I turn the hot water back on and let it heat the lukewarm water I’m sitting in. I rest my head back and close my eyes. Just a few more minutes.
My thoughts drift to Athios’s words. I have Black Fallen traits now, too? That he left them inside me is . . . freakishly weird. Stronger mind control and power over the elements? Core energy? I’m like one of the fucking X-Men. What the hell?
Technically, Athios isn’t a Black Fallen. He’s not evil. And he sacrificed his soul to save mankind. But he’s one powerful angel. I can’t even begin to imagine grazing that kind of power. I don’t want such intense mind power. What if it takes over me and I become some power-hungry half human hell-bent on revenge, throwing hurricanes and tornadoes at people? There’re enough of those in the world. I’m not going to become one of them.
Hell no.
The hot water envelopes me, and I feel myself drifting. I don’t really want to—we’ve got work to do. But drowsiness overcomes me, and I
slip into a quiet peace that I haven’t had in some time.
At first, I’m conscious of lying in the tub, hot water soothing my aching muscles and bare skin. Then it grows dark behind my eyelids, and I see nothing, I feel nothing. I lose the sensation of being submerged in hot water, and it’s replaced by cold, blackness. My arms are weightless, probing into the murky surroundings like a mindless, rambling zombie with its arms held out before it.
Then, as if my thoughts have lit some sort of inner fire, adrenaline surges through me, and I feel energy gathering from my core. At first, it swirls there, like a satellite hurricane photo. Then it fires, explodes, sending lethal doses of that energy through my limbs. I jerk awake, almost leaping from my confinement. I land on my feet, crouching. Slowly, I stand. I’m no longer naked. But not dressed. Not like I normally am. It’s almost like a bolt of the softest, gauziest material is clinging to my body, hovering close but unrestrained by straps or zippers or buttons. None of this do I see. I only feel it.
The power that soars through me doesn’t escape; it’s here, inside me, like a low-humming frequency. If a bug flew at me and hit my body it would zap and fry, bursting into flames, just like a bug lamp. Darkness still surrounds me. I’m totally lost, and I don’t feel anyone else’s presence here but mine. Like I’m in some weird time warp, floating around. Like Dr. Who. Except he’s way more cool.
I lift my hand to push my hair from my face, and that same surge of power burns in the pit of my stomach, then shoots in a rush through my arm. I feel it clear to my fingertips. What the freak?
I lift my arms up simultaneously; the power surge that rips from both of my hands nearly knocks me off my feet.
Is this what Athios was talking about?
I feel like Patrick Swayze in the movie Ghost, trying to move the penny after he’s dead. Pulling the energy from my core and rocking it out of my body.
Do I really have that in me? Or am I just dreaming?