With both hands, Eli rubs my arms. “We’ll talk about it later. Warming up?” he asks.
I look at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Where,” I say, and search his eyes, “were you?”
“I’d fallen asleep, Riley,” he answers. “You were gone when I woke up.” His eyes are grave. “Three hours, Ri.”
I stare off across the room. How can that be? “How can I lose that much time, Eli?” I say. Something has to give, and I mean now. What the freak is happening to me?
Eli leans over and kisses my forehead. Pulling back, his eyes search mine. “I don’t know, but I’m going to figure it out, Ri.” He strokes my hair. “Your behavior is different. Your demeanor. It’s why I always seem to be so in-your-face. I’m worried. We’ll go to my father. He’ll know what to do. Meanwhile, you need some nutrients. Want something to eat?”
“Yeah,” I say, and climb from the covers, pull on sweats and a black long-sleeved Inksomnia T-shirt and a pair of thick wooly socks, and walk to the living room. I’m really not all that hungry now. I’m losing chunks of time, and that scares the hell out of me. I hope Gilles can help. What if I’m killing innocents? Who’s going to stop me? Vic said he could help. But can he? Or is he just trying to change me? Make me his forever. I wouldn’t put it past him. What did I do all that time? Outside, naked. Freaking naked! Goddamn almighty. I start for the kitchen, and Eli stops me.
“Non,” he says, slipping into French. “I got this. You chill on the sofa.”
“Eli, really,” I say. “I’m not a baby. Or an invalid. As a matter of fact I can almost kick your ass.”
He says nothing. The look, though, speaks volumes.
I sigh. “Whatever.” I move to the sofa, plop down, and grab the remote. “Thank you,” I say. I don’t like to be pampered and he knows it.
Eli simply grins.
Flipping on the TV, I turn to the local channel to check out the news. It’s noon and something should be on.
Then, suddenly, there is. The news.
“…the driver’s mutilated body was found in his cab along the marsh on North Beach, at Tybee. It appears to be unrelated to the string of burglaries in the area. Tybee police have no leads as of now,” the news affiliate said.
My insides grow cold. Hadn’t I dreamed that? Oh freaking hell, had I actually been there? It seems too familiar, too…close. I stand and walk to the window, move the drapes and look out over River Street. No way could I have attacked someone. Mutilated someone.
“Ri.”
Eli is behind me. So quiet, I hadn’t even heard him move. I should be used to it by now, but I’m not. Maybe I never will be.
His arms go around my waist and pull me against his body, and his mouth nuzzles my neck. Funny how that doesn’t even remotely frighten me. “I know you’re tired of it all,” Eli says in a low, crooning French accent. “The killing. The death. Hopefully soon, it’ll all be over. You can’t let it get to you, though.” He pulls me tightly against him. “You’re strong, Riley. One of the strongest humans I’ve ever known. So”—he kissed my throat—“fight it.”
I relax against Eli’s strong embrace, but inside, I’m cold. Numb. And I almost take pride that I hide it so well now. Before, I couldn’t hide a damn thing. Eli could read my every thought. Now? With the DNA of two strigoi mixed with my own? Eli’s oblivious. He has no clue that it isn’t the fighting of vampires and finding of dead bodies that torments me now.
It’s the fact that I may be the one hunting them.
Stranger still, I find that tormented isn’t exactly the right way to describe my feelings about possibly being a killer.
It’s more like…
Aroused…
Part Four
UNHINGED
I’m starting to seriously dig this feeling I have inside of me. Makes me feel alive. Mysterious. Kick-ass. I crave something, and it’s strong, powerful, and pulls at me with a force I never knew existed. I don’t even know what the hell it is, but I want it. Bad. Don’t forget—I’ve had these cravings before. I used to be an addict, and this feels the same. Sometimes I feel like my insides are turning outside, every nerve ending is on fire, and that if I don’t get whatever it is I’m craving, I will go totally insane. But you know what’s starting to piss me off? Everything. And everyone. Eli. Luc. Phin. Josie. Seth. Zetty. Preacher. Estelle. Nyx. Irritating as shit, every one of them. Constantly watching me—especially Eli. I can barely have any time to my freaking self. You know what I want? I want everyone to leave me the fuck alone.
—Riley Poe
Everything’s changed. Me. Them. All that’s around me. Complete chaos. And I don’t even think they can see it. At least, they don’t see what I see.
And that’s fine by me.
They all look at me funny, and that’s something I don’t like. I’m trying not to make a big deal about it, but it’s starting to grate on my last everfucking nerve. I don’t know how much more I can stand. Always watching. Always talking. Planning shit behind my back. Someone’s always with me. Acting like I don’t have a fucking brain in my head to make decisions with.
And Eli’s eyes are constantly locked on to me.
Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind.
I’ve gotten good at hiding it though, and trust me when I say that’s a plus. If they all knew what really went on inside my head they’d lock me away. But I didn’t make it through drug rehab and vamp rehab to break down now. No, hell-sir no. I got it. I’m cool.
I’m blankly staring at images as I sift through the pile of sketches Nyx handed me an hour ago. Dragons. Japanese symbols. Japanese symbols with dragons. Japanese symbols with flowers. Skull with a Ranger’s beret.
“Hey, Riley,” Nyx says from her station.
I glance at her and she’s smiling ear to ear. It irritates me. “Yeah?” I answer.
“Your ten-thirty appointment just called. They’re running a few minutes late.”
Damn. I hadn’t even heard the phone ring. “Thanks,” I say.
Just then the front door opens, and that raven above the jamb caws loudly. Swear to God, I’m going to yankthat fucker off the wall and throw it in the river next time I get the chance.
“Riley? This guy wants to talk to you,” Nyx says. She gives me another smile, all bright and cheery. Like nothing’s wrong with the world.
I set the sketches aside and walk over to the man waiting for me. He’s young, military, and gives me a nod and a wide smile. “Ma’am,” he offers politely as a greeting. “I was told I could get inked by no one other than you.”
Thump, thump.
The soldier’s young, vibrant heartbeat echoed inside my head.
I smile up at him. “You got something in mind?”
It’s warm enough inside the shop that I’m wearing a black Inksomnia tank, a pair of jeans and combat boots. The soldier checks out the dragons inked on my arms and smiles. “Sweet,” he says, continuing to admire the work. Or me. “I was thinking of a snake wrapped around my arm,” he says, “from here to here.” He points at his shoulder and elbow. “With my infantry number in the body.”
I nod. “I’m booked today, but check out the album over there”—I nod toward the image album on the coffee table—“and see if there’s anything in there you like. I’ll do a fast mock sketch and see what you think. Then we’ll set you up with an appointment.”
Soldier nods. “Cool.” He turns, finds the album, and plants himself on the sofa and begins his search.
I return to my station and pick up the sketches. In the back, I notice Eli leaning against the wall. Watching.
I ignore him and continue on with my meaningless task. I can’t believe I sit around and draw such stupid shit. God, the things people think they want inked forever into their skin. They are fucking clueless. Then, I’m interrupted.
Vic: It’s getting worse for you, isn’t it, love?
Me: Get out of my head, Victorian. I don’t want to hear it.
Vic: A piece of me lives inside of
you, Riley. You cannot fool me. I can sense the mayhem. What else is happening?
Me: Nothing I can’t handle.
Silence.
Vic: Has my brother been contacting you?
Me: Maybe. Not really sure who it is. Or if they’re real. Like I said, I can handle it. Doin’ a fan-fucking-tastic time of it so far.
Vic: Riley.
Me: I’m losing chunks of time. They feel like dreams really, but then I physically realize I have lost time. Can’t remember what I’ve done, yet some things seem familiar.
Silence.
Vic: Christ, Riley. Let me help you before it’s too late. Please. I will take such good care of you. You’ll want or desire nothing, I vow it. I can give you such love, such pleasures, if you’ll only allow me to take you away.
Me: (laughing) Vic, you know I can’t allow that. No way am I leaving.
Vic: It’s taking you over, love. It will overpower you and there will be nothing left of the Riley Poe you know. It’s very close to succeeding even now. Please. Come with me. I am begging you.
Silence.
Me: Good-bye, Victorian. Leave me alone.
Vic: I will never leave you alone, Riley. Never. At least allow me a decent good-bye.
Me: What do you mean by that?
Vic: Meet me. Tonight. I won’t ask for another thing from you. I vow it.
Me: You do realize your mind whammy doesn’t work on me anymore, right?
Vic: Unfortunately, yes. I do realize. I only want to say good-bye.
Me: Yeah, right. Where do you want to meet?
Vic: I’m just across the river from you, love. At the Westin. Tower Suite.
Me: (laughing) Of course the tower suite. I’ll be there.
Vic: What time?
Me: When I get there.
* * *
“Ma’am?”
My eyes focus on the young soldier who is now standing in front of me, grinning.
“Yeah?” I say.
His face falls slightly, but he clears his throat and continues. He holds open a page in the sketches album. “I found the one.” Leaning closer, he shows me.
A winding serpent. I’d sketched it in under ten minutes. “You sure?” I say.
The soldier nods and answers without hesitation. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay,” I answer, get up and move to the computer up front. I click on the appointments screen and scroll down. “I can fit you in on Friday at five p.m.”
The soldier smiles. “Sounds great. I’ll be here.”
I click in his appointment, calling him “soldier/snake,” and close the screen. Then without another glance or thought, I get up and walk to my station.
I’d forgotten Eli was even in the shop. But he was. Hadn’t even moved from where I last saw him. I ignore him.
My clients come and go throughout the day. I don’t make much conversation. I do the art, and get done quickly. The sound of heartbeats rush through my head with such vigor, I have to really concentrate to block them out. Which, in turn, blocks everything else out and that’s fine by me, too. None of it’s easy though. Along with the thumping of heartbeats comes a thrill I can’t explain, and it shakes my whole body on the inside. I’m on edge, and I want to be alone. Vaguely do I recall inking a set of broken skeletal wings on the back of a very bony girl in her mid-twenties. That took a couple of hours. Staring at her back lined with drops of blood didn’t do much for my mood. But some small slice of my pride must still exist because in the end, despite all of the frustrations and distractions, my work still kicks ass. Call it vanity. Call it whatever the fuck you want.
I am just finishing up a Japanese verse on the flank of a young guy when Preacher walks in through the front door, followed by Eli’s brothers, sister, and Seth. My insides twinge; I haven’t seen Preacher and Estelle in a week maybe? I’ve lost track. My surrogate grandfather, wearing his signature plaid button-up long-sleeved shirt and jeans, catches my glance and holds it. I feel cold all of a sudden, and the hairs rise on my arms. Preacher’s eyes lock on to mine for several seconds, as if digging in my brain to find something. I feel like he’s busting me for smoking weed. He turns, and I can tell something’s up.
“Eligius?” Preacher calls.
Eli emerges from the back of the shop. “Yes, sir?” He slides me a glance as he passes. His presence takes up the entire area. I forget he has that ability sometimes. Power. He reeks of it.
The old Gullah merely stares at Eli for several seconds; Eli returns the look. Without saying a word out loud, both leave Inksomnia, Luc and Phin following. Their expressions are unreadable.
I guess there’s enough of the old pathetic me left to actually care to ask, “What’s going on?”
Josie and Seth walk toward me. Josie watches me with depth. Precision. Weighs me. Large, cerulean blue eyes unblinking. But keeps silent.
Seth stops in front of me. His green eyes are solemn. “One of Capote’s nieces was killed last night.” Capote is an old Gullah, and Preacher’s cousin. Plays a wicked saxophone, too.
“Killed?” I ask. “What do you mean?”
Seth and Josie simply stare at me. No words. No explanation. Then, I know. I realize it means only one thing.
Vampires.
I meet their stare for several seconds, then return to what I’d been doing in silence.
“Oh, gosh,” Nyx says quietly. I glance at her. Now she’s wringing her hands and pacing, her face pinched in worry. The beat of her heart increases. “How awful. Poor Capote.” I think for a second Nyx is going to burst into tears.
Of course, Capote and Preacher are cousins, so the girl is related to Preacher as well.
A vampire killed a Gullah. This hasn’t happened in centuries, save Eli’s accident. The Duprés have always kept Savannah and Preacher’s kin safe. Valerian’s army is growing. Now, a young Gullah girl has been murdered.
What if I did it?
I continue cleaning my station until I feel a hand on my shoulder. When I glance up, it’s Seth’s eyes I’m staring into. “What?” I ask.
“Can we talk?” he replies. “Alone.”
I shrug. “Fine by me. Let’s go.”
Seth’s eyes lock on to mine for several seconds, then he turns and heads to the back of the shop. Nyx must be on a retro kick because she changes the tunes and The Monkees’ “Daydream Believer” blasts through Inksomnia and follows me upstairs.
I walk straight to the fridge, open the door, and grab a beer. I’ve got half the bottle drained by the time Seth speaks.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, and he doesn’t ask it nicely.
I stare at him as I drain the rest of the bottle. “What do you mean?”
Seth rakes both hands through his hair and then grasps his neck. For a moment, he closes his eyes. When he reopens them, his stare is hard. Hurtful. To him, not me.
“You’re not the same, Ri,” he begins. “You’re…different. Hateful. Mean.”
I laugh. “No shit, bro. I’ve got two fucking sets of strigoi DNA inside me.” I shake my head. “What the hell?” I’m irritated now. He called me up here for this?
“I watched your face when I told you about Capote’s niece,” he says angrily. “Your expression didn’t even flinch, Ri. It’s like you don’t care.”
“You’re still a kid, Seth. What do you know? Grow up and have some responsibilities and then tell me about my lack of care and expression, okay?” I answer.
Just then the door swings open and Eli walks in. His gaze sweeps over me and Seth. “Am I interrupting?” he asks.
Seth shakes his head and keeps his eyes on me. “No.”
The silence inside the apartment is a live, palpable entity.
Eli walks to me and grasps my shoulders. “I have to go with Preacher and my brothers to Da Island,” he says quietly, evenly. “I hate leaving you, but this is unavoidable. Did Seth tell you what happened?”
I simply nod.
Eli grasps my chin and tilts my face to look up into his
. “I hate leaving. I hate that Phin, Luc, and my father have to go, too, but we do. This is big. And it has to stop.”
Again, I nod and remain silent.
“My mother and Josie will be here. Seth, Zetty, and Riggs, as well.” He lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me. When he lifts his head, those cerulean blue eyes almost take my breath away with their intensity. They nearly pierce the anger subtly bubbling below the surface of my being. “For now, the night runs stop, and I mean that, Riley. It’s too dangerous to go out alone. You’re strong but not against a dozen newlings. Wait for us to return.” He kisses me again. “They’re waiting for me. I’ll be back soon.”
“Bye,” I say, and with a final glance, he leaves. Fast. I follow him to the door but he’s already gone.
“Listen to him, Ri,” Seth says, and he’s closer to me now. Like right behind me, crowding my space. “I don’t know what’s up with you lately, but please.” He grabs my arm. “Listen for once.”
I snatch my arm from Seth’s grasp and glare at him. His sluggish heartbeat resonates in my head. “I don’t need you telling me what to do, Seth. So chill the hell out and stop talking to me like I’m a kid.”
Seth’s face falls. Blanches, even. Suddenly, he’s seven years old again and looking at me as I trip and fall up the steps to our apartment. Drunk. I vaguely remember those days. But I totally remember his expression. I’m not sure why it doesn’t affect me, but it doesn’t. I turn and head for my room.
“Where’re you going?” Seth calls after me.
I don’t look at him. “I need to work out,” I say, step into my room, and shut the door.
Minutes later, I hear the apartment door open and close. Finally, alone.
Nervous energy simmers under my skin, and for a split second I feel as though I’m on fire. I claw and peel out of all my clothes except my bra and panties. Without bothering with a warm-up, I start kicking the bag suspended from the corner ceiling of my bedroom. I kick. I punch the bag, and I don’t know how long I go at it, but it’s a while. I don’t even break a sweat. The exertion only helps a little. My thoughts are running ninety to nothing, my brain suddenly unable to filter out the constant rumbling of human noises outside the apartment. My head begins to throb. Mercilessly. Voices. Heartbeats. Crying. Traffic. The pain is so bad it sends shards of light shooting behind my eyelids. I gotta run. Gotta get out.