Afterlight

  Just then, chaos erupted around us. From the trees and crypts at the river, the hoodie boys leapt and swung and descended upon the group partying by the fire. The smell of pot wafted on a breeze. My insides froze as no fewer than fifteen kids moved like lightning, and I knew that Seth was one of them. The guys at the fire swore; one threw a can of beer. The kids—newlings—advanced, slowly now. Toyed with them. And then it began.

  A hooded kid swung from a low-lying oak branch and dropped into the circle of partiers. With strength that caught me off guard, he grabbed a guy and yanked him up, and in the flickering firelight, I watched fangs drop from his jaws; his young face contorted, and he sank them into the throat of the screaming partier.

  Then the screams began.

  “We’ve got to move now,” Eli said. He looked at me. “Wait for me.”

  A melee broke out at the fire; as the group of partiers tried to flee, newlings leapt and chased, and behind them the Duprés closed in. Luc threw two newlings to the river, another far across the fire to a crypt. Josie fought a younger hoodie—I somehow imagined it to be my brother, although I couldn’t see his face. Phin rushed three hoodies at once, and behind him, I saw Eli. He moved fast, so fast my eyes couldn’t keep up. He fought like a madman and threw three hoodies like rapid-fire rockets. I saw some of Preacher’s kin step in; Gilles and Elise, as well. It was all so surreal, unbelievable; my legs turned rubbery. I couldn’t move. The screams heightened.

  Come to me, Riley. You can end all of this right now. I’m here, to your right, across the stones. You can end the killing if you come to me. . . .

  As if I had no control, I eased toward the right. I hoped and prayed that Eli would forgive me, but no way was I going to allow these young innocent kids to be slaughtered because of what they became against their will. No freaking way.

  All at once, Eli, Luc, Phin, and Josie ran forward, into the mix of hoodies and pot smokers; Gilles and Elise joined them, and it was like watching a medieval battle scene. I wasn’t going to wait another second. Not for the Gullah, or for Eli. He didn’t realize that I no longer needed to cut myself to lure the Arcoses; I had one of them waiting for me. It didn’t seem like the Duprés were stopping the bloodbath. It was up to me. In one fluid motion, I eased a silver blade from my belt, grasped it. I continued to move toward Victorian’s voice.

  That’s right. Come to me. I am here, waiting for you.

  I ran then, where I didn’t know, but screams from the campfire rose into the night air and hung there, tormenting me. I glanced behind me and watched in horror as the newlings continued their rabid attack. Screams filled the night air, the sickening metallic scent of blood tainted the briny air, and bones snapped. God, I’d been too late. We’d all been too late. I stumbled through the darkness, up a long dirt path that led . . . somewhere. I didn’t know anymore. I just wanted to lure the newlings away from the mortals, and Victorian would be the one to help me. Victorian, and my blood I knew Eli and his family would follow.

  Just then, a figure moved from behind a large oak. I stopped in my tracks; my breath shortened; my heart slammed hard against my ribs. I met his gaze as I grasped the blade and yanked hard. I hissed as pain shot through me. I had the most potent of blood sliding from my palm and landing on the dirt and gravestone I stood by. But my gaze became utterly transfixed on him. Victorian. I prayed the newlings would get a whiff of my blood and come after me.

  “I knew you would come,” he said, and stepped into the moonlight. Like in the dreams, he was beautiful; he wore nineteenth-century clothing: dark breeches laced up the front, a billowy white shirt, and tall black boots, and his dark hair was pulled back in a loose queue. Moonlight spilled a hazed glow across the cemetery and cast shadows across his stunning face—flawless, pale, just like in the dream. I felt catatonic, awed. He smiled, and his face became even more exquisite. He seemed a lot older than twenty-one.

  “Let us leave,” he said, and held out his hand.

  “No,” I said, managing to find my voice. “You said you could stop this. My brother—the others?”

  “Your Duprés have it under control. All will be well; I vow it. Now, let us move. If my brother—”

  “If your brother what?” a dark, menacing voice said from behind me. He was so close, his voice racked my insides.

  I turned quickly and faced another almost equally beautiful young man. Modern clothes, though. Dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin, but different all the same. Harsher. Merciless. That I could tell immediately. Silently, I screamed for Eli. Thankfully, he heard.

  “Riley!” Eli’s voice shouted from the river. I knew, even as fast as he was, he’d never make it to me in time.

  Valerian’s gaze suddenly shifted, his eyes rolled back, and he inhaled the air. Immediately, he spied my bleeding hand. “Thinking to keep this pet for your own, Tory?” he asked his brother. Two sharp fangs dropped from Valerian’s jaw, and he moved toward me, his eyes turning opaque, boring into me. “He never did like to share.”

  “No!” Victorian shouted, and lunged at his brother.

  Too late, Valerian had my hand to his mouth, sucking with all his might. Victorian pushed him off, and Valerian flew against a headstone. Before I could blink, he was up and advancing toward me, eyes pure white, no pupils. I reached for the blade jammed into my belt, and by the time I had it palmed, Valerian had grabbed my wrist so hard I felt—heard—my bones snap, and I gasped. The blade dropped, and pain gripped me, causing stars to flicker behind my lids. I had no time to move or shift; he had complete power over me. With one arm, he held me, and his mouth dropped against my throat. The moment his fangs pierced my skin, I screamed. They sank deep into me; I felt every inch, and my body convulsed. He sucked hard for all of three seconds.

  Suddenly, Valerian was off of me. Eli stood there, facing him, his transformation complete, terrifying. “Leave her,” he commanded, and moved forward.

  Valerian laughed and transformed, but he was different. Very different. Winged and silver skinned, he looked . . . hideous, not even humanlike, and he lunged at Eli; Eli lunged at him, and they met, midair, and fought. Valerian threw Eli against a crypt; he was up and had Valerian by the throat in under a second.

  “Come with me,” Victorian said at my side, his voice darker than before. His eyes had also turned and were now staring at the holes in my throat left by his brother. “Forgive me. I . . . cannot resist,” he said, and in the next second, sharp, long fangs dropped. Like his brother’s, they pierced my skin and sank deep into an artery; I was completely powerless and in so much agony, I was paralyzed. He held my body against his tightly, almost like a lover’s embrace, while he drank. One hand cupped my breast; the other held me intimately around the waist. His drinking of my blood was . . . different. His arms touched me lovingly, not brutally. I was dying just the same. I could feel it. I could feel Victorian’s urgency in the way he suckled me. My breathing became more shallow, my heart slowed even more, and I fought to keep my eyes open.

  Just as fast, Victorian dropped me, and I was shoved—I knew it was hard, but I had no idea how hard until later. I just knew that I crashed against something solid. I didn’t even know who did it. I lay there, my face pressed against the moist moss and damp pine straw of the cemetery grounds, my heart slowing, and my inhalations far apart. My vision became blurred, and the last thing I recalled was my body being lifted. Someone carried me, and I didn’t know who. Through the haze of my vision I saw chaos: bodies on the ground, blood, tall dark men, opaque eyes, others in the shadows. I felt light, weightless, and my breathing became faint. I wanted my brother. I wanted Eli. Then, complete and total blackness engulfed me. Blackness, and excruciating, mind-numbing pain.

  Part 10

  TENDENCIES

  Sad I am without you.

  —Anonymous epitaph, Bonaventure Cemetery

  My eyes cracked open slowly, my lids so heavy they felt like steel weights sat upon them. I blinked several times to rid my vision and mind of the cobwebs. Everything wa
s hazy, surreal, and my entire body burned. Like, my joints, my skin burned. Suddenly, I became fully aware of deep pain, and I cringed.

  “You’re awake,” a desperate, deep, gentle voice said close to my ear. “Riley?”

  “Don’t bother her, boy,” a familiar voice said. “Dat girl dere has been through it now, right? Shoo. I’ll let you know if she wakens all de way.”

  “I’m not budging, Estelle,” the voice said.

  “Oh,” the familiar voice replied. “Ornery today, dat’s right. I’ll be over dere seein’ to my odder patients, den.”

  I forced my eyes to open despite the pain raging through my body. My vision cleared just enough for me to see the silhouette of a man. The longer I stared, the clearer my vision became. Finally, I saw pitch-black hair, pale skin. Beautiful. “Eli.”

  “I’m here,” he said against my ear. “How do you feel?”

  Memories rushed back so fast, I felt dizzy. “Seth?”

  “He’s here,” Eli said. “He’ll be fine.”

  Relief washed over me in a heavy wave, and I exhaled. “Thank you.”

  “Now,” he continued, and I felt his fingers stroking my arm. “How do you feel?”

  I didn’t want to sound like a baby, although it felt as though fire ripped through my veins. “I feel fine.”

  “You are a terrible liar, chère,” Eli whispered. “I’ll tell Estelle. She can get you something for the pain.” His soft lips pressed against my forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

  I couldn’t move; my body felt stiff and weighted. But my other senses worked fine, and I smelled . . . the salt water. Not old, briny air, but fresh, salty air. A breeze drifted over my face, and I felt the warmth of the sun beaming in through . . . something.

  “You’re at Da Island, baby,” said another familiar voice.

  I smiled. “Preacher man.” I tried to find his hand, but I couldn’t move.

  He found mine, and I felt his large calluses as he cradled my palm. “You know how to make an old man skip a heartbeat, dat’s right,” he said. “I almost lost you, baby. If it wasn’t for dat Eli and his brodders and sister, and his modder and fadder . . .” He let the words drift off. “I’d take a stick to your backside if you was well enough.”

  I smiled again. “You can make good on that as soon as I can lift my own arms.”

  Finally, my fuzzy sight became clearer; I looked into Preacher’s dark, handsome face. “What happened?” I was on a cot in an open-air cabin on Da Island. Seagulls screamed overhead; the smell of the ocean engulfed me. It was like . . . heaven.

  Preacher looked down at me and tapped my nose. “Dat’s a story for your Eli to tell. He was right dere after you passed out.”

  “Who threw me?” I asked.

  “That was me,” Luc said, walking up. “No one’s ever accused you of being a lightweight, huh, Riley?”

  I squinted through the filtered sunlight and smiled. “Since I can’t lift my arms, I’m flipping you the bird in my mind,” I said. “Thanks, Luc.”

  “No prob, cuz,” he answered.

  Estelle arrived with . . . whatever it was she concocted, Eli by her side. She gave me a sip of it, handed the cup to Eli, and left. He sat beside me. “What do you remember?”

  I thought a few seconds. “Everything up until your brother tossed me,” I said. “Valerian?”

  Eli’s gaze hardened. “Dead.”

  Relief gripped me. “Victorian?”

  Eli glanced away, then returned his gaze to mine. “Not dead, but he’s gone. Ned can’t pick him up.”

  “Oh,” I answered. “I remember seeing . . . bodies. Blood.”

  Eli’s face grew grave. “Some of Valerian’s newlings made their first kill on the guys down at the river. Six in all, and they escaped with Victorian. Phin and Luc cleaned up while we gathered you and the others to bring here.”

  “How did you manage that?” I asked, trying not to think about the innocent boys whose lives are now those of monsters.

  “It wasn’t easy. Newlings desiring their first kill are . . . tenacious. But we managed. They’re all here.”

  “Riggs? Todd?” I asked, then remembered a desperate mom on TV pleading for information about her missing son. “Jared Porter?”

  “Yeah, they’re here, too. They’re all fine, Riley.”

  Tears came to my eyes; I couldn’t help it. They leaked out the sides and down my cheeks and into my hair, and I couldn’t even lift a hand to wipe them. “Can I see Seth?” I asked, my voice trembling.

  “Not yet,” Eli said, wiping my tears with a finger. “His rehab is going to take a bit longer than yours.”

  My eyes sought his. “Why can’t I move my body?”

  Eli knelt on the ground beside my cot and leaned close to me. God, I’d never seen a more beautiful man in my life. I couldn’t believe he was really mine.

  A smile cracked his pale features. “So you consider me yours, huh?”

  I smiled back. “You jackass. I’d smack you, but . . . why can’t I lift my arms?”

  The smile faded. “It’s been over a week, Riley, since that night at the cemetery. You were bitten. Both Arcos brothers—they both drank. You collected some of their venom.”

  “There’s venom?” I asked, horrified. “You never told me there was venom.”

  The slightest of smiles returned. “Yeah, there’s venom. That’s what causes the tendencies. You didn’t get much, but you did get some—from two very powerful strigoi vampires.”

  I frowned. “So . . . what does that mean? Am I paralyzed for life?”

  Eli shook his head. “No, not by far. It means you are going to have tendencies, Riley. You and Seth both will, but yours will be . . . different.”

  I thought of Ned Gillespie.

  “Yeah, like Ned. Only . . . way different.”

  My mind whirled. “Could you please let me finish my own thoughts and say them before you answer me?” I asked with a smile. “Now. How different?”

  Eli pulled his knee up and propped his arm against it. With his fingers, he played with my hair. “Only time will tell. It’s too early to know.”

  I tried to let that congeal in my brain. It really was too much to take in at one time. So much had happened, and in such a short amount of time. “As long as my baby brother is safe, and okay,” I said, “I’m totally content.”

  “Totally?” Eli asked, and leaned closer. He dragged a finger across my bottom lip.

  “Can you kiss me, or is it too dangerous?” I asked.

  “Dangerous for whom?”

  I smiled and gave him a somber look. “Thank you, Eligius Dupré. You saved me. You saved my brother, and I will be grateful forever.”

  He leaned over me then, brushed my hair back, and cradled my face. “I had no other choice,” he said quietly, and lowered his lips to mine. He kissed me gently, as though afraid of hurting me. It was soft but possessive; it was a brand, and I relished it. Eli’s unique taste and scent lured me, and had I not been paralyzed, I would have pulled him to me and never let him go. He raised his head and sought my eyes with his. “Is that a fact?” he asked, grinning.

  “Yeah,” I answered. “That’s right.”

  His gaze grew serious and bored straight through me. “Mine,” he said, matter-of-factly. “You’re mine, Riley Poe.”

  My insides seized, and I didn’t think a man could ever say another thing to me so incredibly possessive or romantic at the same time. I smiled.

  Eli knew exactly what I was thinking.

  Estelle’s hoodoo medicine kicked in, and my eyelids grew heavy. I fell asleep with Eli’s fingers entwined with mine, but even after my body slumbered, my brain continued furiously. At least, I thought it was my brain. At first. Until a familiar voice crowded my thoughts.

  I will come for you, Riley Poe. That potency which rushes through your veins has lain against my tongue. It’s inside of me. You’re now a part of me, like my venom runs through you. We are meant to be together, forever. I will come for you. .
. .

  Read on for an excerpt from the next book in the Dark Ink Chronicles,

  EVERDARK

  Coming in June 2011 from Signet Eclipse.

  “You’ve been dreaming of him again,”Eli said, his eyes hard, his voice low, accusing. “Haven’t you?”

  I ignored him, extended my leg fully, and, with a quick snap, kicked the bag. I followed it with three sharp jabs. Anger and a little hurt built inside me, and after a few more kicks, I broke a sweat.

  My body whipped around, and Eli’s strong hands grasped my shoulders. “Don’t ignore me, Riley.” He drew his face close to mine. “Don’t.”

  I frowned, totally pissed. “Then don’t accuse me, Eli.” I shook his hands off. “You know I can’t help those dreams. You know it.”

  Eli stared at me several long seconds, then shoved his fingers through his hair, muttered some French expletive, and walked to the window. He looked at some distant point across the river. “You desire him.”

  Anger flashed inside me, and I crossed my arms over my chest. “How freaking old are you, Eli?” I asked. “Sixteen? Oh, no, that’s right. You’re over two hundred.” I walked up behind him, grabbed him by the arm, and turned him around to face me. Brilliant blue eyes searched mine, and I knew he was reading my thoughts—digging through them like a madman was more like it. “You’re acting like a jealous high school boyfriend,” I said, a little gentler. I grazed his jaw with my index finger. “Seriously, Eli.”

  Another handful of seconds dragged by before his face went emotionless, his eyes dulled, those beautiful full lips that worked magic against my body thinned. “You don’t deny it, do you, Riley?” His voice was low, even, tinged with a heavier-than-usual bit of French. I’d learned fast that the heavier the accent, the more pissed off Eli Dupré was.