Phin rubbed his neck. “Then, where’d he go?”
Glancing at the place where Seth had just stood, I shrugged. “He lunged for me, I threw my legs over the railing, and he just . . . disappeared.” I stared up both ends of River Street. “What about the guy? Back in the alley?”
Shaking his head, Phin grasped my elbow. “Don’t dwell on it, Riley. They took him, probably to the Arcoses. Come on, let’s go,” he said, then mumbled something French beneath his breath. “Eli would kick my ass if he knew I let you off alone,” he said to himself, but I’d clearly heard.
We crossed the cobbles and old trolley rails, gained the sidewalk, and walked to the narrow alley next to my building. “Why’s that?” I asked. I knew it was fake coy, but I didn’t care. I wanted to hear it. We climbed the steep concrete steps to Factor’s Walk, and Phin gave me a sly look.
“He just would,” he answered, and continued to look at me with curiosity. “Why’d you barf?” I looked at him, and he held up a hand. “Ah—never mind.”
“Right,” I said, and fished the key out of my pocket as we mounted the top of the steps and turned down the merchant’s drive. The moment we reached my back door, images of Eli kissing me hard against that very door raged through my mind, and so did everything that followed: his hands, his mouth, his body inside of mine—it overwhelmed me. I found it beyond weird to think I’d known Eli for such a short time. It seemed like years. I wasn’t a virgin; I’d had sex before. That night with Eli wasn’t sex. It was something else that to me had no name, no origin, and obviously something I’d never experienced before—probably never would again. I accepted it as that and pushed everything else out of my brain.
Chaz barked as soon as he heard me push the key in the lock; he had to go out. Grabbing his leash, we walked him for a few, then headed inside for the rest of the night. I made a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, and Phin sat on the counter while I ate.
“My father says you’ll need to close your business for the last week of the quickening,” he announced. “I was supposed to tell you earlier, but I forgot.”
I stared, midbite. “No way.” I bit, then continued to chew. “I’ll take off, but Nyx can run the shop. This is high season for me, and unlike you, I didn’t come from money.”
Phin smiled. “I confess—that is a pretty sweet deal. But Papa made us each invest—even Josie. We all have our own money.” He smiled. “Microsoft.”
“Do you have a social security card? Driver’s license?” I asked, and took another bite. I chased it with a long gulp of milk from the carton and regarded him. “Insurance on your bike?”
He grinned. “Of course,” he said. “We pay taxes, too.”
I shook my head and rinsed my plate in the sink. “I don’t even want to know how you manage that.”
Phin just chuckled, hopped off the counter, and flopped onto the sofa. To look at him, or Luc, you’d think they were just a couple of hot young guys without a care in the world. But I’d seen them in action. They were tough-asses to the max.
“Pretty impressive fighting today,” he said as I walked from the room. “Sincerely.”
I turned and grinned. “Yeah? You too, Dupré. Night.”
Phin laughed a total guy laugh, said good night, and flipped on the TV.
I had to constantly remind myself that he used to suck the blood out of innocent humans.
After a shower, I left my hair wet, wadded it up high on my head, and wrapped a band around it to keep it in place. I pulled on a cami and a pair of black boy shorts, and sighed. I was sore and exhausted; my mind whirled around seeing my baby brother in his quickening state, and wanting—
needing
—Eli. It’d shocked me to learn he’d gone to Da Island to get rejuvenated—whatever that exactly meant. It had taken a lot of control for him to walk away from me, and Gilles’ words, or warning, felt heavy in my head. ’
Twill end badly,
chère
. Between our kind and mortals, it always does.
I crawled into bed, glanced at my closed French doors, and drifted off to sleep with Gilles’ words still ringing in my ears.
In my slumber, another dream claimed my consciousness, and
I found myself in a dark, hazy underground club—I didn’t recognize it, nor did I recognize the patrons. Was it a masquerade party? Halloween? Themed? Everyone was dressed in modified Victorian garb; women’s gowns dipped exceedingly low, revealing heaving breasts and nipples, and slits up the front and back of their flowing skirts exposed their nakedness when they moved. The young men wore dress velvet coats with tails and ruffles, their pants laced in the front but with laces loose and mostly undone; some openly groped themselves as they sucked an exposed breast. A themed orgy? An odd mixture of music played, one of Gregorian monks chanting and the ancient strings of a harpsichord. I glanced down at myself and noticed that I wore the same as the others; my breasts and nipples were also exposed, and I had no panties beneath my skirts. No one seemed to notice me, and I eased away from the corner I was standing in and moved along the edges of the crowd, seeking an exit, covering myself with my arms folded over my chest. I had no idea why I was there, only that I wanted to escape.
Then he was suddenly blocking my path; I knew I’d seen him before but didn’t know his name. He was not Eli. A black-haired woman was at his side, her face hidden in his shoulder, her fingers entwined in the laces of his breeches, fondling. The man was flawless and beautiful; his gaze raked over my body, and wherever it lingered, my skin burned, tingled with desire. His hand lifted to the woman beside him, and he grazed a thumb over her hardened nipple; I felt it and gasped with pleasure. A smile tipped his sensual mouth, and he leaned to the woman and whispered; I heard it. He said, “Stroke me.” The woman’s hand slipped inside his breeches and palmed him, moving slightly up, then down; I felt it, too, hard and sleek in my hand. His gaze never left mine, and I hated how excited he made me. I wanted to escape; I was powerless to move. He whispered to the woman, “Taste me.” With her back to me she knelt before him, freed him, pulled it into her mouth; I felt it in mine, and I grew wet between my legs as I watched her head bob against him. He stared at me with a gaze so intense and powerful, I hadn’t the ability to move, and he smiled seductively at me, and whispered, “You look good enough to fuck,” and then licked his lips, sending me into a breathless orgasm; then his eyes rolled back as he found his. I hated him; I wanted to be closer to him. It was then that the woman shifted, exposing a piece of bared back. At the same time I recognized my dragon tattoo, she turned and looked at me, smiling as she delicately wiped her mouth with the tip of her finger. The woman was me. All of the other patrons stopped their orgy at once to look at me. I blinked, and their faces contorted into those of monsters, their teeth jagged and gnashing from unhinged, exaggerated jaws, and they lunged at me. Terror gripped me, and I began to run, faster, and everything became barren and bleak. And suddenly I was no longer at a Victorian orgy but in a heavily wooded forest filled with long shadows and darkness. I was being hunted. . . .
“Riley!”
As my name being said out loud made it through the webby edges of the dream, I gasped and lunged forward, and steely hands were there to catch me. My heart pounded mercilessly, and I was breathless, grasping onto . . . someone. At first, I thought it was Eli. It was still dark, but I soon realized it was Phin.
“Whoa,” Phin said, trying to comfort me by patting my back. “Slow down, girl. What’s wrong with you? You’re gonna have a freaking heart attack.” He pulled the sheet that I’d kicked out of to cover up my lower half.
“Bad dream,” I said, and suddenly felt a wash of weakness overcome me. I fell back onto my pillow. It was just like before—I had no energy.
“Tell me about it,” he said. “It always helps.”
“Thanks,” I said, my heart slowing, and I closed my eyes. “But you don’t wanna know.” I didn’t even want to know, but unfortunately I did. I remembered it all. And it was freaky-weird.
Who
was that
guy
? I wasn’t into orgies, and I’d never been to one. Why in hell would I not only dream of one, but get off from it? Nasty, Poe. Just freaking nasty.
“You need to sleep with this shut and locked,” Phin said, and when I looked he’d moved and was closing the French doors.
“I closed and locked those before I went to sleep,” I told him, and he looked skeptically at me. “Swear to God.”
Phin latched the doors and sat at the foot of my bed, rubbing his neck. “That,” he said, “is not good.” He cocked his head. “What was the dream about, Riley?”
I cracked my eyes and looked at him in the shadowy light.
“Don’t make me go in there and get the info myself,” he said, pointing to my head.
I sighed. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s freaky. And it’s not the first one I’ve had.” When he lifted a brow, I continued. “They’re just . . . weird sexual dreams. Ones where an amazingly hot guy can make me . . . you know?” Phin lifted the other brow up. “Yeah, that. Well, he can do that without touching me.” I put my hands over my eyes. “God, Phin—do I really have to give any more detail?” I wasn’t shy, but some things were personal. “I don’t think a porn dream is something you need to know about.”
He stroked his chin. “Uh, yeah. I think you should tell me every sordid detail of both dreams. Don’t leave anything out. Sincerely.” He leaned forward like a freaking psychiatrist, imaginary notepad and pen in hand. He gave a slight nod. “You may begin.”
I threw a pillow at him. “Get out of my room, pervert. I need more sleep.”
He regarded me, then rose and left the room. “I’ll be in here if you
need
me.” I heard him chuckling at himself in the living room. A vampire with a sense of humor. Sweet.
The rest of the night went by without incident; no more funky erotic dreams, no further opening of locked doors, and so on, and I carried on my usual Monday-morning routine. Nyx was hopping around like a little prairie dog when Phin and I walked in to Inksomnia, and she wanted an update on Seth.
Nyx pulled me into a tight, squeezing hug, then looked at me. “Riley, how much longer does Seth have to be out there?” she asked, and guilt gnawed at me for telling my best friend a lie. She adored Seth, and I knew she was going through a tough time with his supposed drug rehabilitation. If she knew what was really happening—no, she’d never be able to handle it. Not Nyx. I met her gaze with what I hoped was a reassuring one. “He’ll be home soon, Nyx. We don’t want him flying through rehab and getting out too early, do we?” I hugged her back. “Trust me—I want this to be his last terrible experience. And that’s why I’m going out to Da Island to be with him.”
Nyx’s eyes widened. “When?”
“In a couple of days. I need to call and reschedule several appointments today.” I looked at her and cocked my head. “Can you handle the shop alone? Oh—and would you take Chaz? If it’s a problem, then Estelle and Preacher—”
Nyx gave me her signature thumbs-up. “Of course I will, on all accounts! No prob.” She smiled, talking with her hands as she did when excited. “I’m glad to see you’re going to be with your little man. He needs you now more than ever.”
I sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time, unfortunately. “I really miss him.”
“I know,” she said, then smiled through her worry. “So do I. And you’re doing the right thing.” She began to set up. “So where’s Eli?”
I shrugged, but inside my gut wrenched at the sound of his name. “He’s around. Maybe he’ll drop in soon. Until then,” I said, distracting her from Eli, “how ’bout showing his brother the ropes? They’ve all sort of taken an interest.”
“Sure!” she said, and waved Phin toward her. “Come on. There’s a lot to learn about . . . ink!”
The day progressed more slowly than any I’d experienced over the past couple of weeks. I made tons of calls to clients to reschedule inking appointments for the following two weeks, and only one out of twenty-two decided to use another artist. I spent the rest of the day ordering Nyx enough stock so she wouldn’t have to handle it and the ink jobs. Plus I did a few inks myself, and I tried to put my personal hell aside long enough to do good-quality artwork. It wasn’t easy, but I managed it. Inksomnia had been my passion, my savior after I’d managed to get a decent life going once Preacher and his family scoured the drugs and idiocy from my system. Now? My heart just wasn’t into it. Knowing Seth was experiencing some freakish ancient vampiric quickening and fast turning into a vicious killer sort of put a hold on the rest of my life. I loved that kid more than anything, and I would die to make things right again.
At six o’clock, Nyx flipped on the flat screen in the sitting area; she always wanted to find out what was happening in the low country. Me? Too depressing, so I avoided it. Until today, when the desperate plea of a woman’s voice blasted across the shop. I crossed the room and watched with Nyx, and my heart dropped.
“Please,” the woman sobbed, and sagged against a man—I assumed her husband. “If anyone has seen Jared, please—I . . . just want my son back.” The camera flashed to the reporter, who described Jared Porter as sixteen years old, five feet seven inches, approximately one hundred and forty pounds, with short blond hair and brown eyes. A picture of him flashed across the Crime Stoppers screen, and my insides went icy. Jared had been missing now for almost a week and was last seen around eleven p.m. leaving River Street with his friends.
“That poor mother,” Nyx said, shaking her head. “It must be so awful.”
I had no doubt that Jared Porter had joined Seth and the others. It made me angry and more determined than ever to bring those bastards down.
Nyx helped me close shop, then headed out to Wilmington Island to have dinner with her parents. Luc and Josie had come in just as Phin and I headed upstairs. I quickly showered and dressed—this time with Josie digging through my closet. She reminded me of a little sister, and I had to give it to the kid—she had rockin’ taste. She pulled out a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a black tank with a spiderweb tattoo design on the back.