The interior of the Dupré House was enormous; you could literally go days inside without running into anyone, if that was what you wanted. As vampires, they pinched about two hours of sleep during the middle of the day; the rest of the time they were awake, out and about, mingling with Savannah’s society. Elise loved antique shops. Gilles loved to go to the shooting range and had a massive gun collection. It was all very eye-opening.
I stayed with Eli; there was no question about that from the get-go. The moment I’d arrived, he’d carried my bags and led me straight to the west wing of the third floor, to a massive chamber. Inside were a large fireplace, a king-sized bed with intricately carved posts and headboards, and a gauzy white bed curtain. It was . . . perfect. Gilles and Elise were on the first floor; the others had rooms on the second floor. Philippe the butler had a room in the back of the first floor, and stayed with the Duprés twenty-four seven. He was a cool enough guy, and I always caught him checking out my inks. Pretty damn funny if you asked me. I bet he wanted one himself.
So while my days were filled with boot-camp, Parris Island-type, bad-vampire-slaying training, my nights were filled with edging the darkest, seediest places in the historic district, and tracking the boys. The Arcoses moved to a different place each night, making it more difficult to keep an eye on them. They were chronic, though—dark places where kids looking for trouble would certainly find some. They offered drugs, alcohol, even women. Horrified, I’d witnessed two prostitutes being killed; we’d prevented several others from becoming prey. I knew where the darkest of souls hung out after dark; I used to be one of them. After Kelter Phillips’ death, the Panic Room had closed its doors. Now the Morgue and the Asylum both were filled to the gills. Rarely did Eli let me out of his reach when inside, either. He knew I could fight; he’d watched me kick Luc’s ass plenty of times, although Luc had toned his skills down to match my mortal ones. Still, Eli was severely protective over me and my body. One groping hand to the ass and he’d scatter the crowd just to find out which one did it. Honestly. I’d dealt with scumbags so often in my past that they didn’t offend me. These guys were pathetic, and it didn’t take much for me to jerk an arm behind some pig’s back, or twist a set of nuts until the jerk squealed like a girl. Eli didn’t like others touching me; he secretly loved how much of a badass I was. I knew it.
It was my third night in the Dupré House, and Eli had left me soaking in a bath to go speak to his father. “I won’t be long,” he said, his eyes caressing me, making me shudder. “Wait for me.”
I grinned. “I’m not going anywhere.” I wasn’t usually a bubble-bath type girl, but damn. This wasn’t an ordinary tub. It was a copper tub, and it was freaking huge.
Who could pass that up? So I closed my eyes and rested my head against the air pillow, and honestly, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I did.
I’d hoped being in another vampire’s lair would keep the dreams away; I was so totally wrong. What was worse was that, after the incident with the detective, we’d sort of forgotten about telling Gilles. Rather, Eli forgot—which surprised me. I didn’t forget. I just wanted to be spared the humiliation. I supposed Eli let it go once we settled in together, and the dreams seemingly stopped. They were now back.
I was running through a dark, dense wood. Everything around me was gray, desolate, colorless, yet the forest was alive. I ran, frightened, barefoot, my long black hair hanging free down my back, and a thin, gauzy white slip with thin satin straps clung to my pale body. A light rain began to fall, and soon the slip was completely drenched and see-through, and still I ran, though I didn’t know whether I was running to something or from something. I was afraid. As I passed trees, I noticed him. He wore black breeches tucked into tall black boots, and a white gauzy shirt with billowy sleeves and laces at the neck. His pale, flawless skin was in stark contrast to the darkness of his hair, and dark brown eyes followed me as I ran. When I thought I’d left him behind, he emerged from another tree, then another, without seeming to move at all. This time, he was alone. No other woman. Just him, me, and the forest.
No, I sensed another—another man. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there, lurking. I continued to run until I tripped over a root hidden by fallen dead leaves. He was suddenly there, pulling me up, and I gasped at his beauty. That was when I heard the shrieks overhead, above the canopy of the forest. I knew the winged, fanged creatures were back, and they wanted me. I also knew him now: Victorian. I didn’t want him to know I knew. “If you want your brother freed, you must come to me,” he said, and his eyes turned opaque. “I want you for my own. All those things I’ve showed you are my dreams. Come to me, Riley Poe, but don’t tell the others. Come alone, and I will set your brother free of his curse. Your life for his.” He stroked my breast through the sheer wet material, and I shivered. “You will not regret it.” Upon my chest he laid the bud of an unopened, bloodred rose. . . .
My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself still alone in the massive bathroom. The water had turned tepid; the bubbles had dissipated. A breeze drifted in through the open floor-length window, and when I glanced at the water, my heart seized. Floating beside me was the unopened bud of a bloodred rose. Victorian’s words rang in my ears. Your life for his. I shivered, grabbed the bud, and stepped out of the tub. How had he been here without the others detecting him? Creepy. Sincerely creepy. Why was he so obsessed with me?
It would be a last resort. I’d try the Duprés’ way first. I wanted to actually be around after my brother recovered. But in the end, if it came down to it? Yeah, hell yeah, I’d trade my life for Seth’s. I tried with all my might to envision the Arcoses from the warehouse. It’d been far enough away for me not to have seen their faces in detail—not until they’d transformed, anyway. But I had a difficult time believing that the beautiful guy in my dream—Victorian—was one of the guys at the warehouse. They were—what had Gilles said? Twenty-one and twenty-two? I was having porn dreams about a twenty-one-year-old? Oh, Father.
Like I was saying: Every day was spent training. Though I certainly wished that I’d never have to actually use any of my new skills, I worked hard and hoped that if it came down to a fight, my training would pay off. At night we’d run the streets, stalk the clubs and the alleys outside of clubs, and search abandoned buildings. We’d not been able to find the Arcoses since that night at the warehouse, and time was running out. Soon they’d be fully restored, and Seth’s quickening would be over. He’d kill. He’d become a killer.
Once we’d finished running the streets, we’d go to the Duprés’, and Eli and I would head to our little slice of heaven on earth. He was the only thing that could relieve my mind of the problems at hand, the only soul who could comfort me. There wasn’t a word to describe sex with Eli; I’d tried several out, and all fell short. The man literally made me lose my mind. His look alone turned me on. His hands and mouth made me beg for release. It wasn’t merely sex. It was . . . something I couldn’t define. Something I never wanted to see end. Something I sadly felt would.
When the dreams stopped being dreams and started happening while I was wide-awake—that was when I knew the shit was about to hit the fan. I don’t know how he did it, but somehow Victorian placed thoughts into my head—images, visions, requests. At first, I’d turn around to see who’d spoken to me. I’d find myself completely alone. The words were always seductive: Come with me. I want you. I need you. Let me touch you. Feel me inside of you. Kiss me. Take me. Love me forever.
The words rattled me; I didn’t know what to expect, or whether he could hear me if I responded. I never did; I just kept them to myself.
The day Preacher showed up at the House of Dupré with a dozen Gullah, I knew our time was running short. I made a solemn vow to learn French once this was over. Whenever Preacher and Gilles got together, it was all they spoke.
“The quickening is almost here,” Josie said beside me, listening to them. We were just getting ready to head out for the night when they’d shown up. “Preacher says the Arcoses are nearly fully rejuvenated.” She looked at me. “He’s making sure we protect you.”
I had on my leather pants and boots and a snug black Lycra tank, and beneath the black leather jacket I’d stashed multiple silver blades in the various pockets and holsters. Yes, all that leather in the dead of August. I was as hot as hell, but it was good protection. Eli had loaded me up, and when the hole didn’t quite fit the blade, he made it fit. I had two stuffed into each boot. I just prayed I didn’t impale myself. It was just past sundown when we left.
We made our way on the bikes up Whitaker, stopping by several places with no luck. Not one sign of Riggs, Seth, or the Arcoses. We checked the docks; nothing. We even checked the warehouses at the west end of River Street. Nothing. We ran nearly all night—even once Eli checked in with Ned Gillespie, who claimed zero vampiric activity from the Tybee area. It was almost dawn when we got back to the house, and not once had we spotted a single hoodie. My stomach burned at the thought of the quickening coming to fruition. I wasn’t going to let it happen. And that was why I came up with a plan.
I’d lost my mind. Again. But for my brother I’d do anything.
We walked into the small kitchen area—Gilles and Elise each had a large glass of “V8,” and I sat down and looked both of them in the eye. “I want to stop using the herbs so that my blood will lure Victorian and Valerian out of hiding.”
“No,” Eli said immediately, and not to me. “No way, Papa.”
I ignored Eli’s pleas and searched Gilles’ light blue gaze. “Please. You know it would work. And we have no more time.” I grasped his hands with mine and begged. “I want my brother back. Please.”
“I forbid it,” Eli said angrily. “Riley, hell no.”
Gilles’ stare didn’t waver; he looked nowhere else for approval. “You are a reckless warrior, ma chère,” he said, and his gaze bored deeply into mine. “Do you fully understand what it would mean for you to cease drinking your special herbs?”
