Beneath the Skin (2 page)

Thanks also to Abulia Paroxysm (Sebastian Phoenix) for creating music that is original and heartfelt and true. And to Queens of the Stone Age, Saul Williams, Saints of Ruin, Does It Offend You, Yeah?, and Rammstein for the music.

And last, but never least, Trent Reznor, whose music always provides an emotional soundscape for Dante and his world and is always a source of inspiration.

And, again, thanks to you, the reader, for picking up this book and plunging back into Dante, Heather, and Lucien's world. None of this could happen without you. If this is your first time,
bienvenue
and enjoy.

Please visit me at adrianphoenix.com, myspace.com/adriannikolasphoenix, and at facebook.com/pages/Adrian-Phoenix/.

GLOSSARY

To make things as simple as possible, I've listed not only words, but phrases used in the story. Please keep in mind that Cajun is different from Parisian French and the French generally spoken in Europe. Different grammatically and even, sometimes, in pronunciation and spelling.

The French that Guy Mauvais and Justine Aucoin use is traditional French as opposed to Dante's Cajun.

For the Irish and Welsh words--including the ones I've created--pronunciation is provided.

One final thing:
Prejean
is pronounced PRAY-zhawn.

Aingeal
(AIN-gyahl), angel. Fallen/Elohim word.

Ami
, (m) friend, (f)
amie. Mon ami,
my friend.

Anhrefncathl
(ann-HREVN-cathl), chaos song; the song of a Maker. Fallen/Elohim word.

Apprentis
, (pl) apprentices, (s)
apprenti
.

Arrivederci
, (Italian) good-bye.

Assolutamente
, (Italian) absolutely.

Beaucoup chaud tete-rouge
, red-hot redhead.

Bien
, well, very.

Bien compris
, well understood.

Bon
, good, nice, fine, kind.

Bon appetit
, enjoy (as in eating), good eating, good appetite.

Bon chien
, good dog.

Bonne nuit
, good night.

Bonsoir, ma belle fille
, good evening, my beautiful girl.

Buona sera
, (Italian) good evening.

Buono
, (Italian) good.

Calon-cyfaill
, (KAW-lawn-CUHV-aisle) bondmate, heartmate.

Cara mia
, (Italian) (f) my beloved, (m)
Caro mio
.

Catin
, (f) doll, dear, sweetheart.

Ca va bien
, I'm fine, I'm good, okay.

Ca y est
, that's it.

Ca y revene
, he had it coming.

Ce n'est pas possible
, that is not possible.

Cercle de Druide,
Circle of Druids, a sacred and select nightkind order.

C'est bon
, that's good.

Chalkydri
(chal-KOO-dree), winged serpentine demons of Sheol, subservient to the Elohim.

Cher,
(m) dear, beloved, (f)
chere
.
Mon cher,
my dear or my beloved.

Cher ami, mon,
(m) my dearest friend, my best friend; intimate, implying a special relationship.

Cheri,
(m) dearest, darling, honey, (f)
cherie.

Chien
, (m) dog, (f)
chienne
.

Ciao
, (Italian) hello or good-bye--generally used only among friends and family in this way.

Cio e allineare
, (Italian) this is true.
Sapere di c'e ne
, do you know of any?

Creawdwr
(KRAY-OW-dooer), creator; Maker/Un-maker; an extremely rare branch of the Elohim believed to be extinct. Last known
creawdwr
was Yahweh.

Cydymaith
(kuh-DUH-mith), companion.

D'accord,
okay.

Elohim,
(s and pl) the Fallen; the beings mythologized as fallen angels.

Enchante
, charmed.

Fallen,
see Elohim.

Fi' de garce
, son-of-a-bitch.

Fille de sang,
(f) blood-daughter; "turned" female off-spring of a vampire.

Fils
, son.

Fils de sang
, (m) blood-son; "turned" male offspring of a vampire.

Fola Fior
, true blood, pure.

Forse si, forse no
, (Italian) perhaps yes, perhaps not.

Frere du coeur
, brother of the heart.

Geis,
A vow of obligation, and a taboo preventing certain actions. To break a geis results in dishonor and/or death.

Gene toi pas
, don't be bashful.

Grazie
, (Italian) thank you.

J'ai faim,
I'm hungry.

Je regrette,
I'm sorry.

Je t'aime, mon fils. Toujours
, I love you, my son. Always.

Joli
, (m) pretty, cute, (f)
jolie
.
Mon joli
, my pretty boy.

J'su ici
, I'm here.

Le Conseil du Sang,
the Council of Blood, nightkind lawgivers.

Le coquin qui vole a un autre, le diable en ris
, when one thief robs another, the devil laughs.

Lesbica
, (Italian) lesbian.
Una lesbica
, a lesbian.

Llygad,
(THLOO-gad) (s) eye; a watcher; keeper of immortal history; story-shaper, (pl).
Llygaid
(THLOO-guide).

Ma belle
, my beauty.
Ma belle dame,
my beautiful lady.

Magnifico
, (Italian) wonderful.

Mais ca vont jamais finir
, but it'll never end.

Ma mere
, my mother.

Marmot
, (m) brat.

Ma 'tite-doux
, (f) my little sweet one.

Menteuse
, (f) liar, (m)
menteur
.

Merci,
thank you.
Merci beaucoup,
thanks a lot.
Merci bien,
thanks very much.

Merde
, shit.

Mere de sang,
(f) blood-mother; female vampire who has turned another and become their parent.

Mia ballerina scura
(Italian), my dark ballerina.

Minou
, (m) endearing name for a cat.

Mio amico
, (Italian) my friend.

Mio figlio
, (Italian) my son.

Mio ragazzo bello
, (Italian) my beautiful boy.

Moi aussi
, me too.

M'selle,
(f) abbreviated spoken form of
mademoiselle,
Miss, young lady.

M'sieu,
(m) abbreviated spoken form of
monsieur,
Mr., sir, gentleman.

Naturellement
, naturally, of course.

Nephilim
, the offspring resulting from Fallen and mortal unions.

Nightbringer,
a name/title given to Lucien De Noir.

Nightkind,
(s and pl) vampire; Dante's term for vampires.

Nomad,
name for the pagan, gypsy-style clans who ride across the land.

Oui,
yes.

Ou suis-je?
where am I?

Pas de quoi
, you're welcome.

Pere de sang,
(m) blood-father; male vampire who has turned another and become their "parent."

Peut-etre que oui, peut-etre que non
, maybe yes, maybe no.

Piazza
, (Italian) plaza.

Principe
, (Italian) prince.

P'tit, mon,
(m) my little one, (f)
p'tite, ma
(Generally affectionate.)

P'tite marmaille
, (f) little brat.

Ragazzo pigro
, (Italian) lazy boy.

Rappelle
, remember.
Oui, je rappelle
, yes, I remember.

Reves doux
, sweet dreams.

Ritorna, bella
(Italian), return, beautiful.

Si
, (Italian) yes.

Si, esattamente, caro mio
, (Italian) yes, exactly, my beloved.

Signor
, (Italian) sir.

S'il te plait,
please (informal).

Si, mia Signora
, (Italian) yes, my lady.

Tais-toi,
shut up.

T'a menti
, you lied, you lie.

T'es sur de sa?
are you sure about that?
T'es sur?
you sure?

Tout de suite
, right away.

Tres
, very.

Tres bien,
very good, very well.

Tres joli,
(m) very pretty.

True Blood,
born vampire, rare and powerful.

Una bella donna merita un uomo, non un ragazzo
(Italian), A beautiful woman deserves a man, not a boy.

Vous etes tres aimable
, you are very kind.

Wybrcathl
(OOEEBR-cathl), sky-song. Fallen/Elohim word.

PROLOGUE

LIKE MOLTEN GLASS

SEATTLE, WA
March 24-25

"ARE THESE THE PEOPLE who broke into your house, sweetie?"

Brisia Rodriguez didn't look up from her cup of hot cocoa. She studied the white swirls of whipped cream melting into the chocolate instead of the pictures Mr. Dion slid across the polished wood table.

Interview station, her dad would've called the small, pale green-painted room with its table and two chairs. But this wasn't a police station or the FBI field office. She knew because she and her fifth-grade class had visited both with her dad on a career-day field trip last month.

"Is my dad okay?" she asked.

"He's in the hospital," Mr. Dion said. "But your mom and sisters are with him right now. As soon as we're done here, I'll drive you over there, okay?"

Brisia curled her fingers tighter around the warm mug. "Will he be ... all right?" She prayed she wouldn't have to ask the other thing, the horrible thing she never,
ever
wanted to say aloud. She was scared if she did, it'd come true like a reverse wish.

Nononono. Don't
even
think it!

She drew in a shuddering breath laced with the thick scent of creamy, hot milk and dark chocolate. Her stomach knotted.

"Brisia." Mr. Dion's low, soothing voice felt like a hand to her chin, gently tugging her gaze up from the depths of her hot cocoa. "You're the only one who can help us find the people who hurt your dad."

She looked at Mr. Dion. His purple eyes reminded her of sunlit violets. "I told the police everything," she said. "They wrote it all down."

"Yes, but the police don't know who they're looking for. But I believe
we
do," Mr. Dion said, his voice as soft and warm as his eyes. "All you have to do is look at the pictures, okay?"

"Okay," Brisia said. She lowered her gaze to the trio of photographs lined up neatly on the table between her and Mr. Dion. The first one showed a man with curly blond hair, a smile curving his lips. Laugh crinkles V-ed out from beside each green eye. He reminded her of that actor, Matthew McConaughey.

Standing in the hall inside her house, Matthew McConaughey Guy smiles, all warm and friendly, almost slike he's supposed to be there, even with the gun in his hand. But when his gaze flicks over to Brisia, his eyes are like ice.

"He was there," Brisia said. "He had a gun too."

"Alexander Lyons. Good job, Brisia. What about the next photo?"

Brisia shifted her attention to the middle picture and recognized the pretty red-haired woman. Only a hint of a smile touched the woman's lips, but her blue-eyed gaze was open and direct. Brisia remembered the hushed urgency in the woman's voice as she'd hurried Brisia to the front door after Matthew McConaughey Guy had sauntered from the room.

I want you to run to a neighbor's house and have them call 911, okay?

Do you need help too?

Don't worry about me. Just go.

"Heather Wallace," Mr. Dion said. "Why did you think she needed help too?"

Brisia glanced at Mr. Dion. Had she spoken aloud? "Well ... I could tell she didn't like this guy," she said, touching a fingertip against the first photo. "And she asked me to call 911. I don't think she would've done that if she was one of the bad guys."

Mr. Dion nodded. "Good observation. I'll bet your dad's proud of you," he said, his violet eyes full of light. "Are you planning to be an FBI agent like your dad?"

"Yeah," Brisia said, even though up until that moment all she'd ever wanted to be was a veterinarian. Helping and healing dogs and cats and guinea pigs. She wasn't sure if that was a new truth revealing itself to her or if she was just saying it as a bargain-promise to God. "Are you an FBI agent too? Do you work with my dad?"

"I'm FBI, yes. But I haven't had the pleasure of working with your dad."

Brisia wanted to believe Mr. Dion. She really did. Dad had told her the FBI was a part of their family--a family that stretched all across the country and around the world. You trusted family, went to them when trouble knocked on your door.

But he'd said he was
Mr.
Dion, not
Special Agent
Dion.

She lifted her mug and swallowed her doubt with a sip of cocoa and whipped cream, sweet and warm. She carefully set the mug back on the table, trying to slide it back inside the little ring of chocolate it'd made on the polished wood surface.

You trusted family.

"I've never been here before," Brisia said, looking around the room. It still smelled faintly of paint. "Is this a new office? I don't see a two-way mirror. There's not even a camera up in the corner."