Darklove (4 page)

I miss my sister. I know we aren't twins or anything, but I guess I still feel some sort of weird connection to her. And I can feel it—something ain't right. It's a sense that makes my stomach hurt. Like something's coming and this time, she won't be able to stop it. That's the thing about Riley. She always thinks she's got everything under control, no matter what it is. Drugs. Bully cops. Gangs. Vampires. Well, I'm not a kid anymore. And I won't let her fall alone.

—Seth Poe

M
y body jerks. My eyes fly open. Everything's dark. The air is sickening, still.

Eli. Vic.
With a burst of energy I leap to my feet. Instinct makes me grab my left arm. Pain singes the shoulder joint. Where the hell is my scatha? I scan the ground. It's nowhere.

Doesn't matter.
I have to go back in. . . .

My feet move first, and after two steps I'm snatched to a halt. Pain shoots from my shoulder and I hiss.

“No, you don't,” a raspy voice says to me. A vise squeezes my good arm.

Dazed, I turn to my captor. Dreads. Crooked smile.

My partner. “Let me go, Noah,” I say evenly. My eyes are locked with his.

“Don't do it, girl,” he says, and pulls me close. “This time, that mind shit won't work.” From his fingers dangles the leather cord he wears around his neck, with a sachet of herbs concocted by my surrogate root doctor grandfather. It keeps his intoxicating sensual vampire scent, irrefutable by any and all species, at bay. He throws it over his head, away from the both of us. It lands at least twenty feet away. My eyes widen.

I feel my pupils dilate, and my body relaxes. I fixate on Noah's lips. Full. Curved at the corners. Sexy as hell. Inviting. I gotta taste them. . . .

My body's hot now, flashes of sensory fire scattering all over my flesh in patches. Stomach. Neck. Thighs. Crotch. Nothing makes sense to me except getting as physically close to Noah Miles as possible. I have to have him. Both of my hands reach for Noah's head, he dips back, and all I touch are a few dreads. That'll do. Wrapping my fingers tightly around them, I yank his head toward my mouth. At the same time, I leap onto him, curling my legs around his waist. One of his large hands separates us, and it's pressing against my chest, pushing me away. My eyes dilate wider. I lean toward him, mouth open, the pain in my left shoulder forgotten. . . .

“Whoa, my little horny toad, take it easy,” Noah commands, and pushes me off his body. He chuckles, and the sound excites me. “I can't wait to tell you about this later,” he says. He scoops me up in his arms. Runs. Picks something up. “Damn, Poe,” he mutters.

I'm barely hearing him, so deafening is my heartbeat roaring within me. Pounding in my groin. Sex. That's all I want from Noah Miles. Sex.
Now
. With my good hand I grab a fistful of dreads and yank his head toward me. His mouth, so close, my teeth nip at his jaw. I want his tongue. . . .

A flash of light goes off in my face, but I don't care. It could be a pair of headlights on a truck barreling at me full speed for all I care. As long as I get these goddamn clothes off. . . .

“Riley, damn it,” Noah mutters, and his hand stills mine as I find his crotch.

I feel as though I'm flying through the air, Noah carrying me, and I have not a care in the world except crawling as close to him as I physically can. The wind pushes at my face, and I bury it against his neck. I kiss him there, taking small nips, licks, and I find his earlobe with the silver stud he wears. I pull it into my mouth and groan.

“Jesus H. Christ Almighty, girl,” Noah groans, and pulls his head away. “Riley, give me a break, darlin'.”

We're moving so fast I can't make my legs creep up his body any higher. I'm nearly out of my mind with lust, the scent of Noah an addicting drug. He keeps pushing me away, and it's pissing me the fuck off. “Please,” I beg.

The next instant happens so fast my head spins. I'm flung onto a leather seat, my right wrist is tied to the leather door pull, and I'm crammed inside, door shut. My brain is fuzzy. I feel light-headed. Dizzy. The pain in my left shoulder begins to throb.

The driver's-side door opens, closes. I shake my head and look up. Noah's staring at me, his eyebrows lifted in amusement. One corner of his mouth is tilted upward. Yet a pained look lingers in his eyes.

He cocks his head. “You okay?”

I shake my head again. The fog is clearing, and I glance around. “What happened?” Peering through the Rover's windshield, I notice I'm back at the cottage. I turn my stare on Noah. “I've got to go back—” I move to open the Rover's door, but my hand is tied. “What the hell?”

“You can't go back, darlin',” he says. “You're out of ammo. You'll get yourself killed. There's nothing more you can do.”

I try to lift my left hand to untie my right, and pain shoots through me. “Son of a bitch . . .” I look at my shoulder. It's hanging lower than it should. “You gonna help me with this, Miles?”

Noah shakes his head, starts up the motor, and puts the Rover in reverse. “Hell no,” he replies. “Not until you calm down.”

Anger boils inside me, and my eyes dart to his neck. His antisexual attraction sachet is hanging there. I know exactly what happened. I lift a furious gaze at Noah. “You actually used that on me?” It's getting light now, and I see more than just the shadow of Noah's face.

He smirks. “Had no choice. You were being stubborn.” He stops, puts the Rover in drive, and we start down the lane. I glance across the field and notice a man walking toward us with long, purposeful strides. A black-and-white sheepdog jogs at his side. He lifts his hand, and Noah stops.

“Can I help you two this mornin'?” he asks. His eyes light on my shoulder.

He's a handsome guy, great accent, late thirties, early forties. The slightest touch of silver tinges his temples. Hazel eyes. Broad shoulders.

“Ah, no, we were just out for a hike,” Noah explains. “Nice standing stones.”

“Och, yeah,” the man says. “Thousand years old or better, those.” He glances at me again briefly. I can tell he sees something's not right. I smile at him.

“All right, then, I best get to my chores. Enjoy your day,” the man says, then turns and finds his dog chasing the sheep in the field. “Och, Shep, you wicked dog. Get back here!” He grins and waves, and Noah continues on.

“Tell me what happened,” Noah asks. “I know you went in after Eli and Arcos.” He shoots me a mercurial glare. “What you did to me at the guesthouse? Shitty.”

“You're leaving me with a dislocated shoulder,” I answer.

“Just until we get back to the flat,” Noah says.

I tell him what happened back in . . . wherever in Hell that place was. “Weird, lanky shadow bodies with tiny cat heads and sharp fangs and claws. Gargoylish-things guarding Eli and Vic in that old church, and Eli and Vic were suspended by their wrists, and naked, from the rafters.” I look at Noah, and I'm not mad at him anymore. I know whatever he does, he does to protect me. That vow he promised to uphold to Eli? I have a feeling it's going to interfere. A lot. “Noah, they were both alive. They groaned. I dragged them all the way out of that hellhole by their wrists.”

He gave me a sideways glance. “Then what?”

I shrug. “Once we hit the forest, I don't know . . . the same kind of sonic boom swept over us. Knocked my ass at least twenty, thirty feet through the air. Broke the rope I had bound all three of us together with.” I try to lift my shoulder. No go. “I hit the tree, tried to get up, fell, tried again. And again.” I shook my head. “They just . . . disappeared.” I look at my partner. “But they were both alive. Swear to God they were.”

At the foot of the long steep hill leading away from Ivy Cottage and St. Bueno's, Noah puts the Rover in park. He half turns in his seat and looks at me. “I believe you. We'll figure something out.” Lightning fast, he reaches over my body, places his large hand on my left shoulder, and snaps it back into place. I suck in a quick breath of pain; then it's over. With a much more tender touch, he grazes my chin. “Next time, trust me, okay? Don't use your mind power on me again, Riley. I want Eli as alive as you do.” He then unties my right wrist, puts the Rover in drive; we head back through Dingwall, Strathpeffer, and before long we're on the A-9.

We are both silent for several miles, and I try to take in, then shake off, everything that's happened to me since arriving in Inverness. For the first time, I feel lost. Before, I had direction. I had loaded cartridges for the scatha. I had a plan.

To save Eli and Vic.

Now that's all blown to hell.

Where did they go?

“We have work to do, Ri,” Noah says, staring forward. The bridge over the Beauly Firth looms ahead, and the heavy scent of sea life seeps through the vents of the Rover. “Get your head in the game.”

We are in the middle of the bridge when my cell phone rings from the center console. Immediately, my heart jerks in my chest.

It's AC/DC's “Highway to Hell.”

That's Victorian Arcos's ring tone.

Throwing open the console, I grab my iPhone and answer, “Victorian?”

There is nothing but silence for more seconds than I can almost stand.

“Riley? Is it you?” Vic says. His voice is hoarse, quieter than usual. But it's him.

I can barely speak. “Where are you? Are you okay? What happened to you back—”

Victorian lets out a low, weak laugh. “I thought you said you could barely speak, love.”

I lean against the headrest of my seat and close my eyes. “Oh my God, you're alive.” I sit straight up. I feel sweat pop out at my forehead, and my breath catches in my throat. “Is Eli with you?”

“Nu, dragostea mea,”
Vic answers in his native Romanian.
No, my love
. “What happened to me? How did I get home?” he asks.

From the corner of my eye I see Noah mutter into his cell phone. He's calling the States. Eli's family.

“Home? As in Romania?” I continue, but my mind is screaming,
Where the hell is Eli?

“
Da
, Romania. And I know you wish to hear more of your fiancé, Riley,” he says in a low voice. “I can still hear your thoughts, love, and I wish I had more to offer. I . . . just don't remember much at all. Except . . . pain. Excruciating pain.”

“It's okay, Vic,” I say, yet my skin prickles at the thought. I don't want to sound cold, but hell
yeah
, I want to know more of Eli. “Do you remember being in the church with Eli? Me dragging you through the streets? The forest?”

“Yes, in the church with Eli. It happened almost as instantaneously as I appeared back home. In . . . a flash.” He sighs into the receiver. “We were strung up by our wrists. Beaten with . . . something not natural. We don't bleed, Riley. But yet . . . it drained us. Then the beatings simply stopped. And we hung. We spoke until neither of us could speak any longer.”

“Beaten by who? And why?” I ask.

Vic sighs into the phone. “I never saw a face, only shadow. But I got the same sense I had when Jake Andorra hit me with his sword. I think it was one of the Fallen.”

“And the beatings stopped because the Fallen were killed,” I offer. “Why, do you think?”

“I haven't a clue, other than pure torture brought pleasure to them,” he says. “Or to bring pain to you, which seems more likely.”

“Well, that was a success,” I say. “I've been out of my fucking mind, Victorian. Anything else?”

“A warm body, wrapped around mine—I pray that it was yours. A fall. More pain, I think I was being dragged down the street. Something . . . knocked me hard. Had I breath within me, it would have been gone. A strange language I didn't understand, muttering something unintelligible. Then . . . nothing. I woke up here, with my papa staring down at me. Who's with you? Miles? I'll join you two—”

“Slow down, Arcos, and no, you won't,” I insist. “I've got to call Jake and let him know about this. He's got to be told. You stay away from here, Vic. For now. Okay?”

Silence on the other end.

“Victorian. I. Mean. It.”

“For now,” he agrees. “But only because you ask it. Riley?”

“Yeah, Vic,” I respond.

“Stay close to Miles. Do not try stupid things alone. And I will come right away, if you desire. All you have to do is ask.”

I exhale. “I know you will. Thanks. I'll be in touch. And hey,” I say quickly, before he ends the call.

“Da?”
Yes.

“I'm really glad you're alive.”

Victorian softly chuckles. “I haven't been that, love, in centuries. But I know what you mean. I am glad, also. Thank you. I know 'twas you who saved me, even if I couldn't see your face.”

We end the call, and I glance at Noah.

He shakes his head. “I spoke with Gilles. Eli isn't there.”

My heart drops to my stomach. “How can that be? How does Victorian go from a forest in Scotland to Romania in a blink, but no sign of Eli?” My eyes search the gray waters of the Beauly Firth. Cars are on the road now, people in their ordinary lives going about their ordinary business. Shoppers. Tourists. Locals. Fishermen. Suits.

Yet there is a true Hell, right here on Earth. And none of them even know it.

Noah's cell rings, and my heart leaps as I look at him.

“It's Jake,” he says. “Andorra,” Noah answers the phone. “Okay, hold.” He pushes something, and Jake's voice booms out of the speaker.

“Riley, are you hurt?” Jake asks. His unusual accent is something I'm finally used to. A mixture of Scots brogue and something indefinable. Something ancient.

“No,” I answer. “Jake, what's going on?”

“You tell me,” he says.