Eventide: The Dark Ink Chronicles (14 page)

“Wake her, Noah,” an elderly accented voice commands.

“All right,” he drawls. “Someone hold this for me.”

“I hate this,” a now familiar voice mutters.

I am awake. I’m just so drowsy I keep my eyes closed. I hear the voices around me. Suddenly, though, I get a whiff of…something. Then, it disappears. Then…an erotic feeling crashes over me and my eyes pop wide open. I stare into the painfully beautiful face of the same man whose ass I whipped the last time. Now, though, I don’t want to fight. I grasp him around the neck, pull his mouth to mine, and kiss him. Hard. He kisses me back, but I barely notice because my fingers are searching for an edge of cloth—his clothes—to yank off. I can’t get enough of him. I find skin. Stomach. Rigid muscles. I grope. He moans. I moan—

“Noah!” the familiar voice warns. I barely hear him, so engaged in disrobing whoever was driving me sexually insane. Just the feel of his tongue against mine nearly makes me orgasm.

“Bind her now,” an elderly voice says. “Bring her to me.”

With my mouth still latched on to my new obsession,
my hands are pulled behind me and tethered. My feet are bound. I don’t care. Only when the male I’m sucking on is pulled from me do I become alert. I blink several times, shake my head, and look around. I am put in a straight-backed chair. I watch closely.

I’m in a room. A strange, large, empty room. Windowless. And in it are six males. All pulseless. There’s only one heartbeat within, and it’s mine. So sluggish, it barely thumps five times per minute.

Two elderly males stand close, facing one another.

“Gilles Dupré,” one says. “We’ve but one choice to right this matter.”

The one called Gilles nods. “
Oui
, Julian. You are unfortunately correct.” He glances at me. “There is no other way?”

The one called Julian shakes his head. He has long, straight silver hair pulled into a silver clip. “No. A force stronger than Valerian’s must enter her, and the only force stronger than his venom is mine.” His gaze passes over me, then over the others before returning to the one called Gilles. “In return for my aid, I require the return of my eldest son, Valerian.” He looks at one of the males in particular. “Unharmed and intact.”

“He needs to be punished for his actions,” that one called Eli demands vehemently. “He cannot simply go free.”

Julian nods. “Of course. And we shall see justice
served. Through our counsel, punishment will occur.” He again looks at Gilles. “Agreed?”

Gilles glances at the others, then back to Julian. “No harm will come to this girl?”

Julian gives a slight nod. “I vow it.”

Gilles nods. “Very well, then.”

Julian meets the gaze of one of the males—dark, tall, young. “Victorian?”

“Yes, Father,” he answers.

In my next breath I am leapt upon by the male Julian. His face is clear before me, contorted, gruesome, his eyes white, the pupils red and pinpoint. Long, jagged fangs drop from his top jaw, and immediately he sinks them into my throat. Cradling my head so I can’t move, he sucks. Fire shoots through my arteries, travels my body and jumps track, then courses through my veins. I thrash against him, but it’s useless. Inside, I’m on fire. Literally.

“Non!”
the familiar accented voice belonging to the one called Eli shouts, and his voice is angered now, almost a growl. I see nothing. I hear commotion.

“Hold him,” the one called Gilles orders. “Hold him tightly.”

“Let her go!” Eli shouts. “I will kill you right here!”

Pain tears through me as needle-sharp fangs remain buried deep into my throat, suckling my life force. I’m hot, on fire, and my body begins to seize.

Then it’s over. The fangs are withdrawn. My head is now free and falls forward as the one called Julian releases me. I am weakened now, and haven’t the strength to raise my head. I gasp for air as intense agony courses through me. Tears spill over my lids and run down my cheeks. I watch them splatter onto the wood floor beneath me.

“Andorra, Miles,” a growl says menacingly, evenly. It’s the one called Eli again. “Let me go.
Now
.”

“Jake, Noah, free him,” another says.

Then, in less than a second, he’s here, beside me. The familiar one. Holding my head up and cradling it in a much different way from the other one. I feel his body shaking as he holds me to him. I want to thrash out, fight him, but I can’t. Part of me doesn’t want to anyway, and I don’t understand why. I’m motionless, with no energy. Helpless. That, I hate.
Loathe
.

“Shh,” he whispers. Then, with his mouth to my ear, “
Soyez toujours. Ce sera pas mal, l’amour.
”

I’ve no idea what he’s said to me, but it’s soothing, and somehow it calms me.

Even if only for a moment.

The commotion that follows is too much for my comprehension. The familiar one moves, lightning-fast, and lunges toward the one that bit me. Before he reaches him, though, three others jump him. He struggles. Swears violently. Thrashes.

Then, he changes.

I’m beginning to blank out, my vision is blurry, but yet I can see him. He’s as frightening as the old one, with long jagged fangs and a distorted face.

“Why, Arcos?” he yells at the old one. “Why!” He continues to push against the three holding him secure.

The old one shrugs. “’Twas faster,” he says. “All is well and done. The only way she’ll ever be able to maintain control of her indistinct DNA and to ward off my elder son’s venom is to add mine. It is done. But,” he continues, “you must all remain here, at Castle Arcos, until the time of the quickening passes for her. She will be in a most weakened and vulnerable state, followed by”—he chuckles—“let us just say she will be very difficult to handle while her DNA is changing.”

“I can handle her,” the familiar one named Eli says with ferocity.

Again, the old one laughs. “Oh, my fierce Dupré,” he says. “I think not. Whilst she will not become vampiric, she will in fact have the venom of three powerful strigoi brethren circulating within her body. She’ll be as close to being a vampire as a human can be. Yet, in the end, it will be her only rescue. She’ll need it to ward off the cravings placed there by Valerian.”

“There are other ways!” the familiar one shouts. He tries to lunge once more but is restrained. He is so enraged, his voice doesn’t sound like his own.

“
Mon fils
,” the other elder says, his voice stern, calm. He lays a hand on his son’s forearm. “Let us leave for now. Julian,” he addresses the old one, “
merci beaucoup
.”

The old one gives a slight nod, accompanied by a chilling smile. He looks dead at me, wipes a drop of my blood from his lip, and licks it off. “My pleasure, Monsieur Dupré.”

Then, another is beside me. This one familiar also, yet still, unknown. “I’m so sorry, Riley,” he whispers. “Truly.”

“Get away from her,” the other, Eli, demands. The warning is clear, even to me as I begin to drift.

All at once, my body shudders, the angered familiar one is there, suddenly, holding me close, and I succumb to blessed darkness once more.

“Riley, Riley, shh…” a voice soothes, consoles. Is it that one called Eli? It sounds like him. Why is he so concerned about me? “I’m here,” he says.

A cold, wet cloth mops my forehead, my cheeks, my throat. A fiery fever ravages my body from the inside out, and I can’t stop the violent tremors. My skin is so hot, it burns like the worst case of sun poisoning. Baked, white skin on a cloudless, treeless, windless August dog day of summer in the South. Water. I want water.

No. I want something else.

“Here, here,
chère
,” he croons, and places something to my lips. At first, just a drizzle slips down my throat. But the moment my taste buds register to my brain what it is, I guzzle. Gorge. With my arms, I’m reaching, clutching out to
him
and holding on while he feeds me. It’s warm, thick, and it soothes my burn like some internal balm. I don’t know what it is, but my body likes it, demands more of it.

But after a few minutes, he takes it away. I scramble and grab, but he’s fast. I know his name is Eli, and his voice continues to feel familiar to me, but I don’t know who he is. Yet I’m getting used to him. He may be the one keeping me restrained, but he’s also the one who gives me what I need.

“More later. For now, rest,” he says.

I rest. Until, the pain awakes me. Fire. Scalding lava instead of blood coursing my veins and arteries. It feels like my skin is peeling off, and I writhe in agony. My voice, screaming in anguish, sounds disembodied. I scratch, claw at what skin I can reach. My hands, my arms are bound, and I feel like my muscles are coming apart.

“Can’t you do anything for her?” he yells. I feel his hands, a cold, wet cloth, on my body. “Papa? Please!”

“Non,”
an elder voice says calmly. “It must run its course, as you know. She is strong and will survive.”

A wave of convulsions shakes me until blackness engulfs my mind.

I awaken, huddled in a darkened corner. I’ve no idea where I am, how much time has passed since that pulseless elder sank his fangs into my throat. I only know that this place surrounding me is cold, damp, and pitch black. There’s a musty odor hanging in the air. I sense…beings close by. They’re calling out
Riley! Riley!
That’s not me. Riley is a human name. I’m…something different. I’ve got to escape. Get away. Run. Waiting for silence, it arrives. I slip from my hiding place, check the corridor to find it empty, and ease out.

It’s a long hall. Wall sconces adorn the stone walls, and amber light falls over a narrow strip of carpeted walkway. I follow it to the end, where a winding iron staircase leads upward. I can mount the steps and take the twirling stairs two at a time. If I can make it outside, I’m gone. Almost there…

No sooner do my feet hit the first step than a body crashes into me, then pulls me back. We land on the corridor floor. Finding my footing, I’m up, turning, backing away, and my vision falls on another. Pulseless. Beautiful. And a wicked gleam lights up a mercury pair of eyes. His mouth tips up at the corner. Challenging.

Steeling myself, I lunge, slide, sweeping his legs out
from under him. He falls onto his back. Just as fast, he’s up and springing at me. I leap and fall onto his back, my legs locked around his waist, my arm forcing his head into a choke hold. He backs and plows me against the stone wall. Back, back, he slams me, over and over, but I hold tightly. I’m trying to rip his head off. The goddamned thing won’t budge.

“Riley, it’s Noah. Get off me!” he yells.

Voices fill the corridor and I turn and glimpse three others running toward us. I turn Noah loose and land in a run, heading for the spiral steps. I’m up them in five seconds and onto the roof.

“She nearly took my fucking head,” I hear one say.

“Goddamn, Noah,” another exclaims. “Goddamn.”

Outside, I’m free. There is a multitude of reddish steeples and turret roofs. This place…it’s on a rocky hilltop, surrounded by thick forest. A soupy mist hangs over the estate, slips through the trees. That’s where I have to go. The woods. There, I can escape. Disappear into the fog. I run along a narrow path with a short wall that barely comes to my waist. They’re behind me. All of them.

Reaching the far corner, I don’t hesitate. I clear the edge, slipping over and down the sun-bleached white stone and mortar. Digging my fingers into the surface, I find pigeonholes that keep me from falling. The last thirty feet or so, I drop, land in a crouch, scan my surroundings,
then take off. Already, the mist envelops me. They’ll not find me—

My body hurls through the air and lands with another atop me.

“Riley, ’tis Victorian,” he says. “Stop fighting!” He holds me still, tries to pull my arms behind my back but I buck him off. I blindly leap and hit a rough, wooden base. A tree. I don’t even look; I begin to climb.

“Riley, come down from there!” he calls after me.

I ignore. I don’t look down until I’m far up. Clinging to a thick branch, I glance to the ground. Tall, beautiful, with long brown hair pulled back, the pulseless one stares up at me. Then, he shakes his head, mutters something unintelligible, and throws himself at the tree. He’s climbing. Toward me. Fast.

I leap several trees before dropping to the ground at a dead-run. The mist is thicker now, and I can barely see my hand in front of me. The voices behind me are growing faint; I’m getting away. Free at last. I run faster, weaving through the dense wood. It’s a blind run now as the fog is so soupy, I can only see the almost-black trunks of trees as I move. My insides are buzzing; adrenaline fires through my bloodstream and I’m almost hyper. The noises and sounds of the wood increase in pitch and all at once. It’s so discombobulated, it makes me dizzy. I try to tune it out, but it doesn’t work. Only gets louder—

A body slams into me and we both go down. He’s strong, this pulseless one, and he holds his hand over my mouth. His entire body covers mine, holding me with his legs like a vise. “Be still if you want your freedom,” he warns. “And do as I say.”

I go dead-still. I don’t trust him. I buck—hard. His body shifts and it’s just enough for me to writhe out from beneath him. He’s strong, but so am I.

Just as I escape, my ankle is grabbed and down I go. I scramble, arms and fingers clawing and digging into the bracken of the forest floor. I see nothing but white as the mist slips between us, and frantically I try to pry the hand grasping my ankle loose. I kick with my other foot. I’m released for about a half second, and again I scramble. Grabbed again and dragged across the damp leaves and dirt. My arms are yanked behind me and bound. As I’m forced to stand, I growl. My skin feels flushed with fire as I’m jerked around to face my captor.

It’s him. The familiar one. The glare I give him almost hurts my face, it’s so severe.

“You can give me da plat-eye later, Poe,” he grumbles, then ducks, dumps me over his shoulder, and puts one arm across the back of my calves. The other is firmly holding my ass. “Let’s go.”

It’s the voice of the one called Eli, but what’s da plat-eye? He’d said it in a strange accent, not his own. What the hell is going on?