Eventide: The Dark Ink Chronicles (19 page)

All that changed one May afternoon when Gabriel—an imposing wall of sheer muscle clothed in head-to-toe black—walked easily into my empty classroom, right up to the desk where I sat grading papers, pulled me out of my chair, looked me dead in the eye, and with a sincere apology, slipped a silver blade into my heart.

I died in his arms.

I awakened sometime later—weeks later, actually—in his bed. He sat in a dark alcove, watching me with those silvery eyes. I’ll never forget that first brooding, profound stare. To me it sums up his entire character. Silent power barely checked.

In a matter-of-fact tone, and with a mesmerizing accent, he told me my old life was gone, and that I was now immortal,
like him. He told me to rest, that I was still going through the transformation and was very weak. Then he stood, tossed a newspaper on the bed beside me, and left the room without another word.

One thing I learned pretty fast about Gabriel—he speaks very little, but when he does, it’s potent.

The newspaper proved to be one from back home in Kitty Hawk. It was the Obituary page, and as I thumbed through it I found my own smiling face staring back at me.

Fishing a few pounds from the pocket above my knee, I put down a tip, nod to Seth who smiles in return, and make my way through the small crowd. The rain is only a drizzle now, and Gabriel is probably waiting for me. At the doorway, I slip my arms into my black trench coat, button it up, and put on a black skully and scarf. Funny. I go from sandals, French manicures, and flowery sundresses to black fatigues, boots, and a trench coat. I look like goddamn
Mission: Impossible.
My sisters would die laughing.

My granny would wa
sh my mouth out with soap.

I’d give anything to let her.

I step out into the cool night air and start down the sidewalk, and before I can walk ten feet, someone behind me grabs my arm.

“Just a minute, miss.”

I turn to find the cute cop. He’s medium height and build, with dark, close-clipped hair and wide blue eyes. He gives me a crooked grin. “Sorry. I, uh, well, was wonderin’ if you, ya
know?” He glances at his feet and mutters, “Shite.” He looks me in the eye and smiles again. “I tried to get your attention back there.” He inclines his head toward Niddry’s. “I’m Sean. I, eh, don’t mean to sound so forward, but I noticed”—he gathered courage and met my gaze fully—“well you looked nice to talk to, is all.”

I meet his wide blue eyes with my own stare. I never can quite get over how charming the Scottish accent is. Even now, it sucks me right in. Sean’s is a bit thicker than the Edinburgh burr. Glasgow, maybe? Nice.

In another life, I would be grinning like a fool and batting my eyelashes. Sean’s a good-looking guy, confident, charming. And blessedly ordinary. But I’m no ordinary girl.

Sean can’t handle me.

But instead of blowing him off, I stick out my hand. I can’t date him, but a friendly face every now and then in Niddry’s can’t hurt. I smile. “Sydney, and it’s nice to meet you.”

He smiles and shakes my hand. “Och, an American.” He nods toward Niddry’s. “Do you care to step back in? I would have come up to you earlier, but I’m a wee bit shy—”

Powerful fingers close around my arm and I immediately know who is there. Sean’s gaze rises above my head, directly behind me.

“She’s with me,” Gabriel’s deep voice vibrates above me.

Sean glances at me, almost as if looking for an approval of the possessive grasp the newcomer has on me. I give him a slight smile, he shrugs, and returns the smile. Defeat dims
his blue gaze. “Right. See ya then, Sydney.” He turns and walks back to Niddry’s.

Gabriel turns me around, pulls me close and lowers his mouth to my ear. “You’re late.” The words brush against my ear and I shiver. He has that ability—to unhinge me—but I’ll never let him know it.

With deft fingers he opens my trench coat and eases my blade from his to my hip. Those mercury eyes never leave mine as he fastens the small scabbard holding the Druthan silver to the loops on my pants and closes my coat. “Let’s go.”

He turns and heads up the sidewalk, and I’m right behind him. Gabriel’s posture is guarded, although no one notices but me. I’ve spent nearly an entire year in his daily company. I know his gestures, his habits, and I know when he is on high alert, when his body is on edge. Like now.

We wind our way through the streets of Old Town. The castle is lit and stands formidable on the rock it was built on. During my training, when I was learning every street, every close, every pub, club, business, and landmark, the castle stood as a focal point, a guide, a beacon. It still does.

And I now know the streets of Edinburgh like the back of my hand.

The Druthan blade brushes against my thigh with each step, and I button just the top of my coat, leaving the last two undone. If I need to withdraw my weapon, it has to be fast. I have to be ready. Always ready…

We’re on the outskirts of Old Town now, and Gabriel takes a turn left and eases down a set of cracked stone steps, between the tight-knit quarters of Pippin’s Close. It’s cold, gray, and deserted. Not derelict, just empty. No one lives here now.

No one, except the dead.

I fight a smile as I walk behind Gabriel’s big self. He takes up every inch of the close, and has to turn slightly sideways to fit properly. I know that irritates him, too. It makes him feel vulnerable, as if he can’t protect me fully, if the need arises. But only I know that.

I hug the wall and continue to follow, through the narrow close and down one more set of steps before coming to a lone door. The thump of a nearby nightclub vibrates on the air, and laughter rings out. But that’s coming from several streets over. No one knows I’m here except Gabriel. And no one knows what is about to happen except us. Briefly, I think of Sean, that cute cop from Niddry’s. I can’t help but wonder what he’d think if he knew.

Gabriel stops just before the door and looks down at me with that ever-present profound stare. His long hair, nearly black, is pulled back at the nape of his neck and damp from rain. A long strand is caught on his cheek, but he ignores it. The light from a streetlamp finds an opening through the close and falls on part of his face, casting the other part in shadow. He is magnificent and immortal, lethal, and so sexually charged that the air hums with it.

No, I’m not used to it yet. Even after a year, I have to check myself. But those are the mannerisms of a Druthan warrior, and it has nothing to do with him being a man and me a woman. He cares for me only because of what I am. He is from a secret sect of ancient Pict druids. There are only three others besides Gabriel.

And they’re nearly five hundred years old.

So when I say Gabriel is looking at me with an ancient gleam in his eyes, I really mean it.

His dark brows pull together into a frown. “Finished?”

I shrug. Yeah, he can read thoughts. He doesn’t stay in my head twenty-four/seven, but when he thinks I’m straying from task, he’ll do it in a heartbeat. Anything to keep me safe. I suppose I should appreciate that. “Yes. Let’s go.”

I don’t even have to ask what’s going on. Standing here, beneath the eave of Pippin’s Close and by the door of an
empty flat, with rain spitting and sputtering against my already damp cheeks, and the cold October air freezing my skin, I know. And if I hadn’t known, the nauseating stench from behind the door would be all the warning I’d need.

One of them is in there. And it’s feeding.

I slide in front of Gabriel and press my back to his front, and his body goes rigid, still, with just the smallest movement of lung expansion as he breathes. Goddamn, it’s hard to concentrate in such an intimate position—

“Steady, lass,” he whispers against my ear.

As if that helps the situation.

“I willna be far behind. Now go,” he commands.

I take a deep breath, withdraw my sword, and I go.

The door is slightly ajar, so I place my fingertips to the wood and push a space big enough for Gabriel and me to fit through, and I slip inside the dark interior. A tinge of must mingles with the foul smell and nearly makes me gag, but I swallow several times to fight off the urge.

Reaching into my thigh pocket, I withdraw a small torch. I can hear the familiar gurgling noise, coming from another room near the back, so I feel pretty sure nothing is right before me. My heart slams against my ribs as I sweep the beam of light across the bare floor.

It falls across a woman’s shoe.

Jesus Christ.

As I move toward the back, I feel somewhat comforted that Gabriel is right behind me. Knowing he is there won’t erase from memory what I’m about to witness. That vivid scene, along with the odor, will stay forever emblazoned in my mind.

My fingers tighten around the sword hilt, and my body tenses as I prepare. I ease toward what I’m pretty sure is the kitchen. The chewing and gurgling sounds grow louder, more intense.

And then, it stops. Silence.

It knows I’m here.

I wait, because I have to have it in full view before I make a move. One wrong step and it’s my shoe on the floor.

In the next breath, it leaps, landing just a few feet away. It doesn’t see me yet, but I’m pretty sure it can smell me. I can definitely smell it. Vile. There’s no other word for it.

With the torch off, the room is once again cast into darkness. I can judge where it is, though, and I can hear it, allowing to my vision almost a full outline of its body. Amazing, the senses that have heightened since my death—

A cold, wet hand closes over my throat, pinching off my air. Its body is close to me now, too close to poke my blade into, too close to punch. So I pull back my leg and shove my knee into its groin, I do it once more, and it finally howls, turns my throat loose, and stumbles back.

A powerful swoosh slices through the air, followed by a heavy thump. Something bumps the toe of my boot.

“Torch on, Ms. Maspeth,” Gabriel says directly over my shoulder. “Now.”

Immediately, I flip on my torch and point it down.

The head of a Jodis lies at my feet, a nasty, white ooze spilling from its neck cavity.

Gabriel pushes past me and steps over the Jodis’s body, which is still twitching. He stops at the kitchen, looks in, and crosses himself, and in ancient Pict, gives what once was an innocent woman her last rites.

I know the verse by heart now. I’ve heard it scores of times over the last year.

With God, find peace hereafter.

I can do little but breathe. I feel my knees weaken and I stumble back, rest my head against the wall and swear.

Gabriel holds my chin and lifts it up. I squeeze my eyes shut, out of embarrassment and to hold in the goddamn tears. Even after a year of training, the monster beats me.

“Open your eyes, Ms. Maspeth,” he says quietly. “We have bodies to dispose of.”

“Riley? Wake up.”

I feel a tight grasp around my shoulder. I’m being shaken. I toss my head a few times, blink, and glance around. I’m back in Castle Arcos. Everyone is staring at me. Sydney Maspeth is standing a foot away. All eyes are on me.

“What the hell is this?” I say, and back away from them. “Don’t fucking touch me again. Any of you.” I sling my arms as though shaking off water. “Damn it!” I try to clear my head. All I see is Edinburgh, Scotland. That apartment. Sydney. That…thing.

“I’m sorry,” Sydney says. “I honestly didn’t think…I didn’t believe it could happen.”

I shake my head. “Well it did. But don’t worry about it,” I say, feeling like someone who has just told a kid there’s no Santa Claus. “No problem. Just…warn me next time.”

“So ’tis true,” the third big guy of the group, whom
I recognize as Gabriel, says. “Your blood survived three strigoi?”

“I don’t have normal blood to begin with,” I offer. “And if you touch me I will throw your ass through that window,” I say, and incline my head.

Gabriel’s smile isn’t very noticeable, but it’s there. He simply nods. “Another time, mayhap.”

“I don’t think so,” I answer.

I slip a quick glance at Eli. “What’s going on?”

“My name’s Ginger Slater,” the other young woman says. She maintains her distance, which I sincerely appreciate. I’m in no mood to slip into anyone else’s body just right now. “We”—she glances at the man beside her—“we need your help.”

“All of us,” Sydney adds.

I exhale and glance at Eli. “Again. What’s going on?”

Eli inclines his head to the sofa near the hearth. “Sit.”

With a quick glance at the small group gathered, I concede. I sit.

And wait.