Afterlight

Part 4 Introductions

I had absolutely no idea where we were going, but I followed Preacher with blind faith and silence, out into Savannah’s humid dusk. I almost felt like I was out of my body, invisible to everyone around me. All I could think about was my brother; all I really wanted to hear was that Seth would be okay. I doubted seriously I’d hear it right now. Preacher moved wordlessly, and he’d speak when he was damn well ready. Meanwhile, I was dying inside: I fought tears and panic. I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs. I kept my mouth closed, but my silence burned in my throat.

As we hurried along, I knew it wouldn’t do me a bit of good to ask the old conjurer where we were headed; he’d either ignore me or tell me to hush and wait till we git dere, so I simply kept up. A fair number of people were out and about as we crossed Bay Street; we hurried past a walking ghost tour heading toward the Kehoe House. People were sitting on park benches or strolling through the squares — none of them privy to the fact that something very unnatural had just occurred.

The threat of rain hung heavy in the air, and I could taste it and the ever-present brine on my tongue; no sooner had that thought crossed my mind than distant thunder rolled overhead. Shadows stretched long over the squares as lamplight fell over monuments and benches, making everything seem distorted, aberrant. Even the towering oaks seemed menacing, with long, outstretched arms reaching toward me as I passed beneath, and moss looking more like stringy witch’s hair than one of Savannah’s icons. The world around me sounded indistinct and displaced, like I was holding a seashell up to my ear. I shook off the weirdness as best as I could, and hurried along with Preacher.

We walked, nonstop and silent, all the way to Taylor Street, where the old Gullah turned right. When we hit Monterey Square, he crossed the street and stopped at the large white-brick historic three-story building on the corner. Black wrought-iron balconies on the second and third stories faced the square; the house was canopied by mammoth, moss-draped oaks — typical of the district. On the front gate hung a brass plate that read HOUSE OF DUPRÉ, 1851. Sure — the Dupré House. I’d seen it a hundred times growing up; I never knew anything about it or its inhabitants, and I couldn’t understand why or how they’d be able to help my brother, unless they were some rich, radical interventionists. Preacher, though, he had connections, and I trusted anything — and I mean anything — he deemed necessary. Maybe the Duprés were into some of the same dark African magic? I hoped to hell so.

As if Preacher had heard my thoughts, he stopped at the front step and turned to me. It was dark enough out now that I could see only the whites of his eyes, his silver hair against his ebony skin, but I knew he studied me hard. He always did. “You drink your tea dis mornin’, right?” he asked.

The odd question stunned me, but I answered. “Yes, sir.”

“You didn’t skip any mornin’s since I been gone, right?”

I knew better than to question right now. When Preacher was dead serious about something, he didn’t play around, and right now he was serious — no matter how bizarre the question was. “No, sir, I didn’t skip any mornings. I never do.” Inside, though, I was screaming What the freak do you need to know that for? I wisely kept the comment to myself.

“I know you, girl,” Preacher said softly, “and it’s killin’ you to keep dat purty mouth shut. You wanna know what it is we’re doin’ here, and how dese folk can help your brodder — I know dat much. You wanna know why your brodder was floatin’, and how he jumped and ran off. But I tell you now — don’t shoot dat mouth off in dere, even if you want to. You keep dem lips sealed tight shut, and don’t make much movement, and for God’s sake don’t hit nobody if dey put dere hands on you. What you’re gonna see and hear in dere? It won’t settle in your brain or in your heart right away, and I’m askin’ you to just accept it.” He placed a hand on my shoulder, and it was strong, warm. “Promise me dat, Riley Poe.”

If I wasn’t shaken before, I was now. I don’t think I’d ever heard my surrogate grandfather say so many words at one time in my entire life. But Preacher man would do anything for me and Seth, and that was what all this was about — Seth. “Yes, sir,” I answered quietly. Just the fact that Preacher warned me against someone putting their hands on me put my guard instantly up. He knew I had a thing about people — strangers — touching me. I had reflexes I couldn’t help. Besides. Why would anyone in the Dupré House touch me? I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I promise,” I said, and hoped like hell I could keep it.

Preacher gave a single nod, then turned to the door; he didn’t have to knock or ring a bell. The moment I stepped into the porch light beside him, the double-hung slabs of solid oak and brass opened, and an older man in a pristine tailored gray suit stood in the entranceway. Tall and wiry, with close-clipped gray hair, he gave me a double take, then addressed Preacher.

“They’re waiting for you in the study, monsieur,” the man said with a vague French accent. He didn’t verbally acknowledge me, but he checked out my dragons, angel wing, and attire: a gauzy flower-print skirt that came just above my knees, a ripped white tee, black leather ankle boots, and a wide black velvet choker. “This way,” he said, and inclined his head. He started up the foyer, back ramrod straight, and turned into a room off the main floor, near the back. We followed, my heels clicking sharply against the parquet flooring, breaking a deafening silence. Antique vases, ancient oil portraits, and pristine turn-of-the-century furniture adorned what small portion of the house I could see. The moment I stepped into the room, I stiffened. No fewer than fifteen people were gathered, and all sets of eyes rested on me as we entered. Only six weren’t Gullah. A young girl, who seemed to be around the same age as Seth, stood beside an elegant, petite older woman and an older man. Immediately, my gaze scanned the room; I noticed two younger guys, around my age I guessed, and then I saw the hot guy who’d stared at me through Inksomnia’s storefront window. He stood near the back, the farthest away from me, and four big Gullah guys — I knew them all — stood around him, almost . . . shielding him. Seemingly un-bothered by it, he was propped casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, brown hair sideswept and falling over eyes that, even from this distance, I could tell studied me with expressionless intensity. Low-slung faded jeans with a ragged hole in the thigh, a leather belt, and a snug white tee covered a lean, well-defined body. Then I noticed his jaw, his profile, and familiarity surged through me. I stared back, slightly unhinged as another profile, in shadows as I was held against a wall, rushed over me. It was him. What the freak? But before I could demand what the hell was going on, a man’s voice pulled my attention away, effortlessly, as if I had zero control. It was smooth, French, and mesmerizing.

“Bonsoir, ma chère,” the elderly man said as he slowly rose from a wine-colored upholstered wingback chair near the hearth. His gaze locked directly onto mine as he drew closer, and I found it difficult to think of anyone or anything else except him and his voice. He moved so gracefully, it almost seemed as though he glided across the massive room. Stopping just a few feet from me, he gave a small, sophisticated bow and a warm smile. “Accueillir à la maison de Duprè.”

I stared blankly at the man, and just as I was about to tell him I had no idea what the hell he was saying, I felt Preacher’s hand move to the small of my back. I took that as a sign to keep my mouth shut.

“Oh, Gilles,” said the petite woman, also with a French accent, “in English, love.” She gave me a glance.

“Ah, oui — pardon,” the man — apparently Gilles — said to me, switching to English. “My apologies, young lady. ’Tis an old habit difficult to break, I’m afraid.” He gave me a curt nod. “Welcome to the House of Dupré.” A sharp cerulean blue gaze met mine and held it. “We’ve been expecting you.”

What I wanted to say was, That’s great, really, but how can you help my brother? And what about the guy over there who has been stalking me? Firm pressure at my back from Preacher kept the question in check. With my eyes, though, I screamed, What’s going on? Why have you been expecting me?

In the next instant, Preacher began speaking to Gilles Dupré in perfect French. I waited, stunned, and picked up only one word in the fast translation: Seth. It was getting more and more difficult to keep my mouth shut, and already I’d had more than I could take of all the silent stares and scrutiny. But just as I was about to lose it, Gilles turned back to me. He grasped both of my hands with his, and I stiffened. Preacher’s body went rigid beside me, but I remained calm. Well, calm for me, anyway. At least I didn’t flip the old guy onto his back.

Gilles glanced down at our joined hands, and I watched his eyes follow the tail of my dragon tattoo up my arm before finding my gaze. Again, the sensation of complete fascination came over me as he spoke. “Riley Poe. The painted one,” he said, almost with admiration. “You are well loved by your dark brethren here, as is your brother. You are . . . family.” He released my hands and gave a grave nod. “I do understand about family, ma chère.” With a long, elegant sweep of his hand, he glanced to the others. “This is my family, Ms. Poe. There sits my beloved, Elise, my sweet daughter, Josephine, and my boys” — he motioned farther with his hand — “Séraphin, Jean-Luc, and over there in the corner, brooding, is my eldest, Eligius.”

I stared wordlessly at the family Dupré. Elise, petite, with perfectly coiffed dark hair pulled back into an elegant ponytail, was at least fifteen years younger than her husband. She smiled warmly at me and gave a short, sophisticated nod. Their daughter, Josephine, stood next to her mother’s chair, watching me with inquisitiveness, and looked as though she wanted to say something as badly as I did. Light brown hair hung in naturally wild curls to nearly her waist and parted in the middle, long bangs pinned back hippy style, and wide cerulean blue eyes just like her parents’ stared blatantly at me. With a pair of dark skinny jeans, bright pink high-top sneakers, and a black T-shirt with a hot pink peace sign on the front, she looked like every other average teenager. She glanced at my feet, then met my gaze. “I like your boots. And it’s Josie.” She gave a wicked grin.

Preacher once more pressed firmly against my back, silently telling me to keep quiet. I stared at Josie without saying a word, and her mouth tipped up into a smile — almost as if she knew my thoughts.

Séraphin and Jean-Luc studied me, neither saying a word, and they looked so much alike, they could’ve easily been twins. Both with athletic physiques and dark blond hair, Séraphin wore his close clipped while Jean-Luc’s was longer and crazy. They regarded me in silence, yet their expressions revealed intense curiosity and something else I couldn’t define just then. Then Jean-Luc flashed me a peace sign and grinned. All I knew was, no matter how many in the room stared me down, Eligius was the one that affected me most. And that totally irritated me.

I gave only a brief glance at him. Eligius Dupré. Clearly, I was familiar with his good looks and harsh stares and was beginning to get really pissed off at him and this whole situation. What the hell was all this about? Why had Eligius been following me, what had happened to the dead body, and — Shit! I was confused. Why had Preacher brought me here? How could these people help Seth? And why couldn’t I say anything? I glanced at Preacher, who also said nothing, but I knew that look. It said, Do what I said, girl. Finally, I returned my gaze to Gilles, who warmly smiled. I could do nothing more than wait.

“Now that you have observed ma famille, chère, know us well. Just as we know you well; we will all become quite . . . close.” He grazed my jaw with a long, elegant finger, and I struggled not to knock it away. He smiled. “Ah, oui. Your Preacher has told us of your dislike for human touch.” He chuckled and slid a finger across my jaw once more. “I can assure you — ’tis not what you think.”

The rest of the Duprés chuckled as well — all except Eligius, and despite my previous promise, I just couldn’t help myself. I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve no idea what I think.”

Preacher made a hissing sound beside me and muttered an African word whose meaning I didn’t know but had a pretty good idea about. I gave him a curious glance. “What?” I asked under my breath, although I knew good and well what.

“Come, my fierce painted one,” Gilles said. He grasped my elbow and gently tugged me toward the chair he’d vacated earlier, and for some reason, I allowed it. “Sit. We’ve much to discuss.”

I sat down, throwing a curious look at Preacher, who simply stared back expressionless. I didn’t have to wait long.

Gilles stood at the hearth, elbow propped against a long, polished antique mantel, and began. “Your Gullah brethren and my family have known one another for many years,” he said, his accent light, delicate. “And with regret I confess we’ve all grown complacent.” He sighed, briefly closed his eyes, then looked again at me. “We should never have let our guard down, even for a moment. It was — ”

“Gilles,” his wife, Elise, said softly. “Please.”

“Oui, you’re so right, love,” he said. “Best to just come out and say it.” He sighed again. “A contract was made, centuries ago, between Preacher’s ancestors and the Dupré famille,” he said. “They would supply us with . . . necessities, and we in turn would give full protection to the city and outlying islands. A guardianship, if you will.”

Gilles watched me, waiting for an understanding that I absolutely couldn’t give to him; I had no freaking idea what he was talking about. Although I wanted to question how an old man, a middle-aged woman, a teenage girl, and three young guys could still be carrying on some aged contract to guard an entire city — and from what — I kept quiet. A marathon for me, actually, but if Preacher’s grave expression meant anything, I knew this was something I needed to chill out with and listen to — for now, anyway. Somehow, this had to link back to what in hell was happening to my little brother. And strangely enough, I sensed a freakish strength radiating from Gilles Dupré. I couldn’t explain it, but I think it helped keep my mouth shut and my ass firmly planted in the chair.

Gilles continued. “You see, my painted one, your brother and his young friends disrupted a tomb and inadvertently released two vicious souls — a pair of brothers. Valerian and Victorian Arcos.” He stepped close to me and cocked his head. “They, like us, are descendants from a powerful, rare bloodline of the strigoi in Romania. They will stop at nothing, chère, to take what they want, and trust me” — he gave a wan smile — “they will indeed want. They will not be so easy to subdue again.”

Strigoi? What the hell? The vacant stare in my eyes had to be blatantly obvious; then, it hit me, and I couldn’t believe it. I glanced around at the entire room, despite having Preacher tell me to be still and keep quiet. I just couldn’t help it. The Gullah fixed their dark stares on me; the Duprés watched silently, all waiting for my response, I supposed. Slowly, I rose from the chair, shook my head, and gave a short laugh of disbelief. I still couldn’t believe it. I turned to Preacher. “Zombies, Preach? Seriously? You think Seth and his friends unleashed zombies from da hell stone? No disrespect — you know I heed your warnings — but zombies? You know I don’t believe in stuff like that, and I don’t have time for this,” I said, and started for the door. I glanced back over my shoulder. “I’ve got to look for my brother — ”

“Stay.”

The familiar voice made my head spin around, and I gasped — then swore — in complete shock. Eligius Dupré blocked the doorway and stood so close, I could smell whatever earthy, seductive scent he was wearing. How had he moved so freaking fast? Every Gullah in the room, Preacher included, moved toward me, the room filled with a mixture of frantic African and French languages. All at once, the overwhelming urge to scream, cry, and run like hell overcame me, and I pushed past Eligius Dupré in an effort to try. “Move it, garçon,” I said sarcastically as a sob stuck in my throat and my voice cracked — two very unlikely behaviors for me. The foyer was clear, and I ran all the way to the front door, and then out of it. Outside, at the bottom of the steps, Eligius stood, waiting.

“Shit!” I swore under my breath and stopped short. Again — how had he moved so fast? Twice! It was . . . impossible, and my brain couldn’t — wouldn’t — wrap around it. Wouldn’t even try. I honest to God could think of nothing better to say and was again in complete shock. “What the hell are you doing?” I asked, breathless with disbelief.

“Trying to keep you from making an ass of yourself,” he said quietly, his smooth voice seemingly inside my head. “Now, come back inside if you want to find your brother.” He took two steps toward me, his features partially hidden by shadows. “Please.”

The look of distrust on my face must have been more noticeable than I thought, because Eligius gave a slight smile. “Yes, there was a dead guy in the alley last night. I didn’t kill him. And we’re not zombies.” He inclined his head. “Can we go now?”

When someone else said zombies, it sounded even more stupid than when I’d said it. What had I been thinking? But where Preacher was concerned, nothing — including zombies — could be ruled out. Preacher and Estelle firmly believed in them, among other things.

“Child, come back in here now,” said Preacher from behind me. “Time is gittin’ by us, and your brodder is out dere.”

Compelled by previous experiences to listen to Preacher, I gave Eligius one final hard stare, climbed the steps, and moved past my surrogate grandfather into the foyer wordlessly, but I didn’t miss the look he gave Eligius before following me in. I’d seen it hundreds of times before. It was a warning look, with the threat of retribution in his dark eyes. And that just didn’t make sense to me, even as I did as he asked. I entered the gathering room, hopefully for the last effing time, and was surprised to see everyone pretty much exactly where I’d left them.

Gilles came forward. “My apologies, chère. I know this is much to take in. But please” — he gestured to the chair with his hand — “sit. There are things of which you must know.”

I glanced at Preacher, who gave a short nod. I crossed the room and eased into the chair. Josie stood close, and she regarded me with an amused look. I sought out the other two Dupré boys, and their expressions were much the same as their sister’s.

“As you can see, we’re not what you’d call . . . ordinary,” Gilles said, pacing slowly now before me. I crossed my legs, folded my arms over my chest, and kept my gaze trained on the older man: his pricey suit, his manicured nails, his aristocratic profile. In my peripheral I noted Eligius by the door, probably blocking any further escapes from me. My mind was a jumbled mess of doubts and panic; I’d do anything to help find Seth. But this was seriously wicked crazy.

“Anything?” asked Gilles. He stopped and looked me in the eye. “Sincerely, chère?”

My skin turned to ice; it seemed as if the old man had read my mind, or had I said it out loud? “Yes,” I responded in a sure, confident voice, calling off all earlier agreements I’d made with Preacher to keep quiet. And I was a little irritated. “Anything.”

Gilles nodded. “Bon. Very good to hear.” He drew closer, stopped, and inclined his head. “But in order for you to help your brother, you must stay, and listen with an open mind and heart.”

“I will,” I responded, recalling Preacher’s nearly exact same words.

“Children?” he said to his family.

Everything that happened next happened so freaking fast, I could barely keep up. I’d turned my head slightly to glance at Preacher, and when I looked back at Gilles, he wasn’t there. Jean-Luc was in his place. I searched out Josie, and while she’d just been standing beside her mother, she was now where Eligius had been, and he was now standing near the hearth. I stood, spun around, confused, only to notice that Gilles and Elise had traded places. No one stood where they once had, and they’d moved right before my eyes. I looked around, unsure, and felt myself beginning to shake nervously. “What’s . . . going on?” I asked quietly. What was this, some sort of freakish effing Cirque du Soleil family? French illusionists? Was I losing my mind?

In the amount of time it took me to blink, Gilles stood once again before me. His smile was warm; his eyes gleamed . . . something else entirely different. Then a throat cleared loudly, and I glanced up to see Séraphin perched on the top of a tall bookcase in the corner. He jumped down with complete ease and was at my side in less than — swear to God — a second. I squelched a scream.

“We are creatures of the afterlight,” said Gilles quietly. He reached down, grasped my hand, and continued to speak as he drew me across the room. I’m not sure why, but I willingly went as my mind spun wildly, trying to figure out exactly what a creature of the afterlight was. “Nearly two centuries ago I was taken one night by another — an Arcos — and to this very day I know not why.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I left while my quickening took place, and once I was fully turned, I realized I couldn’t bear to be without my beloved family, so I selfishly took them, one by one, as they slept in their beds. I forced them to drink my tainted blood, and they, too, became like me. It was a hellish month of quickening that followed.”

“Gilles, non,” said Elise quietly, and in the blink of an eye she was beside him, her arm linked through his. She laid her head on his shoulder. “Not selfish, mon bienaimé .”

Now I shook my head, in complete and utter confusion. “Took them — creatures of the afterlight? Quickening? What does all that mean?” I asked. “And what’s it got to do with my brother and me?” Afterlight — what the Gullah called dusk — I got that; but the Arcos brothers, vicious killers, creatures of the afterlight? None of it made sense.

Eligius was immediately at my side, and his eyes bored hard into mine. “The Arcoses are vampiric descendants of the strigoi,” he said, his voice seemingly inside my head once more. It was weird to finally see a face to match the voice, and I felt as though my gaze was fixed to his. His lips moved, and I couldn’t quite take my eyes off them, so he must have been speaking out loud. He gripped my arm, and just that fast, my reflexes kicked in. Only, they didn’t work. His grip was like a steel vise, and I couldn’t budge him. He drew closer, and from the corner of my eye I saw the Gullah men take a step forward. “A bloodline rarely heard of outside of Romanian tales and folklore. We are all considered members of the Kindred, all with a vein of strigoi blood, but there are differences. We are immortal and crave human blood, but our hunger has been satisfied in other ways — humane ways — by the Preacher, and his ancestors before him. The Arcoses have been entombed for over a hundred and fifty years, and now they’re out, and they’re not humane. They’re hunting.” His face was so close to mine, I could see the various flecks of color in his angry eyes. “They have no mercy, no remorse; they cannot be satiated. And they will not stop.”

My thoughts jumped to the dead man in the alley, the distorted way his lifeless body lay, the way his flesh had been ripped open, the blood, and Eligius didn’t let go of my arm. He held it, steady, his gaze not once leaving mine. My heart slammed into my rib cage, and my skin tingled where he touched. At once, the entire room didn’t exist; only us. He’d been the one to give me straight answers, so I asked one more straight question. “What are you?” I said, my voice strong but shaky. I kept my eyes boldly trained on his as I awaited an answer, and I vaguely noticed the flinch in his expression at the word what.

“We are vampiric, but not like them,” he said heatedly, under his breath, and it was the first time I realized the slightest trace of an accent was French. The muscles in his jaws tensed, and again my eyes were drawn to his full lips. “As my father said, we made a contract with your brethren. They have sustained our lives, and we have protected the city against rogue vampires.” With his head lowered, his eyes searched mine, and his voice lowered. “But the Arcoses have been freed, and now we have a major fucking problem, ma chère.”

“Son, that’s enough,” said Elise, her voice sweet and strong at the same time. A slight shift in the air brushed across my face and made me wince, and when I opened my eyes, Eligius was across the room, leaning against the wall as though he’d never moved.

I looked directly at Gilles. “How does any of this help my brother?” I asked, then sought out Preacher, who stood quietly against the door. “How?” Suddenly, the weight of what couldn’t possibly be happening hit me full force in the chest, and I sagged where I stood, unable to breathe. “Seth,” I choked my brother’s name out, and the lining in my throat burned.

Preacher was immediately at my side, and while he didn’t say anything, his reassuring hands on my shoulders put me at as much ease as I could be.

“Your brother is in the quickening,” said Gilles, and I didn’t miss the sympathetic note in his voice. “And it takes a moon’s full cycle for transformation to complete. We feel that he and his friends, because of their unintentional aid to the Arcoses, are safe for now. Had the brothers wanted to kill them, they indeed would be dead already, I assure you.”

It was too much, even for me, to take in. My mind reeled at everything I’d been told, at what I’d seen, and no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I knew of Preacher and his beliefs, I had a hell of a time believing I was standing in one of Savannah’s prominent historic buildings with a loving family claiming to be vampires descended from France and Romania; that there were two dangerous, bloodthirsty rogue vampires loose in the city; and that my baby brother was running with them.

That he was going to become one of them. My stomach felt sick.

Everything that had happened that night at Bonaventure washed over me in a heavy, suffocating wave: the uneasy feeling I’d gotten, the absence of cicadas, and Seth’s slow transformation from sweet, lovable brother to the cold, detached boy I barely recognized. Chaz had noticed it, too, and suddenly all of the symptoms made sense. Seth slept all the time, had hypersensitivity to light and no appetite. At first fevered, he’d grown . . . cooler. Not cold, but notably cooler in temperature. He’d almost attacked me. He’d thrown Chaz across the room. I closed my eyes tightly and tried to breathe. “Oh, God,” I muttered, a pain so fierce lodging deep in the pit of my stomach that it nearly made me double over. I wrapped my arms around my middle. “How can it be true?” I turned to Preacher. “How?”

“There are many things in this world of which most mortals haven’t a clue exist,” said Gilles, directly by my side now. “Until it’s too late, of course.”

I turned my gaze on him, unable to do little more than stare. I then took in the room, the Dupré family, my Gullah friends. My brain was in overload and could take not another second more. I turned to Preacher. “I’ve got to get out of here.” He simply kept his gaze trained on me, wordless.

“We thought it may be too much at once,” said Gilles, his hands folded behind his back. The weighty expression on his face didn’t sit so well with me. “But there’s one more thing you should know.”

I looked at him. “What’s that?”

“You’ve a rare blood type, Riley Poe. Only the second mortal I’ve ever encountered with it in my entire existence.”

“I’m O positive,” I replied. “That’s not rare.”

He inclined his head. “Have you given any thought as to why so many of your brethren are with us today?”

Glancing quickly around the room, I shrugged. “Not really.”

He placed a hand on my shoulder, and every single Gullah took a step forward. Gilles smiled. “They’re here to protect you, child. Your blood type is especially rare . . . to us.”

“Gilles, stop scaring the girl,” said Elise, suddenly by his side. She looked at me and spoke freely for the first time. “Your Preacher has masked your blood potency for years,” she said softly. “You’re in no real danger here, chère, and your fellows are here because they love and cherish you. They’re just being cautious, and it is that fierce loyalty which has kept our families and the contract bound for centuries. And it shall remain that way.”

Preacher put his hand against the small of my back. “Your tea dat you drink every mornin’? It keeps your blood masked.”

I looked at him with wide eyes. “You’ve been drugging me?”

The corner of his mouth lifted, ever so slightly, in a smile only I recognized. “For your own good,” he said gently. “We’ve known of your powerful blood since you was a baby, right. Now, listen to him,” he said, inclining his head to Gilles. “Dere’s somethin’ we have to do for now.”

I nodded and gave my full attention to Gilles. “I’m listening.” Although I had a difficult time realizing that I was like a filet mignon to these guys.

Gilles clasped his hands in front of him. “The Arcoses will not be stopped easily. They will be difficult to find — as will your brother and his friends. They hide during the daylight and move through shadows in the darkness.”

I hadn’t thought about that. No wonder Riggs was acting so ridiculous in the shop.

“And I feel they are on more than a hunt. Retaliation in the end, no doubt.” He turned to me and studied my face with intensity. “You see, Victorian and Valerian are youths — all of twenty-one and twenty-two years — although extremely cunning and deadly. Their appearances will fool you — never trust them. Their faces are beautiful and innocent; their souls are damned. We will do everything in our power to lure them out of hiding, and we’ll need your help.”

Again, I nodded, even though everything Gilles was saying felt as though he was saying it to someone else, not me. “What can I do?”

“They’re building an army,” Gilles said gravely. “From our city’s youth — your brother included. It’s what they’d intended a hundred and fifty years ago, and it’s why they were entombed. They will seek out their troops and victims from the darkest dregs of the city. Now, times are more dangerous, and this time they shall be destroyed.” He inclined his head. “You know the underground, oui?”

“Underground as in . . . what, exactly?” I asked, although I sort of guessed what he meant. I didn’t like it.

“Dark places, drugs,” Preacher clarified. “Dem dark dancin’ clubs you used to go to, and dos bad folk you hung out wit when you was a youngun.”

Inside, I cringed. I’d sworn — vowed — that I’d never go back to that life again. I’d put it behind me for good. But this was my brother being dragged into stuff way worse than I ever dreamed of doing. I looked Gilles Dupré in the eye. “I said I’ll do anything.”

Briefly, Gilles closed his eyes, and a slight smile tipped his mouth upward. “Bon. For now, we must watch, wait, and try to protect as many as possible. The city has grown — it won’t be as easy as it once was. And Eligius will remain by your side at all times.”

“Papa?”

“No,” I said at the same time Eligius argued. We glanced at each other; then I turned to Gilles. “I appreciate your concern, really, but I don’t need anyone to protect me. Preacher lives right next door. I can take care of myself.”

With a quick glance at Preacher, who gave one single, short nod, Gilles, in a fraction of a second, grasped my forearms tightly and drew his head close. I blinked in surprise, and just that fast his face grew close and sickly distorted, his jaw unhinged, and every tooth in his mouth grew long, sharp, jagged, his eyes no longer blue but pure white, with only a pinpoint bloodred pupil. I literally shook where I stood, my breath jammed in my throat; I couldn’t breathe, move, or scream.

In the next blink, Gilles’ face returned to normal — what I perceived as normal, anyway. He was a handsome, distinguished older man. Regret now set firmly in his clear blue eyes. “I’m sorry, chère,” he said quietly. “But you do now see why you must allow Eligius’ aid?”

“Why not Phin or Luc?” Eligius questioned quietly. “I’m not a wise choice.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off of Gilles. Had what just happened truly happened? Was that what would become of Seth? I resisted the urge to reach up and touch his face.

“Oui,” Gilles said. “That is what would become of your brother. Worse, I’m afraid. He will have . . . no control. A newling, driven by desperate, painful hunger.”

I knew then that Gilles could read my thoughts, and I couldn’t be sure whether he read them at random, or just when he thought it was pertinent to the situation. That was yet another insane thing for my brain to try and wrangle. I chanced a look at him, and he gave a slight grin.

“And you,” Gilles said to Eligius, “are the choice I’ve made, mon fils. You are the strongest of us and can better protect her. She must carry on her proprietorship as usual, and begin to ease into a life underground. We cannot allow the Arcoses to suspect otherwise, oui?” Gilles turned his look to me. “You will be perfectly safe with Eligius. Just . . . make sure you drink your tea.” Jean-Luc, Séraphin — rather, Luc and Phin — and Josie chuckled.

After a quick glance at Eligius, I turned my question to Gilles. “Does he do what you just did?”

Gilles gave a nod. “Oui.”

A cynical laugh escaped me. “And you want him to stay in my house? With me? While I’m helpless and sleeping?”

Gilles didn’t answer.

I inclined my head. “Who is Eligius supposed to be protecting me from?”

Gilles’ stern, regretful expression made my heart drop to my stomach. “Your brother.”

“The Arcoses as well,” said Elise. “They’re lethal, darling. More than you can imagine. Because of their strigoi bloodline they can appear out of body. They can appear in your dreams, if they wished it. And your brother, while still in the quickening phase, has strong mortal tendencies which would lure him to what he’s most familiar with — you. Unfortunately, he also has vampiric tendencies, and those would indeed overpower his weak mortal desires, including his love for you.” Her look was one of pity. “He’d not be able to help himself.”

I felt sickened at the thought that my brother would hurt me, but I knew now that he would. He’d already tried. I had no choice but to trust the Duprés; Preacher did. And I fully trusted Preacher and his family with my and Seth’s lives.

Once more, Gilles clasped my hands between his. “Enough for one day, oui? I am positive Eligius can give you a Dupré family history and answer any questions you may have.” The smile that tipped his mouth was noticeable only by me, I was sure. “You’ll be spending a lot of time together, no doubt.” Then he cast a severe stare at Eligius. “She goes nowhere without you, oui?”

The muscles in Eligius’ jaws flinched. “Oui, Papa.”

“When you begin your searches underground, Séraphin, Jean-Luc, and Josephine will be there, as well.”

I shot a glance at Josie, who merely grinned devilishly. “But she’s only what? Sixteen?”

“Fifteen in mortal years,” Luc answered. Then he grinned wickedly and tossed his sister a glance. “She’s more lethal than Phin and me put together. She can handle herself.”

I blew out a slow breath. “Yeah, okay,” I muttered, then gave Preacher a glance. “So there’s nothing we can do to help Seth now? Tonight? I’m seriously supposed to just . . . carry on like none of this is happening?”

“No, girl,” Preacher said, and I could see in his dark eyes how much he hated saying those words to me. “For now you do nothing. He’s safe for da time being. We get dos wudus out da way, and den we git Seth to Da Island.” He put his arm around me. “Now, let’s go. We’ll make it right. I promise.” He looked at Gilles; they had a small conversation in French of which I recognized no words, they shook hands, and we left the House of Dupré.

“I really like your inks,” said Josie, suddenly right beside me. She studied my dragons, checked out my wing, and nodded approvingly. “Cool.” If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was any other ordinary, impressionable teenage girl.

I gave her a hesitant smile. “Thanks.”

“See ya around,” Josie said with a closed-mouth smile.

I gave a nod, and along with Preacher, the other Gullah, and Eligius, who now carried a canvas duffel bag thrown over one shoulder, we left Monterey Square.

The entire way back to Factor’s Walk, I was acutely aware of Eligius Dupré’s presence, even though he casually hung back about a half block. I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t affected by him; I had been since the moment I’d seen him watching me through Inksomnia’s window. Even now, when I think back on the incidents in which I saw him only in shadows, I was affected by him. And no matter how much I replayed the entire visit to the Dupré House in my head, I found myself even more stunned at what I’d witnessed than when I’d first seen and heard it. Gilles’ chilling, distorted features and deadly strength flashed across my mind, and I involuntarily shivered as a vision of those teeth ripping my throat out became all too vivid. Then I immediately tried to envision Eligius’ beautiful face doing the same thing. Don’t think for a second that I’m a fool — I knew full well he was just as dangerous, if not more so, than Gilles and the others, despite his boyish, charming looks. It was just . . . freaky to see in my head. And Seth — God, no way could I imagine it. I still couldn’t believe this was all real: quickening, strigoi , Romanian folklore, the Kindred. Was it actually happening? And despite Eligius being the most lethal, he also somehow possessed the most control. It didn’t make sense. None of it did, and the entire walk back I spent trying to rationalize everything that had just happened.

Beneath the lamp separating my shop from Da Plat Eye, Preacher stopped and grasped my hands. He was one of the few people who could do so without my reacting badly. “You did good back dere, girl. Only opened dat mouth a couple of times.” He sighed. “I know dis is a lot for you to take into your heart, but you got to do it. You got to do everything dey says to do.”

“What about him?” I said, inclining my head to Eligius, who stood a few feet behind us. “What am I supposed to do?” I’d already decided to sleep in my heavy wool scarf. Behind me, Eligius chuckled — at least I thought he did. I shot him a look over my shoulder, and he didn’t even appear to be paying us any attention.

“You do what dat boy says to do, Riley Poe. He will do you right. And his brodders will watch out for Nyxinnia.”

“What am I supposed to tell her?” I asked, and again, the deathly silence of the night stunned me.

“You tell her dat brodder of yours got into some bad magic, and de Gullah, dey gonna fix him up. Dat’s all you gotta say.” He glanced toward the darkened skies, then back at me. “It don’t feel right out here, Riley Poe. You git inside and stay. And you be nice to dat Dupré boy. I would not let him in your house if I thought he would do something bad. He won’t.”

Emotions washed over me, and I threw my arms around Preacher’s neck and hugged him tightly. “Is all this really happening?” I muttered against the collar of his shirt as I inhaled the odd, sweet mixture of Downy and hoodoo herbs. “Is it real? Is my baby brother going to turn into one of them?” I fought a sob that stuck in my already burning throat. I didn’t cry often, but when I did, it was torrential — and no one ever knew it happened, because I did it in private. I felt a big one coming on now.

Preacher’s big hands patted my back. “Awe, baby, we gonna make things right after all, so dat doesn’t happen. You’ll see.”

I pulled back and breathed. “What about you and Estelle?”

Preacher chuckled. “Dat old crazy woman and me, we fine, Riley Poe. Handled things a lot worse dan vampires, dat’s right. But dos Duprés ain’t like dat, right?” He turned me toward my door and shoved gently. “Now, go git some rest. But come git your tea in de morning; don’t forget dat.”

“Don’t worry — I won’t.” I stood there beneath my door light and watched Preacher make his way to the back entrance of Da Plat Eye, step through the door, and close it behind him, leaving me alone with Eligius. I looked at him standing there, duffel slung over one shoulder, his dark hair carelessly falling over his eyes as he watched me from the shadows. It thrilled me and freaked me out at the same time. “Come on in,” I invited, then turned, stuck the key in the lock, and opened the door. The moment I hit the light switch, he was at my side, and despite being overwrought with sick worry over my brother, my skin heated at his closeness. I was immediately on the defensive. “Back off,” I said. I gave him a warning look and moved to the steps. He followed, closed the door, and locked it. And it was at that moment that Chaz came hauling ass into the foyer from the front of the shop, barking his head off, fur at his scruff standing on end.

“Whoa, Chaz, stop it!” I said sharply, and he came to a halt but stood rigid, head down, a low growl rumbling from deep in his throat as he stared hard at Eligius. It reminded me of his reaction to Seth over the past week. “He doesn’t like . . . strangers,” I said, although I’d meant vampires. I wasn’t ready to hear the word come out of my mouth yet; it sounded nearly as stupid as zombies, although I was starting to believe in them, too. “Chaz! Down!” I commanded, pointing at the floor.

Eligius turned sideways in the narrow foyer and squeezed by me, our bodies inches apart, keeping his hooded gaze trained on me. “He’ll get used to me, too,” he said, and drew closer to my bristled dog. Gently, he eased his duffel to the floor and squatted before Chaz, speaking softly in French. Within seconds, Chaz’s fur settled, his backside wagged, and he whined as one paw lifted and rested on Eligius’ knee. At once I was impressed . . . and betrayed. I grabbed Chaz’s leash from the wall and slapped my thigh. “Come on, boy; let’s go for a walk.” Chaz hurried to me and licked my knee. “That’s better, you traitor,” I said, and scrubbed the space between his fuzzy ears. I glanced at Eligius, who was still squatted down. “Be right back.”

He instantly rose and was at the door beside me. “You go, I go.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled. I unlocked the door and headed back out into the night. I kept a wary eye on Eligius while Chaz inspected the grass, and finally, I caved. “So what’d you say to him?” From the river, a tugboat blasted its horn, someone on the walk cheered, and I could vaguely hear music coming from the Boar’s Head.

Eligius shrugged and met my gaze. “I promised not to kill you.”

“Wow, thanks.” I had a hard time swallowing past the lump in my throat, but I didn’t let him see that it had bothered me. “As long as I keep drinking Preacher’s anti-kill-me potion, right?”

“It’d be a good idea,” he said, and the words made me shudder.

Inside, I turned Chaz loose, hung his leash on the wall, and locked the door. As I talked to Nyx on my cell, explaining to her about Seth exactly as Preacher had advised, I watched Eligius move around in my apartment; he seemed to know just where everything was. He walked straight to Seth’s room without pause, tossed his duffel on the floor, and stood there, staring at . . . something. It felt weird having him in my home, completely strange and foreign. He looked too . . . normal, in his plain white tee and faded jeans, not what you’d think a vampire looked like at all. No black cape, no coffin. His complexion was flawless, all except for a small mole on his jaw, just below his left ear. Freshly shaved, even, although he had the slightest hint of stubble. Did vampires shave? It was an absurd thought. I almost talked myself out of believing in what I knew he really was. I didn’t know him from freaking Adam and had only Preacher’s assurance that it’d be okay to have a creature of the afterlight freely wandering my apartment — with me in it. It should be Seth here, and a longing ache for my brother sank deep into my stomach. He was somewhere, roaming the streets with something way worse than anything I’d ever roamed with: monsters. Against my will I tried to imagine his young face distorting like Gilles’; I could not. Without my permission, the vision of Seth attacking an innocent human being and sucking all of the person’s blood out pushed to the front of my mind. I pushed it quickly away. It didn’t seem right. All I could see was his sweet, expressive green eyes divulging every emotion he possessed. Tears stung my throat and eyes, and I hurried into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed a bottle of Guinness. I had a third of it down when I turned. Eligius was standing no less than a foot away, regarding me closely. I didn’t jump — I forced myself not to. With a knuckle, I wiped my mouth, and his eyes followed my movement with intense curiosity.

“What if I didn’t have Preacher’s herbs?” I asked, his closeness heating my skin. “What if I just stopped taking them?”

Eligius’ eyes dropped to the pulse at my neck, and swear to God, his eyes glowed. “You’d be dead before you could lift that bottle to your lips.”