Darklove (Dark Ink Chronicles #5)

Darklove (Dark Ink Chronicles #5) Page 23

One vampire, a female, lunges directly at me.

Everything happens in slow mo after that.

Somewhere, from a music store, I suspect, Kansas cranks out “Dust in the Wind” over the mall intercom as I take down the female. She’s out of her mind crazy with bloodlust, and I waste no time in ending her swiftly. She falls into a quaking heap at my feet, and I withdraw my blade and wipe it on her coat. Her teeth are still snapping as she begins to disintegrate.

My eyes are everywhere now, and for a brief second or two, I catch Rhine and some of the other Ness boys in action. Rhine fights up close, and he sincerely reminds me of a younger version of Noah. Fights like a mad dog.

The other Ness boys throw, and within ten seconds I notice three vamps are taken out on an air-lifted silver blade. The moment it does the job, the Ness boys retrieve their blades. I catch sight of Pete, who’s joined us. He’s fast.

Just then I see Eli. He catches my eye and disappears around an upstairs turn. I free-run up to the food court, determined to confront him. Or kill Carrine. Preferably that.

My heart, although megaslow from all the vampire venom coursing within me, still feels like it’s slamming against my ribs as I see Eli disappear. Thoughts race through my head as I spare a glance down at Rhine and the others. There are still a few rogues left. After watching what I’d just seen, I don’t think I’ll question Rhine and the Ness boys. Ever. Badasses, every one of them.

Not bad for humans.

The moment I round the corner, I draw up short. So fast I almost lose my breath. Eli’s standing directly in front of me. It’s like swallowing a sword, standing there looking at him, looking at me, with bloodred eyes laced with hatred. Then they focus, lock on to mine, and lighten. Recognition passes over his face. I can see it, plain as day, even through the shadowy closed mall. He stares hard at me, cocks his head to one side, studying me. For a moment, those blood-lusted red eyes return to cerulean blue.

I push aside my aching heart and concentrate. I focus on his face, then beyond, deeper, to his memory. Eligius. It’s me. Riley. Please, can’t you see me?

Again, Eli cocks his head to the side, his eyes focusing on me.

Eli? Please . . .

Kill him, Riley. He’s no longer your love. You must do it.

The voice startles me. It’s not Eli’s. I’m . . . not sure who it is. Can’t worry about it now. Focusing again on Eli, I take a step back as he advances slowly. His eyes are unchanged. He is focused solely on me.

“Eli,” I say out loud. If I had something to hit him with, I would. Right in the head. Maybe that would knock him out of his bloodsucking trance.

Then Eli stops. He’s still staring directly at me, but in silence. I can’t tell what he’s doing. I focus on him once more, hard. Trying to worm into his thoughts. There’s something there—I can’t see. Can’t get through.

It’s no use, Riley. He’s no longer the same as before. There is no conscious thought left in his memory. Not of you. Not of his family. Only bloodlust. You know this. Don’t you?

“Who the fuck are you?” I yell at the voice. My eyes, though, remain locked on Eli’s. I can sense a buildup of power, of strength. Like a lion stalking its prey, like a cat in the yard with its ass in the air, stalking a butterfly. The buildup is so intense it sends waves of electricity toward me. Eli’s eyes fade, then turn red. Any second. He’s going to lunge, rip my throat out . . .

My hand slides to the back of my waistband, grips the silver blade there, lowers. My fingers tighten around it. I’m ready. I don’t want to be, but I am.

Kansas is still playing over the intercom. “Carry On Wayward Son.”

How freaking ironic.

Do it. Go on.

I hear it before I see it. I react.

And it all happens at once.

Behind me, a whirring noise. I know it’s a blade. I leap. Grasp it. Catch it by the blade. It tears through my skin, and it’s sharp as hell. Warm blood trickles down my outreached hand, down my arm, beneath my leather jacket.

Eli leaps toward me.

We clash in midair.

The weight of his body takes us both down to the tiled floor, and he lands on me. With one powerful swipe, he’s knocked the blade from my hand. His gaze slides over to the blood oozing from my palm. His head shakes, so fast it blurs, and jerks to a sudden stop. No longer Eli now. Our eyes meet, just for a split second.

“Eli, please,” I whisper. “It’s me.”

Before I can gauge his reaction, a body flies out of nowhere and slams into Eli. He’s knocked to the floor.

Noah.

And he’s fully morphed, too.

“Noah, don’t!” I yell.

Then everyone freezes. No one moves. No one even slides a glance. But I can see her. Hear her.

Carrine moves from the shadows of a storefront, and into my view. She’s wearing tight leather pants, black heeled boots, and a black leather vest over a billowy white shirt. Her hair hangs long. Her face, flawless, white as snow. Lips red. Beautiful.

“You’re not as powerful as you think, Ms. Poe,” she says. She steps over Eli and Noah, frozen in a locked position on the floor. I can do nothing more than stare at her. A lazy smile stretches plump red lips over her teeth. She walks toward me and stops a foot away. Her eyes travel over me, down to my boots, then back up. “Do you know what I was before all this? Before sucking the blood from human vessels became my only means of survival? No? Well,” she says, moving in a circle around me. “I was a master of the dark arts, from a long family of proud Highland witches. You see, I have Pict blood running through me, Ms. Poe.” She laughs. “Well, I used to. And ’twas verra old blood. Filled with magic and spells and potion recipes that I’d honed over the years.” She stops again and faces me. With a long, elegant finger, she pushes a hank of my hair from my eyes. “Then I was changed. My life, stolen. But,” she says, moving again. “I . . . adapted. Yes, that’s the perfect word for it. Adapted.”

I’m frozen to the floor. My joints and limbs paralyzed. What the hell! I stare into her insane blue depths. She is not going to kill me. I’m not going to die. Not like this.

Leaning forward, she presses her lips to mine, lingers, and pulls back. “You will,” she says.

In that brief moment, I think she’s right.

Then she grins. “But not now. Unfortunately, it’s not time. You see, I am under intense orders myself. My savior freed me from my prison. ’Tis the verra reason I’m even walking the Earth again. I have no choice but to wait.” She smiles at me. “But when it’s time, you’ll know it.” She turns, walks back toward Eli and Noah, clutched in a frozen frantic fighting stance on the floor. Carrine stares down at them. “Och, damn,” she breathes. “He’s a fine one, too.” She shakes her head. “I can smell his erotica.” She looks at me. “However do you stand it? I want to fuck him right now, just standing here.”

I can do nothing more than stare hatred at her.

She sighs. “Such a pity.”

Fear, fury, and the need to make sure nothing else happens to someone I love gathers in one place, deep inside me. Everything else around me blurs but Carrine. She is up and at the forefront. Although slowly at first, I draw in a long, deep breath.

When I exhale, it’s a maelstrom of fury.

The sonic boom that comes forth from me isn’t as colossal as the one Carrine had delivered back at Hush 51. But it’s big enough. Forceful enough.

It blows Carrine off her heeled and booted feet.

Then my joints release; I can move. It hurts at first, but I break free.

At the same time, Carrine, who’s landed several feet away, leaps to her feet. She yells in an unfamiliar language to Eli. Beckons him. He shakes free of Noah and, without sparing me a glance, runs to her. They disappear into the shadowed recesses of the storefronts. Just as I leap to take off after them, my ankle is grabbed and I hit the floor.

Noah has a grip and he isn’t letting go.

On my stomach, I turn and look at Noah Miles. He’s on his stomach, his arm outstretched, his strong fingers gripping my ankle. We stare like that for a moment. I know now I can’t go after Eli and Carrine. Another time, maybe. Not now.

Only when I notice Rhine moving toward us do I try again to get up. This time, Noah lets me go. We both stand, and in seconds we’re surrounded by Rhine and no fewer than fifteen Ness boys.

“Well, then,” Rhine says, and he yanks off his skully and rubs his hand over his short-clipped hair. “That was . . . interesting.”

The low drone of the others talking in hushed voices buzzes in my ear. I look at him. “That’s putting it mildly. She could have walked up and killed every single one of you.”

“Witchpire,” Rhine says. “Looks like I may have underestimated her a wee bit.”

I stare. “A wee? That’s more than a fucking wee, Rhine.”

Several of the others chuckle.

“Oy, lass,” he says, and chucks me under the chin. “No need tae worry about us Ness boys.” He glances out across his brethren. “We just have a bit more studyin’ tae do. That bloodsuckin’ bitch willna get the better o’ us again.”

Several ayes from the Ness boys affirm his words.

“It coulda been the end o’ you, fool,” I return in my best Scottish accent.

That brings out a deep laugh from Rhine.

Even Noah chuckles.

“Right, then,” Pete says from the crowd. “At least we killed us quite a lot o’ bloodsuckers this night.”

“Aye, and saved that wee girl, too,” another said. “That’s, eh . . .” He starts counting on his fingers. “Eight bloodsuckers down, one fine lassie saved.”

“We’re fookin’ heroes!”

I glance at the watch on Rhine’s wrist, and I pull it closer. It’s almost five in the morning.

Where did all the time go?

Everythong’s looking hazy. Did I just say everythong? I mean everything.

I’m staring at Rhine, and his face is blurring, too. I squint, stare harder, trying to focus.