Black Fallen (10 page)

“Even that wouldn’t be long enough for me,” Gawan whispered in her ear.

“Stay out of my head, Conwyk,” she said, and he chuckled.

And she cried.

When I focus on Gawan of Conwyk’s eyes, they soften. And, he smiles. “Did you find
what you seek?” he asks softly.

I nod. “For now.” I do know there’s a helluva lot more to Gawan and Tristan than what
meets the curious eye.

It was a lot to think about. Angels. Earthbounds. Demons. Jodís. Fallen. Vampires.
Werewolves. Immortal druids.

And me. Whatever I am.

Weariness is starting to hit me. I’m one of the only souls in the room who require
sleep, except for the lupines. Not too sure about the druids. Even I require just
a small amount these days.

“Ri, you need to rest for a bit,” Eli says. He rubs my head, then explains. “One of
the several side effects of her mortal DNA mixing with that of four vampires. She
just falls out sometimes. Like a bad case of narcolepsy.”

“Go rest,” Jake says. “We’ll be here when you wake up. We’ve a lot to go over before
Tristan and Gawan leave.”

“Why are they leaving?” I ask. “Wouldn’t their skills with the sword be helpful?”

“That’s what I keep telling him,” Tristan says, grumbling.

“Whilst they are the verra best swordsman alive, in my opinion, they are mere mortals.
They can be killed. And we’re obviously dealing with a lot more than we at first assumed.
Not just simply lopping off the heads of a Fallen or a Jodís. I’ll not make their
families suffer. The both of them have done enough of that in their lifetimes,” Jake
says.

“Aye,” Gawan says. “Dreadmoor already has six children.”

“Soon to be seven,” Jake corrects. “And you’re one to talk, Conwyk. Your bride has
been pregnant more oft than not. Five babes now?”

“There is that,” Gawan replies, and he nods. “Aye, there is that, indeed.”

“I want them out of here before the Fallen rejuvenate. We’ve one more day left, at
best,” Jakes says, then inclines his head toward the desk. “Sydney is pouring through
the Celtae’s old tomes. Only she can read them. Clues are hidden amongst the pages
regarding the relics. Then we’ll be hitting the streets.”

I nod. “I’ll only rest for a bit.” I push off the floor, grab my empty container and
Coke bottle, and start toward the kitchen. Eli rises and follows me.

I catch the light switch with my elbow as I walk in, Eli behind me. The kitchen is
a decent size, with a long wooden block top in the center, a pair of deep white porcelain
sinks at the back, and a huge mahogany dining table. It looks old. Modern appliances
fill the spaces, a double-sized stainless-steel, side-by-side fridge with a freezer
drawer on the bottom, a dishwasher, and a stove. Above it, a mega microwave. In the
far corner, the “red” fridge for the vamps. Some smart-ass has placed a magnet of
a pair of long, white fangs on the front of the door. Funny.

“Immortals eat a lot,” Eli offers. He takes my trash, finds the receptacle, and dumps
it. “Almost as much as humans with tendencies.”

“Ha ha,” I remark, and slide my arms around his waist. His strong arms embrace me,
and I feel drowsy just resting against his chest.

“Go upstairs and get some sleep,” he says against my hair, then kisses my temple.
His lips move to my ear. “You’re gonna need it,
chère
.”

My heart leaps.

Eli laughs against my hair. “I heard that.”

Something hard presses against my abdomen. “I feel that.”

He laughs again. “Go,” he says, and turns me around and swats my ass. “Go get some
rest. You don’t want to pass out onto the floor like you did at my parent’s house.”

“Yeah, that I could’ve done without,” I answer. “Especially with your idiotic brothers
watching. Throwing things at me and laughing. So freaking juvenile.”

“Don’t forget my idiotic sister,” he adds. “She laughed just as hard.”

“Yeah and your mama scolded you all for it,” I remind him.

“Tough woman, Elise Dupré,” he says.

To that I fully agree. And I miss her.

I wave good night to the team as I pass back through the common room and head for
the stairs. In the foyer, it’s dark with only a single lamp burning on a tall, small
table. Shadows play on the wall as I go by, and I briefly wonder if it’s me causing
it or something else.

I climb to the second floor, and only when I hit the landing does a strange sensation
come over me. I glance around, but see nothing except dim lights and shadows. I continue
on. Stopping by the bathroom, I take care of girly business, wash up, and brush my
teeth. I pull my jet-black hair into a floppy bun at the top of my head, and head
out into the corridor. I take no more than a few steps before the sensation comes
back full force. A whisper brushes my neck, close to my ear, and I whip around. My
breath hitches.

At the end of the hall, back at the platform leading downstairs, is that creepy little
girl from before. I blink. She’s gone.

I half expect her to still be standing there, saying
Come play with me. Forever.

I stare at the empty space for several seconds. I guess if Tristan can be a ghost
for centuries, and I know that to be true, then the ghost of a little girl could be
lingering here. Not optimal, since I don’t have time for tricks and games and scares,
but what the Hell. I turn and head to my room. I pull up short.

She’s standing by my door.

I decide to play it cool.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

The little girl, with her severely pulled-back hair and white skin, simply stares.
She says nothing.

Awkward
.

With a sigh, I continue on. My narcolepsy is about to come on full strength. I need
to find my bed. Uninterrupted by ghosts.

I stop a few feet from her. “I’m Riley. If you ever decide to talk—”

Again, the little girl’s mouth drops down into a crooked, exaggerated
O,
her eyes black and fathomless. But this time the scream pierces straight through
my brain.

Then she lunges through me. My insides immediately feel icy.

I jerk around. She’s not behind me.

Gone. Unless she’s inside of me.

“Okay, well, if you change your mind, I’m not bad to talk to. For an adult. And, for
the record, you don’t scare me. I kill vampires for a living.”

I decide I’ll talk to Jake and Gabriel about her after I rest. Sydney and Gabriel
both have lived here for a while. Have they had encounters with the little girl before?
If not, why me? Why freaking me? I seem to be asking that a lot lately. Right now
I feel like I’m about to drop onto the floor. Seriously. I’ve battled newlings and
vamps. My poor neck has been latched on to by Julian Arcos, for Christ’s sake. I still
shudder at that memory. Saving my skin or not, he’s just flat-out creepy. He even
asked me to become his wife if things didn’t work out with Eli. Really?

Considering all that, I can handle the screaming ghost of a little girl. And, for
the record, I did look into her eyes. Nothing happened.

Inside my room, I bend down to kick off my boots.

Only then do I realize I’m too late.

In the next second, I tip over. My body is flush with the floor. My eyes close.

It’s as good a bed as any. . . .

I’m walking outside on the Mile, and I’m alone. Although I can’t say where I’m headed,
I know exactly where I’m going. It’s dark. It’s raining. And after I pass St. Giles’,
I turn down a narrow close. Suddenly I’m at a lone door. It’s slightly opened, and
I enter.

“I’m glad you’re here,” a voice says from inside. “Come. You’re just in time.”

“In time for what?” I ask. “Who are you?”

I see a figure ahead of me, crouching by a long, threadbare sofa of blue-and-black
plaid cloth. The figure keeps his back to me. He’s large. Wearing a dark cloak with
a hood.

“Turn around and face me,” I say, and he chuckles.

“I cannot. Not now. You won’t understand if I do.”

I move in closer and notice a middle-aged man asleep on the sofa. On the table beside
him, a half-finished pint of beer. The TV is silent, but the screen depicts a UK cop
show. I look at the figure. “What are you doing?”

“Watch.”

The figure waves his hand over the man’s sleeping body, then rises. Although he moves
toward me, he keeps his back to me. I slide my gaze back to the sleeping man, and
his middle begins to smoke. Smolder. He awakens and yells out and begins to beat his
stomach with his hands.

“Help me!” he screams. “Christ, help me!”

I lunge toward him, but the figure grabs me, holds me back.

“Nay, girl,” he says. “You cannot stop it.”

“The fuck I can’t!” I scream. I elbow him in the vicinity of his jaw. I make contact
with something. “Let me go!”

The figure laughs softly. “Your valor is impressive. But you cannot stop this.” He
turns and looks me in the eye, and I blink, staring. His face is . . . perfectly normal.
Handsome. Older. With fathomless blue eyes that sear straight through me. Reaching
with his cloaked arm, he sinks his fingers into the screaming man’s chest and removes
his heart. It’s still beating. The man’s screams intensify, then begin to die down.
The smell of acrid smoke and charred flesh fills my nostrils. “And you can’t stop
me.”

I stare into those eyes. “Watch me—”

Strong fingers wrap around my floppy-bun hairdo, and a firm hand grasps my shoulder
and shakes me. I jump, gasp, and sit straight up. I take a swing at the man, and he
ducks and barely misses my punch.

“Shh,
chère
,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I’m awake now. It’s Eli. I’ve had enough sleep. I don’t know how much time has passed,
but it’s more than enough. “You never have frightened me, Dupré,” I say. “But someone
is trying to.”

Eli frowns. “What do you mean?”

Rubbing my eyes with my knuckles, I pretend I don’t still smell the burning flesh
of a human. “I saw an innocent burn.”

Eli sighs and pulls me to him. “How? Who?”

I shake my head. “A middle-aged man. Just . . . asleep on his couch. The one there,
the one who lured me there . . .” I look at Eli. “I think he was one of the Fallen.
I saw him take the man’s heart.”

“Damn it, Ri,” he says, then looks at me. “So the Fallen really don’t mind getting
their hands dirty after all?”

I shake my head. “We have to stop these guys,” I say. “Fast. They have no conscience,
Eli. None.” I shake my head. “No telling how many more will die. And I think there’s
a lot more to the Fallen than even Jake and Gabriel, and Darius know.” I shake my
head. “They can do . . . anything.”

“We’ll get them, Riley,” Eli assures me. “I swear it.”

I nod. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Eli laughs softly and stands me up. “You missed, so no.” He wraps his arms around
me and lowers his head. “You didn’t even make it to the bed,
chère
. Just fell right onto the floor. And you’re still wearing all your clothes, including
your dirk.”

“Yeah,” I answer, burying my face in his neck. I wrap my arms around his waist. “Floor
worked just fine. Too tired to take everything off. Good thing I didn’t impale myself
with my blade on the way down.”

His deep chuckle rumbles against my ear. We stand there a second or two, or maybe
a minute. I suddenly can’t quite get close enough, even after shifting a time or two.
Maybe it’s the clothing that’s in the way?

“Maybe,” Eli says. He grabs my hair and pulls gently, forcing my head to tip back,
making me look up at him. He lowers his head, his mouth hovering over mine.

“Just being in the same room with you and not being able to have you for hours at
a time stirs a need within me so fierce, it literally hurts.” He dips lower, his lips
brushing mine. Erotic. Inside, I shiver. “Do you understand,
chère
?”

Oh yeah, I sure do.

With light pressure, Eli nudges my mouth open with his, and at the same time he drops
the hand holding my hair and grasps one of my hands. He lowers it, pulls it between
us, and presses it against the bulge straining against his pants.

I smile and stretch my fingers and palm him, and he groans into my mouth, the sound
desperate, hungry, determined.

A total turn-on.

Eli slides his tongue across my bottom lip and pulls it into his mouth, the pressure
of the suck light, constant, then a little harder, a bit faster. The erotic, slick
movement makes my pulse quicken, my breath catch. The cool metal buttons of his fly
come loose under my fingers one by one.

Eli moves his mouth to my ear, his warm breath making my skin break out into goose
bumps. He inhales. “You smell good,” he whispers. His accent is thicker. Sexy as hell.
Another big turn-on, and Eli knows it. I do as he asks. No problem. I mean, this vampire
is
mine
. All mine. Eli smiles against my mouth. Our teeth bump together. We laugh. Then Eli’s
hands slide to my jaw, one on either side. With nothing more than the moonlight slipping
in through the window, he locks a profound stare to mine. “I am so in love with you,
Riley Poe,” he says quietly. He slides his fingers over my left hand and grazes the
ring he gave me. “I still can’t believe you’re mine.”

Eli’s words wash over me. Funny thing is, I allow it. Revel in it.

And I can actually say it back now.

“I’m so in love with you, Eligius Dupré.” I kiss his nose. “It actually took a vampire
to claim my icy heart.”

“Your heart has never been icy,” he answers, and kisses me. He fingers the wings at
my cheek. “It was just waiting on me.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, Eli lifts and settles me on his hips. I wrap my
legs around his waist, and heat pools low, deep, and I press harder against him. He
kisses me and he kicks the door shut behind us.

We fall against the closed door, and my fingers fumble behind me to lock it. The iron
bolt digs into my spine, but I ignore it. I all but climb the length of him, digging
my heels into his back, pressing the heat growing between my legs against his hard
ridge. I thread my fingers through his hair and pull his head back to give me better
access to his mouth. I take full advantage of it. I taste his lips. Bite. Lick. Then
I kiss him deep, and my heart, surprisingly, beats a little faster. I feel restless
inside, and it’s growing more difficult to tolerate.