Black Fallen (16 page)

The one holding Ian turns his head in my direction. The flashes of light and shadow
are so rapid that I can’t get a good visual on his features, but it’s definitely the
same one from my dream. He’s as tall as Eli. Solid. Older.

I stare at him.
Pain, take over his body. Nerves, seize. Tendons, cinch up. Unmoving. Completely still.

A chilling smile stretches across his face, and he cracks his neck and looks me square
in the eye. My power of suggestion doesn’t work on Fallen. Jake was wrong after all.

A presence approaches. I whip around, my heart leaping from my chest, but relief drowns
me. Noah stands beside me in the shadows. His face is drawn tight; his mercury eyes,
illuminated by the flashing lights, are filled with fury. They lock on to the scene
before us. His hand reaches for mine, squeezes, and drops.

Then everything happens at once. So fast.

So fucking fast
.

A train approaches the tunnel, and it’s not slowing down. The screech of steel on
steel all but deafens me, but that train isn’t braking. It’s flying into the tunnel,
heading straight for PLATFORM
11.
Then, in the midst of that blinding flash of light and shadow, the one holding Ian
also grabs at Eli.

Just as the train approaches.

Just as the other two speak. One Fallen points at the tracks. Eli stands perfectly
still. Frozen in place.

I scream and lunge, and Noah grabs me. Pushes me behind him and lurches forward. I
grab him. Hold fast. He allows it.

The Fallen throws himself at Eli, and they both fly in front of the train.

The vociferous sound of the train squalling through the station drowns out my anguished
cry. All air leaves my body. I’m numb, in shock. Sick to my stomach. The wings are
still beating furiously overhead, but their sound no longer rises above the screeching
train. I try to move, try to speak, but nothing comes out of me. I barely feel Noah’s
arms around me, keeping me upright. My larynx is paralyzed. Breath sticks to the lining
of my lungs. I’m frozen in place against the wall in the shadows.

Eli! Eli, please! Answer me!

Then, all at once, the train passes through and the wings cease, as does the incessant
flashing light and shadow. Everything around me is a dull gray. The train disappears
into the darkness, and I free myself from the choking fear, push out of Noah’s arms,
and stumble to the platform’s edge.
Eligius! Please!

Nothing. I hear nothing. I see nothing. No remnants of their bodies, no . . . nothing.

Impossible.

My eyes scan the tracks. My mind screams for him.

Only silence. Only shadows.

Only Noah and I are left on the platform. The others have disappeared. Noah looks
at me, kisses my forehead, and takes off up the tracks. He’s moving so fast, I lose
sight of him in the next blink.

I leap down off Platform 11 and onto the tracks. I begin to run, forgetting momentarily
that behind me, on the platform, stands a . . . being. I don’t care.

I don’t fucking care.

As I run, I scream for Eli in my head. My feet move swiftly over the tracks, and once
outside the tunnel I follow them far, to Edinburgh’s city limit. I don’t know how
far I go or how long it takes me. Suddenly, though, I slow, then stop. I’m standing
on a lone track, and behind me, way behind me, is the tall clock tower of Waverly
Station.

I feel a chill inside of me, something too close, in my space, and I whip around.

The one who’d been holding Ian stands there. No more than two feet away.

He’s alone. A Fallen. Tall. Too shadowy to see features. Even two feet away, he crowds
me. Fear escapes me. Fury replaces it.

“Tell me where he is,” I demand. He knows I speak of Eli. No need to explain.

In the darkness, he cocks his head. Studies me. Remains silent.

I find it hard to turn away.

“Tell me!” I scream to the top of my lungs. That voice doesn’t even belong to me.
It belongs to someone who has lost her mind. Fury brews just below my skin’s surface.
I feel like I’m going to combust at any second.

Wordlessly, he extends an arm, fist closed, facing down.

Hesitantly, I hold out my hand.

When his fist opens, a medallion falls into my palm.

Eli’s medallion. His family crest. I know it before I even look at it. I can feel
the particular ridges in the pattern. My heart sinks to the bottom of my soles. I
know what it means. I know what it’s supposed to mean. I can feel it.

But I refuse to acknowledge it. I fucking refuse.

I lift my gaze to stare at this demented asshole angel . . . whatever and whoever
he is. After a moment more, he turns and walks away.

I blink. He’s gone.

I mean, goddamn
gone
.

Jogging up the track a bit, I search the area. A mist rolls in from the Firth of Forth
and creeps across the tracks. The air is boggy with the scent of sea life, so thick
it’s like soup. Gulls scream overhead. At least I think they’re gulls.

There isn’t the first sign of that guy. Of Eli. Or of the other two.

Did Eli just . . . I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, feel the strength go out of my
legs. “No,” I say, slipping to the ground. Rough gravel and stone bite through my
Lycra and dig into my knees. “No . . .” I can barely even say the word. It’s like
there’s something stuck in my throat and I’m unable to breathe. Unable to speak. Someone
has their hands around my throat, choking me.

Noah is beside me now, crouching down, his eyes locked onto mine. Never have I seen
his face so stern. “Ri,” he says calmly. “We have to get out of here.” With his hand
he pushes my loose hair back, off my face and out of my eyes. “Now, darlin’.”

I stand, looking around. I scan the tracks. No way what just happened, happened.

No way. It just didn’t.

Noah’s hand grips my shoulder. “Now, Riley—”

“Let me go, Noah!” I say angrily, and take a few steps up the tracks. I see nothing
but grayness and mist. In the distance, a train rumbles. Steel against steel. A sound
that now jabs my heart.

“You don’t know what we’re up against,” Noah says behind. “We can’t do this alone.
Not just the two of us. Maybe not all of us.”

I turn and stare at him. Pissed. “The hell I don’t, Noah.” I glance in the direction
of the train. “It’s not real. It didn’t happen.” Again, air sticks in my lungs. “Those
kids.” I turn and look at him. “Eli, Noah.” I shake my head, dig my knuckles into
my eye sockets. “It didn’t fucking happen!” As I’m standing here, arguing with Noah,
I feel my legs turning rubbery again. Swear to God, I don’t think I can walk.

“I’ll carry you outta here if I have to,” Noah says. “But you’re the strongest soul
I know, Riley Poe.” He tilts my head, knuckle to chin. Eyes filled with a mix of rage
and pity stare at me, pleading. “And we gotta get the hell outta here. Now.”

I stare across the tracks at the tall gray buildings. The mist is even thicker now
than before. The heavy scent of brine fills the air. If there’s a horizon, I can’t
see it.

I’m completely numb inside. I don’t even know what to do. I just want to sink to the
ground.

“I’ll help you,” Noah says, both hands on my shoulders. He squeezes. “But we have
to get back to the Crescent.”

Eli’s medallion weighs heavy in my hand and I glance down at it. I’d been gripping
it so hard, its imprint rests in my palm. With a deep breath I nod and slip the medallion
over my neck. I glance at Noah, nod again, and begin to run. It’s still dark out,
but the mist rolling in makes even the shadows hazy. It feels like a spray of fine
water against my skin, and I inhale it into my lungs. The air is chilled, salty, and
for a second it reminds me of Savannah. Of the salt marshes. Of home.

Only this place isn’t home. Home is where Eli was, safe. Fearless. Top of the food
chain. No predator could confront and win against a vampire. Impossible.

Yet I can’t even say the words I know in my heart are true. I’d watched it. Witnessed
every move. I saw it happen. I know it happened.

Edinburgh houses a brand of evil I can’t seem to grasp.

I just encountered it. I know it with all of my heart.

At Old Tolbooth Wynd, I swing through the arches, run up the narrow path, and leap
over the Crescent’s iron gates. Noah is right behind me.

Jake has to know something. Darius. Gabriel. One of them has to know what to do.

As I hurry up the steps, the weight of Eli’s medallion burns into the skin of my chest.

The Black Fallen just fucked up.

I’m going to make them wish they’d never fallen from grace.

Or I’ll die trying.

Part Seven

UNINV
ITED

Evil is like water, it abounds, is cheap, soon fouls, but runs itself clear of taint.

—Samuel Butler, 1835–1902

The change in Ril
ey now is like mist to black vapor. It is as obvious as a knife plunged into the heart.
She won’t accept her mate’s fate. Will not. I can see it in her eyes. There’s a fury
there that is chilling. For the first time since arriving in Edinburgh, I feel like
the Fallen have no chance in Hell of surviving. Not Riley Poe anyway.

—Lucian MacLeod

“R
iley.”

The moment I walk through the door, Victorian is there. Noah immediately steps in
front of me, blocking the Romanian vampire from me. Noah says nothing. He simply stares
at Vic, who only returns his hot glare for a second before turning his brown gaze
to mine.
What is it? Talk to me.

Noah’s hand grips mine and leads me through the foyer to the library. Everyone is
pretty much where we left them.

Where Eli and I left them.

I feel my knees go numb, my body begin to crumple.

Noah grabs me, holds me up. Victorian, despite the glares and threats from Noah, is
at my other side.

“What is it?” Jake says, striding toward us.

“The Fallen. They got Eli,” Noah says. His voice is laced with fury. Eerily calm,
barely contained fury.

“What do you mean, ‘got him’?” Jake asks.

I look up and meet Jake’s green gaze. The memory of what I saw rushes back, hits my
gut like a brick. “I’m gonna be sick,” I say, and pull from Noah’s grasp. I bolt for . . .
anywhere, stumbling, my hand over my mouth. I’m lost, trying to find a bathroom, a
trash can. Plant. Door. Anything.

In my next breath I’m swept up and Jake is running through the Crescent. I close my
eyes because my head is now spinning. He eases me to the floor, kicks the toilet lid
up with his foot, and holds my hair back. I wretch and wretch until I cough.

Coughing turns into sobbing. I break. I can’t help it. I try not to but . . . it happens.

I totally break down. Even while it’s happening, I know I’m allowing myself this one
weakness. This one snap. I’ll let it all out, then be done. None of it will help bring
Eli back.

At the sink, with Jake still holding my hair back, I throw water on my face and rinse
out my mouth. He hands me a hand towel and I dry off, then our eyes lock in the mirror.
Even Jake’s face seems ashen.

“It canna be,” he says, his unusual accent washing over me. Comforting me somewhat.
“Tell me.”

With my hands propped against the sink, my head drops forward and the tears fall.
Pain surges up from my insides, seizes my gut, my throat, and escapes on a noise even
I can’t define. Wailing cat. Singing whale.

Mourning human with tendencies.

Uncontrolled sobs rack my body, my shoulders shake, and I feel myself sliding downward
again. And once more Jake scoops me up and I allow it, just this once. Wrapping my
arms around his neck, I bury my face into his chest and he rushes . . . somewhere.
I don’t know. Don’t care. He’s using more strength than he probably realizes to hold
me close, because I’m barely able to breathe. Again, don’t care.

Jake lowers me onto a bed. As he sits beside me, his weight presses the mattress down
and he pushes my hair from my face. I look up at him through hazy, teary eyes.

“Rest,” Jake says. “We can talk later.”

Inside, I’m shaking. “No,” I say, my voice quivering. “Now.”

Jake studies me thoroughly, then nods. “I already know what happened,” he says gently.
“After Miles arrived. But I need to know what happened before that.”

Need
, he says. Not
want
, but
need
.

I draw a deep breath. “We were free running, racing to the monument. I got ahead of
him,” I say, and Eli’s image flashes before my eyes. “And just kept running. I was
to the top of the monument before I even noticed Eli”—saying his name out loud physically
hurts me—“wasn’t with me.” I stare at Jake. “I called to him in my head, but he wouldn’t
answer.” I close my eyes. “He never would
not
answer me, Jake.”

Jake is silent, his gaze remaining on mine, patiently waiting for me to continue.

“He always answers me, no matter what. I felt inside that something was wrong. Then
I smelled it,” I continue.

“Smelled what?” Jake asks.

I shake my head. “That awful stench. It’s hideous. It smelled like a Jodís.” I look
at him. “I followed the smell to Waverly Station. When I got there, the station was
closed up, but I could hear voices inside,” I say. “But the language.” I shake my
head again and look at him. “I can’t even explain it, Jake. Nothing I’ve ever heard
before. It almost . . . hurt to hear it.”

Jake’s angry gaze locks with mine. “That’s the language of an angel. No one can understand
it or mimic it.”

“When I found them, I saw Eli just standing there,” I continue. Tears spill over my
lids, and Jake wipes them with a fingertip. “He was surrounded by several punk kids,
and one was lying on the ground.” I look up. “It was that kid I followed into St.
Giles’.”

Something flickers in Jake’s eyes. Recognition?

“I used my suggestion to make them back off of Eli, and they did. But then the three
showed up.” I look at Jake. “The Fallen. I knew right away it was them. I try first
to make Eli run. It doesn’t work. And neither does it work on the three. The one . . .
he just smiled at me.”

“Continue,” Jake encourages. He pushes my hair off my face.

“I yell and yell to Eli in my mind, but he ignores me. Then beating wings, and flashing
light and shadow,” I say, “and in a blink, Eli changed—complete vampiric change—and
just . . . stood there. Two of them,” I recall, “literally tossed the punk kids across
the tunnel, and their heads smashed against the concrete wall.” The vision makes me
squeeze my eyes shut. “Dead. They were all dead.” I open my eyes and look at Jake.
“Except for Ian, on the ground. The third Fallen picks him up and holds him, suspended
in the air. Then another Fallen grabs Eli and they both fall in front of—”

Jake presses his fingers gently against my lips, shushing me. “I know,” he says, and
scrapes my tears. “I know that part, Riley.”

“It happened so fast,” I continue, my voice cracking. “I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak
out loud—nothing. Powerless. Just like Eli.” I close my eyes and rub. Hard. “It’s
like . . . all these damn tendencies I have? Worthless, Jake.” I shake my head. “Nothing
I have is worth shit now. Don’t you get it?”

“One Fallen is bad enough,” he says. “But to stand alone against three? Impossible
even for one of us,” he says. “It’s why the whole team is here.”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand. They were supposed to still be regenerating.
They came out of nowhere.” I reached into my shirt and grabbed Eli’s medallion. I
hold it up to Jake. “The one Fallen, who held the kid up? He gave me this after. It’s
Eli’s.”

Jake stares at it. “You saw no trace of neither Eli nor the Fallen who took him?”

I look at him. “Took him? He threw him in front of a train, Jake.”

Jake nods. “Aye. So it seems.” He squeezes my hands in his. “We’ll figure this out,
Riley. I vow it.”

Tears scorch my eyes. “I can’t,” I shake my head. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“We’ll wait to inform his family. This has to be settled first,” Jake offers.

A surge of pain beats inside of me at his words, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “I hate
this, Jake. This isn’t me. This isn’t
right
.” I feel Eli’s medallion against my chest. The ring he gave me on my finger. “It’s
not. I still feel him here,” I slap my chest, above my heart. “He isn’t gone. I just
know it.”

The weight of Jake’s hand on my cheek makes me open my eyes. He’s studying me, his
stare just as profound as Eli’s. “Do you want to go back home?”

Part of me does. Part of me wants to curl up into a fetal ball and die, go back to
Eli’s family, my brother, Nyx, Preacher, and Estelle, and mourn. Confusion webs through
my brain.

“Let me think on it,” I say, turning onto my side. I close my eyes. The tears start
again.

Jake silently rises and leaves the room. The door clicks behind him. I’m alone.

Alone. Without Eli.

Pulling my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around them, clutch them tightly, and
silently sob myself to sleep.

Something I should’ve never done.

I can’t determine the exact moment my body gave way to narcoleptic sleep, but I last
recall Eli’s image.

He’s close to me, staring down with those intense cerulean eyes that are the Dupré
trademark, and it’s kind of weird to be able to see so much love in those eyes, but
I do. I can vaguely even remember sometimes that he is . . . what he is. But then
he smiles, moves toward me, as if for a kiss or an embrace, and suddenly shadows swallow
his features and I can’t see him anymore. He pauses, cocks his head to the side as
if studying me, and continues to move toward me.

Only then do I realize it’s no longer Eli. He is male, though. This I know from the
shift in his posture, the change in his movement, and the aura between us. There’s
a surge of power emanating from this new being, and it’s . . . overwhelming. It’s
almost inexplicable . . . it’s everywhere, in the air, and I breathe it in as if an
inescapable vapor. Yet not a vapor. Not a mist and not just air. It’s him. Almost
suffocating.

And highly intoxicating.

Then he moves again, the shadows recede, and his features are illuminated by candlelight.
I vaguely notice my surroundings: stone walls, not all intact, dark, damp, cold, and
ancient. All I can do is focus on him. I’m entranced, unwillingly so. Swear to God,
I can’t help myself. It’s like I’m being forced, but . . . not. Curiously, I study
him.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Hair is light, long, and wavy, and some of it hangs loose about
his face, brushes his jaw, catches on his full bottom lip. His nose is straight, jaw
strong, throat masculine with pronounced columns and Adam’s apple. Perfect brows arch
over exotic eyes, wide yet almond shaped at corners that slightly tip upward. They
study me with such intensity, I want to look away. But I can’t. They’re light in color.
I can’t tell what color, though. Too dark in this place. Hazel or green, if I had
to guess. Mesmerizing, without a doubt.

Then he smiles. It’s a sensual, wide, almost shy smile, and it hits me square in the
chest. Straight, even white teeth, his incisors just a slight bit pointed, but not
vampire pointed. His gaze holds mine.

“You are even more beautiful up close,” he says, and his voice is not too deep, not
high at all, and a little raspy. His brogue is heavy, ancient, the word
close
sounding more like
cloose
. Slowly, his hand lifts to my cheek. “Be strong,” he says, and his eyes follow his
knuckle, then return to me. “I will watch over you. I’ve been assigned to do so and
I will until my dying breath. And in the end, when all is over, you’ll know. And you’ll
choose. And you will be content. I vow it.”

“Who are you? I’ll choose what? And where are we?” I finally ask, finding my voice
but startled to hear that it’s soft, unsure, and hesitant. When did I become such
a wimp? What I should do is kick the guy in the balls, grab him by the throat, and
sling him against the stone wall. Maybe even give him a little door prize for our
meeting, like a nick on the cheek with one of my blades.

That doesn’t happen. None of it does.

He smiles again and moves a step closer to me. The candlelight flickers at his movement,
causing shadows to shimmy across his face. With a crooked finger he lifts my chin,
and I wait as his head bows closer to mine. Electricity soars through my veins, unwanted,
uninvited, but there all the same, and his lips pass by mine so closely, they nearly
touch. Instead, though, his mouth moves to my ear.

“Soon,” he answers, hovering close to me for several seconds while I stand there shivering.
“Verra soon.”

When he pulls away, his face, his body, is encased in shadow once more.

“Wait,” I say, waiting for him to step back into the light.

He doesn’t. A soft, deep chuckle emerges from his outline just before the slow, strong
beating of a single pair of wings meets my ears.

“Please, love, wake up.”

“Eli!” I gasp, and bolt up in the bed. It’s dark, and although my eyes scan the room,
I’m dazed, it’s hazy, and I’m confused as Hell. Long shadows stretch across the floor
and walls. I have no idea how long I’ve been out, but it seems like forever.

“All day you’ve been fast asleep.”

My heart is beating hard. Freaking hard. Not faster, as it doesn’t do that anymore,
but
hard
. So hard I can feel it through my shirt. It feels as though someone is pumping a
syringe of adrenaline straight into my artery with each heavy thump.
Who the hell was that?

A hand finds mine and cool fingers link through my warm ones and grasp gently. “Shh.
Calm down, Riley. It’s me. Victorian.” A lamp at the bedside turns on.

“Vic,” I say. I’ll worry about the dream later. Just a dream. Not real. And it wasn’t
Victorian. No one I know.

Then it all rushes back. “Oh, God,” I mutter. It really happened. It’s real.

Pain crushes my chest and doubles me over, and I draw up my knees, press my forehead
to them, and try to breathe. I don’t cry, though. I think my tears have dried up.
I just . . . grunt. Groan against the pain. It almost sounds ridiculous, and I can’t
even help it.

Victorian’s hand moves over my back, then to my neck. “Riley, don’t,” he says quietly.
“I may not have had any love for your man, but I did respect him. I respected how
he cared for you inevitably. And I know Dupré would insist on your strength in overcoming
this. It will get better,” he says in a soothing tone. “All things eventually do.”
He pushes my hair aside, strokes it. “You were talking in your sleep, love. To whom?”

It comes back to me. That . . . person. Man. In the dream. I know I’ve never seen
him before. I would’ve remembered. Yet there was something familiar about him at the
same time. It doesn’t make sense, and I shake my head. “I have no idea,” I answer,
and I cross my legs. I look at Victorian, who sits close to me on the bed. His beautiful
face is illuminated by the glow of the lamp. Only now do I realize I’m not even in
my room. Victorian’s dark brown eyes catch the light and shine as he studies me in
silence.