Darklove Read Free Page B

vampire, was killed, too, by a Black Fallen. The Fallen were taking over Edinburgh, seeking complete mortal power, and killing a lot of innocents to do it. They sought an ancient book of dark magic, and then, well, WUP got in their way. Eli and Vic especially. God, I’ve never felt so out of control in my life as when those fuckers took Eli and Vic away from me.
    Yet Gawan Conwyk, a thousand-year-old Pictish warrior and swordsman, has given me a shred of hope that maybe, just maybe, they’re not so dead after all. Once an Earthbound angel, Gawan earned his mortality by offering himself as a sacrifice to save a mortal’s life. Not only is he wicked fast and lethal with the blade, but he knows things the rest of us don’t. He knows about Heaven, Hell, and in between. According to his theory, Eli and Victorian might just be suffering in an alternative plane akin to Hell itself. Or purgatory. I’m not sure I believe it just yet. In my heart, I feel emptiness. I don’t feel Eli there anymore. I think I’d feel him inside me, were he still alive. Gawan, though, knows it’s possible. That the Fallen would have thought it more torturous to send them there, to a realm where they have no control, vs. simply killing them. Yet I can’t ignore the emptiness I feel, too.
    I feel . . . nothing. Two hours ago, leaving Edinburgh, I had hope. Where did it go? Even Athios, the wrongly accused Black Fallen who saved me and turned out to be not such a bad guy after all, encouraged me. But I feel a hole inside me. A gaping, lifeless, aching hole. Now that I’ve lost Eli, I only have Seth, my surrogate Gullah grandparents who raised me, Nyx, my friend and coowner of my ink shop, Inksomnia, and, well, Eli’s family. And Noah.
    With so many to love, why do I feel so cold and empty?
    I pick up the scatha. It’s an ancient Pict weapon, fashioned sort of like a combination handgun/crossbow. It has cartridges the size of a ChapStick container filled with mystical holy water from St. Bueno’s Well. Once I’m in that weird, hellish alternative plane of a world, I can obliterate anything that comes near me with it.
    And I have to do it alone.
    I tuck the scatha into the holster, shrug my leather jacket back on, and zip it up to my neck. Just as I turn to head out, I pull up short. Noah’s standing there. Staring.
    â€œWhere do you think you’re going?” he asks.
    I meet his silvery gaze. “Out.”
    Noah’s face hardens. “Ri, it’s only me and you here. Not the whole team, just us. We have some rogue vampires to take care of, remember?”
    â€œI already took care of one by myself.” I go to move past him. “Your turn.”
    His muscular arm juts out and braces against the doorjamb, catching me right at the throat. I pull up short, and our faces are inches apart, and I stare into his eyes. Before Noah was a vampire, he was a cunning soldier in the Revolutionary War. He may have the most beautifully carved-from-stone face, mesmerizing mercury eyes, and sun-bleached dreadlocks, but Noah is clever as hell. He misses nothing. And when he’s got your back, he’s got it.
    Even when you don’t want him to.
    Which means I gotta do what I gotta do, too.
    Noah’s pupils dilate just before my thoughts reach his.
    I give a dismal grin.
Too late, my friend. Paralysis.
I give this command to Noah in my mind. He goes absolutely, rigidly still. Rigor mortis still. His facial muscles freeze. His arm is still braced against the doorjamb. But I know he hears me.
    â€œI have to try this,” I tell him. His eyes are focused on me, and he might even see me. But he can’t move. Not a solid inch. That’s one tendency I’ve mastered over almost all vampires I come in contact with. Mind control.
    Pisses them all off.
    â€œI’m taking the scatha and going to St. Bueno’s Well,” I tell him. “Gawan said the ground’s