Darklove (Dark Ink Chronicles #5)

Darklove (Dark Ink Chronicles #5) Page 34

They’re not moving toward me, not rushing me. Not attacking me. So I continue on my way to the large iron cemetery arch at the end of the street.

Then one solitary cat yawns, and its mouth widens to a disproportionate size: a big black jagged, gaping hole that takes up most of its head.

And it screams.

At once, they all stand on their hind legs, straight up, and join in the screaming. They look like some discombobulated Meerkat Manor of the alternative world, and the minute they launch at me, I take off. I run, hesitating to use my cartridges on a bunch of fucking big-mouthed cats.

The first one latches on to my hip, and those human teeth drop long and sharp and sink into my flesh. With my free hand I grab it by the scruff and fling it off, but it’s soon replaced by another, and another, and now they’re all lunging at me from their curbside perches. It’s the first time Billy Idol has ever, ever annoyed me.

I now have hundreds of vampire cats flying through the air and attacking me.

I focus, zero in on them, envision in my head a room filled with cats, and I release my energy. The shock wave rocks them all back, sends them flying against the buildings. I run top speed to the iron gates in front of me. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the cats are dazed, but shaking their heads and watching me. Then they run after me. I hurry.

The moment my feet cross the cemetery’s threshold, the cats disappear. I breathe a quick sigh of relief that A: I didn’t have to blow a cat away. And B: I still have all of my cartridges.

As I glance around, the cemetery shifts, and tall Celtic crosses bend unnaturally to the side and back, and the marble statues, blackened with age, begin to move, walk, drag themselves toward me like stone zombies. Cemetery. Bad choice, Poe.

Only choice. Consecrated ground. Sanctuary. Better than out in the open, with rabid vamp cats throwing themselves at my throat. I hurry.

Just as I think, Where the hell is Carrine? she appears. Slipping from behind a leaning crypt, she emerges. She’s wearing clothes similar—no, almost identical—to mine. Tall black boots, leather low-riders, leather halter. Her hair is down, and her eyes are bloodred. Behind her, Eli stands still, watching me. Silent. Silent, but seething in bloodlust. Bloodlust and . . . confusion. He’s fighting her. I can tell it, sense it, feel it. I can feel it where I stand. But will he be able to withstand the brunt of her power if she enforces it? Jesus, I don’t want to kill my beloved.

“Are you wondering if we just followed you here for the hell of it?” Carrine says to me. She smiles and lifts her hand, pulls Eli’s mouth to hers, and traces his lips with her tongue. She looks at me, slightly shaking her head. “Hardly.”

I don’t speak. I just watch. I know now that Eli is heavily under her spell. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. And that eases the pain somewhat. My forefinger flips the lever on the scatha, and my palm tightens the grip. I wait. I can’t hit Eli with my aim.

Carrine laughs. “You’ll hit nothing with that toy, silly girl.” With a swipe of her hand, she sends my scatha flying. The force of her power knocks me back several feet, and I slide against the gravel and rock, slamming into a gravestone. I shake my head, dazed, but I stand. Carrine slowly walks toward me, taking long, exaggerated runway model steps.

I jump up, face her. She looks at me, first at the ink at my cheek, then at my dragon tails down my arm. Her gaze lifts to mine. “Pity to waste such a . . . unique shell,” she says. “But your blood is much more important. It’s something I must have, you see. To add to mine.” The smile that stretches over her face chills me. “You canna conceive the power your blood and mine combined will produce. It’s almost . . . erotic, the thought of it—”

I swing with my fist and catch her jaw. Her head rocks to the side, and she snaps her gaze back to mine. She smiles, but her face is contorted with hate.

In the next breath, she morphs, and she’s ugly as holy fucking hell. Her face shakes and blurs, then elongates; jaws unhinge, and her teeth drop from her bleeding gums in long jagged shanks. Her mouth resembles the cats’: disproportionate and taking up a lot of her face space.

With as much energy as I can focus, I turn and roundhouse kick her in the mouth. Carrine spins, and when she is righted, her foot is airborne and catches me in the shoulder. I stumble, and she’s lunging toward me, teeth snapping together, coming an inch from my throat. I fall against a crypt and slam her body against it, once, twice. She lets go, and I turn and dive for my scatha. My fingers touch it, but Carrine grabs my ankles and she flings me away from it. I roll, and she hits the ground I just vacated. Leaping up, she faces me. We’re both crouched, eyes trained on each other. Slowly, we circle.

“You won’t survive me, Riley Poe. I thought I’d never escape that hell Valerian entombed me in.” She laughs, but her gaze is locked solid on to mine. “Much to my surprise, he set me free. Thought his power over me was enough to make me obey his commands.” She laughs again. “What a foolish, selfish little prick he is.”

“What do you know? We finally agree on something,” I say.

I stare at Carrine, her lips pulled back into some weird catlike gaping-hole-of-a-mouth specter as an unfamiliar language pours from her lips. A curse? Black magic? I don’t know, and I honestly don’t give a damn. Forcing all of my energy to the center of my body, I draw a deep breath, pulling the energy from my core to my fingertips. I . . . throw it at her.

And her arms rise, too, and her energy is thrown right the hell back at me.

Together we stand, our energy forces colliding in an electric punch, and I can feel her severe witchpireness. It’s strong. Tough as shit.

But she doesn’t have a fiancé. A life. A family.

Somewhere deep inside me, it all collides together, and like a tornado it rips from my body. Carrine is flung back, far, and her body crashes against a contorted Celtic cross.

I dive toward the scathe, palm it, and roll to my back. Carrine is in the air, almost upon me.

I fire. Direct hit, right in the heart.

Carrine’s scream pierces the air as her body bursts into shards, and by the time the pieces hit the cemetery ground, they’ve turned to dust. It’s like a volcanic ash fallout.

My body is thrown to the ground, and my head hits hard. Stunned and shaken, I take a second or two to realize Eli has moved. He stares down at me now, has me trapped.

For some reason, I’m only worried about Carrine. Not once does it occur to me that Eli would be a danger, regardless of whether he knows what he’s doing.

I know it now.

I’ve misjudged him.

Eligius Dupré, my love, my fiancé, may not be under Carrine’s control any longer, but he’s in full-blown bloodlust, and he hovers over me now, fully morphed, his face contorted and disjointed. His red gaze focuses on the pulse at my throat. I dive left, and his hand encircles my ankle and yanks me down, my head slamming into the ground. I feel his hand go around my throat, squeezing, lifting me off the ground. For a split second, I’m eye level with him. His bloodlust ones stare hard into my human ones. He doesn’t see me, Riley Poe. He sees what he craves, what surges within my still-human veins, and his body is propelled by the desire to have it. My blood. Yet he cocks his head to the side, studying me. Again, hesitating.

Dread fills my insides, even as I slide my hand to the back of my pants and grip the hilt of a silver blade. I ease it out. Without changing expression, Eli’s fingers tighten around my throat, and my eyes bulge from the pressure. His other hand covers mine holding the blade, and he squeezes until the pain is too much and I drop it.

He’s going to lunge. Sink his teeth into me. Drain me of blood until I’m an empty shell, then throw me aside. I can’t move. I’m paralyzed. With fear, dread, and an overwhelming broken heart. My brother’s face flashes before me, Preacher’s and Estelle’s, Nyx’s, even my dog Chaz’s. I’ll never see my loved ones again. . . .

My eyes close. I’m powerless to move him.

I’m going to die by Eli’s hands. . . .

Then, unbelievably, he loosens his grip, and I’m free. . . .

My eyes snap open, just in time to see Eli smash into a tree.

Standing before me, Valerian Arcos stares down at me. His face is unmorphed, aristocratic, and beautiful. Perfect. He smiles at me, reaches a hand toward me. “Come to me, my love. At last.”

My feet begin to move. Toward him. His full lips pull over perfect white teeth in a victorious smile. “That’s right,” he croons. “Come here, Riley.”

I focus. Concentrate. Imagine my core a fireball of energy.

Valerian merely smiles at me wider. “Stop that, Riley. ’Tis a waste of time. You should know me well enough by now. When I desire something, I get it. Just like I desired Carrine’s power to coerce you into killing Dupré,” he sighs. “Although I didn’t count on him fighting her control so much. Nor her being so rebellious.”

I glance at Eli, who is standing now. Shaking off his injury.

“Oh, wait,” Valerian says. “You took care of her rather well, my darling. You have quite the power within in. But trust me. I have full Strigoi in my veins. You’ve got . . . simply a dusting of it. And by the way, your little message to my idiot brother? He always was a weak one. He didn’t have the balls to tell my father.” He shrugs. “Just so you know.”

I stare at him. Hatred pools inside me. Not a feeling I relish, but I can’t help it.

“Let’s see here. Ah yes. Let me finish this . . . distraction.” He glances at Eli. “Shall you do the honors?” Valerian asks me. He grins. “Yes. I think you should. I can’t very well be the cause of a vampiric war, can I?”

“Won’t work this time, Valerian,” I challenge. I grin.

“We shall see.” His expression hardens. “Go to him. To Eli. And take your silver and plunge it into his heart. Do it now.”

My fireball core is boiling hot. I stand, staring at Valerian. Again, I grin. And I don’t move.

“Go now!” he commands.