“Thanks,” I said, my heart slowing, and I closed my eyes. “But you don’t wanna know.” I didn’t even want to know, but unfortunately I did. I remembered it all. And it was freaky-weird.
“You need to sleep with this shut and locked,” Phin said, and when I looked he’d moved and was closing the French doors.
“I closed and locked those before I went to sleep,” I told him, and he looked skeptically at me. “Swear to God.”
Phin latched the doors and sat at the foot of my bed, rubbing his neck. “That,” he said, “is not good.” He cocked his head. “What was the dream about, Riley?”
I cracked my eyes and looked at him in the shadowy light.
“Don’t make me go in there and get the info myself,” he said, pointing to my head.
I sighed. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s freaky. And it’s not the first one I’ve had.” When he lifted a brow, I continued. “They’re just . . . weird sexual dreams. Ones where an amazingly hot guy can make me . . . you know?” Phin lifted the other brow up. “Yeah, that. Well, he can do that without touching me.” I put my hands over my eyes. “God, Phin — do I really have to give any more detail?” I wasn’t shy, but some things were personal. “I don’t think a porn dream is something you need to know about.”
He stroked his chin. “Uh, yeah. I think you should tell me every sordid detail of both dreams. Don’t leave anything out. Sincerely.” He leaned forward like a freaking psychiatrist, imaginary notepad and pen in hand. He gave a slight nod. “You may begin.”
I threw a pillow at him. “Get out of my room, pervert. I need more sleep.”
He regarded me, then rose and left the room. “I’ll be in here if you
The rest of the night went by without incident; no more funky erotic dreams, no further opening of locked doors, and so on, and I carried on my usual Monday-morning routine. Nyx was hopping around like a little prairie dog when Phin and I walked in to Inksomnia, and she wanted an update on Seth.
Nyx pulled me into a tight, squeezing hug, then looked at me. “Riley, how much longer does Seth have to be out there?” she asked, and guilt gnawed at me for telling my best friend a lie. She adored Seth, and I knew she was going through a tough time with his supposed drug rehabilitation. If she knew what was really happening — no, she’d never be able to handle it. Not Nyx. I met her gaze with what I hoped was a reassuring one. “He’ll be home soon, Nyx. We don’t want him flying through rehab and getting out too early, do we?” I hugged her back. “Trust me — I want this to be his last terrible experience. And that’s why I’m going out to Da Island to be with him.”
Nyx’s eyes widened. “When?”
“In a couple of days. I need to call and reschedule several appointments today.” I looked at her and cocked my head. “Can you handle the shop alone? Oh — and would you take Chaz? If it’s a problem, then Estelle and Preacher — ”
Nyx gave me her signature thumbs-up. “Of course I will, on all accounts! No prob.” She smiled, talking with her hands as she did when excited. “I’m glad to see you’re going to be with your little man. He needs you now more than ever.”
I sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time, unfortunately. “I really miss him.”
“I know,” she said, then smiled through her worry. “So do I. And you’re doing the right thing.” She began to set up. “So where’s Eli?”
I shrugged, but inside my gut wrenched at the sound of his name. “He’s around. Maybe he’ll drop in soon. Until then,” I said, distracting her from Eli, “how ’bout showing his brother the ropes? They’ve all sort of taken an interest.”
“Sure!” she said, and waved Phin toward her. “Come on. There’s a lot to learn about . . . ink!”
The day progressed more slowly than any I’d experienced over the past couple of weeks. I made tons of calls to clients to reschedule inking appointments for the following two weeks, and only one out of twenty-two decided to use another artist. I spent the rest of the day ordering Nyx enough stock so she wouldn’t have to handle it and the ink jobs. Plus I did a few inks myself, and I tried to put my personal hell aside long enough to do good-quality artwork. It wasn’t easy, but I managed it. Inksomnia had been my passion, my savior after I’d managed to get a decent life going once Preacher and his family scoured the drugs and idiocy from my system. Now? My heart just wasn’t into it. Knowing Seth was experiencing some freakish ancient vampiric quickening and fast turning into a vicious killer sort of put a hold on the rest of my life. I loved that kid more than anything, and I would die to make things right again.
At six o’clock, Nyx flipped on the flat screen in the sitting area; she always wanted to find out what was happening in the low country. Me? Too depressing, so I avoided it. Until today, when the desperate plea of a woman’s voice blasted across the shop. I crossed the room and watched with Nyx, and my heart dropped.
“Please,” the woman sobbed, and sagged against a man — I assumed her husband. “If anyone has seen Jared, please — I . . . just want my son back.” The camera flashed to the reporter, who described Jared Porter as sixteen years old, five feet seven inches, approximately one hundred and forty pounds, with short blond hair and brown eyes. A picture of him flashed across the Crime Stoppers screen, and my insides went icy. Jared had been missing now for almost a week and was last seen around eleven p.m. leaving River Street with his friends.
“That poor mother,” Nyx said, shaking her head. “It must be so awful.”
I had no doubt that Jared Porter had joined Seth and the others. It made me angry and more determined than ever to bring those bastards down.
Nyx helped me close shop, then headed out to Wilmington Island to have dinner with her parents. Luc and Josie had come in just as Phin and I headed upstairs. I quickly showered and dressed — this time with Josie digging through my closet. She reminded me of a little sister, and I had to give it to the kid — she had rockin’ taste. She pulled out a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a black tank with a spiderweb tattoo design on the back.
“Sweet,” she said, and handed them both to me. “I wish I could go,” she said, pouting. She pulled my hair into a funky half-up, half-down sort of do, with my bangs long and free. “But Papa said I should just let the boys go with you for now.” She looked at me, her brows pulled together. She glanced at my chest, then back to me. “I wish I’d been a little older when Papa changed me.” She looked down at herself. “I’ll never have boobs like you. I’m flat chested forever. It sucks.”
I smiled. “I know it seems like it sucks,” I said, and then flushed when I remembered Eli’s words. I inclined my head. “But boobs are more trouble than they’re worth sometimes anyway. I have a hard time fitting into clothes sometimes. Pain in the ass.” I grinned. “Tell ya what. Why don’t you pick out a choker? I’ve got a hundred of them.”
“Cool, thanks!” she said, and dove back into the plundering. “Any of them?”
“Sure,” I said, then grabbed my navy All Stars and headed into the living room. “Ready?” I said to Luc and Phin, both standing near the window looking out. They turned, and I gotta say — it’s one thing when you get a reaction from a regular dude that they think you look hot. It’s another experience altogether when it’s a pair of century-plus-old vampires ogling. I shamelessly confess to liking the ego being boosted a little.
“Damn, Riley,” Luc said, looking more like a wolf than a vamp.
“Double damn,” said Phin, and he grinned at me. He was remembering my dreams, although I never did go into detail. I didn’t have to. I’m sure he slipped into my thoughts. I could so tell.
I shook my head. “Pervs. It’s just jeans and a tank. Let’s go. And I’m driving.” I glanced at them both appreciatively. Luc had on a pair of frayed jeans and a black formfitting tee with black boots. Phin wore a pair of black slim-fit jeans with a chain hanging from the pocket, a pair of black All Stars, and a gray long-sleeved mesh shirt. “Pretty hot yourselves, by the way,” I said, and headed to the door. I scrubbed Chaz on the head — Josie had taken him out earlier — and the Duprés followed me out.
We dropped Josie off in front of the Dupré House and made our way over to Martin Luther King. The plan was to hit the Panic Room, followed by a trip to the Morgue — another dark alternative club. If there was time, we’d hit one more: the Asylum. God, I hadn’t gone to any of those in quite a while. But Seth and the others would be hanging around the darker clubs for — I hated to say it — victims. So I had to put my fears aside despite my reservations. It hadn’t been easy giving them up, but once I had, I was done. I’d figured that if I was going to get clean and straighten my life out, and give Seth a good life, then I needed to cut clean of all things that would be a temptation to me. Now, some people, like Mullet? They went for the sheer fun of loud, head-bangin’ music, dance,
