Everdark

horror movies you watched as a teenager?

Go back and watch them again. Make notes.

Make lists from the notes. There are survival

skills embedded in those wacky dacky fricky

fracky slasher stories that will one day come

in freaking handy. Start with Zombieland.

Smart movie, that. Rule number four: the

double tap.”

—Riley Poe

My eyes fluttered open; it was daylight. I scrubbed my closed lids with my knuckles, then looked around, gathering my bearings; Jake’s place in Charleston; king-sized bed; my own personal veranda. I glanced beside me.

One hot freaking naked vampire.

Eli Dupré, damn him and his birthday suit, lay sprawled out beside me in the white down fluff of a gazillion-count comforter. I strained my eyes hard and searched the digital clock on the far side of the room—three forty-five p.m. Damn, I’d slept a long time. Eli seemed out cold, too. I didn’t remember getting here, getting naked, or falling into bed. It made me wonder just what else I didn’t recall.

For a moment, I permitted my eyes the pleasure of looking slowly over Eli’s beautiful, flawless self. Dark lashes brushed his pale cheeks; tousled black hair fell over one eye. Muscles cut into his lean frame were covered by a layer of silky-smooth pale skin. Perfect lips, slightly parted, invited me. I was tempted.

I quickly glanced at myself again. Oh yeah, I was naked, too. I was totally tempted.

Oh my God! Had I had sex and didn’t know it? What kind of freaking torture was that?

There was no way to tell until Eli woke up, I supposed.

I resumed my perusal, but hey—I was a girl in love. Yes, I admitted to myself, I loved Eli, and it seemed like a long freaking time since I’d just casually gandered. I did remember socking him the other night in the club, but as I inspected his perfect features, I saw no evidence of it.

I lay back, not wanting to get out of bed yet, and obviously not realizing how tired my body still was. One second, I was there, stroking Eli’s skin with my fingertips, and in the next second I closed my eyes again, and I was walking along the riverfront, at a slow, leisurely pace. As I looked around, I saw several things that disturbed me. One, was the Savannah River Queen. That riverboat worked singularly out of Savannah Harbor. I continued to walk, and my vision was his—the monster’s—once more. I looked one way and saw River Street Sweets, and farther down, the Hyatt Regency Hotel. I glanced in the opposite direction and noticed the SoHo Boutique. Through the storefront window I saw little Bhing, rushing around in her fast-walking manner, helping several customers browsing through her clothes racks.

My vision then moved with his, the monster’s, and it settled on the storefront window next door.

Inksomnia.

Next to that, Da Plat Eye.

His eyes moved back to Inksomnia’s storefront, peering directly at Nyx as she gathered her skull and crossbones shoulder bag and headed out the front door. She turned, locked the door, and started up the walk.

He stood and followed.

I began to thrash, to scream, “No! Nyx! Oh my God, please don’t let this monster go after my best friend!” Inside, my adrenaline rushed as fiercely as if I ran hard; I mentally kicked and screamed. It did no good.

He crossed the cobbles, stepped up onto the sidewalk, politely stepped aside as a passerby moved by him. His gaze found Nyx again.

We then passed another storefront. He glanced in. I looked.

He stopped, staring.

Somehow, in the reflection, he saw me, too. He recognized me and mouthed, “Hello, Riley,” in the glass so I’d see.

A slow smile spread across his unfamiliar face. He was just a random victim, midthirties, tanned leathery skin, menacing eyes. Valerian indeed knew me, and he’d manifested his DNA into this new victim. He had a different body, but he was the same monster. Slowly, he lifted one finger to his lips, mentally telling me to keep quiet. Then he crooked that same finger, mentally beckoning me.

His maniacal laugh woke me cold turkey out of the vision. And at the same time, another voice infiltrated my head.

“He wants you to come, love,” Victorian said, his voice angry, heavy. “He cannot speak to you in your mind, as I can, but he has found me. He speaks to me. And he wants you to come back to Savannah. Alone.”

“Really?” I said inside my head. “No shit. And why, Victorian? Have you known his plan all along? Have you known who he was, where he was, all this time?”

“No!” Victorian said with vehemence. “He’s no longer my brother. My brother died a long time ago. He didn’t resist the evil as I did. He’s, as you say, a monster. Out of control.”

I believed him. “So what do I do?” I said to him in my thoughts. “Why can’t I at least bring Zetty and the guys?”

“He’ll play only by his rules, love,” Vick said. “He’s in control. All I can do is tell you what he seeks. And that’s you. He’ll know if you bring anyone. He’ll kill your friend if you do”

I gave a short laugh that was not a laugh at all. “I’m on my way.”

“I’ll do what I can to help, Riley. Never would I let you be harmed.”

I ignored Vick’s last statement. A wash of dread crashed over me.

I sat up, still nude, still beside my naked vampire, who was still totally out cold. I’d been warned by Preacher never to awaken slumbering vampires. Not that they’d purposely harm me, or any other mortal, but being roused out of their vampiric slumber might cause a reaction they’d not like. Or I’d not like.

Much like the crazy-ass bird in my dream had crawled across the branch, I crawled from bed, doing my very best to keep quiet.

Valerian was alive—manifested in another’s body, but still alive. I wasn’t sure exactly how but what I did know was that the bastard was using Nyx as bait. In my heart I knew he’d kill her just for spite, and I had to get to her in time. It was all coming to an end. Valerian Arcos was the monster. And I was going to kill him. He wanted to throw rules at me? Don’t bring my guys? Don’t wake Eli? Fine. He’d be in for a big-ass surprise when I rolled into town.

I strapped on every sheath I owned and stuffed each one with every silver blade I could find. I pulled on a loose gauzy skirt, a ribbed tank, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and found my shades, Jeep keys, and backpack. I slipped into my Vans.

As I made my way through Jake’s mansion, I noticed everyone else was out cold, too—all except Jack and Tuba; I didn’t see them anywhere. I took a solid five seconds to look at my baby brother’s face; his smooth skin, his dark hair and brows, his relaxed expression. It was a very real possibility I wouldn’t see him again.

I left before I bawled.

I eased out of the kitchen door, crept to my Jeep, popped the emergency brake, and made sure it was in neutral; I pushed it down the drive and out into the street. Thinking better of it, I pushed it a little more, away from Jake’s, then jumped in, started it up, and tore up the street. Soon I was headed south on US 17, toward Savannah.

Hopefully, to save my best friend’s life

And kill someone—something—that was supposed to be already freaking dead.

I grabbed my cell and dialed Nyx’s number. Maybe at least I could warn her; tell her to get her ass to the Duprés’. It rang and rang.

“Pick up, dammit!” I yelled over the wind. “Freaking pick up, Nyx!”

She didn’t.