Even opening my eyes and looking into Eli’s doesn’t soothe me. I don’t even have to ask what into. I immediately know.
“My quickening. Was it worse than my cleansing at Da Island?” I ask. That had been pretty intense. I remember most of it, and it included Preacher’s root doctor herb and potions, being tied down, night sweats, and a lot of pain.
“Yes.”
I lie back down and stare at the ceiling. “What the hell?” I ask out loud.
“The strigoi venom—Valerian’s in particular—was taking over you,” Eli explains. “It began…morphing. Changing. I didn’t realize how severe.”
I turn my gaze to him. “How severe?” It now dawns on me, and my insides freeze. “Oh, Christ—did I kill someone? How’s Seth? Nyxinnia? Preacher and Estelle?”
“They’re all fine, Riley.”
I don’t like the unanswered tone in his voice. “Who isn’t fine, Eli?”
He only stares at me.
“Eli!” I yell. “Please!”
“We’re unsure,” he answers, just as calm as I am anxious. “A young Gullah girl was killed. But we’ll worry about that later. We knew we couldn’t risk any more time.”
As his words settle uncomfortably into my brain, my gaze scans the room. Where am I? Old. Stone. Not Inksomnia, not Preacher’s, and not the House of Dupré. I look at him. “What did you do, Eli?”
His hard stare fixes to mine. “The only thing I could do, Riley.” He goes through the motion of taking a deep breath. “We brought you to Castle Arcos. We’re in Kudszir, Romania, Riley, with Victorian’s father, Julian. You’ve been here almost three weeks. My father, myself, Noah, Jake Andorra, and Victorian have been here as well.”
Jake Andorra? Why would he be here? I’ve never even met the guy. I only stayed at his house in Charleston when we fought Valerian’s vampire fight clubs a little while back. I lay my palm against my forehead. “This can’t be happening.”
“There’s more.”
With my hand still fused to my head, I look at him. A bad feeling pits my stomach. “What? What else can there be? Where’s my brother?”
Eli edges closer. “Seth is safe. He’s at home with my mother and sister. Listen, Riley. Look at me.” I do. “In order to balance the strigoi DNA in your system, Julian had to inject his venom. It was the only way to give you control over Valerian’s urges.”
I blink. “How did Julian…inject his venom?”
Rising from the bed, Eli walks to the fireless hearth. He runs his hand over the back of his neck. “The same way I did.”
The moment the words are out of his mouth, I freeze. My insides grow numb, and mindlessly, my hand reaches for my throat. No freaking wonder it’s so sore. “You bit me, Eli?” I ask. Shock beats through me. Confusion makes my head spin.
In the next breath, he stands beside me, and he lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him. His gaze, harsh and desperate at the same time, may have at one time scared me. “It was the only way,” he says, his voice low, unsteady, as though he were about to totally lose it. “I couldn’t stand the thought of all those Arcoses binding with your DNA.” He drops his hands from my face, squeezes his eyes shut, lowers his head, and gathers his control. When he lifts his head, and those blue eyes stare into mine, I can plainly see he has gained it again. “I wanted you to have my DNA, Riley. Dupré. Not just Arcos.” His French accent thickens with his last words.
A mixture of emotions crowd me at once, and I slowly stand. Part of me—a big part—understands Eli’s actions. He didn’t want three powerful and deadly strigois’ DNA binding with mine. I get it. But the other part of me is pissed off. I know I was incapacitated, unable to make rational decisions. I know that. But still. Somehow, I feel…violated. Like I am nothing more than a beat-up doll thrown into the midst of four vampires who all take turns at me. Each trying to claim me. Well, I’m not anyone’s bitch. I’m not available to be claimed. “What part of me left is actually me, Eli?” I ask, and I look at him. “Any of it?” I thump my chest. “Is there anything left of Riley Poe inside? Or am I just some fucked-up mutated human with vampire tendencies?” Anxiety and irritation claw at me. I pace. The need to run takes over. Eli senses it.
“Riley,” he says, stilling me with one hand against my shoulder. “Stop.”
“No!” I reply. I’m angry. Hurt. Confused. “I need to talk to Seth. To Nyx. I…gotta be alone for a while, Eli. Think things through.”
“Non.”
I meet his look with silence. “Don’t follow me. You know I will outrun you.”
Eli’s eyes are hard, face determined. His grip tightens around my forearm. “Don’t do this, Riley. You’re not in Savannah.”
I give Eli one last look that hopefully conveys the message that I need to be alone. After several seconds, his hand drops from me. I turn, search the floor for shoes that look like mine, find a pair of worn brown hikers and pull them onto my bare feet. I head for the door in a house unfamiliar to me, and run.
Far into the wood I go, beneath a misty canopy of tall aged trees and atop thick bracken. Twice I look over my shoulder. Eli hasn’t followed. Finally, I slow to a trot, then, I walk.
For the first time, I notice what I’m wearing: jeans, a tank covered by a long-sleeved button-up shirt. I’m hardly ever cold anymore, but Romania seems a little different from home. I notice a biting cold wind whipping through the trees. It rustles an array of various colors above me. Some fall to the ground. Is it October? November? I don’t even know anymore. So consumed am I with the new knowledge of just what I have become, I barely notice my unique surroundings. The cold. The leaves. I don’t care.
“You’re deep in the Carpathians, love,” Victorian’s voice pushes through my mind. “My home.”
I quickly look around, my gaze darting through the brush, along the beaten path through the bracken. No sign of Vic. “Yeah, I can see that,” I say. “Did you help bring me here?”
He sighs. “Yes. ‘Twas for your own good, I’m afraid. Like I said in Atlanta—my father is the only one strong enough to overpower Valerian’s forces growing inside of you. Had he not intervened, you would have surely turned. Already you were experiencing a fierce quickening, Riley Poe. You nearly ripped the jet apart. Dupré had a difficult time containing you.”
“I hope so,” I answer, and continue to walk. Past a large boulder, with several scattered rocks beside it, I meander along a path well worn by others before me. “Where are you?”
“Here.”
Startled, I jerk my head behind me. Victorian Arcos steps from behind an aged fir tree. I don’t know why, but for some reason, the sight of him comforts me. Yeah, it bothers me that I feel that way—that I ran from Eli, but am comforted by the sight of Victorian. I can’t explain, so I won’t even try. Not even to myself. Not now.
“Hey,” I say, and move toward him.
He gives a slight nod. “It’s good to see you…sane.” He smiles.
I give a slight chuckle. “Not so sure about that, Vic.” I look at him. “You following me?”
His smile lingers. “Of course.” He cocks his head and studies me. “How are you feeling?”
Turning, I shrug and begin to wander down the path. Something, and I don’t know what, warned me not to tell Victorian about the newly added Dupré ingredient to my DNA. “How would you feel?” I respond.
With a long stare, he finally nods. “So right, so right. My father…he can be quite, well, abrupt.”
“Hmm,” I say, and continue on. “I can hardly wait to meet him.”
In the next natural blink of my eyes, Victorian closes the distance between us and rounds on me. His hand on my shoulder stills me. “I would have never let him harm you,” he says, determination tightening his words. “Never.”
As I look into his unusual chocolate eyes, I see it. “I know that.”
With a single nod, he turns me loose. We continue on in silence.
After a while, the dense wood thins, and a small, ancient-looking village lies ahead in the mist.
“The belfry at the citadel has the most stunning view of all Transylvania over the village and back up to Castle Arcos. Would you like to see?”
Sliding Victorian a gaze, I smile. Then I laugh. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
Victorian stares, confusion making his eyes question.
“We’re in Transylvania. A family of vampires?” I encourage.
Victorian grins.
“And you’re my tour guide now?” I say.
If a vampire could blush, it’d be Victorian Arcos who could pull it off. He smiles. “Of course. And, of course.”
Now that I take a closer look at everything around me—the ancient medieval village, the cobbled streets, the colorful buildings, the old-as-dirt-church and the castle? It totally reminds me of a scene out of Van Helsing. Any minute I expect Drac’s brides to come flying over the belfry to swoop down and nab some dinner from a hapless villager.
“We never feed from our own villagers,” Victorian offers.
I snap my head toward him. “I thought you couldn’t hear my thoughts.”
He blinks, stares at me, and smiles. “Well, I just heard you clear as a bell. It must be your new metabolic changes that have given me the communication back. Sweet.”
“Sweet?” I ask at his use of modern slang. Then I chuckle. Vic makes me laugh.
Just then, the bell in the church tower tolls. It sounds positively spooky.
As we descend from the forest and onto the path leading into the village, I notice my surroundings. Breathtaking hardly describes them.
“It’s true,” Victorian offers. “Our land is second to no other.” With an elegant sweep of his arm, he describes the view. “We’re surrounded on three sides by the Carpathians,” he says in his unique accent, and as I look, I see it’s true. Rigid pikes, most with snowcaps, form an almost complete circle in the distance. “Reminds me a little of the Rockies,” I answer. When I notice Victorian looking at me, I explain. “Big ink conference in Denver.”
