I shrugged. “I had him, Luc. If I’d needed help, I would have definitely asked.” I scratched my jaw. “He said, ‘You’re her.’ What’s that supposed to mean? And why was he out here in the early morning, alone? Don’t newlings usually run in groups? At least, for a while?”

“Usually,” Luc said, and led the way into the store. “But we’re dealing with Romanian magic—or so Ned says, and I tend to believe him. There’s no telling what we’re up against anymore.” He rounded on me as we stopped at the pile of junk food sitting on the floor where I left it. “Which is why you freaking need to call for help”—he tapped my temple—“when something’s going down. Got it? Or do you really want to see Eli kick my ass?”

I glanced at Zetty, whose dark gaze remained fixed on mine. He merely shrugged.

A cynical laugh slipped from my throat. “Whatever, Dupré.” I bent down and gathered my junk food, then headed to the cooler. “I gotta tell ya—I’m pretty sick of hearing how Eli’s going to kick everyone’s asses for me getting into trouble.” I flung open the cooler, grabbed a Yoo-hoo, and let the door slam shut. “Where is he, anyway? It’s been too long.”

Eli walked through the front door. He shook his head. “He’s fast. Got away.”

Luc and Zetty followed me up to the front. The cashier, who’d stepped out the front to smoke, was just making her way back behind the counter. I set my junk food on the counter. “You can add this stuff to the gas,” I said. She rang it up, looking at me uncertainly the whole time.

“Receipt?” she asked.

“No, thanks, “I responded, scooped up my stuff, and left.

My cell vibrated. I dumped my junk food in my driver’s seat and grasped the phone from my back pocket. I glanced at the screen and rolled my eyes when I saw Phin’s name. I answered. “Hey.” Eli glared at me.

“The next time you pull something like that, Riley I will personally kick your ass,” Phin said.

I hung the phone up and flashed him the bird.

I was really, really getting tired of all the ass-kicking threats.

Already, I was getting irritated, and it wasn’t even eight o’clock in the morning yet. I opened my gas cap, lifted the fuel nozzle, and jammed it in. “Aren’t we going to go after him?” I asked about the newling. “He’s pretty close to Savannah.”

“No,” Eli said, leaning against the Jeep’s fender. “I told Papa. He and my mother will take care of it. Just like I will take care of you.”

I eyed Luc in the rearview; his grin spoke volumes. Finished pumping, I stuck the nozzle back in the pump, screwed the gas cap back on, and looked at all three of my Jeep occupants. “Let’s get out of here.”

I’d already had enough newling excitement for one morning.

Twenty-seven miles later we merged onto US 17 North. I’d shucked out of my jacket, and cars filed down both lanes. Palm trees and live oaks dripping with Spanish moss gathered along the highway, along with the occasional Gullah woman, sitting out beneath a pitched half tent, or a beach umbrella, in a plastic and metal lawn chair with a quilt spread on the ground and dozens of sweetgrass baskets for sale. Small country stores advertising homemade peach preserves and boiled peanuts, along with fruit stands, gathered at the edge of the highway. In between those fruit stands were pieces of plywood nailed to trees: PEACHES, WATERMELONS, PECANS, FIVE MILES. It was all unique, very South Carolina. Very Charleston.

“You like it here,” Eli said, peering at me behind a pair of aviators.

I regarded him behind my own pair of shades and smiled. “I remember my mom taking Seth and me here, to Folly Beach, when we were very young,” I said. “We’d stay at the Holiday Inn, and Seth and I would hang out at the ice machine, eating it by the handfuls. Nice memories.”

“They’re good to have,” he answered. “Hold on to them.”

It was the best piece of advice I’d been given in a while.

By the time we drove the sixty-plus miles to Charleston, the sun drove harshly into the open top of my Jeep. Overhead, white fluffy clouds drifted in a sky of pure blue, and the breeze that whipped at my face and my ponytail, felt warm, at times smoldering—typical dog days of summer. One would never think such ease and beauty would lead to immortal monsters jabbing their fangs into the hearts of humans, or crazy vampire cult fight clubs taking place while the city slept. Or worse—newlings hanging out at the Sunoco, waiting for victims. Fucked up, I tell ya.

More palms and mossy oaks stood along old neighborhood streets as we hit the historic district. Spearing the sky was the tall, spindly spire of St. Michael’s, and farther along Church Street, the well-known and aged French Huguenot Church. I downshifted with the slower traffic along Market Street, glancing over at the Gullah women and their wares in the city market. Sweetgrass baskets of all shapes and sizes and strip quilts covered the market stands, filled with goods varying from fruit preserves to handmade jewelry. We didn’t stop; instead, we continued toward the harbor, following Phin, east of the Ashley River and all the way to South Battery. We pulled in behind the two trucks Phin and Jack were driving. We were parked on the driveway of a large, white, three-story historic home. It looked like something out of Southern Living magazine. I’m talking full-front verandas, large-paddled ceiling fans, white rocking chairs, and dozens of huge green Boston ferns, and flanked by tall palms, crepe myrtle trees, and aged magnolias with large, waxy green leaves. It sat in the famous line of battery houses overlooking Charleston Harbor. We pulled around back and parked in the shade. I threw the Jeep into neutral and yanked the emergency brake.

I looked at the battery mansion before us. “Whose place is this?”

Eli looked at me over his shades. “Belongs to Jake Andorra, but he won’t be here. It’ll just be us.”

“So where’s Jake Andorra if he’s not here?” I asked, unfastening my seat belt and sliding out the Jeep’s door.

Luc grinned and answered. “London.”

“And … how long has Jake Andorra been dead?” I continued.

“About four hundred and sixty years,” Eli said with a laugh. “Good thing he’s not here.”

“Why?” I asked, pushing my shades up into my hair.

Eli stared at me for a moment, his grin widening. “He’d like you too much.”

I shook my head. Eli grabbed my bags and his from the backseat and rounded the Jeep; Luc did the same, as did the ever-silent Zetty. We walked toward the others. I glanced at Luc. “And does he drink V8’ like the Duprés, or—”

“Don’t ask,” Luc replied. I couldn’t tell by his expression what that meant exactly, so I dropped it.

Phin, Josie, and Seth, loaded down with backpacks, and Jack and Tuba, loaded down with … something, turned to us as we walked up.

“We’ll get our gear inside. Zetty, Jack, Tuba, and Josie will make the place safe while you and Seth learn the city,” Phin said. He stared at me. “Ready?”

“Have been,” I answered.

“Me, too,” Seth answered. He glanced at me and smiled. I can’t say I was happy at all to have my baby brother facing fight club vamps, not to mention be in the same city as the monster in my visions. All I can say is that his tendencies were smack-daddy kick-ass, and to have him backing me up made me feel a helluva lot better.

With a nod, Phin led the way into Jake Andorra’s mansion.

Inside, everything was spotless. Yet empty. Vaulted ceilings and an open plan made it look even emptier. Just at first glance, as Seth and I walked through to the second level, I noticed no photographs; very little home décor—a vase here, a plant there, probably fake—and everything squeaky clean. Yet empty. It was a fully stocked home with no personal touches. Upstairs, the rooms were massive. Phin led us past a mammoth library that I barely glimpsed. Then, into my room; our room, rather—mine and Eli’s.

“Home sweet home, Riley,” he said, then inclined his head to Seth. “Come on. Yours is across and down the hall.” Seth grinned and wagged his brows at me, adjusted both packs on his shoulders, and followed Phin out.

Any woman would just melt in a house like this. I glanced around, only slightly miffed that this was no vacay but instead, a vamp hunt. But day-yum, it should be. In another life, maybe. The room held an enormous king bed piled high with pillows and topped with a down comforter, fireplace, ceiling fan, and various pieces of antique furniture. A wicker love seat sat close to the white-painted French doors leading to the veranda outside the room. I dumped my stuff on the floor next to the bed. I wasn’t an indulger, but I couldn’t help opening the door and taking a step out. The air smelled like home, heavy and tinged with brine. I breathed it in and took in the view. Charleston Harbor was just across the way, and, in the distance, boats dotted the water. Nice. It was … nice. With a deep inhalation and slow exhalation, I resigned myself to doing what I did, being who I was.

“You like it?” Eli asked.

I nodded. “Definitely.”

“Ready, guys?” Seth asked from the door.

“Yeah, Bro,” I said. “We’re ready.”

After a quick trip to the bathroom, we headed downstairs and rounded the corner just in time to see Luc lift a small vial to his mouth. I sidled up next to him. “What’s that stuff?”

Luc grinned. “Preacher gave it to us. It masks our origins to other vampires and allows us to slip into their zone without being detected.” He slurped the last drop and set the vial on the counter. “Lasts for about three days,” he said. He handed Eli a vial.

“You have more, right?” I asked. Three days wasn’t a long time.

Phin walked up, Luc tossed him a vial, and he and Eli downed theirs in one sip. “Yes, we have more. Preacher gave us a decent supply.” He wiped his mouth and set his vial next to Luc’s. “And this is our second vial. Took the first one a few days ago. You two ready to learn the city?” He glanced at Seth and me.