Eventide

I look at Eli, wondering where he was going with all of this. It sounds great to me, like I’m hearing about someone from my own family.



From the family I could’ve had.



Eli knows I’m perplexed, and smiles. “I’ll never forget the summer of nineteen seventy-six. Cindy was ten. She ran around with a Jaws T-shirt on nearly the whole summer.” He shakes his head and laughs. “I’ll have to tell you a funny story about her later. About who she is, what she became. Maybe even take you to meet her. Later, though.” He glances toward the house again. “The property runs straight down to the Vernon River. Wimpy’s wife, Frances, used to go down to the dock and catch blue crabs by the basketfuls.” Another winsome smile touches his lips. “He built a dock over the marsh back in the fiftes. I’ve had some repairs made, and…” He grasps my hand. “Well, come see for yourself.”



I’m, for a change, speechless as Eli leads me across the yard, back toward the woods where a small worn path leads to the marsh. The brine is perfect and pungent, and just the slightest breeze rustles the saw grass. We cross the marsh on a newly repaired dock, and at the end sits a small covered screened-in dock house with a red tin roof. Eli stops, steps inside, and grabs blankets from a plastic storage bin in the corner. The screen door creaks and slams behind him as he pulls me down the plank to a small floating dock.



Without a word, he spreads two blankets on the dock, and rolls a third long-ways and places it at one end. He holds out a hand. “Sit down.”



I grin and do as he asks.



Silently, he kneels and removes my boots and socks. He rolls up my jeans. Then he sits, kicks off his boots and socks, and does the same. He sticks his feet into the water, and I do the same. He sits close to me, our shoulders brushing. He looks up.



“Magnificent spray of stars, don’t you think?” he says.



I turn my head and look at him. “What are you doing, Eligius Dupré?”



Eli’s smile is blinding. “I love it when you use my full name.”



I shake my head and wait.



He looks at me. “I always secretly wanted what Wimpy had. Family. Loving, devoted wife.” He laughs softly. “They called each other monkey. Their pet name for each other.” He shakes his head. “Funniest damn thing I’d ever heard. Wimpy made magic happen here, Riley.” He smiles and shrugs. “He had a great life. I want it. And I want you to share it with me.”



My heart leaps. It almost stops.



With two hands, Eli grasps my face. His gaze passes over my mouth, my nose, then to my eyes. “I want to marry you, Riley Poe. And if you don’t say yes now, I’ll keep asking until you do.”



Even in the fading light, I can see the cerulean blue brightness of Eli’s eyes sparkle. The slight scruff that perpetually remained on his jaw, the fall of dark hair over his forehead, and that crazy silver hoop he still wore in his brow—all of it Eli.



And he wants to marry me.



Suddenly, my past becomes a faint memory of someone who could’ve been anyone other than me. The pain of my mother’s death, though still present, dulls. I feel I can accomplish anything with this unique man by my side.



“Yes,” I say softly. I’m looking into his eyes. They soften. He smiles.



His kiss rocks me.



Gentle at first, his lips brush mine, linger against me, and although I know he doesn’t need air to breathe, you’d never know it. He sighs against my mouth. The sweet taste of him makes my head spin. He pulls me into a tight embrace.



“Thank you,” he whispers against my ear. “I love you, Riley. More than you know.”



I squeeze him in return. “I love you, Eligius Dupré,” I say, then pull back and look at him. “I think I have from the first moment I saw you.”



He grins. “I know.”



“We have a lot of work ahead of us though,” I say. “Jake wants to hire us. Together. Like Turner and Hootch. Miami Vice. Scarecrow and Mrs. King.”



Eli shakes his head. “Yeah. I know.” He kisses me again. “Good thing we have years and years to be together.”



With the water lapping at our ankles, we sit. We talk. We plan.



For the night, we’re a normal couple in love.



I guess this is something I’ll have to get used to, and I pray to God I can one day control it. I can’t just run around having people touch me, inadvertently hurling me into their bodies only for me to experience some mind/body/life altering event that I can somehow change or help. I mean seriously.



Or can I?



All I know is that Seth and Eli are my world. Preacher and Estelle are my world. The Duprés are my family, and I have a shitload of the most bizarre friends a person can have.



But I’m not a person, am I? Hell no. I’m an abomination. Human, but not. Vampiric qualities, but thankfully, not a bloodsucker. I can be killed, but I won’t naturally die on my own for hundreds of years. And lucky for me, the aging process is slow. I’ll look twenty-five for a helluva long time. That’s a plus. No Botox for me.



I’m grateful, in a way, that Seth shares the same fate as me. Probably not to the severity, since he’s only had one vampiric encounter, and me, four. But we’ll have a longer life together, and that suits me. I can’t imagine life without my little bro.



So, all in all, I’m adjusting. To what, exactly, I’m not sure. I still love to ink. Sketch designs. I’m proud of my work and my accomplishments. But I’m now heavily considering passing ownership over to Nyx, occasionally inking when I’m in town, and then utilize for the good these crazy ass powers I’ve acquired. And since Eli and Seth are in it, along with Noah and Phin? Why the hell not.



We’ll see.



I’m sitting at Molly MacPhearson’s. Across the room, a group of seven women has gathered, and after eavesdropping, I determine that they’re celebrating a local author’s new book release. Pretty cool. They all clink bottles of lager and say what I can only imagine is an inside joke, and then they all burst into laughter. They have the craziest names, too, like they’ve all given each other nicknames. Gma. Cinny. Oogen. Auntie Betsy. Molly MacNugget. Bunty. Walowie. One of them—Oogen—gets up at everyone’s urging, heads outside, and begins to pass back and forth in front of the window in some crazy little run. They all laugh. I don’t get it, even though it is pretty hilarious. They’re in tears, they’re laughing so hard. A group of girlfriends, a night on the town celebrating a fine success. What fun. It’s something I’ve missed in life. But I have a family now, and a new group of friends. Sure, some of them are vampires, some werewolves, and some have been on the earth longer than dirt. But I like them. I watch the women a few minutes longer until they gather their belongings and leave. Still laughing. Calling one another vulgar names. It’s so funny, I hate to see them go.



Until I notice him.



Eli stands beneath the awning at Belford’s across the street. He sees me through the window. I see him, and I move outside toward him. My soul mate.



For now, even if for a few days, I want to enjoy my life. Live it as normal for at least one damn afternoon if possible. Eat a good meal. Have some good sex. Take a walk. A swim. Crack a few oysters on Da Island with Preacher and his family. That is, if Bhing hasn’t torn the island up. Last I heard, her cleansing was pretty rocky. Mean as shit, I think I heard someone say. Poor little Bhing. Anyway. I just want to be freaking normal for a while.



Because very, very soon, I have a feeling I’ll be boarding a plane for Scotland.



Jake says Edinburgh is being taken over by a band of nasty fallen angels and my tendencies just might come in handy. Ginger and Sydney seriously want me to join WUP. I’m heavily considering it. I mean, what the hell else am I going to do with all this pent-up energy?



We’ll see. For now, I’m all about Eli Dupré. And thankfully, he’s all about me.



I’m as content as I’ll ever be.



I think my mom would be proud of how I’ve turned out. And somewhere deep inside me, I feel she watches me, even now. I like that. Makes me feel close to her, as if she’s right beside me.



I like to think that she truly is.



Who knows? I run with a pack of vampires, werewolves, and immortals. Who says ghosts aren’t real? At this point in my strange existence, I’ll believe just about anything.