Free Eventide: The Dark Ink Chronicles by Elle Jasper

breathe.
    “Nicely done if I do say so myself, Poe,” says Riggs. He casually leans an elbow against my shoulder. “Couldn’t have done a better job. That blade in the eye thing—” He produced an exaggerated shudder. “Sick, Poe. Truly sick.”
    I slide a glance sideways. “Glad to amuse,” I say, and am at least glad he’s stopped calling me babe. Then I shoot a quick look beside me. Eli stands, wordlessly. Scowling. I’m pretty sure that translates into
Are you okay
but he doesn’t say it. Instead, he inclines his head. “Let’s get out of here.” I know Eli battles within himself to keep from overprotecting me. It’s a good move on his part. Heshows his faith by allowing me to round the train cars alone. I’d probably just get pissed off if he nagged me, and he knows I’m getting fed up with the overprotection. Maybe he’s chilling after all.
    We comb the rest of the train yard and find nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, newlings aren’t going to be traipsing around with their fangs out and pupils all red and freaky. They’re hiding. Waiting. Watching from the shadows.
    And in the dark corners of Savannah, there are plenty of pickings for the newlings.
    Through the back streets of Garden City we run. Garden City, in all its stinky sulfur-from-the-paper-mill glory, is an industrial town just outside of Savannah. It’s still in Chatham County, but honestly—it ain’t purty. Okay, I take that back. The nature reserve just outside the city limits is pretty cool. Lots of alligators and low-country wildlife. I haven’t been back there in a while, though. No telling what you might find now.
    Even the gators might be in hiding.
    The night air, salty with a tinge of sulfur, washes over my face as I run. My muscles stretch, my lungs expand, and for a split second I feel invigorated. Alive.
    Then that nagging weird feeling comes over me and that split-second euphoria evaporates. I’m just running on instinct now, half-ass following Eli. Like a robot. A vampire-slaying robot.
    Eli runs just ahead of me and he darts down an alley in a dark subdivision behind Piggly Wiggly. Kinda difficult to speak of something dangerous and hideous as a bloodsucking newling and say the words Piggly Wiggly at the same time. Oxymoron, almost. Still. It is what it is.
    “Look there,” Riggs says, and points over my shoulder. “At three in the morning it’s never a good thing to see a group of kids huddled against a wall down a dead-end street.”
    I glance at him. He merely lifts his dark brows.
    “You got anything, Riley?” Eli asks without looking at me. I know what he wants from me. His eyesight kicks ass, but my other senses are better.
    Closing my eyes, I draw in a deep inhalation and let the particles settle against my tongue. I do it again. My eyes pop open and search the canopy of oaks lining the old street a few blocks ahead. “Up there.”
    “How many?” Riggs asks.
    “Four,” I respond. I can detect each separate scent of the newlings. I can even tell their sex. “Three males, one female.” They’re hunting the humans on the street below.
    “Let’s split,” I say, and glance at Eli. I can immediately tell he hates that idea. Again. “Less chance of one of them slipping through and getting to the humans,” I add. “You know it’s the only way.” I quickly checkmyself. I say humans as if I’m no longer part of the species. Weird.
    Eli mutters something under his breath—in French—and gives a short nod. The thing about Eligius Dupré when searching for newlings? He’s all business until the business is done. He knows what we have to do and will do it, even if he hates it. Like now.
    “Riggs, you take the ledge,” Eli says, and points to the rooftop adjacent to the huddled humans. “Riley, you get the house next door,” he inclines his head, “and I’ll take the rooftop behind them. Wait for my signal. We don’t want to have to fight the humans and the newlings at once.”
    I wait no