Page 43 of Lucy Undying (Dracula #1)

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Whitby, October 7, 2024

Iris

“Iris, it’s me!”

Elle’s voice. Elle on my bed.

She scrambles off and hits the lights. There’s no one else in here. My window’s free of floating mothers, and no one is crying. No one needs me to find them and save them. Which is probably for the best, because I’m doing a shit job of saving myself at the moment.

Elle’s flush with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to scare you! I thought you were awake. You said my name.”

I put my hand over my still-racing heart. “It’s okay. Actually, it’s good that you woke me up. I was having a bad dream. What time is it?”

“Midnight.” Elle grins at me, radiating mischief. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” My lack of hesitation surprises me. I’ve learned not to trust anyone. But whether I actually trust her or I just want whatever she’s about to offer with no questions asked, I mean it. “Wait, are we doing a midnight cemetery tour?”

“Better. I promise. Get dressed.”

I do as I’m told, noting that she doesn’t bother leaving the room as I pull off my oversized T-shirt and pull on ripped black jeans, a tank top, and the only jacket I packed, a black hoodie so old it feels like a friend. I want to check and see if she’s watching me, but I also want to be cool and casual so it looks like I don’t care either way.

God, Elle’s turning me into a teenager again.

Elle and I stumble up the hilly stairs in the dark, laughing whenever we miss a step. She leads me higher and higher until we come to the top of the cliffs. In the distance is the ruined abbey, a darker smudge against the moonlit sky. And inside the ruined abbey are strobing lights.

“Secret midnight rave!” Elle declares, triumphant. “Whitby isn’t as boring as it used to be!” She grabs my hand and we run along the path, heedless of rocks or tripping hazards. The wind is in a fury and storm clouds are massing on the horizon, but for now we have the light of the moon, and it’s enough.

Something is missing as we get closer, though. Shouldn’t we hear it by now? I want the thump of bass, the overwhelming vibration of the music. But the reason why is obvious when we arrive at the entrance to the abbey grounds. Not only are the lights all kept low to the floor so they’re not visible from the houses below, but the music isn’t going to attract any attention.

A young man made of nothing but bones and skin flicks his eyes at us. We must pass some test, because he gives us two sets of wireless headphones. “No noise, no cops,” he says simply. Then he holds out his hand.

Elle covers me, for which I’m grateful. Then we’re inside. It’s surreal, watching all these bodies moving in silent coordination, dancing to a beat we don’t hear. In a rush of bleakness so familiar it steals my breath, I feel lost and starkly alone.

Isn’t this my whole life? Everyone else experiencing one reality, and me stuck on the outside of it?

I smash the headphones over my ears. Problem solved. Elle flashes me a giddy thumbs-up and we jump into the fray. I lose her for a bit in the press of bodies. When I find her again, she’s dancing in a wild, frantic way. Still with her catlike grace, but with a borderless, uninhibited energy that I remember from my club days. She definitely took something. I’ve seen a few tablets passed around, small baggies exchanged.

I wish I could participate, could really let go. But I have to maintain absolute control at all times. If I don’t, I’m afraid I’ll never get it back.

I don’t blame Elle, though. I hope it helps her work through her bad memories. I stay close, dancing and laughing and relishing the moments when our bodies are moving together. It’s nice to see tea-loving historian Elle turn into a new version of herself. Her fluid movements, the sharp grace that makes it look like she’s half dancing, half ready to attack whoever is near her, is entrancing. I’ve been into Elle since the moment we met, but tonight she’s not just beautiful and charming. She’s devastatingly sexy.

I shoulder aside a few people trying to take my place. I don’t want to make a pass at her—it would be taking advantage, given how emotionally (and probably chemically) vulnerable Elle is right now—but I can’t not be close to her. I have to be close to her. To keep an eye on her, yes, but also because it’s a physical need. An ache inside me that promises it’ll go away if I can just—

Just what? Seduce her? Make her love me? Make her mine? I can’t do any of that. It would be unfair to her. She deserves better. And besides, I’ll never treat a person like a goal. Or worse, like a vending machine for my own desires.

I’m returning from grabbing a water bottle for us when I see a guy, more muscle than man, grab Elle by the waist. He lifts her up like because she’s small, he’s entitled to do whatever he wants to her body.

“Hey!” I shout, but no one, including him, can hear me. I throw the water bottle at his face. It bounces off his forehead and he drops Elle.

Her pupils are dilated, eyes flashing with panic or fear or anger, I can’t tell which. But I know what I’m feeling. I grab the guy by his enormous arms, pull him close, and knee him right between the legs.

He goes down with a howl loud enough that I hear it over the music. And then he glares at me with all the rage a shriveled soul in a muscled body can hold. Elle looks like she’s about to do something crazy, too, so I rip off my headphones and chuck them at his face. Then I snag Elle’s arm. This time I’m the one with catlike grace, tugging her along as I dodge between dancing bodies. I spy a passageway through a fallen wall. We duck in it, pressing our backs against the bricks, waiting.

Waiting.

I turn my face toward hers. She’s watching me, expression unreadable.

“Sorry,” I say. “I know you can handle yourself. I’m pretty sure you were about to royally fuck him up anyway. But in my defense, it was my turn to save you .”

Her eyes are as dark as the night around us, but her smile is like starlight. “It’s been a long time since anyone tried to defend my honor.”

I bow. “M’lady, I solemnly swear I will knee every sack of balls that comes between your honor and me, forever.”

“You are so strange.” Her laughter is cut short by the roar of rage behind us in the abbey. The guy is shouting, demanding to know if anyone saw where we went.

I grab Elle’s hand and we run into the graveyard, laughing as we weave among the headstones. We’re both distracted, barely paying attention to where we are, constantly darting glances over our shoulders to check for pursuit. Half because we’re scared, and half because it’s hilarious.

A flash of lightning illuminates our path. “Stop!” I scream. I barely pull us to a halt at the cliff’s edge, nothing between us and the ocean below but empty, cold air.

“Oh my god,” Elle gasps. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I had no idea how far we’d gone.” She turns to me, frantic, putting her hand on my cheek, on my chest, on my shoulder, checking to make certain I’m still beside her and not plummeting to my death. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m okay! But it’s about to start—”

The rain hits us with startling intensity, pouring down from the sky as the clouds move directly overhead. Elle stares upward, her face so white it glows, her expression horrified. I’m about to laugh when I realize there’s something more to this. Either she’s remembering something, or she has a genuine phobia about storms. Or the drugs have fully kicked in, and not in a good way.

I can’t stay out in this rain either, though. It’s already chilly enough that my heart rate is ticking up. I haven’t been careful. I wasn’t prepared for cold. Every time I experience it, I have to wonder: Is this it? The chill that will trigger my end?

Not tonight. I refuse to let it be tonight.

There’s nothing around us but headstones, no shelter. I don’t want to return to the abbey and risk running into our roided-out foe. The church isn’t too far, though. I guide Elle in that direction. We run together, heads ducked against the lashing rain. The church is locked, but we find a deep doorway and huddle there, sheltered from the wind and the rain.

Elle’s shaking like she’s going to vibrate right out of her body. I put my arms around her, holding her close, stroking her hair. “It’s just a storm,” I tell her.

“I should never have come here,” she says, teeth chattering. “I’ll never find my way back out.”

“It’ll pass. We’ll wait right here together, and it’ll pass. I’ve got you. I promise.”

She nods, burying her face in my shoulder. So she doesn’t see what I do: a pair of glowing eyes among the gravestones, watching us.

I bare my teeth in defiance, daring it to show itself. There’s a blinding flash of lightning. When my vision clears again, the eyes have disappeared. The night keeps its secrets. And I keep mine, too, as Elle trembles against me and I murmur soothing nonsense, knowing full well I’m putting us both in danger.

Tomorrow, I’ll drive her away forever. It’s the only way I can keep my promise to protect her.