Elle Jasper - Everdark

“So,” Noah said, “screw the pleasantries, yeah? Welcome to Charles Town. Now, before we get dirty, which only happens after the sun dips, there’s someone we gotta see.”

Getting dirty meant free running, which I’d later discover, Noah and his guys were totally sick at. But we had a few hours of daylight left, and apparently, someone wanted to see us. “Who?” I asked. “And why?”

“Garr,” Noah said. “He’s waiting for us just a ways out of town.” He grinned at me. “Eli’s there, too. And not only do you mortals need to eat, but he wants to see da crazy painted white girl Preacher man been talkin’ bout, dat’s right.”

“Well,” I said, unable to stop the grin from tipping my mouth upward. Noah sort of had that effect on people—on me. He had that cocky, quick-witted, smart-ass attitude that, I don’t know, I thought was pretty funny, I guess. I met his gaze. “I’m starved, so let’s go meet him.”

I gave my brother a glance; he grinned. Then, Noah and the others disappeared back into the building. Minutes later, one of the garage doors lifted and Noah backed out in a kick-ass blue restored muscle car. I had no idea what it was, but I had to say it was totally Noah.

“It’s a ’sixty-nine Camaro Z28 RS with hooker headers, four-speed mucie, 373 psi, and four-wheel disc brakes,” Luc offered. He turned and looked at me, the sun glinting off his silver hoop. “In original Leman’s blue with a black leather interior. Saved it from the junkyard and restored it himself. Pretty sick, huh?”

Noah pulled the car alongside Luc’s bike and gave me a smile any other woman would have fainted dead over.

I merely shook my head and grinned.

“Boys and their toys,” I said. “Dead, undead—you’re all the same.”

Noah flashed his white teeth. “Follow me.” He pulled out, his exhaust rumbling, and we fell in behind him.

Heading north on Highway 17, we eased out of Charleston following Noah. Approximately twenty-eight miles later, we hit the small town of Awendaw and turned east toward the river. I held on to Luc as we turned down a narrow gravel lane that led back into the wood. The sun was beginning to drop lower in the sky, and shadows fell long and jagged from aged live oaks across the palm fronds and sweetgrass hugging either side of the lane. I knew we grew closer to the river; the pungent smell of sea life clung to the humid air like fog. Up ahead, Noah’s taillights lit up as he pulled in front of a small, older river house; painted green several years before, it had a screened-in porch and a single yard lamp. Luc pulled next to the Camaro and killed the engine. I swung my leg over and off the bike.

“Come on,” Noah said, grinning, suddenly at my side and grasping my elbow. A deep, singsong voice that sounded strikingly familiar broke through the night air.

“Awe, now, dere she is, den,” a tall, wiry black man said from the top step of the screened-in porch. “You come on over here, Riley Poe, and bring your brodder; dat’s right. Let me take a look at you two.”

I threw one more glance at Luc, whose back was to me as he spoke, and for a second I thought to crank up my strigoi hearing and eavesdrop. I didn’t get the chance. Garr, Preacher’s cousin, stopped me. No—I mean literally. He stopped me—with a lot more strength than an old man should have had. I stared at him.

Garr flashed me a gap-toothed smile.

Then, it hit me. He had tendencies.

A little something Preacher had left out.

As Garr led me up the steps into his river cabin, Noah, Phin, and Seth on my heels, he let out a deep, amused chuckle.

“Well, baby,” he said, and we stepped into the cabin. “We got some catchin’ up to do, me and you.” All of six feet five inches, he looked down at me. The ceiling fan whirring in the living room seemed about to take his head off. “Now, we ain’t stoppin’ in here, no, sir.” He inclined his head, adorned with a faded Awendaw Blue Crabs cap, perched slightly crookedly. “Straight out da back door, to da pavilion. Your Eli is waitin’ for you out dere.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “You like crabs, don you, girl?”

I smiled. “Yes, sir. I do.”

“Good, den. Let’s get out dere before dey all get eaten.”

Garr left no chance for me to discuss anything with Noah or Phin. He continued to pull me through the little river house, straight out the back door, and down a long wooden dock over the marsh. A slight breeze kicked up and blew briny air across my cheeks, and the rustle of saw grass blades scraping against one another nearly soothed me.

Nearly, but not quite.

Once at the end, three other Gullah standing by Eli raised their heads and grinned. Two were older, maybe in their late fifties, and one was younger, midtwenties. The barefoot younger guy, bare-chested and wearing cut-offs to his knees, was dumping a basket of live crabs into a large pot of boiling water. Metal crab baskets lined the dock, and two long metal, green-netted scoop nets rested against a lawn chair in the middle. Two large coolers sat beside them. The boy nodded, keeping his gaze trained on me. Eli walked toward us.

“Come on in here, girl,” Garr said, and led us into the screened-in boathouse. A long, well-used wooden table and benches took the length of the small house; covered in newspaper, a large pile of boiled crabs, red from cooking, sat heaped in the center.

“Sit,” he said, and crossed in front of me to sit on the other side. “Eat.” Old gnarled hands picked up a crab, pulled off the claw, and pulled the pincers apart. He sucked the juice from the claw, then cracked into the meat with a tiny hammer.

Eli stepped inside and found a seat beside me. Seth slid in next to me, on the other side; Noah and Phin crossed over and sat on the other side, next to Garr. A few minutes later, Luc wandered in and sat next to Seth. We all ate. The young Gullah brought in plastic cups and a cold gallon milk jug filled with sweet tea, then poured our glasses and left.

“You see, girl,” Garr started, in between bites of white claw meat, “Charles Town in a bad way, dat’s right. Just like Savannah. Maybe worse,” he said. “Dat Preacher, he told me what happened over dere, with da hell stone.” He shook his head. “Dat’s bad stuff, dem Arcoses. But dem Duprés, dey handled it good, wit your help.” He glanced at Seth. “You all right, boy?”

Seth nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Garr nodded. “Well, we glad to have your help here in Charles Town. Been a long time since we had much trouble here, dat’s right, Noah?”

Noah gave me a quick glance. “Yes, sir.”

Garr leaned forward, crab meat sticking to his fingers. “Well, we got it now, doh. Dem Arcoses, dey turned some, dey left some wit tendencies, dey killed some. No tellin’ how many runnin’ round now, doh.”

“Preacher says we have to entomb them again,” Eli offered. “Maybe just one of them.”

Garr nodded. “Probly so.” Eli had already explained to Garr Victorian’s explanation, and about me. The whole while, Garr said nothing more. But he watched me with ancient, wise eyes.

We finished eating; I don’t think I’d ever eaten so many crabs at once. They were good, with just the right amount of seasoning. Some of it I recognized as normal, regular, everyday spicy crab boil seasoning; some I did not.

“To keep up your strength,” Noah said, staring at me from across the table. He wagged his brows.

By the time we finished, the sun had nearly set; the gloaming, Noah had called it, with no sun, no moon, and the eerie glow of afterlight. Usually, the gloaming was filled with bugs and birds and frogs, calling, mating, singing—not so much anymore. Funny how nature knew what was going on, but humans didn’t.

We left the dock, and the afterlight, behind.