Everdark Read Online Free PDF

and was, according to Estelle, one crazy-eyed white girl. She wasn’t referring to my Caucasian race. Eli had told me I’d turned white, as in literally opaque white. Weird white. Night of the Living Dead white. Zetty’s exact words, in his unique Nepal accent, had been You was one scary crazy white bitch . I believe them, too. Ole Zetty, to be such a big, frightening, knife-wielding Tibetan, was as superstitious as they came, and he gladly carried the pouch of graveyard dust and crushed black cat bones Estelle had given him. He even wore it around his big thick neck, tied to a leather cord. I guess he thought throwing the mixture at me, pouch and all, would keep him safe. He’d done it more than once, after I’d attacked him. Estelle had told him she wouldn’t give him any more if he couldn’t use it right. I still laugh when I think about it. Can’t say I blame him, though. I’d have been scared shitless, too.
    A breeze blew in off the water, rustled the canvas of our tent, and brushed over my bare body. I turned to stare outside, into the varying shades of gray and black as darkness hung over the small barrier isle, and Eli’s arms tightened around me and pulled me close. I knew he wasn’t asleep; he pretended, though, just for me I guess. There were times I just lay awake, my thoughts rambling around in my head, and Eli simply let me. No interference, no smothering—just let me have my thoughts, allowed me to ponder the changes in my life, my brother’s, without interruption. He was there if I needed him, or if I grew frightened, and I have to admit it was something I could get used to real fast. After Mom’s death, I’d always had Preacher and Estelle, but never had I allowed a man inside my heart, and I damn sure never depended on one to comfort me. I can’t say for sure that I’ve let Eli; but it was definitely worth considering. Commitment of one’s heart and soul—literally—required a lot of deep thought. The problem was I’d had so much to think about and consider lately that my brain was on total overload, and, to be frank, I was a little intimidated to commit myself to a man who would most definitely outlive me. Sure—it’d take a lot longer, now that I had tendencies. Still, it was a lot to ponder.
    The sounds of the tide’s ebb and flow blended with the bubbling oyster shoals close by, and the crackle of palm fronds split the night air as the storm that had been threatening since midnight picked up strength. No rain—just wind, thunder, and streaky lightning that occasionally flashed the dark sky. I lay in the semiwarmth of a vampire’s embrace, his hard, perfectly shaped body wrapped possessively around mine, and I couldn’t think of any other place I’d rather be right now. Sharp, salty air assaulted my senses; a scent I loved and drew fully into my lungs. I picked up another scent—faint, farther away, and I smiled as I recognized Preacher’s tobacco. It was weird how one of my vampiric tendencies was a caninelike sense of smell. Gilles had said it was because somewhere along the Arcos vampire family tree a loup-garou had come into play. So I not only had strigoi venom floating around inside me and permanently attaching itself to my friggin’ DNA, but werewolf slobber, too. I hoped to God I didn’t start lifting my leg and peeing on bushes, or worse—humping legs. Christ Almighty damn.
    The pipe tobacco drifted to my senses again, and I smiled. No doubt Preacher had sneaked outside to smoke, out of reach of his wife’s broomstick. Estelle would whack him for sure if she caught him. Root doctor, conjurer, or not—Preacher was still susceptible to mortal diseases. I thought so, anyway.
    See? My thoughts rambled from vampire venom to Gullah tobacco smoke to wives smacking husbands with broomsticks to werewolves humping legs to cancer, all in the matter of minutes. I was brain fried. Or, I suppose, some would call it Southern fried. Whatever that meant.
    I needed a walk, a