Afterlight - Elle Jasper [110]
In the next second, Claude moved behind me and brushed against my ass. I jumped, and he laughed. “You remember back when your punk ass was in my jail on a weekly basis? All strung out and high as a kite?” I froze, and he leaned closer. “You’d fuck anything for a fix back then.” He dropped a small, cellophane-wrapped object the size of a roll of dimes on my desk, and his hand moved to my ass. “How ’bout now?” he said, his voice thick, his breath thicker. “For old times’ sake?”
I reacted; I knew it’d get my ass landed in jail, but I didn’t care. Elbowed him in the gut; when he fell back, I laced my fingers together into a tight fist and swung up, catching Claude right smack in the nose. He stumbled back, wiped the blood trickling down his face. He wasn’t shocked or surprised; it seemed to have turned him on even more. “Rough little bitch, aren’t ya?” he said, grinning. “That’ll cost ya.”
But he surprised me; in a move I didn’t expect, he popped me right in the mouth. I felt my lip split again, and in the next breath I kneed him in the balls. Claude didn’t have time to react after that; he didn’t even have time to fall to his knees.
Eli emerged—was suddenly there, enraged, and I watched in horror as he grabbed the detective by the throat and lifted him off the ground.Eli’s face contorted—his jaw unhinged and jagged fangs dropped long; his eyes grew opaque—and urine ran down Claude Murray’s leg and onto the floor. Eli pulled his face close to the detective’s. “Leave. Her. Alone,” Eli growled, his voice not his own, dark, menacing. Claude gasped, choked, and right before my eyes I watched the color drain completely from his face. His body jerked, twitched, and then grew still. Very, very still. Lifeless eyes stared at me, and my insides froze. Eli dropped him onto the floor. The detective had just died of fright.
I stood there, shaking, as did Eli. His face returned to normal; his fangs slipped back inside. His eyes remained opaque as his fury slowly subsided. I said nothing, simply stared at the body of an SPD detective lying dead on my floor.
“Call my brothers,” he said, his voice edgy, and turned his back to me. “Call Preacher.” He grabbed the dope and shoved it into his pocket.
I did as he asked, although my mind was buzzing. I called Preacher first, then Phin. Preacher showed up first.
My surrogate grandfather walked in through the back and came straight to me. “You tell me what happened, girl,” he said, and reached out with a thumb and wiped the blood off my lip. I told him about the Panic Room, about Kelter, and about me being questioned yesterday.
“The detective showed up while Eli was showering. He . . . wanted to check the place out.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Then, I don’t know—he started talking dirty to me, then put his hands on me.” I looked at Preacher, and it was only then that I noticed that the other three Dupré men, Gilles included, had walked in. I glanced at them and continued. “I reacted—I elbowed him, and then I punched him.” I looked at Eli, whose eyes were almost back to normal, but he was still silent, furious. “Eli didn’t kill him,” I said fervently. “He didn’t. I think . . . he had a heart attack after seeing Eli change.”
Preacher began speaking in French to Gilles; I of course didn’t know what they spoke of.
“Preacher’s telling my father what Murray did to you as a child,” Phin offered, and I gave him a nod of thanks.
I glanced at Gilles, and he looked at me. “Worry not, chère; all will be well. You will soon learn that a creature of the afterlight cherishes beyond mortal imagination what is his, and will protect fiercely if challenged.” He glanced at Eli, down at the detective, and back to me. “We no longer routinely kill; in this case, it could not be helped.” Gilles and Preacher stepped off together and continued to speak in French. Eli grasped me by the elbow.
“Go upstairs, Riley,” he said. “Josie and my mother are on their way.” He glanced behind him, at the detective. “We have