Eventide: The Dark Ink Chronicles by Elle Jasper Page A

past the park, and Eli walks over to me. “Ready to go?” he asks.
    “Yeah,” I say, and I mean it. “I’m tired.”
    “Later, guys,” Eli says, and we get into the Jeep. Seth walks me around to my side.
    “I’ll see ya later, okay?” he says, and gives me a quick hug. “I’m not too tired and we’re going to work on our project for a while.” Seth inclines his head to Josie.
    Josie shrugs. “My mother loves to give us school projects. You know, like for science. I think she has us making a volcano soon. And a constellation mobile. I’ve made too many to count in the past but she loves them, even if they sound a little young. I’ve even asked if we can do something cool, like dissect a cow’s eyeballor something. No go. But we’ll study several things with the microscope.”
    I nod. “Sounds good. Catch you guys later,” I say.
    We all part ways; Eli and I head back to Inksomnia.
    As we drive through Savannah’s squares, even the annoying sounds of traffic—horns blowing, people shouting, and somewhere close by, a jackhammer—none of it is able to keep my eyes open. My lids feel heavy, and they drift shut. The sounds around me, even the wind, extinguish. I vaguely recall my body being lifted and carried indoors. Next thing I know, the world around me is pitch black, and I’m dead to everything except the sound of my sluggish heartbeat.
    It’s nighttime, and darkness envelops me. Not just the physical lack of sun, but inside of me is dark, also. As I walk along the sidewalk, it consumes me. I’m like a cat, always on alert to catch something unsuspecting off guard. Play with it for a while. Sink my teeth into it. Kill it.
    What? What the hell was that? I stop in midtracks and look around. The street is empty except for the Savannah Yellow Cab that is parked a few blocks away. The oaks loom overhead; the Spanish moss hangs like wispy gray hair, matted and knotty. Shadows surge from the corners of yards and aged brick homes. I like the darkness, and I like the shadows even more. Menace. That’s what I feel. But why?
    I begin to move again, slowly up the sidewalk toward the cab. I have no intentions at first; I’m just there, a form of lifemoving through shadows, trying to find my way…somewhere. I guess I have no purpose. But the very instant my eyes lock on the red ember of a lit cigarette flame inside the cab, I know. I am fixated on it now. On what’s inside the cab.
    The regular thump of the heartbeat of the cab driver resonates in my ears.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
    I have purpose. I have intention.
    A craving roars inside of me. It takes on a life of its own and I am powerless to stop it. Or, I simply don’t want to. The lines are blurred now. I’m confused. This thing inside of me? It pulses. Breathes.
    Possesses.
    I move through the shadows now, closer to the parked cab. Closer to the heartbeat. As I sidle up to the passenger side door, I tap on the window with my index finger.
    The window rolls down.
    “I’m on a break,” the cab driver says with the cigarette clenched in his lips.
    I smile and lean down to look at him through the window. My hair falls over my shoulder. “For how long?”
    The cab driver’s eyes dart directly to my low-cut shirt, where his gaze lingers on the swell of my breasts. I allow it. Encourage it by taking a few exaggerated deep breaths. Then, he looks at me and grins. “Till now. Hop in.”
    I grasp the door handle to the backseat and climb in.
    “Where to?” he asks, looking at me through his rearview mirror. A panel of plastic glass separates us.
    I shrug casually, lean back against the seat, and lock my eyes with his through the mirror. “Tybee. North Beach.”
    Again, he grins. “You got it.” Only now does he flick the cigarette out the window. Then he puts the cab in drive and pulls out onto the street. At Victory, we take a left. We’re both silent until well onto the Island’s Expressway, nearly to North Beach. Silent, but the cab driver’s