In Memories We Fear (23 page)

Maxim hesitated, as if uncertain what she was telling him to do, and she put her wrist up to his mouth.

In a flash, he grabbed it and latched on, drinking in gulps. The pain was blinding for a few seconds, and she grabbed his shoulder with her free hand, pulling him around, so he was lying in her lap and drinking furiously.

“Slower,” she said. “Go slower.”

But she’d been right, and he was starving. He gulped several more mouthfuls, latching down too hard.

Slower
.

She sent this as a suggestion, not a command, and it worked. He stopped drinking for a few seconds, but he didn’t detach himself. Then he drew down with less pressure and swallowed.

“Good.”

She was holding him like that, with her wrist in his mouth, when Rose appeared in the doorway, turning to look down at them. She did not ask what Eleisha was doing. She watched only until Eleisha got Maxim to stop and pulled her wrist from his mouth. When he looked at her, something in his face had changed. Of course, it wasn’t so white now, but there was something more. She could swear she saw gratitude in his eyes, either gratitude or something close to it. She didn’t think she’d need to drive any more mental commands to keep him at her side.

“The sun will be up before long,” Rose said calmly, as if they were a mortal family that had just finished supper. “I think we should all sleep in this room.”

 

Residing in close proximity to Jasper, with nothing else to do, was beginning to grind on Julian’s nerves in a way he’d never experienced before. Even in life, he’d required a great deal of privacy. After being turned, this need increased.

Spending three nights locked in a suite with an inferior creature like Jasper was enough to drive him mad. He’d gone back and forth over sending his servant back to San Francisco. Only the uncertainty of tonight’s events kept him from doing so.

There was still a possibility that he might require assistance.

But in spite of Mary’s unforgivable blunder, as usual, she’d come up with a clever plan to keep moving forward. He’d never tell her, but he had faith she’d find a way to lead Philip right to Eleisha and the feral vampire.

Mary had a way of handling whatever was thrown at her.

“Julian?” she called.

He was in his bedroom at the suite—trying to avoid Jasper—and he was annoyed she had materialized out in the sitting room. Opening the door, he walked out to see her standing by the fireplace with Jasper at her side.

“Well?” he asked, but he could tell from her stance that something was wrong.

She shook her head. “No dice. I got Philip there, but she was already gone . . . with Rose and the vamp. The place was cleaned out. I don’t think they’re going back.” She stood straighter. “I did a sweep of that area before coming here, but I didn’t sense anything. I don’t know where they are.”

He just stood there, staring at her, too overwhelmed for anger.

“I’ll keep searching the city, but Eleisha’s not stupid, and I doubt anyone’s going to find her until she wants to be found this time.”

“What do you mean, ‘wants to be found’?” he asked quietly.

“She won’t leave Philip and Wade on meat hooks for long. It’s not her way. They all have cell phones. She’ll call Wade sooner or later, and I’ll stay right on top of him. He’ll lead me to her. We just have to wait.”

Jasper ran a hand over his face. “No,” he whispered. “You want me to just sit here? Mary, I can’t.”

She looked at him with open pity. “I’m so sorry. That’s the best I can do . . . I think. I’ll go out looking again right away, but . . . ,” she said, trailing off.

Julian had no pity for either of his servants, and he was well over his quota for disgust at the moment. Without another word, he turned and walked back into his room, closing the door. But he couldn’t help agreeing with Jasper on a certain level, and he didn’t know how much longer he could just sit in here either.

Something had to happen soon.

He sat down on his bed. Dawn was not far off.

 

When Eleisha awoke that night, she found herself lying on the floor of the shack’s bedroom with Maxim pressed up beside her. Rose was still dormant on the bed. This was the first moment in twenty-four hours that Eleisha had to really think, to let the ramifications of her own actions sink in.

Was it only last night that she’d awoken on Philip’s chest, right before Seamus materialized to tell them he’d found a signature near Westminster Bridge? It seemed like weeks.

And the sight of Maxim lying beside her brought a sharp pain she hadn’t expected.

Philip would be waking up alone.

She missed him. She missed how he always woke up a few seconds before she did and she would look down into his eyes as she was already planning events to entertain him for the night.

He must be lonely and angry. He must be so worried.

Her gaze flickered to the backpack in the main room. The cell phone was tucked inside. Should she call him? Better, maybe she should call Wade again and just give him a message that they were still safe?

But even as she ran this option through her mind, she knew it was wrong. She shouldn’t call either one of them until Maxim was ready. She couldn’t do anything to jeopardize his safety, not now, not when he’d come so far in the span of a single night.

He stirred on the floor beside her, opening his eyes. An instant of blind panic hit him, and he jumped up, looking around the foreign room.

“Maxim,” Eleisha said, and he turned on her.

But he didn’t charge or lash out. His gaze cleared and then dropped to her wrist. His skin was not so white anymore.

“Leisha?” he said.

She sat up, startled. “Yes, Maxim.”

Rose was awake, watching them both. “Have you felt a hint of his gift?” she asked. “Anything at all?”

“No, and he doesn’t seem to even know he could push me out of his head if he tried. The only power he seems to have is controlling the behavior of animals.”

Rose didn’t know that Eleisha had already seen some of Maxim’s memories. Eleisha wasn’t sure how to tell her that even in life, Maxim hadn’t exactly been a poster boy for mental health. He’d been an odd young man, brilliant, but cold to the point of expressing total disregard for others. However, he’d also not expressed any affinity toward animals. When had that started? And what
was
his gift?

Before Eleisha could make any further progress with him, she had to know what had happened to turn a scholarly, fastidious young vampire into a feral creature who’d forgotten how to speak.

Only then would she know how to move forward.

“Rose,” she said slowly, “Maxim seems to feel more comfortable outside. I’m going to take him for a walk, and we may be a while. Is that all right?”

Rose watched her for a few seconds. “Yes, of course.”

Rose never needed to have anything spelled out for her. Eleisha stood and headed for the door.

Let’s go into the trees,
she flashed to Maxim.

He didn’t need to be asked twice and hurried after her. Soon, they were half a mile from the shack, running through the forest, and Eleisha could not help enjoying the sensation. Since being turned, she’d always lived in cities . . . New York, Seattle, Portland. But in her youth, she had run among the trees at Cliffbracken, and tonight brought back pleasant memories.

Maxim jerked to a halt, his head swiveling. She stopped beside him.

“What is it?”

“Shhhhhh,” he said.

His eyes narrowed, and a large rabbit hopped toward them. It kept coming without fear, as if being called. Maxim suddenly stepped forward and picked it up, sinking his teeth into its throat and gulping. For some reason, Eleisha looked away. This brought back different memories.

Maxim fed on rabbits? No wonder his undead signature was so weak. She’d known only one other undead who’d been able to feed on rabbits.

When Maxim finished, he hid the animal’s small body under a patch of ferns, but he did not bother wiping his face. His movements were fluid, and he seemed more at ease than Eleisha had ever seen him. He was at home out here.

“Maxim,” she said, sinking down beside a wide tree trunk, “come here.”

He came to sit beside her, his skin even less pale now, and he pointed back toward the patch of ferns hiding the dead rabbit. “One,” he said, “for you?”

She sat up straight. He was combining words . . . and if she understood him correctly, he was offering to bring a rabbit for her. The rapid forward movement of his progress had begun when she’d forced his memories to surface, leading him to remember Brandon and Adalrik.

“No . . . no, thank you,” she said. She leaned toward him. “Maxim, I need to see more, like last night.” She reached out and touched the back of his hand, and he did not pull away.

What she asked of him was complicated, and she gave up on speech.

His face was close to hers, and he was clearly uncertain about doing what she asked. The first session had been brutal for him. But he was a good deal more coherent and aware now.

He closed his eyes, and she slipped deeper into his mind, locking onto the memories and propelling them forward.

chapter eleven

MAXIM

M
axim stumbled out of the alley behind Adalrik, feeling better physically, but nearly sick with relief that this whole “feeding” ordeal was done, and they could ride back to the library. His fantasies of traveling with Adalrik were fading by the moment, and he was desperate to go home and lock the doors.

He started toward his horse.

“Not yet,” Adalrik said, and his tone brooked no argument. “Follow me.”

Maxim looked toward the horse and wavered in indecision. Could he simply flee? Swing up onto the animal and race back to the house?

“Now,” Adalrik ordered.

Long accustomed to obeying his mentor, Maxim fell into step.

“This is all wrong,” Adalrik said more kindly, “and I know I’m rushing you, but we have no choice.”

They passed by a number of closed shops, and Maxim soon heard voices up ahead. Adalrik walked into a busy pub five blocks from where they’d left the unconscious man in the alley.

“No, not here,” Maxim whispered in panic. “We’re not far enough.”

“Quiet.”

The place was crowded but clean, with a long polished bar. Several men behind it served drinks and chatted with patrons. A few of the locals turned to look their way, and Maxim’s stomach tightened. He almost turned around and walked back out.

“Sit down,” Adalrik told him.

He sat.

“When the serving girl comes over,” Adalrik said, “I want you to speak to her directly, and I want you to think of feeding at the same time. Imagine her as you would if you pressed against her and fed from her wrist. Think on that image as you speak.”

After a year alone with no one but Adalrik, Maxim was overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of so many people. He was overwhelmed with worry that the man in the alley might wake up at any moment and come accuse him. He was overwhelmed by a need to be safely locked away in the library.

“Focus,” Adalrik whispered.

A pretty girl with thick brown hair and a clean apron came to the table. “What’ll you have?” she asked.

Maxim was frozen for a few seconds, and then he tried to do as Adalrik asked. Strangely, it wasn’t difficult, and he almost could not help picturing himself pressed against her, swallowing her blood.

“Red wine,” he said, “preferably in a pewter goblet.”

When he spoke, his voice sounded . . . different. She gazed down at him, momentarily shaken, and then she smiled. “Pewter goblet indeed. You think you’re drinking with the queen?”

Something warm began to build inside him, and it felt as if it were seeping outward. The girl’s eyes locked on him in fascination.

Adalrik was watching them both, and he said to the girl, “My dear, have you ever read ‘The Nun’s Priest’s Tale’?”

Maxim blinked at his mentor. What a ridiculous question to ask a barmaid.

She laughed. “No, sir, I certainly have not.”

“Tell her the story, Maxim.”

Grasping for a moment of security, safely ensconced inside the words of Geoffrey Chaucer, Maxim began to spin the colorful story of Chanticleer, a clever rooster who outwits a fox. As he spun the tale, several other patrons stopped their drinking and moved closer to listen. The girl’s fascination with his face, with the movement of his mouth, only increased.

The warm feeling continued flowing from his body, gaining strength.

When he finished the story, everyone around applauded and cheered. He did not know how to respond, but Adalrik stood up. “We must be on our way.”

“No, sir,” the girl protested. “You’ve not even had your drinks yet.” She looked to Maxim. “Please, tell us another.”

“The hour is late,” Adalrik said. “We must be heading home.”

Against other protests, Maxim followed him numbly to the door, wondering what had just happened. He knew it was something important. He simply did not know what.

They mounted their horses and rode out. Once they were well away from the village, Adalrik finally said, “I suspected. But I had no idea you would be so strong, so soon. You were meant to exist as one of us.”

“What are you saying?” Maxim cried, unable to keep the questions and the fear inside any longer.

Adalrik started slightly at the outburst and pulled up his horse. “Your gift.” He paused. “We all have gifts. Some are straightforward and easy to name, such as mine. Did you feel it in the alley? Mine is trustworthiness. When I speak while hunting, any mortal within earshot will trust me absolutely, and so I am able to seduce him or her quietly. We could not survive without our gifts.”