In Memories We Fear (9 page)

Everything but the nightclub was closed at this hour, and Eleisha wondered how Philip was going to hunt down here now. There were no parking garages where he could lure someone into a car. The restrooms at the nightclub would be packed, so they were out of the question.

Something seemed to catch his eye, and walking up to the front of the tea shop, he looked through the lattice window. She followed. Although the place was closed, the inside was well lit, and a large man stood working on a display near the back wall.

Philip suddenly turned to Eleisha and grasped her wrist. He rarely touched her unless they were sleeping, so the action took her back slightly.

“I don’t want to play any games tonight,” he said. “But I want you to stay with me . . . to stay inside my head while I’m feeding, as you did when you first taught me. I miss that.”

She stared at him in the darkness. While she’d been training him how to alter a victim’s memory, she’d joined her thoughts to his in order to monitor him—and to take over in case he faltered or failed in the attempt. She always assumed he viewed the act as intrusive. But he missed it?

“Okay,” she said uncertainly.

“Now. Come inside my head now.”

What was the matter with him? This was hardly like Philip. But she’d do anything he asked, anything to make him happy, and she reached out with her mind. Right away, she could feel him putting up a block against sharing any of his own memories. He just wanted her to see his immediate thoughts.

He knocked on the window lightly.

The man inside turned with an annoyed expression, waved Philip away, and mouthed the word “closed.”

Let them in,
Philip flashed into the man’s head.
They will spend big and leave quickly
.

Eleisha was surprised by his precision and control. He planted the suggestion almost effortlessly. The shopkeeper walked to the door and opened it. Philip turned on his gift.

“Thank you,” he said in his thick accent. “We hoped to buy some decent tea before going back to our hotel.”

Eleisha had expected him to choose a large man tonight—as he wanted to take in as much blood as possible. But Philip’s gift worked differently on most men than it did on women. Men were sort of . . . awed by him, basking in his company as if his aura of attraction would rub off. But Eleisha could feel it sinking under her skin, making her see how perfect Philip was, how much she wanted to touch him. She shook her head hard, fighting to clear it. This was one of the reasons she’d begun hanging back when he hunted. His gift was too strong.

“Come in,” the shopkeeper said, locking the door behind them. “I was just tidying up for tomorrow.”

The walls inside were covered in shelves and cub-bies holding every kind of tea Eleisha could imagine. All around her stood little tables covered with a variety of pots, cups, and strainers. Philip walked straight to the back of the shop and around a dividing wall, out of sight of the window.

“Do you keep the imported oolong back here?” he asked.

The man had hardly noticed Eleisha; he was too focused on Philip. She kept her gift turned off, letting Philip completely run this show.

Stay inside my head,
he flashed to her.

She didn’t understand why he wanted this, but she stayed inside his mind, still struggling to hold his gift at bay.

The shopkeeper hurried around the divider after Philip. “Yes, top shelf on your right.”

Eleisha followed just in time to see Philip reach out with one hand and say, “You’re tired. You should sleep.” She could feel the power behind his suggestion.

The man dropped like a sack of potatoes, and Philip caught him, lowering him to the floor. Within seconds, Philip had the man’s wrist in his mouth and bit hard, drawing down and swallowing. Locked inside Philip, Eleisha could taste the warm, salty fluid and see the images and memories of countless customers coming through the shop, countless nights cleaning and prepping the shop for the next day. Most of the man’s days had been almost identical. She saw no wife or children, but a Scottish terrier named Reginald who’d recently died of bone cancer.

Philip kept sucking and drinking, maybe too long, and Eleisha was just on the edge of telling him to stop when he pulled back on his own. He’d consumed a lot of blood, but the man seemed all right. Through Philip’s contact, she could hear his heart still beating.

Philip looked at a large glass vase on the counter. “Shatter that,” he ordered, “right there.” He pointed to the floor beside him.

Eleisha took the vase and dropped it, letting it break into pieces. She watched as Philip used a shard to connect the teeth marks on the man’s bloody wrist. Then Philip slipped inside the man’s thoughts again, taking him back a few moments earlier. He’d continued working on the display. He’d seen no one. He’d let no one in. Then he knocked the vase off the counter and tripped, cutting himself.

Philip’s execution was flawless . . . perfect to the last hint of control and last bit of detail.

He stood up. “Come.”

They went to the door, leaving quickly, making sure it was locked behind them, and they moved down the dark street. Eleisha reached out with one hand, grasping Philip’s coat and stopping him in the shadows near a china shop.

“Why did you want that?” she whispered. “Why did you want me to stay in your mind?”

He leaned close, his mouth a few inches from her ear, and she could smell the Paul Mitchell gel in his hair. “Because you keep me calm,” he whispered back. “You keep the demons away. No one can be closer than the two us of when you’re inside my head and we hunt.”

She tensed, her fingers still gripping the black wool of his coat. What demons? And what did he mean, “no one could be closer”? Was that Philip’s idea of intimacy? He still hadn’t said a word about the memory she’d shown him of Robert and Jessenia, and she longed to talk about it.

He didn’t seem to want to acknowledge it had ever happened.

Maybe their visions of intimacy possessed a gap they could not bridge.

 

Julian reached the Great Fosters hotel hours before Jasper, and he went up the suite he’d reserved. While he found the décor here somewhat dated, the service was unparalleled, and the location was perfect, about forty-five minutes outside of London.

Alone, he sat on a dark burgundy couch, staring out the window, and wondering how fast he’d be able to move in once this started. Eleisha had spent far too much time with Robert before Julian had managed to take his head. This time, if she had indeed located an elder—mad or not—the target must be removed quickly.

Unfortunately, the impending chain of events was completely out of his hands.

He didn’t care for the unplanned or the unexpected, but there was no choice here. He was forced to wait upon however Eleisha decided to proceed . . . before he could proceed.

He sat there for hours, just thinking, and then a knock sounded on the door.

“It’s me,” Jasper said from the other side.

Julian got up and opened the door. Jasper walked in with a long box in one hand and a small bag over his left shoulder. He tended to pack light. But every time Julian saw him, he grew more wary of the drastic changes in his servant. Jasper looked like a completely different person from the one Julian had chosen and turned. Worse, he acted like a different person—quiet and confident.

But in truth, Julian worried less about him than he did about Mary. Jasper functioned on a platform of pure greed. Julian understood that. He trusted it.

These days, he wasn’t sure at all about Mary’s agenda.

As if on cue, the air shimmered, and she materialized into view. “Okay, we’re here,” she said. “You want me to go into London and track them? Find out where they’re staying?”

“There’s no need,” he said. “They’ll be at the Montague.”

She blinked. “How do you know that?”

“Because Philip always stays at the Montague.”

Mary tilted her head, as if digesting this information. “We’re kind of on your home turf this time, aren’t we? Yours and Philip’s?”

Sometimes, she could be quite perceptive.

He ignored the question. “Just go make sure they’re all at the hotel. I doubt they’ll begin anything tonight, but make sure. Don’t let Seamus sense you.” Julian relied almost entirely on the element of surprise. He glanced at Jasper. “Have you fed?”

“Yes. Before I left.”

“Good. I’m going out.”

As Julian fastened his sword to his belt and then reached for his coat, he noticed how close Mary floated to Jasper while they chatted quietly with each other.

“I’ll check the pay-per-view schedule,” Jasper was saying. “Maybe when you get back we can watch a movie.”

“Okay,” Mary answered. “I won’t be long.” Julian walked out the door, growing more concerned about both of them.

But as he headed outside, he forgot all about them. These might be the last few hours he had to himself for a while, and he’d always liked hunting in England. He was in the mood for a brutal kill . . . and perhaps the taste of a German tourist.

chapter five

T
he following night, just past dusk, Eleisha woke up with her cheek pressed into the hollow of Philip’s shoulder. The bed beneath her hip was too soft, and she sat up, looking down at his ivory face. He was still dormant.

The hotel room felt completely foreign, and an unwelcome sensation of homesickness passed through her. Climbing off the bed, she was surprised when he didn’t move. Normally, he was awake a few seconds before she was. He looked quiet and peaceful with his eyes closed.

Eleisha walked downstairs to find Wade in the sitting room on the couch—alone. He was staring into space, but he jumped slightly at the sight of her.

“The sun is down, but Philip is still asleep,” she said, not sure what else to say.

“So is Rose. I think it might be some kind of vampire jet lag.”

She moved closer. This was the first time they’d been alone since that raw moment in the dark stairwell of the church. He was still dressed in the same jeans and brown canvas jacket from the night before. Had he slept in his jacket? Eleisha was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and her favorite Hello Kitty tank top. He looked at her tank top and then glanced away.

Her memories flowed back to their earlier nights together, after they’d first met, when he had been so easy to hurt and he’d talked to her about everything. Suddenly, she wanted to close the growing rift between them, and without warning, she flashed out.

I’m sorry
.

They’d made a pact not to use telepathy on each other without permission first, but his eyes flew to her face, and he did not object.

“About what?” he asked aloud.

“Everything. That you’ve felt so alone. That I didn’t notice.”

His expression crumbled. He slid off the couch to the floor, and he put his face in his hands. “God, I didn’t think you’d see.... I was just trying to feed you, and I didn’t mean for you to . . .”

She rushed to him, crouching down and grasping his wrists—feeling the bandages on his left one. “It’s not your fault. You just always seem so strong . . . and you seem fine all the time. I should have known. I should have paid more attention.”

He let her pull his hands down. His eyes were sad and warm at the same time. How long had it been since she tried talking to someone who responded like this? Philip listened when she told him of the past. He listened, but he never responded.

With Wade, she had only to drop her guard and open up, and he would respond in kind.

“You always do that,” he whispered. “You always take everything on yourself. It’s not your responsibility to notice.”

“No, I’ve been too focused on Philip, on taking care of him, on making sure he’s happy.”

“And who takes care of you?” His tone changed, growing harder. “Who makes sure you’re happy?”

She stiffened. What did that mean? He turned his wrists around and grabbed her hands, but his grip wasn’t tight, as if he’d let go if she tried to pull away.

“Who takes care of you?” he repeated, but his voice was softer this time.

His face was close, and she looked at his mouth. What would he make of the memory she’d shown Philip?

“What memory?” he asked.

She jerked away, feeling his mind searching on the edge of her thoughts. “Wade!” She put up a mental block and pushed him out.

He didn’t apologize. “What memory?”

His light brown eyes glowed softly, and she couldn’t believe how
right
it felt to be speaking with him this openly. She scooted close to him again. “Something I saw from Robert.”

Just for an instant, the academic in Wade surfaced. “You showed Philip a memory you saw in Robert?”

She nodded. “It was easy, just like showing him one of my own.” She paused. “But he didn’t like it, and he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

He took her hand again. “Show it to me.”

“I can’t. It’s too . . . Wade, I can’t.”

“Do you know how long it’s been since you shared a memory with me?” he asked, his voice urgent now. “How long it’s been since you shared anything with me?”

Her empathy for him wavered, and she felt as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff. A part of her was desperate for his insight, his open manner of thought and discussion. But something about this felt wrong.

“Show it to me,” he whispered gently.

Still hesitant, she gripped down on his fingers and closed her eyes, dropping her block and reaching out into his mind.

 

For the first time in months, Philip woke up alone.

He was groggy and disoriented, but he was also aware that Eleisha was not curled up against him or sleeping on his shoulder. He reached out and touched nothing. Then he sat up.

“Eleisha?”

The bedroom was empty. He always woke before she did. Where was she?