by Barb Hendee
He suspected this vampire would turn out to be a worthless pursuit, some murdering member of the new breed who knew nothing of the history of her kind. If so, she was no threat to him, and he needed to get Eleisha back to hunting someone who mattered.
He stood up, walking out into the hall of the main floor, looking left toward the vast dining hall. The furniture was dusty, and cobwebs hung in the corners of the ceiling. He would need to hire some help soon. Perhaps tonight he’d contact a service in Cardiff and have someone sent out.
The air beside the table shimmered, and Mary appeared.
“Oh, God,” she said with what sounded like relief. “You’re finally awake.”
For once, her voice didn’t grate on him. He turned toward her, taking in the tense expression on her transparent face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You’ve got to get to Denver, tonight.”
She sounded so serious, he moved closer.
“Mary,” he nearly snapped. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing . . . nothing yet, but if you want to keep Eleisha safe enough to do your hunting, you’d better head for the airport.”
She wasn’t making any sense, and he did not enjoy feeling either anxious or confused.
“What are you talking about?” he demanded.
Finally, she attempted to calm herself, and she started again. “Philip’s gone to Simone’s house alone. He left Eleisha at the hotel, and Simone is . . . doing stuff to him. I don’t exactly know what, but she likes to play games with people, and I think she wants Philip.”
Julian shook his head in disgust. “You came all the way back to tell me that?”
“Listen to me! I’ve got the feeling Simone doesn’t like to lose, and I can’t tell how this is going to play out. Philip doesn’t ever sleep away from Eleisha anymore, and he stayed at Simone’s today. What happens if Simone starts to see Eleisha as a threat?”
“Doesn’t sleep away?” Julian frowned. “You make them sound like mortal lovers.”
“Well . . . he sleeps in Eleisha’s bed every day.”
Julian froze. “What?”
Mary tilted her head. “Yeah, he’s been doing that since San Francisco.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“It didn’t seem important. I didn’t think you’d care where Philip slept.” She floated a few inches off the ground. “But it’s important now! You should see the way Simone looks at him. You really need to get to Denver.”
He turned away, pacing, trying to absorb what Mary was telling him. This was a worst-case scenario. It was sounding more and more as if not only was Simone of no interest to his own purpose, but she now might pose a danger to Eleisha.
“You’re certain Simone’s not telepathic?” he asked.
“No, she didn’t even seem to believe Philip when he talked about it, but I think he was trying to read her mind anyway.”
“All right,” he said, coming to a decision. “Jasper’s only a few hours from Denver. Send him to the airport the moment he wakes up tonight. Tell him to take her head as soon as possible, but he cannot be seen by Philip or Eleisha.”
“Jasper?” she gasped—which sounded harsh coming from a ghost. “No way!”
Mary had never truly surprised Julian until that moment.
His mouth fell half open at her refusal.
“He can’t handle Simone,” Mary rushed on. “She’s got a face like a black-haired angel, and her gift is envy. You think he can stand up to that?”
“Envy?” Caught off guard by the fact that she was arguing, he answered, “I can’t be seen anywhere near this. Spooking Eleisha could keep her from searching, and I need to save my involvement for when she finds an elder.”
Then he stopped, shocked that he was openly explaining himself to Mary. She was his servant.
“Well, Jasper can’t do this alone,” she said, crossing her arms. “You should at least go there and meet him at a hotel, so you can help him from the background and stay close if he needs you. Will you at least do that?”
The conversation was rapidly growing out of hand. She’d never spoken to him like this.
“You’ll understand when you see her,” Mary said. “Please, Julian.”
And now she was asking him . . . as if seeking a favor?
He let his gift seep out until her face flickered with a hint of fear. “You don’t ask me for anything,” he stated. “You do as I order, or I’ll send you back where you came from.”
To his further disbelief, she looked him in the eyes. “Fine. Go ahead.” Then she glanced away, and her transparent features shifted to frustration. “I’m not trying to make you mad. But you need to come with us. I swear to God you’ll understand when you see her . . . when you hear her.”
He glanced over at the clock on the mantel. If he left now and arranged the correct flight, he could follow the sun backward, take off in the dark, and land in the dark.
“Have Jasper on a flight as soon as dusk sets in San Francisco,” Julian said coldly. “I’ll book a suite at the Brown Palace in Denver. We’ll meet there.”
Her booted feet touched the ground.
“Okay,” she said in relief. “Thanks.”
He didn’t want her thanks, but she blinked out before he could speak again.
Alone now, he went over everything she’d said. As grating as she could be at times, Mary was not given to exaggeration. Perhaps it was best that he follow her instincts in this. But such a long trip was unexpected. He’d made no arrangements for his horse, and he had no time to hire a groom. Frowning, he decided he could let the creature out in the north pasture; it would be all right for a few days. The grass was thick and the stream was high.
But he should book his flight first.
Moving quickly, he headed upstairs to pack a few things and box up his sword properly for the airline.
Just before dusk in San Francisco, Mary was inside Jasper’s room, watching him sleep.
She found it telling that Julian always slept on his back, stretched out like a corpse, but he sometimes wore expensive pajamas. Philip never liked sleeping in any kind of a shirt, as if he found it too constricting, but he did like Eleisha’s head on his chest.
Jasper slept on his stomach with his face half in the pillow, like a mortal, and he tended to fall dormant while still fully dressed in whatever he’d been wearing all night—occasionally with his boots on.
She floated closer, looking down at his short dark hair.
For some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking of Rose and Seamus. Ghosts who were tied to a person here on the living plane could stay here only as long as the other was still alive. But when their anchor died, both ghosts would travel instantly to the in-between plane . . . and then most commonly on to the Afterlife plane.
Seamus was still here after nearly two hundred years. He was tied to a vampire. At first, Mary had triumphed over his condition, as it had seemed so limiting. She was free, tied to no one. But now she wondered whether he had it so bad. Maybe it would be okay to be tied to someone.
When Julian first called her from the other side, all she’d wanted to do was punish her parents. They’d left her home alone, like always, the night she died. They’d gone to an art opening. She’d attempted suicide with some of her mom’s pills, knowing both her parents would run home when she called them for help. But her Dad had turned his cell phone off, and by the time she’d wised up and called an ambulance, it was too late.
Julian promised that if she served him for a period of time, he’d release her on the living plane and let her go wherever she wanted. He also threatened to send her back if she didn’t obey him. In the first few days, all she’d wanted was to make her parents pay for ignoring her.
By now, she was well aware that his aforementioned “period of time” was indefinite. She understood his goals, and they could prove to be very long-term.
But that didn’t matter.
Once she started working with Julian—an
d then Jasper—she started to see things a bit differently. When she looked back on how she’d treated her parents, an unfamiliar emotion washed over her: shame. She’d ruined so many nights for them with her expanding bids for their attention.
How could she not have seen that at the time?
No, she had no wish to hurt them anymore. They were probably better off without her, and she was in a different existence now. The problem was that without a body, without the rage of parental blame, without an actual life to live, she wasn’t sure what she wanted.
She didn’t want to go back to the gray plane. She didn’t want to go to the Afterlife.
That left her here with Julian and Jasper.
Julian could barely stand the sight of her, but he needed her, and they were both well aware of it.
Jasper was different. He was always glad to see her, even hoping for more time with her. In addition, he was undead, so he’d never get old or die.
Maybe someday . . . maybe when Julian’s work for them was over, they could form a link like Seamus and Rose, only theirs would be by choice.
Maybe.
The sun set, and Jasper’s eyes clicked open. He sat up instantly in the bed.
“Mary?”
She knew he didn’t care that she was in his room. He never minded if she watched him sleep, but she could see anticipation growing on his face. He wanted to serve Julian, like it was some kind of high-paying job.
She floated closer, noting his rumpled T-shirt. “Yeah, you need to get your sword and go to the airport right now. He wants you heading for Denver on the earliest flight possible. He’s already on his way.”
Jasper nearly flew out of the bed, running for his phone, pulling a credit card from his wallet. Having unlimited funds also allowed for freedom in booking last-minute plane tickets. He booked a flight and nodded at her.
“Done. Tell him I’ll be there before midnight. Where are we meeting?”
“The Brown Palace Hotel on Fifteenth Street.” Her voice wavered slightly. She didn’t like this.
He pulled off his shirt and moved to the closet. “What’s wrong?”
That was something else about him; he listened to what she said, and he cared when something bothered her.
“Stop for a sec,” she said.
He looked back at her, his hand halfway to a clean shirt.
“I wish you didn’t have to do this,” she told him, not exactly certain what to say. “Simone’s not like any vampire I’ve spied on before. She needs to be the center of attention and . . . I don’t know. I think she has issues.”
“Is that all?” He grabbed the shirt. “Mary, don’t worry. I can take her head.”
“Her gift is envy. She makes everyone want what she has, what she is.”
Jasper smiled, walked to the bedroom door, and opened it, pointing out at the living room. “How could I want more than this?” Coming back toward her, he grew serious. “I have to do this, Mary. I like who I am now, and he pays the bills.”
It was easy for him to say all this. He hadn’t seen Simone yet. Neither had Julian. They’d both understand soon.
“Just be careful,” she said.
“Sure, and I’ll have you at my back, right?”
She nodded. “Always.”
But she couldn’t help wishing that Eleisha had never found Simone and never gone to Denver.
chapter 9
Philip woke up on the floor in one of Simone’s guest rooms that night.
For some reason, he didn’t want to sleep in the bed, not even in a guest room.
But he’d fallen into dormancy with images of her hunting and feeding playing over and over in his mind. . . . Nothing he’d seen in either Rose’s or Eleisha’s memories had ever affected him like this. He had felt what Simone had felt, and he was starving for the release of warm blood in his mouth and for the feeling of fear and death washing through him.
Once awake, he just lay there staring into the darkness.
Without Simone’s gift dulling his mind, his head was clear, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t want to think.
He hadn’t lied to Eleisha—or at least he hadn’t meant to. He had come here to tell Simone about the underground . . . to see whether it was even possible for her to exist there.
But everything was different now.
All the hunger and the need boiling just beneath his skin had burst inside him, and he’d stopped fighting himself.
He was going to hunt.
The overhead light clicked on, and Simone stood in the doorway. She looked down at him, and when she moved, her black hair swung back and forth. She was already dressed, sporting fresh black eyeliner.
She let her gift wash over him, and he absorbed it in a rush, welcoming the feeling of wanting to be like her . . . wanting to hunt like her. It lulled his mind into a fog and kept him from thinking about anything else.
“You ready?” she asked. “Come on, and I’ll show you something.”
He got up and followed, leaving his coat and his machete behind in the living room. Both items made him feel bound and restricted. Tonight he wasn’t protecting anyone.
Simone walked out a back door and into a garage.
She turned on the light, illuminating a black 1972 Thunderbird.
“You like?” she asked.
Walking to the car, he reached out to touch the driver’s-side door.
“I don’t drive it much,” she said. “Normally I just take a cab.”
He didn’t want to make small talk. “Where are we going?”
“Boulder. You want to drive?”
He held his hand out for the keys. She raised one eyebrow and passed them over.
Twenty minutes later, they’d made their way out of Denver, and Philip was racing down I-25, whipping around other cars with practiced ease. Simone laughed. She didn’t put on her seat belt, and she didn’t tell him to slow down.
He could feel excitement building inside his chest.
“Keep your gift on,” he said.
This felt like the old days.
No rules. No regrets.
“Exit here,” she told him, pointing down 36 West.
They kept driving.
Then, even through the darkness, he could see the Rocky Mountains looming over Boulder. The town itself did not impress him as they entered.
“Don’t worry, it’s perfect,” she said. “A university town, full of the richest and the poorest. Those are always best.” She watched the streets pass by out the window. “You feel like college girls or homeless winos?”
He didn’t even need to think. “Winos.”
“Good. Turn up there and park behind that Liquor Mart.”
He whipped the car into the lot so fast, she had to grab the dashboard.
Simone had never felt anything like this. She’d hunted with Maggie for years and years, always being cautious, being careful.
Philip was wild and reckless and unpredictable. He didn’t slow down for anything. He was like a bomb waiting to explode.
She tried to appear nonchalant, unflappable, but just the sight of him getting out of the car and slamming the door filled her with anticipation. Still, she didn’t hurry, and he stopped to wait for her.
“Where?” he asked.
“Over here,” she said, moving forward, “along the creek.”
Her legs were long, but he towered over her, staying close beside her, and for the first time since Pug had moved away, Simone didn’t feel alone. She suddenly knew why the game was losing its shine these past years, why it had grown so stale.
It wasn’t real.
This was real.
He was real.
With an unexpected stab of guilt, she finally understood what Maggie wanted: a companion. But Simone had been a poor choice for a vampire who wanted a sister.
She heard voices through the trees, and Philip turned his head.
“There,” he said.
“No, that sounds like a group,” she said, pulling back.
<
br /> “I know. Keep your gift on.”
He walked toward the voices, and after a moment, she followed. She could barely wait to see what he was going to do.
Philip liked feeling so hazy. It let him get lost in the need for release.
Up ahead, he saw four people among the trees near the creek, three men and a woman. They were standing beneath a large Douglas fir. He could smell cheap vodka from a distance, and he started to let his own gift flow, knowing full well that Simone would be just as affected as his prey.
When he drew closer, he could see that they were just as shabby as he’d expected, with yellow teeth and red noses. But not a single one looked to be more than thirty-five. The woman’s hair was long and unwashed. She was holding a thin bottle.
Feeling him approach, feeling his gift, she turned to look at him.
In times past, when he’d hunted on his own, he often spent a good part of the night with his victims before feeding on them or even just killing them. He realized now that must have been due to boredom and loneliness, but he wasn’t bored or lonely now.
He couldn’t hold himself back. He couldn’t wait.
It had been too long.
He simply relied on his gift and on the power of Simone’s as she came behind him. All four of the people were caught by the spell, and Philip walked right up to the closest man, grabbed him by the shoulder with one hand and snapped his neck with the other, letting the body fall while the others watched.
Simone gasped.
Then he turned off his gift.
The woman and the youngest man backed against the tree in shock. The third one turned to run, but Philip lashed out telepathically.
Stop!
The man froze, his eyes wide.
“Don’t move,” Philip said aloud to the other two. He could feel their fear soaking into him.
He walked up to the frozen man and jerked him closer while turning around so the others could see. Without even pausing, Philip used his teeth to rip the man’s throat out. He didn’t even feed.