Memories of Envy

by Barb Hendee

  Running to him, she was taken aback when he held his hand up, not letting her touch him.

  “Wait,” he said sharply. “Wait here a minute.”

  He brushed past, strode into the bedroom, and closed the door. He was gone less than a minute and then came out with his coat off, wearing a black sweater. He wouldn’t look at her.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. “Where’s Simone?”

  His eyes flashed to her face, and her relief began to waver.

  “I’m tired,” he said, ignoring her questions. “Come and sleep, and we’ll go home tonight.”

  “Home? No, we can’t go home.”

  “Yes!” he shouted. “Tonight!”

  He seemed unbalanced, nearly manic, and she knew he must have gone through some kind of ordeal, but she’d been sitting on the carpet in the dark, staring at a door.

  “Talk to me! Where’s Simone?”

  His entire body was shaking.

  “In her house,” he said more quietly. “She cannot come with us. She belongs here.”

  Eleisha froze, trying to put the pieces together. Something had happened to convince him that Simone was not capable of joining them in the underground. But where had he been all this time? She wanted to reach into his mind before he could block her, but he’d feel her and blame her afterward.

  “What happened?” she whispered.

  “Please,” he begged, holding out his hand. “Just come to sleep now. I cannot talk.”

  He’d never done that before. Philip didn’t beg for anything.

  She felt broken inside that he wouldn’t share whatever had upset him so much, had somehow convinced him Simone was a lost cause. But he was so distraught, and the sun was rising. She moved to him and took his hand, leading him into the bedroom. He dropped onto the bed without taking off his sweater.

  Then he grasped her and pulled her down hard against his chest. Even through his clothes, she could feel heat coming from his body.

  Heat?

  “Were you out hunting?” she asked.

  Had he tried to show Simone how they hunt already? Had something tragic happened? That would explain his raw emotions.

  He tightened his arm. “Close your eyes.”

  Her eyelids were flickering, and she tried to make herself calm. He was exhausted. Once he woke up tonight, he would feel better, and then he could talk to her.

  Letting him go alone last night had been a mistake. Philip was not skilled at explaining either the history of his own kind or the essential nature of the underground or the necessity of the laws. Perhaps now he would realize this as well and not ask to be the envoy again.

  He relaxed his arm just enough for her roll slightly inward. She buried her face in his shoulder, still sick with relief that he was back.

  But one thing was certain. No matter what he said or did, they were not going back to Portland tonight.

  Simone was Maggie’s creation, her child, and Eleisha would never just abandon Maggie’s child.

  Simone went upstairs and sank slowly down onto her bed.

  Philip had looked inside of her and seen her life—Daddy and Pug and the early years with Maggie. He’d seen her play the first game with Ethan, and then afterward, he had not turned away. He had reveled in her company and hunted by her side.

  He loved her, and he loved her existence.

  He wanted to share it all. She knew this as absolutely as she’d known she could make Ethan forget Alice.

  Simone didn’t lose.

  Not anymore.

  Philip was not part of the game . . . or maybe he was the ultimate game? Now that she’d found him, she never wanted to play with mortals again. They were shadows next to him. Simone finally understood Maggie.

  Simone had found a companion, after all these years.

  And then . . . for some reason, he’d run. Something had pulled him back to Eleisha.

  But Simone knew what he really wanted.

  She lay back on her bed.

  No wonder she hadn’t been able to interpret the intense expression on Philip’s face when he gazed at Eleisha. He wasn’t in love with Eleisha—not the way a man loved a woman. He was trapped by some kind of slavish devotion.

  Of course he had no desire to go back to a decaying church and live in a tepid “community.” That was clear enough from his frenzied, wild feeding.

  And after the past two nights, he could not possibly prefer Eleisha’s company to Simone’s.

  No . . . Eleisha had some other kind of hold on him.

  Simone didn’t know what it was, but she didn’t care. The solution was self-evident.

  She simply had to remove Eleisha, and then Philip would be free.

  Julian’s eyelids were growing heavy, and he locked his bedroom door, shutting out the rest of the suite, not bothering to see where Jasper might choose to sleep out the day.

  It troubled him that Mary had not even been able to sense Simone and Philip in the city. Anything that kept Eleisha from searching for elders drove him to frustration, and it appeared that she was doing nothing at the moment besides sitting in a hotel room.

  He was equally troubled by Mary’s omission that Philip had been sleeping in Eleisha’s bed for months. What could that mean? From now on, he was going to ask Mary more pointed questions about the details of the household in Portland.

  His eyelids fluttered.

  He was just lying back onto a pillow when Mary floated right through the wall, startling him. She’d never done that before.

  “Good, you’re still awake,” she said. “Jasper looks totally dead on the couch.”

  He glared at her, waiting.

  “Everything’s okay,” she said, holding one hand up. “I’ve got all three of them now. Philip’s back with Eleisha at their hotel, and Simone’s alone at her house. If you send Jasper as soon as he wakes up tonight, he should be able to take her head.”

  Mary floated closer, and her expression darkened. “But I’m going with him, and you better warn him to keep sharp and do what he can to block her gift. She’s already got Philip half crazy, and Jasper’s a kid next to him.”

  If he could have, Julian would have struck her down to the floor and watched her bleed. But he couldn’t.

  At least Simone was alone. That was something.

  “Be here after dusk,” he ordered.

  Unable to stay awake a second longer, he closed his eyes.

  chapter 12

  That night, Eleisha woke up with her cheek pressed into the lines of Philip’s sweater. The sensation was unusual, as she’d grown accustomed to the feel of his skin.

  She sat up, rubbing her face.

  Normally, he woke up a few seconds before she did, but he was still dormant, with his head on the pillow.

  Sheer relief at having him safely back, coupled with a day spent sleeping on his shoulder, helped her to begin reasoning the probable pattern of events. Somehow, his attempt to explain their proposal to Simone had gone wrong, and out of pride, he had continued trying until she’d done something to convince him that the attempt to help her was a failure.

  Whatever happened must have been ugly . . . if it had sent Philip back shaking and exhausted.

  She climbed out of the bed carefully, trying not to disturb him.

  Somehow, she was going to have to tell him they weren’t going home yet, and after his outburst that morning, she was worried he’d put up a fight. What if she couldn’t get him to agree?

  She’d never yet faced complete opposition from Philip . . . and wasn’t sure she could.

  Wandering out into the living room of their suite, she ran a hand through her long hair, glancing around at the unfamiliar décor. She didn’t blame him for wanting to go back to the underground, but they weren’t finished here yet. They weren’t even close.

  Suddenly Beethoven’s Fifth exploded from her canvas bag.

  With a stab of guilt, she realized that in the heat of the predawn events, she hadn’t called Wade back before going to bed. She�
�d left him worrying all day.

  She hurried over to get her phone, but the caller ID did not show Wade’s name or the underground, and she didn’t recognize the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Don’t say my name and don’t react,” Simone said.

  Eleisha was so caught off guard that she just stood there, holding the phone.

  “After last night,” Simone went on, “I don’t think Philip wants me to see you, but you and I need to talk. Can you meet me in an hour at the Starbucks on Larimer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t let him know where you’re going.”

  Simone hung up.

  Eleisha put the phone down. No matter what her companions thought, she was well aware that Simone was nothing like Rose or Robert, and that she was dealing with a pitiless, self-centered vampire who probably killed without thought or remorse—just like Philip had once been.

  She had no illusions in this matter.

  But she wasn’t just going to give up and leave Simone behind.

  Robert’s death had placed the burden on Eleisha, and now she was left to teach the four laws.

  Walking into the bedroom, she took a hairbrush and a clean pair of Levi’s from her suitcase. Philip was awake, watching her.

  “Who was calling you?” he asked.

  “Just the hotel, asking if we want Housekeeping to service our suite tonight. I gave them my number when we checked in.”

  She’d also placed an order not to be disturbed during daylight hours.

  “Did you tell them we’re checking out?” he asked, sounding so cold, she knew any kind of argument would be a mistake.

  “Yes, but I haven’t arranged for plane tickets yet.”

  She studied him as he sat up in the bed, pulling off his rumpled sweater. His pale skin glowed in the darkness. She decided to give him one more chance before embarking upon the plan forming in her mind.

  “Philip, what happened last night?”

  The hard look in his eyes turned to anger, almost disbelief that she’d asked him again.

  “Get dressed and get packed,” he ordered. “Then you call for plane tickets, or I will.”

  This was hopeless. He wasn’t going to explain himself—he wasn’t even going to try.

  In essence, he’d just made the decision for her.

  She nodded, stepping closer to the bed. “Your hair’s a mess. Why don’t you take a shower, and I’ll take care of things out here?”

  She dressed in the jeans and a light green tank top.

  He just watched her, as if suspicious of her for giving in so easily. But then he seemed relieved and climbed off the bed, taking some clothes from his suitcase. “I won’t be long.”

  She knew he did not believe her capable of open deception—not to him.

  As soon as the bathroom door closed, she pulled on a pair of sandals. Looking at her cell phone, she briefly considered leaving it behind, but then changed her mind and simply turned it off before dropping it into her bag and slinging the strap over her shoulder.

  She wrote a note and left it on the coffee table. Once she’d made sure the note would be the first thing he’d see upon emerging, she slipped out the door.

  Philip took longer in the shower than he’d planned, washing his hair twice. He just couldn’t seem to feel clean.

  Closing his eyes, he let the hot water run over his face, blocking out the sight of the white tiles all around him.

  An alien emotion was tickling the back of his brain. He could not name it, but neither could he make it go away. Eleisha had trusted him to sit down with Simone and explain the nature of the underground, the danger from Julian, the four laws, and the benefits of living inside a community. He had convinced Eleisha that his similarities to Simone made him the best choice to present this argument.

  But he’d done none of those things.

  Instead, he’d read the memories of a lonely, damaged vampire, and when her memories drove him to savage hunger, he’d allowed her to cast a haze over his mind so that he could hunt like the Philip Branté of old once more. He’d used Simone so he could revel in blood and fear.

  He didn’t recognize the uncomfortable emotion passing through him, but he hated it.

  To make matters worse, in his entire existence, he had never once stopped to examine his own actions like this before. Why couldn’t he just forget last night and move on?

  At least Eleisha wasn’t angry that he’d left her alone so long. She was going home with him. In the end, that was all that mattered.

  He opened his eyes, still letting the water run over his face, his mind still turning.

  Could she really be giving in this easily? He’d expected more of a fight—with him getting mean and having to bully her. He’d carry her to the airport over his shoulder if necessary.

  Some of this resolution involved fear for Eleisha, who couldn’t be allowed anywhere near a vampire as unbalanced as Simone.

  But some of it also involved fear of what might happen if Simone ever told Eleisha about last night. This made him cringe at his own cowardice, but nothing would change his mind.

  He was taking Eleisha away from here tonight.

  Shutting off the water, he reached for a towel and rubbed his head, knowing that while Eleisha wouldn’t lie to his face, she might be trying to lull him into a false sense of security so she could ambush him with another reason to stay here and try a new tactic with Simone.

  He was ready for her.

  He got dressed and ran some mousse through his hair, starting to feel a little more like himself.

  Opening the bathroom door, he called out, “Did you get a flight arranged?”

  She didn’t answer.

  He stepped out into the suite, “Eleisha?”

  Using his mind, he flashed out as far as he could reach.

  Eleisha?

  Running into the bedroom, he swiveled his head left and right. Then he ran back into the living room and saw a note on the coffee table.

  Philip,

  I know something terrible must have happened last night, but we can’t just give up on Simone. We both owe Maggie more than that, and you know it.

  I’ve gone to meet Simone by myself. Don’t worry. I’m not foolish, and I’ll be on guard.

  Please call Wade and let him know you’re okay. I called him last night when you didn’t come back. I was upset, and I may have worried him.

  Stay in the hotel, and I’ll contact you soon. Everything will be all right. I promise.

  Eleisha

  He dropped the note and ran for the outer hallway, not bothering to put his boots on. The elevator doors were closed, so he took the stairs, jumping down them four at time. When he hit the lobby, people glanced over in alarm, but he didn’t stop and ran for the front doors.

  Mortal pedestrians walked along the dark streets outside.

  Looking both ways wildly, Philip felt his throat begin to constrict.

  Eleisha was gone.

  Simone was already sitting at a table at Starbucks, pleased that her gamble of calling Eleisha had paid off. But she’d had a strong feeling that Eleisha would play the game, keep a straight face, not tell Philip who called . . . and then agree to this meeting.

  Movement at the door caught Simone’s attention, and she looked over, first with hope, and then with a mix of relief and trepidation, as Eleisha walked in.

  Now the hard part began.

  Simone understood Philip completely—better than he understood himself. She knew what he wanted.

  Eleisha was more of a mystery. For one, she had potential, but she tended to wear things like faded jeans and tank tops, with her wispy hair blowing loose, like she hadn’t given two seconds’ thought to how she looked.

  Simone didn’t understand her at all, so it would be difficult to figure out what she wanted. Simone had always functioned by finding out what someone else wanted and then providing it—no matter what it was.

  This was the only method for winning anyone’s tru
st.

  To Simone’s further frustration, Eleisha didn’t look as welcoming tonight as she had that night in the Mercury Cafe. In fact, she looked . . . cautious.

  She came straight to Simone and glanced around, spotting another table in the very back with no one else sitting nearby.

  “There,” she said, as if only that one word were necessary.

  Simone stood up. “Of course.”

  She headed for the table, leaving Eleisha to follow. She’d almost reached the closest chair when something smashed into her mind like a fist, and she felt a sharp command.

  Freeze!

  Every muscle in her body clenched, and she could not move. She was helpless for several long seconds. Then her body went fluid again, and she grabbed the back of the chair. Eleisha was right behind her.

  “I may not be Philip,” Eleisha whispered, “but I’m no sheep. Remember that.”

  Simone half turned, trepidation turning into worry. Perhaps Philip could read memories, but could Eleisha use her thoughts like a weapon? If so, then winning Eleisha’s absolute trust was going to be essential.

  But how?

  “I wouldn’t try to hurt you,” Simone said. “I called you so we could talk.”

  Eleisha nodded and pointed to a chair.

  They sat side by side in order to speak more softly. Simone had dressed carefully tonight, in a tan dress with sky blue beads, an ensemble she normally reserved for having evening tea with her current target’s wife. She wore her trademark eyeliner, having decided to skip the lipstick.

  “How much has Philip told you?” Eleisha asked.

  The place was crowded. Over the loud calls of coffee orders and the hiss of the milk steamer, no one could hear them. Still, they kept their voices low.

  “About what?” Simone asked in return, not sure where this was going.

  Eleisha’s forehead wrinkled. “About the underground.”

  Simone wasn’t sure how to answer, so she trod carefully, deciding to drop a few bread crumbs. “Not much. He said he needed to know me, to see my life, so he made me think back.”

  “He read your memories?” Eleisha’s expression altered instantly to concern, even sympathy.