Hunting Memories

by Hendee, Barb

  The stairwell was empty, so she managed to follow him up to the fourth floor without being seen. Then he went inside.

  Apartment 4-E.

  She thought she was on the right track with this one, but she still wasn’t sure, so she blinked out and tried to gauge the distance to the back of a small apartment, rematerializing again—poised to wish herself into nothingness—and finding herself alone inside a dirty bathroom. The door was open, and she heard the television come on.

  Peering around the door, she saw that he didn’t even own a couch, just a shabby overstuffed chair and a TV and one end table that looked like it’d come from a garage sale. He had no other furniture in the room. Looking up, she saw a Keira Knightley calendar hanging on the wall. The light on his answering machine was not blinking. He had no messages.

  He put the first film into his DVD player, sat in the chair, opened the backpack, and pulled out a bag from McDonald’s.

  She’d seen enough.

  Blinking out, she stopped once downstairs to get a better look at the building—and then the mailboxes—scanning for the resident of apartment 4-E.

  Jasper Nesland.

  She blinked out again, focusing on Julian and rushing back to the suite.

  “Come on,” she said, before she’d even materialized completely. “I think I’ve got him.”

  Jasper Nesland ate his Quarter Pounder with Cheese and tried hard to focus on Spider-Man.

  Watching the story of Peter Parker usually made him feel better, but he’d had a bad day—bad week actually—and he shouldn’t have stopped at the video store and spent eight bucks on movies.

  He’d been working for a year at the Quickie Mart on 19th Street, always keeping an eye out for something better. Paying the rent on this rat-hole apartment ate up almost everything he earned, but he just never seemed to get a break like everyone else.

  When he was seventeen, his mom ran off to Sacramento with her newest boyfriend—and they didn’t invite Jasper along. He’d never known his dad, and it sometimes ate away at him that he didn’t have parents to help him out. But since Jasper couldn’t change this fact, he’d decided to keep himself afloat.

  He worked hard to pull his own weight. He didn’t smoke. He rarely drank. He knew a bright future was waiting just around the corner, with money and respect and pretty girls. He just had to wait for some kind of break and be ready to pounce.

  Then, earlier this week, he found out his landlord was raising the rent by eighty dollars, and yesterday, his boss had cut his hours, due to business slowing down because of a brand-new Circle K down the street.

  Today, he’d felt so bad, so down about everything, that he’d spent forty dollars on lottery tickets, just hoping to get lucky, but he’d come up with nothing, and now he was out forty dollars and might have trouble even making this month’s rent.

  He shouldn’t have rented these movies.

  But he had, so he tried to forget everything and keep his eyes on the TV and his mind on Kirsten Dunst. He sighed. If only he had a decent car.

  Somebody knocked on his door, and he jumped slightly.

  Who could that be?

  Even desperate salesmen wouldn’t come to this part of the city. He didn’t move and the knock sounded again, louder this time.

  He stood up and walked over. “Who is it?”

  “Open the door.”

  When the words reached his ears, a cold feeling began to crawl over him. He didn’t want to open the door, but he was afraid not to. Something in that voice wormed through his body, filling him with terror of what might happen if he didn’t unlock the door.

  His hand moved as if functioning on its own, flipped the latch, and turned the knob.

  A large man stood in the hallway. He had pale skin, dark hair, and expensive-looking clothes . . . black slacks, a dress shirt, and a long coat.

  He walked in and Jasper backed up, his fear increasing.

  What the hell was going on?

  The man closed the door and locked it again. Then he looked about the apartment.

  “What do you want?” Jasper managed to ask.

  But when he spoke, the man’s head swiveled rapidly back, his eyes narrowing as if Jasper shouldn’t dare speak.

  Fear hit him. He’d never been so afraid in his life. He’d never felt anything like this, and he sank to his knees, too shaken to remain standing.

  The man strode over and grabbed the front of his shirt. Jasper wanted to scream, to beg, but he couldn’t even speak. He felt himself being slammed against the wall, and then to his shock, the man pressed in closer and bit him on the throat.

  No . . . more than bit him. Jasper felt teeth tearing into skin, puncturing deeper, and this time he did try to scream, but nothing came out. He bucked and fought and pushed, but the man was as solid as a moving statue, and he was drinking Jasper’s blood.

  After a few minutes, Jasper couldn’t struggle anymore, and he could hear his heartbeat growing slower and slower, until it barely beat. The man let go of him, letting him fall to the floor. Was it over?

  To his horror, the man knelt down, ripped the veins of his own wrist open, and shoved the bleeding wound into Jasper’s mouth. He started choking, and the man ordered, “Drink.”

  Again, the voice filled him with fear, but the blood flowing down his throat tasted good. He obeyed and started drinking.

  Then the world went black.

  Julian waited in the shabby apartment for several hours. He still had time before dawn and didn’t want to be seen carrying an unconscious body.

  Finally, Jasper’s eyelids fluttered and opened.

  “Get up,” Julian ordered.

  Jasper saw him and cried out, crab-stepping backward to press against the wall.

  “Just get up,” Julian repeated coldly.

  Jasper put his hand to this throat, which was nearly healed. “What did you do?” he whispered.

  “I gave you a gift.” Julian motioned to the dingy living room. “You’re going to leave this place with me and never come back. You will have all the money you could ever want . . . anything wealth can buy. Your body is much stronger now, and you will never grow old. But you can’t go into the sunlight, and you’ll drink blood to live.”

  He let the words sink in. Most mortals would be horrified at a statement like this, but not Jasper. His eyes shifted back and forth as he absorbed Julian’s words.

  “I can hear every car outside,” he said softly. “I can hear the people walking in the street.” He touched his throat. “Vampire?” He rushed to the bathroom. “No, I can see myself in the mirror!”

  Julian wanted to sneer. “Of course you can,” he answered.

  Had he made a mistake? He would only settle for a servant he could completely control, but this one seemed even more vapid than Mary.

  “So, what do I have to do?” Jasper said, turning from the mirror. “For all that stuff you said . . . about money?”

  Maybe he wasn’t so stupid. But as of yet, he had no true idea what had just happened to him, and he was already trying to hedge an advantage. This creature had desires. He could be worked upon—and controlled.

  Julian was pleased. “You just need to pass a test . . . when I tell you.”

  chapter 9

  The following night, Eleisha sat at the kitchen table watching Wade as he got the water boiling and then scrambled a few eggs. Philip was in the shower, and Rose was packing—although Eleisha suspected she was so anxious over the impending journey that she just needed some time alone in her room. So far, Seamus had not appeared tonight.

  “What time does our train leave?” Wade asked, placing a tea bag into a mug.

  “Just past midnight, from Jack London Square.”

  “Did you tell Philip not to hog all the hot water?” he asked, bringing her some tea.

  She looked up at him, and he stopped with the mug in midair.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Why do you think Philip is being so cavalier about Robert no
w, and he’s so hostile about Rose? You’d think it would be the other way around.”

  Wade dropped into the chair beside her. “Because neither one of us seems to like Robert.”

  “What?”

  “Think about it. You threatened Philip back in Seattle. You told him you wouldn’t forgive him if he stopped you from finding Rose. Then you got me interested in helping her, too. You exchanged letters with her, and you want her company. He sees Rose as a threat to your time and affection—maybe even to mine.”

  Eleisha blinked. “No, even Philip isn’t that self-involved.”

  Wade pursed his mouth at her as if she’d said something stupid, and he stood back up to get his eggs.

  Out in the sitting room, she heard a soft knock on the front door, and she tensed. That would be Robert.

  “I’ll get it,” Rose called from her room.

  Wade scooped his eggs from the pan onto a paper plate, and he sat down beside Eleisha with his own tea. Voices carried from the sitting room, and then Eleisha looked over to see Robert standing in the archway. He was quite possibly the most physically intimidating person she’d ever met, and she didn’t know why. He wasn’t even as tall as Philip.

  Maybe it was his eyes.

  He carried over one shoulder a narrow nylon bag that stretched down to his thigh, and he was looking around the kitchen at the bright pots of herbs and the teakettle and egg pan on the stove. Then his gaze moved to Eleisha and Wade sitting at the table.

  “Is there more tea?” he asked.

  That was the first moment Eleisha felt any kind of connection to him. She remembered waking up after her first night here and how wonderfully comfortable it had been to just sit in a kitchen and drink tea with other people. How long since he’d enjoyed such a simple pleasure?

  “Yes,” she said, getting up. “Come and sit. Wade, you finish your eggs.”

  She made Robert a cup of tea and brought it to him, deciding not beat about the bush, as they didn’t have a great deal of time. “We’ve decided to leave tonight. I reserved two adjoining cabins on an Amtrak,” she said.

  “So soon?” he asked.

  “There’s no reason to stay, and I should start making arrangements to purchase the church. I can give you our address in Portland if you need to think this over and perhaps join us later, or you can come with us tonight.”

  “Tonight? I don’t have a ticket.”

  “I bought one for you last night when I booked ours.”

  He stood up, ignoring his tea, seeming uncomfortable. “You bought me a train ticket on one night’s notice? How much did that cost?”

  “Cost?” She shook her head. “I’m not sure. I won’t pay the Visa bill until the end of the month.”

  “It’s all right, Robert,” Wade cut in. “Eleisha doesn’t . . . she doesn’t need to worry about money. It’s fine.”

  Maybe Robert liked to pay his own way?

  Philip walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but his Calvin Klein jeans and rubbing his wet hair with a towel. He half turned to grab a mug out of the cupboard, exposing the white cigar burns on his shoulders.

  At the sight of him like this, Robert froze, as if recognizing him for the first time, and the tension meter in the room suddenly shot up.

  “What?” Wade asked in alarm, looking at Robert.

  Philip stopped rubbing his hair and took the towel away, glancing down at himself, and then he locked eyes with Robert, but with some kind of intense realization dawning on his face until Eleisha wondered if the two of them were sharing a memory.

  “Eleisha,” Philip said slowly, putting the empty mug down. “You’d better take your shower while I get us packed.”

  She hurried over to him, still not sure what was wrong. “Of course. Can I borrow a sweater? I didn’t bring enough clothes.”

  “Sure.”

  He backed out of the kitchen and then turned around. Eleisha followed him to the guest room.

  “What was that about?” she whispered.

  “Nothing.” He turned away. “Go take your shower.”

  She never pushed him when he got like this, so she gathered up some clothes to wear, not paying much attention to what she grabbed.

  Considering his mood, this was hardly the most opportune moment, but she wanted to speak to him before they left.

  “Philip,” she said to his back, “Rose is afraid of traveling, and I want you to look out for her, be kind to her, protect her like you do for me and Wade.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, and she could see his expression darkening. This would be so much easier if she could just use her gift, but he’d feel it, and afterward, he’d blame her.

  “Rose is like Robert,” she said quickly, “just someone we’re trying to help. She’ll never be the kind of friend that Wade is to us, and she will never be what you are to me.”

  The anger in his profile vanished, but he didn’t answer.

  “Be kind to her,” she repeated, hurrying out toward the bathroom.

  But she stopped halfway. Looking back to see Philip packing his bag, she walked to the kitchen, pausing in the arch. She needed a more concrete idea of how this night was going to play out, how their future was going to play out.

  “Robert,” she said. “Are you coming with us tonight?”

  He was sitting at the table beside Wade again, and he studied her for about thirty seconds. “Yes,” he said finally. “I’m coming.”

  Julian brought Jasper back to the Fairmont, allowing him to stay in the suite. He had also introduced him to Mary—so there would not be any drama occurring from her frequent and sudden appearances. If Jasper could so easily accept the reality of vampires, he should have no trouble with ghosts.

  And he didn’t.

  More important, Jasper’s awe at his opulent surroundings was most satisfactory. He’d probably never even seen a suite like this outside of a movie. His body was still completing the change, but Julian wanted to send him hunting soon.

  Julian had a fairly good idea what Jasper’s gift would be once it surfaced. But in all his years, Julian had never trained anyone, never acted as master. He’d turned only two other vampires—his father and Eleisha—and that had been nearly one hundred and seventy years ago.

  He hadn’t taught Eleisha to hunt. Edward Claymore handled all that for him.

  He was pondering exactly how to broach the subject with Jasper. But he cringed inwardly at the thought of another conversation. He didn’t like having such human filth anywhere near his suite, much less sleeping in it, and it bothered him that he could not completely rely on his gift to cow his new creation into reluctant obedience . . . as Jasper must want to succeed.

  Obtaining anyone’s willing agreement had never been Julian’s strong point, even when he was alive.

  “So, where’d you get all your money?” Jasper asked, turning circles inside the suite while reexamining everything. “Do you have some kind of mental power that lets you find lost treasure?”

  Good God.

  He made Mary look like a Mensa candidate.

  “No,” Julian answered, using all his restraint to remain civil. “I inherited an estate and made sound investments.”

  “Inherited? Sure. You’re lucky.”

  “If you are to attain full strength,” Julian said, changing the subject, “you’ll need to feed, and I would prefer not to travel outdoors myself any more than necessary. I want you to listen to me carefully.”

  He expected some questions, some argument, some form of reluctance at his mention of feeding, but Jasper just turned and looked at him with glowing eyes. Maybe the change had finished quickly? Jasper appeared to have lost any lingering remnants of mortal ethics.

  Julian was about to begin explaining the best methods for drawing someone off alone into the darkness when the air in the room shimmered and Mary appeared, looking even more dramatic than usual.

  “They’re going to leave!” she shouted. “Tonight!”

  Julian didn’t even tell her to c
alm down. “What?”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t stay long. . . . There’s something in that apartment that keeps trying to find me. But I was alone in the sitting room for a few seconds, and I heard Eleisha and Wade talking about a train leaving at midnight from Jack London Square! They’re going home to Portland.”

  Julian put his fist back to his mouth again, but this time he was simply thinking. They were leaving sooner than he expected.

  He did not wish to destroy Eleisha yet—and possibly not for some time—if she was going to continue seeking other elders who might be in hiding. He needed her to find them, and he wanted her to view the church in Portland as safe so that she would remain there and he could keep track of her. She was weak of character and did not like being alone. He believed that no matter who he killed, she would keep on looking, keep on trying.

  So he had to destroy Robert before they left San Francisco, and he couldn’t risk this if Robert was traveling with three other vampires—and a mortal who Mary swore was a telepath.

  Julian had to thin the group. But how?

  He forced himself to calm, to think.

  He couldn’t expose himself yet, and his only possible tools were Mary and a newborn vampire.

  Jasper could hardly stand up to Robert or Philip.

  But would he need to?

  From what Angelo had told him long ago, Julian understood that although the newly turned were not immune to each other’s gifts, even a young untrained vampire could defend against a straight telepathic attack, to a degree, by putting up a mental block. Julian was the only exception to this, as he had no psychic defense at all.

  He turned to Jasper. “Your test has come earlier than expected. I have enemies trying to leave the city . . . as Mary has just told us. I need you to keep them from leaving. Mary will guide and assist you.”

  “I will?” Mary asked uncertainly. “How can I help him?”