Blood Memories vm-1

by Barb Hendee

  "John said my father is a bastard, but he must have meant something else then."

  "Oh." The corner of Julian's mouth curved up. "It can also be used to call someone heartless or cruel. Your father did treat you badly, but only because you disappointed him. He wanted you to be strong. Take his place."

  "Is your father a bastard?"

  "Mine? No. Mine is… an unusual man. I wish your memory hadn't erased him. He taught you to ride when you were six."

  "Truly?"

  "Yes, you were afraid of horses, and my father understands fear. We probably should have switched places. You loved it at Cliffbracken, and I always felt stifled."

  "I can't imagine being afraid of horses."

  "No, you've changed. Tragic, really. Your father would worship you now." He paused and frowned. "You're certainly full of words tonight. I haven't seen you this coherent since before Angelo turned you."

  "I have things on my mind."

  "What mind?" Julian snorted coldly.

  "John and I rode into town a few nights ago, and he…"

  Julian turned away from the window. "He what?"

  "He used one of his mind tricks to make a whore forget him, forget he had fed upon her, and he left her alive."

  Julian fell still, gazing at Philip through the darkness. "Has he or Angelo ever done that to you? Tried to enter your mind? Tried to make you obey? Or tried to make you forget something?"

  "What?" This turn in the conversation startled Philip. "No. Of course not."

  "How would you know," Julian whispered, his dark eyes glittering, "if they'd already made you forget?" He stepped closer. "We have no defense at all. Do you understand what that means? They could make us think anything, do anything… and even make us forget… and as we have no such power, we could do nothing to stop them."

  Philip fidgeted in his chair. "What is wrong with you these past nights?"

  "We have no defense against them… against any of them."

  "Stop saying that!" Philip snapped.

  Julian fell silent, turning back and staring out the window into space.

  "Oh, please, Julian," Philip begged. "Can't we do something, anything-riding, hunting? We could even practice fencing if you like. One more moment in this house and I'll die."

  "No," his undead brother whispered. "You won't die."

  A few nights later, Julian vanished, and Philip had no idea where he'd gone.

  Several weeks passed, and then one night, Philip came home an hour before dawn to find his master and John in the library, deep in whispered conference.

  "Telling secrets?" Philip asked, smiling. "About me?"

  Angelo Travare, Earl of Scurloc, rested in a stone chair. He was a slender Norman creature who told stories of crusades and knights with swords, his flesh long since grown so preternaturally pale he scarcely passed as human. Dim candlelight exposed deep lines of strain now marring his milky forehead.

  Two thick pieces of parchment lay on the oak table before him.

  "Sit down, son," Angelo said.

  "What's wrong?" Philip asked.

  "Our time this winter is over. You must return to Gascony."

  "But it's not even January yet. We have months to go."

  "How many vampires do you know?"

  "How many? You, John, Julian, Maggie, and John's servant, Edward. What does it matter?"

  "Do you ever wonder if there are others like yourself, beyond your circle?"

  "No."

  "There are, Philip. Nearly thirty others in Europe alone."

  "Like us?"

  "Just like us," Angelo said. "But tonight, we've learned that three of them are dead." He pointed down to the parchment letters.

  "Dead?" Philip repeated. "We can't die. We're immortal."

  "Of course we can. I've explained this. ‘Undead' does not mean your body can't be destroyed. Fire, sunlight, and decapitation will end your existence. Now, listen to me carefully. Do you know why Maggie has no psychic powers?"

  Philip frowned without answering.

  "Because you were not able to teach her," Angelo said.

  John leaned forward in his chair, nodding, dark blond hair falling across his eyes. "And neither does my Edward because I chose not to teach him yet, and he has no contact with others of our kind."

  Their manner annoyed Philip, speaking to him in short, slowly spoken words. "I'm not simple! I'm not a half-wit, but I don't care about psychic powers." He motioned to the parchments. "And what does any of that have to do with us? A few vampires we've never met have flown off to the great beyond. Why do you care?"

  "Because they were murdered," Angelo said flatly. "Decapitated by Julian."

  "By Jul-… some kind of fight?"

  Angelo always had seemed ancient to him, but tonight was the first time his master looked old and fragile.

  "No, Philip, not a fight. Julian has left us. He has become an enemy to his own kind and is destroying vampires who possess psychic power."

  "What? Who told you that?"

  "It is the truth. His gift has turned back in upon itself, and he now fears what he does not possess… to a degree that has sickened his mind." Angelo paused as if gauging his next words. "Psychic ability isn't truly a gift like the one great power we each use against mortals. It is learned, developed. And as John did with his Edward, I have chosen to postpone your training until you have existed longer, learned more of yourself and our world. But I cannot explain Julian's lack of ability. I have sometimes thought his gift to be so strong it has kept him from developing other powers."

  "Have you told him that?"

  "Of course." Angelo almost smiled. "Long ago."

  "And he still fears you?"

  Angelo did not answer.

  Rubbing his hands, John peered up at Philip through tired eyes. "It's important that you don't become involved in this. I don't think you're simple or a half-wit, but you could be hurt if you stay. Go home to Gascony and wait with Maggie until this thing is over."

  "What will you do?"

  "I leave tonight. I'll go to Amiens and get Edward first. He and I will go back to Edinburgh. Master Angelo has a few affairs to tie up here, and then he'll leave in a week or so for his summer home in Venice."

  "Why are you splitting up? Wouldn't we all be stronger as a group?"

  "No," Master Angelo said. "I am hopeful that Julian may come to his senses, and giving him so much ground to cover makes his current task more difficult, if he means us harm at all. Killing strangers is one thing. Killing those in our circle is another."

  "How many of the other vampires are psychic?"

  John's gaze dropped. "All of them besides you, Julian, Maggie, and my Edward."

  "All of them?" Philip's eyes widened. "Then what does he possibly hope to gain?"

  "Nothing. He is simply afraid… to the point of madness."

  This made no sense. Philip experienced a moment of intense unhappiness and hated the emotion. "All right, John. You go. I'll stay here with Master until he's ready to leave for Venice."

  Angelo leaned back in his chair. "I have no need of protection, my son. My hands can snap Julian like a matchstick."

  "No matter. I'm staying anyway, until you're ready to leave."

  With no more words to say, John moved for the stairs, looking back at them once.

  Eight nights later, Philip and Angelo packed a few scant belongings and prepared for their separate journeys. The short time they had spent alone together pleased them both. The old master forgot his books and cerebral conversation, preferring to spend spare time outside hunting with Philip. But the house had now been secured, carriage horses stabled inside Harfleur, and bank accounts transferred to Venice.

  It was time to leave.

  Philip jogged with snow-covered boots into the library. "Horses are saddled. You ready?"

  Angelo gazed around. "Yes, but I will miss this place… and you."

  "Don't be so maudlin. Julian will forget this by summer, and we'll all meet in London, or maybe
Paris."

  They walked outside into the night air. Dark trees lined the path to the barn, allowing bits of light from the moon to glimmer through. Philip seldom formed attachments to places, but this path had always held a certain charm with its hidden black spaces-but still so wide that he could drive Kayli into full gallop two steps out of the stable door. Wanting to lock this night in his memory, he stared at each tree they walked past. Because of this, he stopped short when movement caught his eye.

  "Angelo, there's something-"

  Before he could finish speaking, a shadow stepped out from the base of a tree, and moonlight glinted in his eyes. He heard the sweeping arc rather than seeing anything. Then Angelo's body toppled to the ground, his separated head landing with a soft thud in the snow. The whole picture took a few seconds to sink in.

  Then the pain hit.

  Searing, scorching, hysterical faces exploded inside his eyes. Turks, ragged peasants, pale children, sobbing women, all danced and clawed at his brain while he writhed helplessly, scratching at his own temples to get them out-men with long surcoats, crosses in one hand and swords in the other, crying fanatical words while rushing to battle, horses and fire and a lady called Elizabeth who always waited, a dark-skinned vampire with no name biting his shoulder, hating him, making him pay for all eternity by stealing his dream of heaven. The visions and agony went on and on, a parade of lost souls seeking retribution. Finally the waves began fading. The sounds hushed.

  "You're all right. It's over." Julian knelt beside him, a sword in one hand, blood smeared all over the other.

  Twisting up to all fours, Philip stared at his master's body as it began to turn gray and crack. This couldn't be happening. "You killed him."

  "I had to," Julian rasped. "Don't you see? We are meant to be alone, not to live in twisted families like mortals. Our kind has become diseased, feeding upon each other's powers until some of us began to throw off the balance… growing stronger than others, creating a threat. I'm putting the balance back. Soon we will be pure again, equal… safe."

  The words sounded far away, at the end of a long corridor. Philip climbed to his feet in shock, not understanding or absorbing Julian's words. "What will John say? This will make him sad!"

  "No, it won't. He's already dead." Still kneeling, Julian pressed the sword into the snow and leaned on the hilt with his hands. "Angelo must have known. He must have felt it."

  "What?"

  "Four nights ago, I took his head right in front of his servant."

  "Edward? Where is he now?"

  "Long gone. He's not one of them."

  This was a night of new emotions. Acute pain and sorrow faded as something infinitely worse crept up Philip's spine. Julian's black eyes bored into him, emanating fear, making him back away.

  "You may not remember," Julian whispered, "but we've been friends since childhood. That existence is over. You are an immortal hunter, forever alone. Do you understand? Alone."

  "No. Maggie's mine."

  "You stay away from her, or I will send her after. I'm not being cruel, only strong. You will thank me later. And it's not so harsh as it sounds. We can speak to each other, sometimes even hunt together. But never can we live together, never feed off each other's gifts. If even one of us gets this disease, the whole nightmare might begin again. Purity is what matters now-your first priority, more than me, more than Maggie, more than hunting. Do you understand?"

  Terror filled Philip until fear was all he could see. What would he do? Existing by himself was worse than death. Perhaps this was a vision, the dream on the edge of John's sleep that he never quite saw, the bad thing he saw coming and couldn't stop. Julian's voice echoed through the darkness.

  "Alone. Do you understand? Alone…"

  Chapter 23

  Alone."

  I pulled out to see him mouthing the word almost silently, amber eyes lost in a fog of memories.

  "Philip, wake up."

  He blinked and looked down at me. Without thinking, I laid my face against his knee in a gesture of comfort, like a mortal, like a woman.

  "It's all right," I said. "Long past now."

  Julian had hurt him, filled his world with lies.

  "I think he went on killing… all of them, Leisha," he whispered, "all but Edward, Maggie, and me."

  "Did you send Maggie away?"

  "No, I just didn't go home. Julian never had to chase her off. Then she left for America on her own in 1841, about two years after you."

  "So she waited sixteen years for you to come back to Gascony?"

  "We saw each other… sometimes. Like that first night you saw me at Cliffbracken, we'd all been out hunting together. I was happy. But after a few nights together, Julian broke us up."

  How many had Julian murdered? Angelo said, "Nearly thirty in Europe alone." But how? Julian had been turned less than a year before Philip. If we grow more powerful with age, then how could he destroy such ancient beings?

  I flashed the question mentally at Philip. He didn't seem to realize no words had been spoken and nodded at me.

  "I wondered that, too. He told me later that they couldn't feel him coming. Maybe because he doesn't have psychic powers? But the same technique worked every time. He'd track his target down, hide behind a tree-like with Angelo-or a door or a building and just wait. Nobody ever felt him, and nobody ever saw him coming."

  I stood up, trying to get my head around all this. "But I lived with Edward for seventy years."

  "Yes, and Julian didn't know what to do at first. He feared what might happen."

  "He never said anything."

  "How could he? To stop the situation by force meant traveling to New York. That meant seeing his father. And if he wrote to order you away and Edward refused, this would be… The shame was not worth risking for Julian."

  "We didn't even know psychic ability was possible."

  Philip's brows knitted. "That's true. Perhaps he didn't want you to know. He kept watch on you for years, waiting to see what would happen. But nothing ever did, and in the end, you left on your own, proving Julian's point that we were all meant to live alone… He didn't consider William a true vampire."

  "You're missing the point. Edward and I developed no psychic powers from living together. It never even occurred to us."

  "I know. Angelo said such power must be taught… like Wade has done for you. Perhaps we all have the power buried, waiting to wake."

  "All except Julian."

  Yes, all except Julian. That was the crux. He feared what he did not possess, enough to murder his own kind.

  Philip stood up, towering over me. "Leisha?"

  "Mmmmm?" He pulled me out of concentration.

  "Do you remember a few weeks ago, when Maggie called me and told me you were living with her?"

  "Yes, I remember."

  "It hurt, and I hadn't felt anything for a long time."

  "You missed her?"

  "No, it wasn't that. But she spoke of fireplaces and the three of you talking together. It didn't seem fair when I had to stay by myself. It made me think of John and Angelo-things pushed to the back of my head for so many years."

  "And you like having company now?"

  "Yes, but look at us! Julian was right. Only a few nights together, and it's started."

  I turned to him angrily. "Listen to yourself! He's been rationalizing his own fear, his own weakness, for so long you've started believing it. Telepathy isn't a disease. It's more like a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it grows. If not for Wade… Oh, he's still in the bedroom."

  "Oh."

  Philip jumped up and crossed the room. "I am sorry, Wade. We're finished." He spoke like someone who'd known Wade for years.

  When they came back to the couch together, I noticed similar lines of sadness below their eyes, on their foreheads. What a team the three of us made. Almost everyone we'd ever cared about was dead or gone, taken away in this unstoppable conflict, which started with the single action of Edward Claymore jum
ping off his own front porch.

  Why couldn't we mourn? Wade had tear ducts. Why didn't he cry for Dominick? Philip rarely mentioned Maggie unless he had to. And me? I couldn't think about William, couldn't let the image of his face enter my consciousness or I might dry up and crumble. What a team.

  A fruit basket sat cheerfully on an oak writing desk against the wall. I picked it up and peeled back the plastic cover. "Wade, you should eat some of this. Do you like apples? Maybe these grapes?"

  He nodded tiredly, and I flashed inside his mind, I'm sorry about Dominick.

  No answer came, but he took some grapes and a banana from me.

  "We should go," Philip said. "I called Julian hours ago, but he did not tell me his location."

  "Couldn't we just keep all this a secret?" I asked. "Why does he have to know?"

  "He'll know," Philip answered softly.

  I wasn't so sure, but those stories of Julian stepping out from nowhere frightened me enough. I kept fantasizing his dark visage popping up behind the couch, a broadsword arcing in his grasp.

  Wade's hands were shaking, maybe delayed shock from everything he'd gone through tonight. Helping him peel the banana, I asked, "Do you still have the Prius?"

  "Yes."

  "Good, we'll let Philip drive. One ride with him and nothing will ever scare you again."

  We all laughed briefly, but the laughter was forced. Taking the fruit basket seemed a good idea. It would be easy for me to forget that mortals had to eat every day. Wade seldom spoke up about things like hunger or sleep.

  He'd have to come with us, at least for now, at least until we figured something else out. He was just so vulnerable, so unprepared for what lay ahead. Even his growing tolerance, perhaps acceptance, of Philip might fade away after witnessing the first hunt. Running all night, sleeping all day. What kind of life was that for a man like Wade?

  But nothing could be done about it now.

  "Help me take those blankets off the windows," Philip said. "We won't need them anymore, and the maids might wonder why we put them up."

  "Okay," I answered uncertainly.