Blood Memories vm-1

by Barb Hendee

How could he worry about things like blankets over hotel windows and then kill cops on busy streets? Sometimes he was too weird-even for me.

  The next few seconds caught me completely off guard. Thinking about Philip's inconsistencies took my mind from our immediate problems. I reached out for the hanging blanket nearest the west wall, and a pale hand snaked from behind it, grasping my wrist like a vice.

  "Having a party?" a voice as cold as ocean depths echoed from behind the drape. "Without me?"

  Julian.

  I almost screamed, but didn't. He stepped out, still holding me-dressed in black, looking identical to the image imprinted on my memory: broad, pale features set off by cold eyes. All I could feel was fear. Uncontrollable, sickening waves of fear washed down my throat, making my teeth click rapidly together.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Philip turn and stop. "Did you climb all the way up the side of this building just to impress me?" His voice was light and flippant. He had good control.

  "Of course not," my maker answered. "I took the stairs to the roof and climbed down one floor. Did I impress you?"

  "As always. It's good to see you."

  Even through my haze of fear, I could hear that their casual banter was wrong-it didn't fit. And from the corner of my eye, I could see Philip's face, guarded but terrified, no matter how calm he sounded.

  His gift didn't work against Julian. Strange how the one person Philip feared in this world had been the reason for my existence, always there, but distant, hiding in the shadows, the one person William truly remembered.

  Had Julian ever felt my gift? Did he know what his pretty creation could do?

  Reaching up with my free hand, I touched his fingers softly. "Master, your grip is too tight."

  I focused on emanating an image of myself-small, fragile, hardly worth the bother of a creature like Julian, far beneath him in every respect. A peasant, and yet somehow one of his own. How could he think of hurting me? Harmless and defenseless, I needed protection and the strength of someone like him.

  His susceptibility to suggestion surprised me. Philip had played along when we first met, even allowed himself to be affected, but he always knew the game. He always knew exactly what I was.

  But Julian let go instantly, actually steadying me to make sure I wouldn't fall.

  "My father is dead?" he asked, his words sounding more like a statement than a question.

  Some of my terror began to fade, and I bowed my head for a moment, as if not worthy of looking him in the face. Then carefully, I raised my eyes.

  "Yes, my lord."

  "And where is his murderer?"

  "Dead. Philip killed him."

  A flicker of relief passed across his pale features. His work here was done. The senile abortion he called father no longer haunted him. Revenge had been exacted, and Philip and I were no threat because we had been beaten into states of eternal fear. Things must have looked quite rosy.

  He didn't seem to sense or suspect a thing about our growing telepathy. Maybe Philip gave him too much credit?

  My hope began to rise.

  Maybe if we just behaved correctly, fed his ego, and walked three steps behind him, we'd get out of this without a fight. I had no pride left, not when it came to Julian.

  But then he turned to Wade, who'd been standing silently in the corner, just watching, breathing quickly. Even wearing his canvas jacket, he looked so slender, almost fragile, his white-blond hair hanging forward over his eyes. After that first intense scan of my memories a few nights ago, Wade knew my maker well.

  My heart sank again.

  "Who is this?" Julian asked. "Did Philip bring dinner?"

  I wanted to scream, to claw his eyes out. What had I been thinking? Hoping we could flatter our way out of this? Julian would never let Wade out of the building.

  Of all the ways I thought to die, defending a mortal wasn't one of them. Then again… I did possess one weapon, and I still might be able to use it here.

  But it was difficult not to think of days long past. The sight of Julian brought back memories long forgotten, interfering with my gift. I remembered serving my first banquet at Cliffbracken, when he sat at the lavish dining table… back when the house was still alive. He had seemed so large, and I had felt so small.

  Not anymore.

  Not unless I wanted him to see me that way.

  I pushed the memories away… pushed my fear away, and then moved between him and Wade, focusing hard on emanating my gift.

  Concentrate. Get him on his knees.

  "Master, please." I reached out again and used the tips of my fingers to touch the back of his hand. "He is not worthy of you. Come. Let me find you a lovely woman." I took a step toward the door, pitching my voice to an even softer tone. "I've dreamed of hunting with you, of learning from you. Let Philip have this one." I took another step toward the door.

  Julian's mouth opened slightly as he stepped after me. His eyes seemed puzzled and pleased at the same time as I could see him mulling over the sweet portrait my words painted of him as the teacher, me as his grateful student, working to please him, to find him better prey.

  Philip hadn't moved in several moments, and he was watching silently, allowing me to take over.

  "Come into the city with me," I whispered to Julian.

  He took another step.

  Then, suddenly, he glanced over at Wade, and his eyes changed. He shook his head as if to clear it and looked back at me in shock… and then rage. His large hand flashed out and gripped my wrist, jerking me up against him.

  "What are you doing?" he snarled. "You would try that on me?"

  He whipped his free hand back to hit me, and I braced myself.

  "Julian, don't!" Philip shouted.

  The blow never landed-but not because of Philip's angry shout. Instead, the room exploded in a deafening sound, and I fell back against the floor, looking around wildly to see what happened.

  Another explosion sounded, hurting my ears.

  Julian's chest was bleeding from two gaping holes as he stumbled backward. Wade was holding his Beretta out in both hands, beads of sweat trickling down his narrow face.

  He fired again, catching Julian in the shoulder.

  I'd forgotten about the Beretta.

  "His throat!" Philip yelled. "Aim for his throat!"

  I twisted over to sit in a crouch, uncertain what to do. Wade fired again, but Julian dropped low, and the bullet missed him completely.

  But his pale face was so shocked I wondered how he had the presence of mind to even act.

  Philip bolted across the room, his loose flannel shirt billowing behind him. He grabbed Julian by the shoulder and leg, lifting him into the air and throwing him at the window. Julian's body crashed against the drapes.

  Glass snapped and crackled.

  Let him fall through. Please, let him fall through.

  Dropping twelve floors to the pavement might not destroy his body, but he'd be out of working order for a while.

  But in despair, I saw his hand catch the drape. He managed to steady himself, pain and confusion twisting his features as he stared back in shock-as if unable to believe Philip would attack him to defend me.

  Philip actually snarled at him.

  I realized this was a new situation for Julian. Fearing a psychic combat he could not win, he'd always hidden himself away, striking only unaware victims. Physical battles with an equal were almost unknown… and he was wounded, bleeding.

  But Philip was strong. He charged forward again and swung hard with his right fist, catching Julian across the jaw. The crack echoed as Julian's head snapped back.

  Wade moved past me, looking for a clear shot.

  "Don't!" I called. "You might hit Philip."

  We needed Philip whole.

  "Stay behind me," Wade spat back, still holding the gun with both hands.

  Philip reached down to try and get another grip, but this time, Julian swept out with his leg, knocking Philip off his feet. Julian lung
ed up to stand behind the couch, his face a mask of hatred, and then his eyes grew more focused, emanating his gift.

  The fear hit me like a wall.

  I started gagging.

  Wade didn't even get off one shot. He fell to his knees, dropping the gun. His mouth was open in terror but no sounds came.

  Philip cried out from fear, and he tried struggling up to crawl. Julian kicked him in the chest so hard his body flew against a wooden chair, smashing it to pieces. When he hit the floor, his shoulder popped out of its socket and his arm lay at an odd angle.

  Julian ignored him and strode directly to Wade. The waves of fear washed over and over me, but despair flooded in as well when Julian grabbed Wade's hair with one hand and the Beretta with the other. He smashed the butt of the gun against Wade's cheekbone.

  "You like this gun?" Julian asked. His chest and shoulder were still bleeding, soaking his black shirt. He pressed the barrel to Wade's temple. "Do you like it now?"

  He wasn't even going to feed. He was just going to shoot Wade in the head.

  And Philip was down, his body broken, his mind lost in fear.

  "Master, no," I started begging. I hated begging.

  I had to do something.

  In desperation, more from instinct than intent, I pushed my own thoughts into his mind with all the force I had once used on Dominick. Only this time, I didn't fire ugly images.

  Stop!

  He froze, his dark eyes wild.

  Let go of him!

  He dropped Wade first, then the gun, and his mouth formed a horrified O shape. He half turned and staggered toward me. I felt him trying to force me out of his mind. He focused his gift on me at the same time, trying to bury me in terror.

  I gasped aloud, fighting for my hold, feeling him push me out, knowing if he did, we were all dead.

  I closed my eyes, blocking out the sight of him, but this time, I sent images… memories I'd seen inside of Philip.

  Angelo's face. His smile. The sword arcing, slicing off his head.

  All Julian's resistance failed as he cried out. I could feel what he felt in this moment, and he had never felt anything like it. I kept my eyes closed and pushed harder inside of his mind.

  Show me.

  I was inside his memories, inside his existence, and he could not keep me out, nor could he stop the flow I had started by forcing him to see Angelo. He began to remember it all. I saw so many faces, so many of my kind as Julian butchered them… a red-haired vampire turning in surprise as the blade swept in… a dark-skinned girl, little more than a child. I wanted to weep, but could not.

  Instead, I gripped his thoughts more tightly with my own. I altered them, warped them, creating images of the ghosts of his victims. I built a nightmare in his mind as they crept toward him with bloody lines across their throats. He could not escape as they clutched at him… grabbing him, nailing him to a cross, and raising it.

  Angelo picked up a torch and set the cross on fire.

  Julian screamed and fell to the carpet.

  I crawled over to him, with my mouth to his ear.

  "Is this what you fear, Master? One of us taking over your thoughts, your body?" I pressed my mouth closer, tasting the stale flesh of his temple. "Then fear me. I could make this much worse, and I could make you relive it over and over again." I paused, watching his face twitch in horror, ashamed how much I enjoyed the sight.

  "We want to be left alone," I whispered. "That's all. But if you ever come near me or Philip or Wade again, I will trap you in your own hell. Do you understand?"

  I released some of my control, letting him have partial function of his body again. He did not respond, but turned his head to stare at me. I was a stranger to him-as if he could not believe his little servant girl could conjure images ugly enough to make him writhe and force them into his brain. He didn't know me. His mouth was still locked in the O shape.

  "I will let you up if you swear to leave, if you swear to never come near us again," I said.

  The fear and disbelief in his eyes grew.

  "Do you swear?" I demanded.

  "Yes," he finally hissed, finding his voice.

  "Remember what I can do!"

  But then the sound of crashing glass broke the last of my connection, my hold on him. Wind swept through the room, and I looked up to see Philip standing over us with a chair leg in his right hand. His left shoulder was still dislocated. The hotel window behind him had been smashed.

  He'd broken the window?

  He dropped the chair leg. Then he grabbed Julian, pulled him up and threw him backward. Julian was still dazed from the horror show I had sent into his head and from the shock of having lost control of himself. He nearly fell through the broken window, but managed to grab one side, cutting his hand, as he fought wildly to pull himself back inside. Philip strode toward him with a savage expression I never wanted to see again.

  "Philip, no!" I called. "You don't need to-"

  But Philip didn't even hear me. He kicked Julian square in the chest, and I watched as my maker's arms flailed and his eyes widened in his pale face before he fell from view… twelve stories down toward the pavement.

  Then he was gone.

  "Why did you do that?" I shouted at Philip. "I had him! You didn't need to…" I trailed off as Philip turned, anger draining from his face.

  He came back quickly and dropped to his knees, grabbing my hands, examining my fingers and arms. "Did he hurt you?"

  I didn't know how to answer.

  Wade moaned and sirens blared outside. It had only been moments since the first shots exploded in the room, but hotel security must be on its way up-and someone had called the police.

  "We have to go now," Philip said, walking to Wade and leaning over to pick him up.

  "I can walk," Wade mumbled. His cheek was cut and turning purple.

  They both started for the door, but I couldn't help running to the window first and looking down.

  The pavement below was empty.

  Chapter 24

  Five nights later I was on the streets by myself. I wanted to be out alone, away from Philip and Wade.

  I'd thought recovering from our shared horror of fighting Julian would be difficult… but so far, we'd barely even talked about it.

  Wade had snapped Philip's shoulder back into its socket, and that was the last time any of us mentioned what happened that night.

  Without even examining our options, the three of us moved into Maggie's. Simple, mechanical, civilized, unspeakably calm, we set about putting our immediate environment into neat order. I quickly pulled all of my money from Portland and put it into a private account.

  Philip took over Maggie's room, but he didn't alter the feminine decor even though he didn't like it.

  Wade settled into the stark upstairs second bedroom-sleeping on blankets on the floor. But he'd only bought two new changes of clothes.

  I slept in the cellar because it felt safe.

  Philip did not arrange for new bank accounts in America, nor would he mention moving back to Paris. Wade avoided the topic or his job or Dominick's death or any future plans beyond the next five minutes. They both seemed to be waiting for me. But what did I want?

  Neither of them had asked me what I did to Julian… but I had a feeling Philip figured out I'd attacked him telepathically.

  Of course none of us knew what happened to him after he fell.

  Philip kept looking over his shoulder, as if waiting to see a sword arcing out of the darkness. But I didn't. I believed I'd ended this conflict forever. I could hit Julian with the one thing he truly feared, yet I would leave him alone if he left me alone.

  He'd stay away.

  But… where did that leave me?

  Every aspect of my undead existence revolved around William or Julian in one form or another. Now, sweet William was gone. I accepted that reality with mixed emotions.

  I was free.

  But free to do what?

  To go on killing and feeding and ply
ing my gift in one long, endless stretch of time? Is that all there was? Perhaps Edward had been the only sane one after all.

  Certain doubts-concepts-had been plaguing me for several nights. I couldn't stop thinking about the memories Philip had shown me.

  Nearly thirty vampires in Europe alone.

  Did that mean there were other vampires in places like Asia, Australia, or South America? If so, had Julian hunted them down, too? Philip didn't know, and the topic upset him. He'd spent most of that time of terror in hiding.

  But even if all the vampires had lived in Europe, how did they manage to hide and feed without depopulating entire areas? The best-case scenario meant fifteen hundred and sixty deaths a year if each vampire made only one kill a week. That's nearly sixteen thousand deaths over a ten-year period and didn't take hunters like Philip into account. How could this be?

  An idea, a possibility, began forming in my mind over the past few nights. I don't how it occurred to me, or when it began, but I needed to be alone to try it. So I hit the streets without Philip and headed down to Pike Place Market.

  Even after closing, the market teemed with life. Hookers, bums, guys playing guitars on street corners, their cases left open for donations, and teenage kids looking for something to do all milled around in a kaleidoscope of colors and scents.

  Wearing a white cotton dress, my hair in a French braid, I looked clean and bright, like a girl from a Bloomingdale's hatbox. Maggie had taught me more than she'd realized, but I could never rely on a gift like hers. My own was too deeply ingrained.

  Falling into character, I left the busy area and stood outside an alley, arms crossed, back to the wall. Ten minutes later, a tall man in his mid-thirties walked by. Obviously in a hurry, he still stopped when I made eye contact.

  "You all right?" he asked.

  People in Seattle rarely speak to strangers on the street, at least not without a good reason.

  "I got on the wrong bus," I answered. "It took me here."

  "Where are you supposed to be?"

  "Greenwood."

  My voice pitched high but soft, as if I didn't want to talk to him but didn't know what else to do. Casting out tentatively, I felt no malice or violence, only haste. He sighed in frustration, wishing he'd taken a different route and left my pretty, frightened plight for somebody else to handle.