by Barb Hendee
Her businesslike manner broke through the tension in the room, and Wade climbed to his feet, still trembling. When he looked over at Eleisha clinging to Philip, his eyes flickered slightly, but he nodded to Rose and walked toward the desk phone.
Eleisha let go and stood on her own for a few seconds before stepping away. “I’ll get in the shower.” She turned back to Philip. “I am sorry.”
She did look sorry, but this only made him feel worse. Maybe she told him she was sorry too often, but she’d never once apologized for sharing memories with Wade.
She’d never needed to.
About an hour and a half later, Wade stood in the shadows outside the British Museum, waiting to see what Seamus might be able to sense. Eleisha and Philip stood a few feet away, but no one spoke. Due to Rose’s cavalier handling of the “incident” back in the hotel suite, they’d all been able to get past it and move on with tonight’s mission.
Wade wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or not.
The air shimmered, and Seamus appeared behind a tree along the quiet street.
“I have something,” he said instantly. “Not far. In the Russell Square gardens.”
Wade tried to clear his head and get focused. Over and over, he just kept seeing the memory Eleisha had shown him.
“Where in the gardens?” he asked. “East or west end?”
Eleisha and Philip listened carefully.
“I can’t tell,” Seamus answered, sounding frustrated. “He’s not like one of you. His signature isn’t so clear.”
“I wonder why?” Eleisha asked. She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail, and she was wearing straight-legged jeans and a short wool coat. But she didn’t seem to expect anyone to answer her question. “How should we play this?” she asked Wade.
They’d already decided not to even try making verbal contact and to lean completely on telepathy for now. But beyond that . . . they hadn’t been in a position yet to make a more structured plan.
Telepathically, they all had different strengths. Wade was best at mind reading. Eleisha was best at pushing commands into someone else’s mind, even the mind of another vampire—to the point of using this ability as a weapon. Philip had amazing control over what he did and did not show to other telepaths, even when they were lost inside his memories.
Wade thought for a moment. “Seamus, just try to get us as close as possible. I’ll do a scan and see if I can home in on his thoughts. Once I’ve got him, Eleisha, you link with me, follow the path, and then try to get control of him. Can you do that?”
She nodded. “That’s good, Wade.” She turned to Philip. “You . . . just be ready to put him down if I fail. Try not to hurt him, but do what you have to. We have to get him off the street.”
So far, Philip had spoken a total of two words all night. “Then what do we do?” he asked. “Bring him back to the suite?”
“Of course,” she answered, sounding surprised. “What did you think? If he’s as wild as Seamus says, he won’t be able to fly back to Portland yet. We’ll have to lock him up somewhere until Wade can assess the best way to help him.”
“At the Montague?” Philip asked.
This did sound a bit absurd, and Wade realized they probably should have discussed the situation more before this point. Everything had just felt so . . . off balance lately, and they hardly constituted a crack professional team yet. So far, they’d only managed to locate a total of three vampires, and Julian had beheaded two of those before they’d even reached the church.
“If the Montague doesn’t work, we’ll make a change and stay somewhere else,” Eleisha said, “but every vampire we find is going to be different, and every situation will be different.” She paused and then asked Philip, “Can you put him down without wounding him?”
“Yes,” he bit off.
Her expression softened. She started to reach out for him but drew her hand back. “I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t come to that.” She turned to Seamus. “Okay . . . meet us at the gardens.”
He nodded and vanished.
Philip started walking. “This way.”
He had not reacted at all to Eleisha’s gesture of reaching for him, as a mortal man might, and Wade struggled with the knowledge that this was the true problem—even though Eleisha did not know it yet. Almost as soon as Wade had come out of the memory she’d shown him, or as soon as he could think clearly again, he’d understood the situation.
For the first time in her existence, she was experiencing an almost-normal life. She was in a relationship and sleeping in the same bed with a man. From what Wade now knew, vampires in the distant past had overcome certain obstacles of being undead. They had wanted romantic attachments. Whether Eleisha understood this or not, she was following a normal path . . . even for a vampire.
And Philip would never, ever be able to reciprocate. He was incapable. Wade had been inside Philip’s mind enough to know this.
If Wade wanted to, he could exploit this enough to make a radical change in their trio.
But he wouldn’t.
He couldn’t.
The three of them needed one another if the underground was to succeed. And to Wade’s surprise, the underground was still more important to him. Finding vampires who were a danger to the public was important to him. After accomplishing this, the next part of his job was to help train them to feed without killing.
He valued this job.
It made him useful.
Mary was up on the roof of the museum, looking down.
In some ways, she was enjoying herself here in London. Julian kept to his room in the suite much of the time, while she and Jasper had the run of the main living area.
But now she was wondering how this whole hunt was going to play out if Seamus stayed so close all the time. Mary had several advantages over him. For one, he was tied to Rose, and she wasn’t tied to anything. She could go anywhere she pleased and stay as long as she liked—while he got weaker the farther he traveled from Rose.
However, at the moment, Rose was in a hotel just up the street, and he looked as strong as ever. The blue in his plaid was positively glowing.
If Mary got any closer, he’d sense her, and Julian really wanted to maintain the element of surprise. Sure, they’d suspect he was around somewhere—but they weren’t supposed to know anything.
That left her in an awkward position.
She couldn’t hear a word they said from this distance, but . . . she could see them clearly, and their body language caught her attention. Something was wrong. Philip looked as stiff as a board, and Wade kept fidgeting as though uncomfortable. Eleisha stood there with her arms crossed.
They seemed deep in conversation with Seamus, and Mary was frustrated she could not hear them. Then Seamus vanished, and Philip started walking.
Mary floated off the roof and followed.
Eleisha was torn between feeling miserable inside and settling into the quiet focus of locating a lost member of her own kind. She never should have shown Wade that memory.
But it was done and over, and she couldn’t go back in time and change anything.
Philip just looked so . . . tight.
Everything about him looked ready to snap, and she didn’t know how to make him feel better. Worse, she really needed him at the top of his game here, as she had no idea what they were moments away from facing.
Only a few people wandered down the sidewalks at night here, and then Eleisha followed Philip from the street down a narrow path into the Russell Square gardens. Flowers and trees soon surrounded them, and several squirrels dashed past, darting for the trunks of the trees. A large fountain gushed water up ahead.
“Veer left,” Seamus said, “away from the fountain.
She looked around but didn’t see him. Philip veered left, moving into the darkness of more clustered trees. A few moments later, Wade stopped.
“Wait.”
He closed his eyes. Wade had been born a telepath, and his ability to pick up though
ts exceeded hers.
But within seconds he gasped loudly. “Eleisha!”
Instantly, she closed her eyes and reached her thoughts into his, nearly dropping to her knees. Flashes of wild fear and savage impulses hit her too fast to absorb. She stumbled once and then fought to get control of the mental onslaught. The thoughts were cold and ugly and driven by pure instinct. She separated Wade’s mind from the source he’d located, feeling just a hint of clarity on the other end.
Something knew they were here.
It could see them.
It was terrified.
It began to run.
Wait! She flashed, using all her internal power of suggestion but trying not to hit Wade with the same command. She could feel the mind on the other end of her thoughts nearly burst into emotions beyond panic as its body jerked to a halt.
“Eleisha?” Philip asked, his tone concerned.
But she couldn’t see him. She could barely hear him, and she fought to hold on to her target’s mind.
We won’t hurt you, she flashed.
The sound of wailing came in answer . . . and screaming exploded from the darkness ahead. Anyone within a half mile would hear it. Eleisha opened her eyes and bolted forward, but Philip was already moving. She ran after him, leaving Wade behind, and she skidded to a halt between two trees at the sight of something crouched on the ground, still screaming.
It looked up, and she froze.
It was a young man . . . or might once have been. His eyes were black and void of reason. His filthy black hair hung in crusted pieces around a stark white face. His feet were bare and his shirt was rotting off his body, exposing a glowing, hairless chest. His yellow teeth were pointed, and red flakes of dried blood clung to the side of his mouth.
A whooshing sound caught her attention, and she broke her gaze long enough to see that Philip had pulled his machete and was stepping forward with a hard, shocked expression on his face.
“Philip, wait!” she shouted.
But this action broke her mental connection, and the vampire crouched on the ground stopped screaming. He darted away on all fours.
“Don’t let him get away!” Wade choked from behind her, stumbling into view. “Eleisha, try to stop him again!”
Philip broke into a run as Eleisha reached out to reestablish a connection, but then two gray squirrels, leaping from the trees, landed on Philip, squealing and biting him. The sudden attack caused him to trip, and he hit the ground on his knees. One squirrel bit and clawed savagely at his face. The other raced over his shoulder, biting his neck. Black blood squirted, and Eleisha forgot everything else as she ran to help him.
Before she reached him, Philip had gripped the squirrel that was on his face by the tail and had thrown it. Eleisha grabbed the other one and tossed it away, whirling to watch it in case it came running back.
It did not, dashing into the trees instead.
Philip’s face was gouged and bleeding, but he jumped back to his feet. “Where is he?” he shouted. “Seamus! Where did he go?”
“Philip, stop,” Eleisha said. “Let me see your face.”
He shoved her away and ran forward, gripping his machete and searching the trees. “Seamus!” he yelled again.
The air shimmered, and Seamus appeared beside Eleisha. “He’s gone. I’ve lost him, and I can’t sense a signature.” He looked down at her with his transparent eyes. “Should I widen the circle? Keep looking?”
Wade reached their other side, panting and trembling slightly. “I don’t think so. Philip’s hurt.”
“Seamus!” Philip shouted, apparently having heard them from the trees. He strode back. “You start searching now!”
“Philip,” Eleisha said quietly. “He’s gone, and you’re bleeding. You need to stop.”
Black-red fluid was running from the deep slashes on his face and throat, flowing onto his coat.
He flipped the machete to hold it point down. “Didn’t you see him?” His tone was more urgent than anything she’d ever heard from him before. “He’s not just wild. He’s . . .” He trailed off, and his amber eyes shifted back and forth as they did whenever he searched for a correct response or word. “Feral,” Philip finished. “He is feral.”
The force behind the word confused her, and she didn’t know why he was this upset. Seamus had warned them, and the newspaper stories had openly used the term “wild man.”
Eleisha reached out, touching his arm. “We’ll find him soon.” The sight of this new vampire had disturbed her, too, but they’d been foolish to rush in so blindly, so unprepared. She’d simply not realized the extent of the situation and had believed she’d be able to speak to him—at least to a point—telepathically. What could have happened to him to drive him into such a tragic state? “But we need to talk about our next move, and you’re hurt. Put the machete away and come with me.”
Why had he pulled it in the first place? Maybe as a threat? Gently gripping the sleeve of his coat, she took a step back in the direction of the hotel. For a few seconds, he stood firm, and then he let her pull him along.
Julian grew restless in the bedroom of his suite, but there was little to do besides wait for a cue from Mary. Jasper seemed equally bored, out in the sitting room, awaiting orders for something—anything—to do. But Julian could not move in just yet. Timing was everything.
The air by the window of Julian’s room wavered and Mary materialized. For once, she did not start babbling immediately. Instead, she pursed her mouth, as if wondering how to begin.
“What?” he asked.
“They found him . . . at least for a few minutes,” she said, and again seemed to be mulling her words.
“What do you mean, ‘for a few minutes’?”
“Well, I think he might be more than they bargained for. He seems fruit bat crazy . . . like a reject from the loony bin who missed his meds, if you know what I mean?”
He did not know what she meant. He seldom did.
“So they lost him?”
“Yeah, he set two squirrels on Philip, and they cut up his face and throat pretty good. I think that Armani coat is ruined.” Her transparent mouth curved up into a smile. “It’s kind of funny.”
“What?”
“Well . . . super tough, badass Philip gets attacked by a pair of squirrels? Oh, come on, don’t you think that’s funny?”
Julian was not amused.
“Mary,” he began slowly, trying to maintain control, “what did you learn about the vampire himself? What did he look like?”
“Young when he was turned, early twenties. Really white skin. Black hair and eyes, kind of thin. Ring any bells?”
It did not.
“Did he strike you as newly turned or older?”
She shrugged. “Couldn’t tell. I saw him for only a few seconds. Then Seamus popped in, and I had to pull back. But Eleisha won’t give up. I’ll find out more. Don’t worry.”
Julian paced. Well, this was something. If the vampire was as mad as Mary suggested, even if he was an elder, he was hardly in danger of preaching the four laws just yet.
“Where is he now?” Julian asked.
She pursed her mouth again. “That’s the weird part. I don’t know. He’s hard to track. Seamus keeps losing him, too.”
What could cause that?
“All right, then just go back. Stay as close as you can and learn as much as you can.”
“Sure.” She looked at the bedroom door. “Is Jasper out there? I want to tell him what’s going on before I take off again.”
She vanished before he could speak, but her last sentence left him unsettled.
Shortly before dawn, Philip sat on the bed in their suite watching Eleisha change into her nightclothes and brush out her hair. They’d all decided to wait until tomorrow before making another attempt to trap the wild vampire and had spent the remainder of the night discussing possible plans and running ideas past Rose, who possessed the gift of wisdom and offered various bits of advice. But Philip hadn’t t
aken part in this discussion. He’d barely been able to listen.
Relieved to finally be alone in this room with Eleisha, he got up and moved to the mirror, looking at the flat, neat gauze she’d taped earlier to his face and throat. Since he had fed—and fed well—only last night, his body should be healing quickly. He reached up toward the bandage over his cheek.
“Not yet,” she said. “Leave it on while you sleep today.”
He ignored her and peeled it off, wanting to see the damage. The gouges had stopped bleeding, but the marks were still ugly. Eleisha put her brush down and moved to join him.
“Oh,” she said. “The worst ones are closing up. Do they still hurt?”
“No.”
“Don’t worry. They’ll heal soon, and you’ll look like yourself again.”
She completely misread him. Normally, he would be worrying about his appearance, as it was so integrally tied to his gift, but tonight a ravaged face was the least of his troubles.
The vampire they’d located was feral, and Eleisha was going to see more of this creature, see what it was capable of . . . and Robert had once shown her his memories. How many images had Robert shown her? Philip hated the word “feral.” He hated even thinking it. At one time, long ago, he had heard that word spoken in relation to himself. He hadn’t known what it meant then, but he did now, and Robert had seen him at his worst.
What if he’d shown that memory to Eleisha?
This creature Eleisha had located was beyond help, beyond reason. Philip wanted nothing . . . nothing in their world that might remind Eleisha of what he himself had once been. There were large sections of his existence that he wanted to erase completely and pretend never happened.
“You should rest,” she said quietly.
She had not spoken of the scene from just past dusk when he’d found her locked in a memory with Wade. Had she been showing him something, or had it been the other way around? A small part of him wanted to know, but the larger part did not.