In Memories We Fear

by Barb Hendee

  And if she was in London, Julian was not far behind.

  The girl ghost made a gasping sound, as if horrified they’d seen her, and she rushed forward in a blur. Without a word, Philip bolted after her, and Wade flew into motion, doing a fair job of keeping up.

  She vanished as they emerged onto Woburn Place.

  “Which way?” Wade called, looking up and down.

  Turning north, Philip caught a flash of magenta far up the street near the mouth of an alley. “There!”

  They ran, once again not caring whom they jostled or startled on the street. Did no one in London ever go to bed? But as they skidded to a stop near the alley, an unexpected sight awaited them. The girl ghost was blinking in and out in the same exact spot, and her expression was desperate.

  “She’s having trouble,” Wade said. “I don’t think she can teleport.”

  “Where’s Julian?” Philip demanded of the girl.

  In answer, she blinked out, and this time she vanished. He bolted back out onto Woburn, swiveling his head left and right, until he caught another magenta flash up near Euston Road. “Come on!”

  This was the most fun Mary could remember in a long time. Both Wade and Philip had been completely duped by her show of distress and horror, not to mention her last-minute trick of faking difficulty in teleporting.

  They were running after her like a pair of dogs.

  Once they both skidded out onto Euston, she vanished, giving them just a hint or two of a sighting until she reached Pentonville, and she floated over to the abandoned building. If she could get them this far, Wade could pinpoint Eleisha’s location inside in a heartbeat.

  But this time, she kept her eyes and her senses wide-open for Seamus.

  And that was her first clue that something was wrong. She didn’t sense anyone—anyone at all—inside.

  Philip was coming up fast, and she blinked out, materializing inside the decaying main room and looking around for the things she’d noted earlier: the backpack, spare shoes, wet towel, etc. She floated all the way to the back.

  Everything was gone.

  The place was empty except for Maxim’s tattered clothes on the floor near the sink. Even the cats were gone. All of Mary’s glee dissipated. Julian was going to have an aneurysm.

  Then he was going to blame her.

  Half turning, she could sense Philip right outside. She blinked herself away.

  As Wade came around the corner of some decaying, graffiti-covered buildings, he glanced down at a one-legged old man who sat leaned up against a wall while feeding a can of tuna to two cats.

  But he didn’t do more than glance, because Philip was already well ahead of him.

  “Where is she?” Wade called.

  Philip had stopped completely, and by the time Wade reached him, he’d crouched down, leaning toward a hole at the bottom of an especially shabby outer wall.

  “What are you doing?” Wade demanded. “We’ll lose the girl!”

  But Philip didn’t budge. Instead, he made a sniffing noise, as if forcing his long-dead lungs to take in air.

  “Eleisha has been here,” he said.

  “What?”

  Instead of answering, Philip crawled through the hole. It was a tight fit, but he got through. With little choice, Wade followed, emerging inside a large spiderweb-infested room filled with dust and wooden crates.

  Philip’s voice held no emotion. “She was here a long time, for hours. I can smell her everywhere.”

  It never occurred to Wade to doubt Philip. He’d not realized Philip’s sense of smell was so developed, but they’d never been in this position before.

  “Why did that ghost lead us here?” Philip asked, almost to himself.

  “I don’t know.”

  Slowly, Wade moved toward the back of the dusty room, bypassing the crates, and he spotted the sink.

  “Philip . . . ?”

  Wade’s eyes dropped down to the tattered remnants of clothing on the floor and the dried remains of soapy water staining the area all around. He walked closer. The sink was still wet.

  “They cleaned him up,” he whispered.

  The implications of this were staggering. For one . . . if they had managed this feat, they must have had some cooperation from the vampire, which suggested he was not entirely beyond reach. And two . . . why would Eleisha and Rose clean him up and then leave? Why not try to work with him here, locked away from all other eyes? This was an ideal place for such an attempt.

  “Some of my clothes were missing,” Philip said, looking down at the rags.

  “What?”

  “Tonight, at the suite. I noticed some of my clothes and our shampoo and my leather shoes were missing.”

  Rose had been carrying only a small purse when she left with Philip, so that meant Eleisha had been thinking far ahead before she’d ever slipped out the hotel window.

  Wade grimaced. “I don’t know what she’s planning or what she’ll do, except that she’s staying about five steps ahead of us.”

  Philip closed his eyes in what appeared to be a mix of anger and despair, and Wade could not help echoing the sentiments. Eleisha was always saying how much she needed them, but that was a lie. She didn’t need either one of them.

  And Wade had a sinking feeling that until she contacted them, they would both be wandering in the dark.

  Eleisha climbed out of the taxi, with Maxim and Rose coming after. Then she found herself standing at the outer edge of a forest, with a narrow street in front of her, and Caufield Cemetery behind her. In the distance, at the edge of the large graveyard, she could see a small shed and a cottage, but nothing else. They were basically out in the middle of nowhere—in the wee hours before morning. But this was where Seamus had told them to stop. If the cab driver found their destination questionable, he didn’t say anything, and she tipped him thirty percent.

  He drove away.

  Eleisha looked around, fighting the urge to ask Rose, “Now what?” But she managed to keep silent. Maxim, however, turned around to look at the trees, and the tension in his face relaxed visibly. But then he stepped forward and stumbled on the oversized shoes. Eleisha moved to help him.

  “You don’t need those anymore,” she said, untying them and taking them off.

  He pointed to the forest.

  She slipped into his mind, seeing images of him running through the trees . . . and digging in the dirt. He wanted to go.

  “Not yet,” she said. “Soon.” And she braced herself to freeze him again if he bolted. That had been her overriding goal on this entire journey from London—not to lose Maxim.

  Rose was not so comforted by the dark trees, and she crossed her arms, glancing around anxiously. Eleisha was proud of her, though. She’d overcome her own fears and provided much-needed assistance tonight.

  “This way,” Seamus said.

  Eleisha turned quickly to see his transparent form standing near a hidden, overgrown path into the forest. True to his word, he’d popped in to play their guide. She motioned to Maxim with her right hand.

  “Come on. Follow me.”

  This was the first time she’d simply asked him to follow—without driving in a mental command—and she wondered if he understood her, or if he’d agree even if he did understand. But to her relief, he stepped after her, moving much more easily in bare feet, and Rose brought up the rear. Seamus floated down the path with his feet just about an inch off the ground, and they traveled down the path, through the dense trees, for about ten minutes before emerging into a second, smaller graveyard, this one much older, with headstones dating back to the early 1700s. There were weeds growing over all the graves, and the fence was decayed and broken. No one seemed to have been here in many years.

  “There,” Seamus said, pointing.

  Eleisha came around a thick oak tree and saw a small shack beyond the graveyard. While the shack was somewhat decrepit, the roof was intact, and it boasted a few windows. She hurried over—keeping one eye on Maxim—and opened the
door. The main room was dusty, but she could see chairs and a broken table. A bedroom was visible at the back. The walls were thick, and the few windows could be covered.

  “Oh, Seamus, this is good.” She turned. “Rose, come inside. I think we can make this work.”

  Rose didn’t waste any time walking through the door, but Maxim hesitated, cocking his head and pointing back at the trees. “Theeere,” he tried to say.

  “No, not there,” Eleisha told him. “We need to sleep in here. It will be safe. I’ll show you.”

  Although pleased at his attempt to communicate with words, she noticed that he looked even whiter now. His slender face was glowing in the darkness. How long had it been since he’d fed?

  Cautiously, he examined the door frame, and she suddenly realized she’d never seen him inside a building except for the little home he’d made in London. She took a few steps back and motioned him forward.

  “It’s all right.”

  Looking upward, he moved in after her, but his body was tight, as if he expected an attack at any moment. Then to her surprise, he pointed at the window and shook his head.

  “Oh, Rose, he’s worried about the windows. That’s another good sign.”

  Maxim could not be completely mad if he was rationalizing concerns about things like windows when dawn was not far off. But Rose didn’t answer. She only stood near the wall with her arms crossed and her eyes closed. Now that they had reached their destination, some of her armor was beginning to weaken and break down. Eleisha brought her a chair.

  “Sit here.”

  As Rose sank down, Eleisha moved into the bedroom. It didn’t have any windows at all but was completely enclosed by four walls. She grabbed two dusty blankets and hurried back out to the main room, covering both windows completely.

  “See?” she asked Maxim. “Safe now.”

  He studied the blankets, sniffing one of them. From what Eleisha could guess, this had once been the home of a graveyard caretaker. When the larger cemetery, nearer the road, had gone in, this shack must have been abandoned.

  “Seamus, how did you find this place?” she asked.

  “I told you,” he answered, standing near Rose and looking down at her with some concern. “I widened my search last summer, and I just chanced upon it. I sometimes zone in on cemeteries. I’m not sure why.”

  “You pick up on cemeteries?” Eleisha moved toward him, worried now. “But if that’s how you found it, the girl ghost could find it, too.”

  “I don’t think so. She’ll spend at least several nights searching London, and we’re an hour outside the city. Even if she widens her range, there is too much ground to cover. We’re safe for now, and I’ll keep my senses open.”

  He sounded so sure of himself that his words made her feel safer.

  “I’m glad you’re with us,” she said simply.

  Well . . . they had shelter, in a place where no one would find them, and now it was time to turn to the next problem. Eleisha had always been a firm believer in taking one problem at a time. She briefly wondered what to do and reached a decision quickly.

  “Rose, you just rest here with Seamus. Maxim, come in here with me.”

  He turned from the window, watching her as she backed into the bedroom, and she could not read anything in his expression, but his skin was too white, and she knew he must be starving.

  Once inside the bedroom, she slipped down against the front wall, out of Rose’s sight line, and he followed, crouching and cocking his head. It had been several hours since any of his actions had caused her injury—not since the attack by the orange cat—but she wouldn’t be able to drop her guard just yet, and she had to remain aware that he was unpredictable and dangerous. He was also a great deal stronger than she was, and she’d need to handle this next act carefully.

  “Here, sit,” she said.

  He dropped from his crouch to sit down beside her, and she was positive he was beginning to remember and comprehend more and more words. But there were no words to explain what she was about to do, and she simply put her wrist to her mouth and tore it open to expose the veins. Then she held it up for Maxim.

  “Drink.”

  Her blood would not nourish him as a mortal’s would. It was the equivalent of trying to give someone half-digested food. But in the distant past, another vampire had once done this for her, and she’d done it for Philip, and it did provide life force and energy.

  Maxim hesitated, as if uncertain what she was telling him to do, and she put her wrist up to his mouth.

  In a flash, he grabbed it and latched on, drinking in gulps. The pain was blinding for a few seconds, and she grabbed his shoulder with her free hand, pulling him around, so he was lying in her lap and drinking furiously.

  “Slower,” she said. “Go slower.”

  But she’d been right, and he was starving. He gulped several more mouthfuls, latching down too hard.

  Slower.

  She sent this as a suggestion, not a command, and it worked. He stopped drinking for a few seconds, but he didn’t detach himself. Then he drew down with less pressure and swallowed.

  “Good.”

  She was holding him like that, with her wrist in his mouth, when Rose appeared in the doorway, turning to look down at them. She did not ask what Eleisha was doing. She watched only until Eleisha got Maxim to stop and pulled her wrist from his mouth. When he looked at her, something in his face had changed. Of course, it wasn’t so white now, but there was something more. She could swear she saw gratitude in his eyes, either gratitude or something close to it. She didn’t think she’d need to drive any more mental commands to keep him at her side.

  “The sun will be up before long,” Rose said calmly, as if they were a mortal family that had just finished supper. “I think we should all sleep in this room.”

  Residing in close proximity to Jasper, with nothing else to do, was beginning to grind on Julian’s nerves in a way he’d never experienced before. Even in life, he’d required a great deal of privacy. After being turned, this need increased.

  Spending three nights locked in a suite with an inferior creature like Jasper was enough to drive him mad. He’d gone back and forth over sending his servant back to San Francisco. Only the uncertainty of tonight’s events kept him from doing so.

  There was still a possibility that he might require assistance.

  But in spite of Mary’s unforgivable blunder, as usual, she’d come up with a clever plan to keep moving forward. He’d never tell her, but he had faith she’d find a way to lead Philip right to Eleisha and the feral vampire.

  Mary had a way of handling whatever was thrown at her.

  “Julian?” she called.

  He was in his bedroom at the suite—trying to avoid Jasper—and he was annoyed she had materialized out in the sitting room. Opening the door, he walked out to see her standing by the fireplace with Jasper at her side.

  “Well?” he asked, but he could tell from her stance that something was wrong.

  She shook her head. “No dice. I got Philip there, but she was already gone . . . with Rose and the vamp. The place was cleaned out. I don’t think they’re going back.” She stood straighter. “I did a sweep of that area before coming here, but I didn’t sense anything. I don’t know where they are.”

  He just stood there, staring at her, too overwhelmed for anger.

  “I’ll keep searching the city, but Eleisha’s not stupid, and I doubt anyone’s going to find her until she wants to be found this time.”

  “What do you mean, ‘wants to be found’?” he asked quietly.

  “She won’t leave Philip and Wade on meat hooks for long. It’s not her way. They all have cell phones. She’ll call Wade sooner or later, and I’ll stay right on top of him. He’ll lead me to her. We just have to wait.”

  Jasper ran a hand over his face. “No,” he whispered. “You want me to just sit here? Mary, I can’t.”

  She looked at him with open pity. “I’m so sorry. That’s the best
I can do . . . I think. I’ll go out looking again right away, but . . . ,” she said, trailing off.

  Julian had no pity for either of his servants, and he was well over his quota for disgust at the moment. Without another word, he turned and walked back into his room, closing the door. But he couldn’t help agreeing with Jasper on a certain level, and he didn’t know how much longer he could just sit in here either.

  Something had to happen soon.

  He sat down on his bed. Dawn was not far off.

  When Eleisha awoke that night, she found herself lying on the floor of the shack’s bedroom with Maxim pressed up beside her. Rose was still dormant on the bed. This was the first moment in twenty-four hours that Eleisha had to really think, to let the ramifications of her own actions sink in.

  Was it only last night that she’d awoken on Philip’s chest, right before Seamus materialized to tell them he’d found a signature near Westminster Bridge? It seemed like weeks.

  And the sight of Maxim lying beside her brought a sharp pain she hadn’t expected.

  Philip would be waking up alone.

  She missed him. She missed how he always woke up a few seconds before she did and she would look down into his eyes as she was already planning events to entertain him for the night.

  He must be lonely and angry. He must be so worried.

  Her gaze flickered to the backpack in the main room. The cell phone was tucked inside. Should she call him? Better, maybe she should call Wade again and just give him a message that they were still safe?

  But even as she ran this option through her mind, she knew it was wrong. She shouldn’t call either one of them until Maxim was ready. She couldn’t do anything to jeopardize his safety, not now, not when he’d come so far in the span of a single night.

  He stirred on the floor beside her, opening his eyes. An instant of blind panic hit him, and he jumped up, looking around the foreign room.

  “Maxim,” Eleisha said, and he turned on her.

  But he didn’t charge or lash out. His gaze cleared and then dropped to her wrist. His skin was not so white anymore.