by Barb Hendee
“Yes, I did.” He didn’t look remotely chagrined at this. “I hid it in the lining of my suitcase, checked it in, and got lucky. Nobody found it. Why do you think I’ve been wearing this jacket since we got here?” He opened one side, exposing a small holster strapped to his rib cage.
“Oh . . .” She felt brittle, like a dried leaf. “Philip?”
He crouched down beside her, and for once Maxim didn’t hiss at him. Eleisha leaned over, putting her forehead on Philip’s knee. “Take us home. I want to go home.”
chapter sixteen
PORTLAND, OREGON
Two weeks later, about a half hour past dusk, Wade made his way up the staircase to the top floor of the church to check on Maxim.
It always took a while for Eleisha to recover after a mission, and this last one had proven no exception. Success or failure, every time she faced Julian, it seemed to take a little more out of her, and Wade couldn’t stop going over the events of that night in the cemetery, wondering what they might have done differently so that Philip might’ve taken Julian’s head.
If they didn’t have to fear Julian, their missions would take on a whole new light.
But . . . Maxim had also proven a welcome distraction from dwelling on such possibilities, and Wade looked forward to their time together. So far, Maxim had not exhibited any ability to instigate telepathic contact on his own, and his language skills were progressing slowly—but they were progressing.
Eleisha had taken him out hunting, and as long as she handled the telepathy and memory replacement, he was able to feed by the first law.
However, Wade felt somewhat guilty over having to create “rules,” such as Maxim’s being permitted to walk alone in the garden but not being allowed beyond the gate by himself. His behavior was still completely unpredictable, and he reacted badly when panicked or confused; the last thing Wade needed was the police knocking on their door.
It seemed heavy-handed to treat a two-hundred-year-old scholar like a child, but secrecy and safety had to come first.
Reaching the upstairs hallway, Wade walked to the first room on the left and knocked.
“Maxim?”
He cracked the door. Upon returning from London, Eleisha had decorated this room with soft blankets and numerous pillows and heavy forest green curtains. She’d hung framed photographs of woodland scenes on the walls and around the room had placed a number of “normal” items, such as a digital clock and a calendar on the wall by the light switch.
Wade stepped inside. “Hey, Maxim, tonight, I thought we might . . .”
He stopped.
Maxim, wearing a pair of dark blue pajamas Eleisha had bought for him, was sitting on the bed and petting a small cat. The cat looked a bit ragged, as if it had been outside for a while, but it was maybe eight or nine months old. Its body was a soft shade of gray with white patches.
Maxim looked up.
“Tiny Tuesday,” he said.
Wade shook his head. “What?”
“Her name.” Maxim held both his hands up with a small space between them. “Tiny.” Then he pointed at the calendar. “Tuesday.”
“Oh, she’s tiny, and you found her on Tuesday.”
Interesting.
“She have no home. Hungry,” Maxim said. “I keep her.”
Wade pondered that for a moment, wondering what Philip might say, but there was no reason why Maxim couldn’t keep a little cat.
“All right,” Wade said, “I’ll go to the store and buy her some food and a litter box. Did she come to you out in the garden?”
Maxim nodded and put his hand on her side. “Babies.”
“Babies? She’s pregnant?”
That did color matters slightly. “You can keep Tiny Tuesday, but I’ll have to find homes for the kittens, okay?”
Maxim didn’t answer, and Wade decided to press it.
“Maxim, if you agree, you need to say ‘okay’ back to me.”
“Okay.”
Watching Maxim sit there, gently petting the small cat, Wade couldn’t help a flash of seeing him sitting beside Adalrik, debating Shakespeare. Did he remember anything at all on a conscious level, or was his former self forever locked away, only to be viewed in memories? He’d once loved Macbeth, and Wade had read it back in college. He’d always liked the opening with the three witches.
On impulse, he moved closer to Maxim and quoted the first witch. “‘When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?’”
Maxim was still stroking the cat, gazing down at her. But when he spoke, his voice sounded different, clear and smooth, “‘When the hurly-burly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won.’”
“‘That will be ere the set of sun,’” Wade responded, surprised and hoping for the next line.
But Maxim, seemingly unaware he’d even spoken, looked up again. “Not wait to go for store. She hungry now.”
Disappointed, Wade moved for the door. “Is she? I’ve got some milk in the fridge and maybe a can of tuna in the cupboard. I’ll find her something.”
Heading back down the staircase, Wade thought about what a houseful they were gathering . . . and now they had a pregnant cat named Tiny Tuesday.
He could still hear Maxim’s smooth quotation in his head.
Maxim was still in there somewhere.
Wade just had to find him.
VALE OF GLAMORGAN, WALES
Julian was blind without Mary.
He’d managed to make it home to Cliffbracken and take refuge inside the manor, but the holes in his chest had been so extensive, they’d healed completely only a few days ago.
Now, with fear in his heart, he had more time and energy to dwell upon what had happened that night in the cemetery.
And in addition to everything else, it now seemed he had lost Mary.
He sat in his study, staring at a burning candle and cursing fate.
His failure had been absolute that night . . . beginning with a raven landing on an aspen branch. He had pulled back from the brink of disaster after that, only to find himself wounded and bleeding and facing three opponents with different weapons or strengths.
What choice did he have?
Taking Jasper’s head and releasing his memories was the only possible option. While he had no intention of explaining himself to an underling, surely Mary could see he’d had no choice?
But every time he’d called her since that night, she’d shouted profanity at him, called him unspeakable names, and then vanished. One night, he’d called her back three times, and every time was worse. He’d finally given up.
Somehow, he had underestimated her attachment to Jasper.
Then he thought that if he left her alone, let her stew on her own for a while, she might come back to herself and see reason.
That had not happened, and he was growing desperate. He had no idea where Philip or Eleisha might be. He assumed they’d taken Maxim home to the church in Portland, but he didn’t know, and he’d become very, very accustomed to knowing.
He could feel desperation leaking in on the edge of his mind, and tonight, an idea had come to him.
Standing up, he called, “Mary Jordane!”
Since he had brought her over from the gray plane—the in-between plane for troubled souls who were not yet ready to move on to the afterlife—he had power over her and could call her to his side when he wished.
She materialized, and upon realizing what had happened and where she was, she pretended to spit at him. “Leave me alone, you son of a bitch!”
“Wait.”
“No! You killed Jasper. I’m never doing anything for you again.”
Her colors began to fade as she dematerialized, and he called out, “He’s on the gray plane.”
For a moment, nothing happened, and then her colors grew bright again, but her face still shone with hatred. “What did you say?”
“His spirit will be on the gray plane, waiting for yours. He’s hardly ready to go on to the afterlife.”
“Would you like to join him there?”
This had been a threat he’d used against her in the early days, that since he’d called her, he could send her back if she didn’t obey him.
But now might he not use it as a reward? Having to resort to offering her something was almost more than he could stand . . . almost.
She glared at him. “What do you mean?”
“If you assist me through one more of Eleisha’s so-called ‘missions,’ I’ll send you to the gray plane. You can reunite with Jasper and move on to the afterlife together.”
He had no idea where Jasper’s spirit might be—or indeed if the souls of vampires went anyplace at all—but he could see Mary’s mind working.
She looked at his face again, and her expression closed up. “I’m not doing anything for you. You may as well send me back now.”
“No. One more mission. Then I’ll send you.”
“Oh yeah, well how about if I just teleport to Philip and tell him exactly where you are? How would that be? If you run, I’ll find you. Maybe I should do a few favors for him?”
The fear in his chest was almost painful now. But he kept his face still.
“He cannot send you back. I can.”
She turned away, crossing her arms, and the hatred vanished, replaced by loneliness and pain.
He had her.
“Only one more?” she asked.
“Only one.”
She looked back at him. “If you’re lying, and you don’t send me back after one more job, I will go get Philip . . . and Eleisha. Do you understand?”
“Of course I understand. Now go the church and make sure they’re all there.”
Her eyes narrowed, and he thought she might try to spit at him again—foolish effort. But she blinked out.
Only then did he let himself sink down in the chair. He was no longer blind, at least not for a while.
Seamus sensed a presence out in the garden, and he materialized beside one of the rosebushes. All the blooms were gone, and it had gone dormant for winter. A light rain fell from the sky, passing through him and soaking into the ground.
He could see her in profile, standing beneath the stained glass windows of the church, sad and angry and alone.
“Mary,” he said gently.
She turned to look at him. The rain fell through her magenta hair and black mesh overshirt.
“Don’t spy for him anymore,” Seamus said. “Don’t do anything he asks.”
She didn’t answer, and her face gave nothing away. Her colors simply faded and she vanished. Seamus didn’t try to follow. He floated just above the ground, staring at the empty spot for a long time.
Philip took Rose out hunting. They’d both gotten wet in the rain, so once back home, Rose went to her room to change clothes, and he started searching the church for Eleisha. His new coat kept his clothes dry, and he never minded if his hair was damp. He didn’t know what Eleisha had planned for the night, but he hoped it was entertaining—or at least that they might head off to her room early. He found that since returning from England, he liked retiring with her early. She’d started locking the door once they were both inside.
“Eleisha?” he called out the back door to the rose garden. Sometimes, she still pulled weeds in the rain.
But she wasn’t out in the garden.
She wasn’t reading to Maxim in the sanctuary—it was empty.
She wasn’t in the bath.
He decided to check with Wade and opened the office door. To his surprise, Eleisha was sitting at Wade’s desk, using the computer. She was the only one in the room.
“Where’s Wade?” he asked.
“He wanted a few hours to work with Maxim alone.”
“What are you doing?” he asked, an uncomfortable feeling creeping through him.
“Wade taught me how to use this machine. I’m doing a search myself.”
“That’s Wade’s job.”
He’d come to terms with the fact that she’d never abandon this search for lost vampires, and that if he tried to force her to choose between the “mission” and himself, he might not like the answer.
But at least during the in-between times, he’d hoped everything would go back to the way it had been before the search for Maxim, when Eleisha spent most of her time with him. He understood she sometimes had to help with Maxim now . . . but this . . . this business of her using Wade’s computer was unsettling. How long would she stay in here looking at that screen?
“I know it’s Wade’s job,” she answered, “but I may see things he doesn’t, hints he might not recognize.”
“Have you found anything?”
“Maybe . . . but I’ll go over it with him later.” She stood up and turned off the monitor. “I didn’t know you were back yet.” She smiled at him. “Your hair’s wet. All that gel you use will turn it spiky.”
“I don’t care.”
He liked seeing her smile. She hadn’t smiled much since returning, but she was coming back to herself more quickly than the last time—from that bloody mission in Denver.
“We never did watch Vertigo,” she said. “You up for some Hitchcock?”
Ten minutes later, she was curled up beside him on the couch, watching Jimmy Stewart’s name in big letters on the screen, and his tension began to ease.
“You like to be with me,” he said, as if making a statement.
She glanced at him and hit the PAUSE button. “Why would you even need to say that?”
He shrugged. Maybe because she’d abandoned him in London and chosen her mission over him. Maybe because she’d fought him to protect Maxim. Maybe because now that they were home again, she was taking over Wade’s job so they might launch into a new search even faster.
But . . . she was also sitting here with him now, and he couldn’t wait until an hour before dawn when she’d lock them both away, run her hands up and down his chest, lick the end of his tongue with her own, and let her gift rush inside him.
“I always like being with you,” she said. “I just need to start trying to help Wade more in between missions. But you and I have a lot of time together now, at least until . . . until we find the next lost one.”
She pulled her knees up, pressed in closer to his arm, and pushed PLAY on the remote.
He nodded. He was content.
At least until they found the next lost one.
Just past dawn, Wade left his bedroom and walked out into the hallway. Eleisha’s room was one door down, but he didn’t try the handle.
The morning after returning from London, he’d been stunned—even hurt—to find it locked. The next morning, he’d been angry. The third morning . . . he realized it was for the best, and he hadn’t tried to open the door again. Without ever saying a word to him, she seemed to have closed both a literal and a symbolic door, and he’d accepted her decision without saying a word to her.
However, she was actively assisting him with Maxim, and she was working to locate new targets for investigation; he realized he could live with this. He could deal with anything as long as she was still dedicated to the mission.
Now he headed upstairs to briefly check on Maxim, who sometimes didn’t make it as far as the bed and fell dormant on the floor. But on reaching the top level of the church, he heard a soft scratching sound and walked over, cracking open Maxim’s door.
Tiny Tuesday pushed her body through the crack and looked up at him. She had blue eyes. Meow.
Peering inside, Wade saw Maxim dormant on the bed, and then he looked back down at the small gray and white cat. In spite of Maxim’s affection for her, Wade realized he’d be the one to clean her litter box and make sure she had fresh food and water.
Strangely, he didn’t mind at all. He should probably make her an appointment with a vet today, just to get her checked out.
“Come on,” he said, heading down the hallway.
She followed him dow
n the stairs.
So . . . for now he had Maxim to work with and a cat to care for, and Eleisha seemed determined to help him search. That was enough for now.
He could cope and wait and make it through the days, waiting.
Until they found the next lost one.
Click here for more books by this author
By Barb Hendee
The Vampire Memories Series
Blood Memories
Hunting Memories
Memories of Envy
In Memories We Fear
By Barb and J. C. Hendee
The Noble Dead Saga—Series One
Dhampir
Thief of Lives
Sister of the Dead
Traitor to the Blood
Rebel Fay
Child of a Dead God
The Noble Dead Saga—Series Two
In Shade and Shadow
Through Stone and Sea
Of Truth and Beasts