Hunting Memories vm-2

by Barb Hendee

  "You two are good to me," he said one night. "But you only see each other. You only need each other."

  Robert could not deny this, and the next night, Angelo left them to head back for France.

  Three hundred years slipped by, and Robert found some pleasure, some wonder, in every single night. He and Jessenia traveled through Portugal and then Greece. They spent years in Austria and then Poland, and later found delight in Prague. They explored forests and beaches and mountains. Sometimes they found inns-or even rented rooms-for a longer stay. Sometimes they slept in abandoned hovels. Sometimes Robert camouflaged a black canvas tent in the forest, and he made them their own shelter for the day. Jessenia never questioned his decisions or his abilities, and he never once failed her.

  The best thing about traveling in this slow, exploratory fashion was that after a hundred years, they simply went back to England and started all over again… and everything was different.

  At the turn of the nineteenth century, they heard that Angelo had finally created a surrogate son for himself, a Scot named John McCrugger. Robert was glad to hear the news. Now Angelo would not be so lonely.

  But he did not think long on this, as he was too lost in the bliss of his own constant companion, his lively sprite, Jessenia.

  He believed their love and their journeys would go on forever.

  Then, in 1820, everything began to change.

  They had just crossed the border from Switzerland into northern Italy, and Jessenia stopped at one of her message outposts to see if she had any letters waiting. She did.

  "Oh, look," Jessenia said with a smile. "It's from Demetrio. Let's find an inn, and I'll read you the news."

  A half hour later, they were sitting at a table, making plans whether to take rooms or travel on the next night, when Jessenia opened the letter, and her expression changed. Her smile faded and her mouth began to tremble.

  "What is it?" Robert asked in alarm. He had never seen her like this.

  Her hand was shaking as she held on to the letter.

  "Jessenia! What's wrong?"

  "Angelo…" She was trying to speak and kept failing. Robert could not read Italian, so he waited.

  "Angelo has broken the laws… several of them," she managed to say. "He made a second son, a Welsh noble, two years ago, and then a third one, French, only a year after. Demetrio says the Welsh one has no telepathic ability at all, and the French one is feral and cannot be trained."

  Robert fell back in his chair. "That cannot be right. Is this something Demetrio heard or saw? I cannot think… Angelo would never…"

  Three new vampires in the span of eighteen years?

  "We have to go to Harfleur," Jessenia said. "We should leave tonight."

  This was a journey without joy. Robert kept turning the possibilities over and over in his mind, but he could not think of how these last two vampires could feed without killing. Why would Angelo, the oldest among them, break laws set up for the protection of them all?

  No, it had to be a mistake. Something had been mistranslated.

  They arrived in Harfleur.

  It was no mistake, and the scene Robert found was worse than he imagined.

  He walked inside the stone manor and saw something moving stealthily up ahead. A figure emerged into the entryway, and Robert actually took a step back, holding his arm out to guard Jessenia.

  The creature moving toward him barely seemed human. It was a man with long red-brown hair who might have once been handsome but who now wore the expression of a mindless animal. His feet were bare and he wore no shirt, with blood smeared across his face and chest. He snarled savagely.

  "Philip! Get back!"

  Angelo strode quickly up behind this creature and took his arm. The creature calmed somewhat, but Angelo did not look happy at the sight of guests.

  "Robert, I was not expecting you."

  Robert just stood there with no idea what to say. He couldn't believe the sight before them, and he continued holding Jessenia back.

  "Forgive me," Angelo said. "This is Philip Brantй. Excuse his state of undress. He just came in and I must have his shirt laundered."

  Judging by the blood smeared all over the creature's face, Robert could only imagine what his shirt must look like. And this pretense at a polite introduction was insulting.

  "Send him away," Robert choked. "We would speak to you alone."

  Angelo looked at him through cold eyes for a long moment and then turned to the creature. "Philip, my boy, you stay here. I need to speak with our guests."

  The creature snarled again but moved to the side, half turning to expose what looked like a mass of round white burn scars across his shoulders. Robert cautiously drew Jessenia past him. They followed Angelo to the library, where Robert slammed the door.

  "How could you?" Jessenia whispered. "Angelo, how could you? Demetrio says there is another one… who has no telepathic ability at all."

  Angelo sat in a large wooden chair by a table. An open book lay upon the table near a bottle of ink and a wet quill.

  "Yes," he said, "that is Julian, but I am working to help him develop his abilities. I believe it is only a matter of time. Philip improves each week. At first he could not even speak, and he now understands language quite well."

  "Why?" Robert exploded, sick of this calm response from Angelo. "Why would you do this?" He paced along the length of the study. "They have to be destroyed. Both of them!"

  "I will decide what is best," Angelo said slowly. "And I will take responsibility for my own actions."

  Jessenia was watching him with sad eyes, and her countenance seemed to affect him much more than Robert's anger. Tonight, she wore a rich green skirt with a white blouse and silver hoops in her ears. Her beautiful face was a picture of sorrow. Robert felt sick.

  Angelo walked over to her. "I wanted the company of men, as in days long past. One was not enough. I wanted sons again."

  "It doesn't work that way," she whispered. "You know it doesn't. Why couldn't you have been happy with your young Scot?"

  "I am happy with him. But he wasn't enough." He paused, touching her face with his slender fingers. "I will no longer follow laws I don't believe in, and I swear I will make this right. I just need time."

  "How are they feeding?" Robert demanded.

  Angelo did not answer.

  "What are their names again?" Robert asked, "Julian and Philip? Have either of them shown any tendencies for mental power?"

  "Not Julian. Not yet, but in all other respects, he is whole, and his gift is strong. I believe Philip's telepathy will surface quickly once I begin his training. But he has no memories of his previous life, and it is too soon to press him."

  "Then keep him on a leash!"

  "He is my son!" Angelo roared back.

  "Angelo," Jessenia said, looking more composed. "If you won't train Philip now, right now, then he must be destroyed, and so must Julian if he does not develop telepathy. You know this."

  "Leave me," Angelo answered. "Go back to your travels. I will deal with my own family."

  There was nothing they could do. Vampires did not fight among each other.

  Jessenia started for the door. "I cannot believe that you, you of all among us, chose to break the law. You endanger us all."

  With nothing left to say, Robert followed her out.

  Although deeply shaken, they could only hope that Angelo would adhere to his word. It was Angelo's place to destroy his sons if need be-which was already the case in Robert's opinion-so they had to believe he would do the right thing.

  Needing some sort of comfort, some sense of familiarity, they decided to go back to England for a few years, and they crossed the Channel again, later taking rooms in London. Jessenia wrote to let Cristina and Adalrik know where they were staying, and yet she remained sad, a shadow of herself, for several months. Robert worried about her.

  But London proved a lively place in 1821, with many sights and distractions, and soon she joined with him again
in their bed, running her hands up his chest, filling his mind with the promise of tomorrow.

  They heard nothing worrisome from their friends. Perhaps Angelo had lived up to his word?

  Then, in 1824, Jessenia received a letter from Adalrik with news he'd only recently learned. Apparently as far back as 1816, Angelo's first son, John McCrugger, had turned his own serving man, Edward Claymore, into a vampire, and later, Philip, the feral one, had turned his mortal lover, Margaritte Latour, as well… long before the hundred-year mark. Law upon law was being broken due to Angelo's breach.

  Robert was uncertain what to do, and Jessenia was frightened.

  About a year after this, strange psychic onslaughts began to hit them without warning. Most were weak, as if coming from a great distance, but some were strong and painful. In the same moment, they would both see images and memories of other vampires, sometimes hundreds of years played out in moments. Neither of them knew what this meant.

  In 1826, the last letter arrived… and it was from Cristina. Jessenia read it aloud, almost as if she were sleepwalking.

  Oh, Jessenia, my dear one, I think we are lost.

  Angelo is dead. His son John McCrugger is dead.

  Our sweet Adalrik is dead.

  Several others, whom you have never met, are now dead.

  I have hidden some events from you, but in recent years, many of us began to counsel Angelo to destroy Julian and Philip… most pointedly Julian, who shows no sign of developing his telepathy and will never be able to follow the first law. Our gentle counsel soon turned into demands and, to my shame,… threats of taking this matter upon ourselves. We fear Julian learned of our urgings. He must have believed Angelo would eventually relent to us.

  Julian's presence cannot be felt and he is coming from the darkness to take our heads. I do not know how he is finding us with such ease and haste, nor how none of us has managed to hold him with a telepathic defense.

  You and Robert must find someplace to hide, someplace you've told no one about-not too far. I will send another letter soon. You know Demetrio will not leave the villa, but I expect more news within a few nights. Knowledge is safety.

  With my love, Cristina

  Jessenia dropped the letter onto the floor.

  "We're leaving here tonight," Robert said. "We'll hide up north."

  "No," she whispered. "I want to wait for her next letter."

  The letter never came.

  A few nights later, they were hit with waves of memories from Demetrio first… followed shortly after by Cristina's.

  Once she had recovered from the onslaught, Jessenia began to pack her few things. "We're going to Italy, to the villa, to make sure they are safe."

  "Italy?" Robert repeated. "No."

  "You are a soldier!" she shouted. "Demetrio is an artist! Would you not protect them?"

  He grasped her hand. "I would protect you first."

  "Please," she whispered. "Please, Robert. None of us will survive by hiding. We have to fight. This Julian is still a newborn. His luck will not hold."

  They began the long journey back to Italy, to the villa, where they found two piles of dust, just inside the terrace.

  Jessenia fell to her knees. "It is them," she said. "My maker told me that we turn to dust. They are gone."

  This was the first time Jessenia had ever mentioned her maker.

  "We have to go," Robert said. "We need to leave this place now." An unfamiliar and unpleasant feeling had begun crawling around inside him. He couldn't quite place it, but he believed it was fear. "Jessenia, come. There is nothing you can do."

  She let him lead her through the front doors, into the dense gardens. Cristina had always liked thick, wild gardens. Jessenia stumbled out ahead of him, and he longed to comfort her, but what could he say?

  His mind was churning with decisions over the best possible place to take her and hide, when she walked past a mulberry tree, and the darkness beside her seemed to move on its own. A glint arced through the air, and her head flew off her body before his eyes could absorb what was happening. Her body fell forward with a slight thud.

  Before he could even scream her name, a wave of memories hit him.

  It was nothing like what he had experienced back in England. He was only a few feet away from her, and he buckled from the impact, rolling on the ground. And what he saw… He saw her dressed as an English lady in the fifteenth century in a velvet gown and headpiece with her hair pinned beneath. He saw a vampire with a wizened face lecturing over a small pile of books, hitting her hand with a wooden pointer, and going on with the lecture. But her name was not Jessenia back then. It was Jane.

  The memories went on as if Jessenia was speaking to him.

  The wizened vampire had wanted a daughter with imagination, and he'd chosen her. He seduced her agreement through promises of travel and learning. But he was coldhearted and cared nothing for her well-being.

  Yet only when he allowed her to begin meeting other vampires, such as Cristina and Demetrio, did she understand the loneliness of her existence. She wanted a different life.

  She ran away.

  She was alone and lost and frightened-even of some mortals, once she learned her gift did not work well on those with little imagination.

  While traveling with a group of gypsies, she changed her way of dress, her hair, her name. She learned the power of her gift. She began looking for a companion, and she could see him in her mind. She would never break the laws or make someone too soon, but still… she searched.

  And then she found Robert.

  He saw image after image of himself, the way she saw him. She thought him handsome, with his lean face and broken nose. She loved the way his presence changed the way brutal mortals treated her. Harsh men would only need glance at Robert and then look away. None of them came near her. Robert was the real thing. A hardened soldier. He protected her, saw to her needs, loved her, and he asked almost nothing in return. All he wanted was for her to plan their next journey, their next delight, their next exploration, and to share in her enjoyment. He washed away the pain of the past and took everything upon himself. Every night, she looked at him and wondered if he was real…

  Robert was choking from unbearable physical and emotional pain when his vision cleared enough to see the blade arcing down at him, and on instinct he rolled to one side.

  The sword sliced through the front half of his throat, sending a spray of black blood into the air. He finished his roll, bleeding onto the ground, and looked up to see a dark-haired man standing over him, raising the sword again.

  Julian.

  It had to be.

  Robert flashed out telepathically, rage and hatred giving him strength. The sword stopped in midair as Robert held him there. He wanted this creature to suffer for hours! But the blood kept flowing into the dirt beneath him, and he was growing weaker by the second. The world grew hazy before his eyes. He couldn't get up. He couldn't fight. Soon, he was going to lose the mental connection.

  Then he would die.

  Had he allowed himself to think, he would have chosen death, but the survivor embedded so deeply inside him took over, and he used a simple telepathic glamour, the same kind he might use on a feeding victim, to alter what Julian saw.

  Still standing above him, Julian stepped back, looking down.

  Robert managed to stay inside his mind, and Julian saw a headless body on the ground, slowly turning to dust. He looked around, seeing Jessenia's body turning to dust as well.

  His work was complete.

  After a few moments, he turned and walked away.

  Robert lay there, bleeding into the dirt, unable to move, realizing that when the sun rose, he would burn anyway.

  He didn't care.

  Jessenia was dead.

  Her memories tortured him. Why had she never told him of her past? He would have comforted her. He writhed in pain just thinking about the way she saw him. She saw herself as the taker and him as the giver, when he saw it the other way
around. Why had they never spoken of such things?

  He wanted the sun to rise.

  Just before dawn, a gardener came up the path and gasped loudly, running to Robert's side.

  "Oh," he cried, kneeling down and leaning over. "Can you move?"

  Robert couldn't get up, but he could move his arms. Again, the survivor, the soldier of Norfolk, took over, pushing everything else away. Robert grabbed the gardener and jerked him down, driving his teeth into the man's throat and draining him. He drank until the man's heart stopped.

  It was the only time he ever killed to feed.

  The wound in his throat closed slightly, and he dragged himself into the house.

  In the early years after Jessenia's death, Robert sometimes burned with enough hatred to attempt tracking Julian, to take revenge.

  But that fire faded after a while. He was sometimes hit by the distant, much weaker onslaught of the memories of dying vampires-he now knew what they were-and in the dullness of his nightly existence, he lost interest in revenge.

  It wouldn't change anything.

  It wouldn't bring Jessenia back.

  As a mortal, he had often been told that time heals all wounds, but this proved untrue. Each night, he woke up reaching for Jessenia, and each night, the absence of her body, her laugh, the way she always turned to lie facing him in the bed, came crashing down as he saw the empty space and felt the same agony.

  It never went away…

  Chapter 13

  "No!" Robert gasped, summoning all his strength to wrench himself away.

  He grabbed Eleisha's shoulder and pushed her. She struck the bathroom door and fell. Her expression was wild and confused.

  He wanted to kill her.

  She had invaded him and seen everything, all his private thoughts and his past. He had relived it all. He could still taste Jessenia in his mouth.