Hunting Memories (20 page)
Authors: Barb Hendee
“How do you know?”
“Because she always does.”
Eleisha spent the remainder of the night in the guest room talking to Philip, listening to him, trying to reach common ground and still do the right thing for everyone involved.
She felt bad for just leaving Wade out in the sitting room, after he’d been drugged and was still recovering, but somehow, she believed Rose would take care of him. Later, she heard the television come on and the occasional murmur of male voices over what sounded like an old western, and she knew he would be okay watching TV with Seamus.
She didn’t want to leave Philip, and she didn’t want to bring him out among the others yet. He was still too upset.
But there was more to his heated reaction to Robert’s existence than fear for her and Wade. She just didn’t know what it was, and she wasn’t sure how to ask him.
When she felt dawn approaching, she said, “You should get comfortable. The sun will be up soon.”
He took off his shirt and his boots and stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She climbed up on the bed next to him, kneeling to look down at his face. “You know this Robert . . . don’t you?” she whispered.
“Angelo believed that John, Julian, and I should know of all the elders. He wrote a book called
The Makers and Their Children
, with their names and their histories. Julian knew the book better than me, but Angelo taught me things about Robert Brighton. I remember the name. I know he was a soldier.”
The Makers and Their Children
, with their names and their histories. Julian knew the book better than me, but Angelo taught me things about Robert Brighton. I remember the name. I know he was a soldier.”
“Did you ever meet him?”
He hesitated and then answered quietly. “Only once, not long after I was turned and I was still with Angelo. Robert came to visit . . . with his maker.”
“His maker?”
“Her name was Jessenia, and she looked like a gypsy, but she was not. They both hated me, would not be in the same room with me. I stood in a hallway outside a door, and I heard Jessenia tell Angelo that I should be destroyed if he was not going to teach me, and that Julian should be destroyed if he did not develop his abilities. I didn’t know what any of this meant then. I didn’t care.”
Eleisha remembered Robert’s harsh words about Angelo letting Philip run wild and kill whomever he pleased.
“Telepathy?” she whispered.
“I think so now. I think maybe they all hunted as you do, as you taught me, and they blamed Angelo for the way I hunted then.”
His voice held an edge of pain. Everyone changed over decades and decades of existence. Eleisha knew that for all his temper and selfish behavior, he’d learned to care what others thought of him.
“But it’s all different now, Philip. Once he knows you, he won’t hate you anymore. And we can’t just leave him to go on existing alone—not if he wants to join us. Besides, he can tell us so much about what really happened. We’ve been in the dark for a long time.”
She could feel her eyelids growing heavy. Although the windows were completely covered, the sun outside must be rising.
Philip reached up and pulled her down against his shoulder. “Sleep.”
By the following night, everyone’s mood and attitude had altered somewhat. Although Rose and Philip didn’t speak, they seemed at least resigned to tolerate each other. Eleisha couldn’t help feeling relieved by this.
They arrived at the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park just over an hour past dusk. Seamus was nowhere in sight, and she wasn’t yet quite sure how his existence worked, so she didn’t know if he was with them or not. Lights all around illuminated ponds and sculpted shrubs, but Eleisha continued to dwell on several things Philip had told her the night before.
For one, he’d mentioned a book in which Angelo had written down information about all the elder vampires. Doing anything of this nature had been expressly forbidden as far as Eleisha knew. Edward had warned her against writing anything down regarding names, addresses, and phone numbers—even though he’d broken that rule himself later. And Julian had sent short letters drilling this into her head.
But Angelo had created a detailed book of information. Was such an act acceptable back then?
Second, she couldn’t stop thinking about Robert’s maker telling Angelo that Julian should be destroyed if he did not develop telepathically. Eleisha had been led to believe—even by Philip—that Julian had “gone mad” and launched upon his killing spree. Was it possible that some of his fears were justified? Why would the elders care so much that he wasn’t telepathic?
In the back of her mind . . . she might already know the answer: Because without telepathy, he couldn’t alter a victim’s memory, and so in order to feed, he would have to kill to protect himself from exposure.
“Did you decide on anywhere more specific to meet?” Wade asked.
“No, just here,” Rose answered.
Although the night wasn’t cold, both the men had intentionally worn their coats—with the slight distinction that Wade’s came from Target and Philip’s was Armani. Wade wore his gun out of sight, and Philip had hooked the machete’s sheath to his belt and then buttoned his long coat over it. Eleisha had wanted to argue with both of them, but she didn’t. Their agreement to this meeting was already too tenuous.
Now all four of them waited by a koi pond.
Wade pointed to Philip’s hip. “I don’t know why you bought that thing. I would have helped you get a gun.”
Oh, lovely
, Eleisha thought. They were going to engage in a discussion of weapons. That was all Rose needed to hear.
, Eleisha thought. They were going to engage in a discussion of weapons. That was all Rose needed to hear.
Philip shook his head. “I don’t want a gun. This is better.”
“Better? You have to be in close quarters to use that thing.”
“I know how to use it. It won’t jam. It won’t misfire. It won’t run out of bullets. It’s better.”
“Yes, but—”
“Wade, please,” Eleisha cut in, glancing at Rose.
He followed her gaze and stopped talking. Eleisha walked over to sit on a bench. Philip paced in front of her, too agitated to sit, but he looked down at her. “I like your hair like that.”
For some reason, she had dressed more carefully than usual tonight, wearing a pair of new jeans, low-heeled boots, and a sleeveless white linen shirt. She’d brushed out her hair and pinned up part of the back, leaving loose wisps hanging around her face. She still wasn’t sure why she’d gone to the effort. Maybe because she’d met Robert last night looking like a runaway teenager—and she wanted his confidence. Maybe because Rose always took so much time and looked elegant every waking moment.
“Are you certain he’ll come?” Wade asked.
“Yes, he’ll come,” Rose answered.
Eleisha was suddenly nervous about facing him again, about the contempt she’d seen last night in his eyes—and she hoped he would not antagonize Philip. She knew so little, almost nothing, about this older vampire, what powers he might have that they did not.
“Rose?” she asked quietly. “Do you know what Robert’s gift is?”
“No, I haven’t felt him use it yet.”
“It is the mirror image of yours, Eleisha,” Philip answered.
“A poetic answer,” said a low voice from their right. “How surprising.”
Philip whirled toward the sound as Robert stepped from behind a meticulously shaped tree. He looked much as he did last night—except that he, too, was wearing a long coat. But as with Seamus, Eleisha couldn’t help seeing his face as a painting from a bygone era, like something she might view on a museum wall.
She tensed, knowing these first few seconds were crucial.
Robert glanced briefly over Wade, Rose, and Eleisha, and then he locked eyes with Philip. To her surprise, he didn’t look angry. He didn’t even look arrogant. Rather, he looked . . . uncertain.
No one spoke.
After a while, Rose finally said, “Well, someone should say something, or the moment might turn socially awkward.”
In spite of the tension, Eleisha smiled. “No,” she answered. “We certainly don’t want that.”
Rose smiled back and moved over to Robert. She pointed toward their little group. “Robert, you’ve met Eleisha, and I believe you already know Philip. This is Wade. He is the one who trained Eleisha and Philip to waken their abilities.”
Eleisha let her take over as the whole scene took on a surreal quality, as if Robert was an out-of-town guest meeting Rose’s family. Even without using her gift, Rose’s voice carried a tone of wisdom, of reason. Any mortals passing by would not have bothered glancing their way. Eleisha did find it strange that Robert didn’t flinch at them having a mortal in their group—he didn’t even seem to notice the difference. Julian would have found this unthinkable.
Robert nodded once to Wade, but he couldn’t seem to stop looking at Philip’s face and clothes and hair, but with doubt in his eyes, as if he was questioning Philip’s identity. Why? Eleisha wanted to try to read his thoughts, but she dared not. He would feel her.
“You’ve been alone?” Philip asked him abruptly. “All this time?”
Robert’s jaw twitched, and he offered a short nod.
“Me, too,” Philip said, tossing his head toward Eleisha and Wade. “Until them. It’s better with them. Like being alive again.”
A flicker of pain crossed Robert’s face. It passed. “But you’re telepathic now? I . . . I don’t expect you to
know
anything if a mortal trained you, but can you at least hunt safely?”
know
anything if a mortal trained you, but can you at least hunt safely?”
Eleisha winced at such a question being asked aloud in a public garden.
Philip said something in French so quickly she couldn’t follow it, and then he looked around. “This place is too open, no? Come.”
As if all was decided, he didn’t wait for an answer and began walking for the front gates. To Eleisha’s relief, Robert fell into step behind him. Wade followed. Rose’s eyes filled with hope as she watched them.
Not too bad
, Eleisha flashed into her mind.
It’s a start
.
, Eleisha flashed into her mind.
It’s a start
.
Rose looked at her.
No, not too bad
.
No, not too bad
.
Mary Jordane was beginning to panic. She’d been looking for Eleisha since the night Julian landed in San Francisco . . . and come up with nothing.
It wasn’t that she’d lost her ability to track the dead.
The problem was that an overwhelming
sense
of the dead seemed to be everywhere. Since coming back into the world of the living, she’d encountered only a few other ghosts.
sense
of the dead seemed to be everywhere. Since coming back into the world of the living, she’d encountered only a few other ghosts.
But a weird, misty veil of death hung over this entire city—along with too many other ghosts who were all dressed in old-fashioned clothes. In desperation, she’d finally talked to the spirit of a sailor down on the docks to try to find out why.
His answer was not helpful.
Apparently some stupid earthquake happened in the past here . . . like a hundred years ago! Who cared what happened a hundred years ago? You couldn’t even buy an iPod back then. But a bunch of people who weren’t ready to die and who weren’t expecting to die got squished or buried or burned up in fires, and their spirits ended up tied to apartments and houses and restaurants and bars.
A ghost who remained in this world, who was tied to a person, would pass over either into the gray plane or the afterlife once the living person finally died as well. But a ghost tied to a
place
remained on this plane as long as the place still existed in some form.
place
remained on this plane as long as the place still existed in some form.
So Mary was having trouble picking up the slightly different “blank spot,” as she called it, among all the life energy that helped her separate the living dead from the ghosts. It was frustrating, and it was pissing her off, and Julian was getting impatient.
He’d called her back last night, and he was really mad when she couldn’t tell him anything yet. He scared her worse than he ever had before.
Tonight, she worked harder to separate the blank spaces in the fabric of energy, to shift through and find the
right
kind of undead presence. She couldn’t really explain the difference, even to herself, but the first time she’d felt Eleisha, the signature had been more . . . solid than a ghost.
right
kind of undead presence. She couldn’t really explain the difference, even to herself, but the first time she’d felt Eleisha, the signature had been more . . . solid than a ghost.
She struggled to find that signature again. It was hard against the sea of death all around her, but she wasn’t going back to Julian empty-handed.
About an hour past dusk, she felt something, and she materialized slowly behind a statue in the Golden Gate District. She focused again and instantly felt a much stronger rift.
She blinked out, followed the path, and rematerialized inside some kind of fancy garden with no flowers.
There was Eleisha. Sitting on a bench.
Good! Good! Good!
She wanted to dance. Julian could finally calm himself down.
But then she looked more closely and saw two extra people she’d never seen before, and both of them were undead. She lodged their faces in her mind—because Julian would ask her a billion questions—and she tried to drift a little closer without being seen.
One of them, a man with a nearly shaved head and a broken nose, was talking to Philip.
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