Hunting Memories (17 page)
Authors: Barb Hendee
Wade wasn’t certain how to answer—or even if he should answer. “Normal people don’t enjoy my company,” he began, “once they find out I see everything they’re thinking. Even if I promised not to . . . no one could know for sure. I had a friend once who could feel my thoughts and keep me out . . . but he’s gone now. I fit in with Eleisha and Philip. They’re like me.”
That wasn’t completely true, and he was forever caught in the betwixt and between, but Eleisha and Philip accepted him. More important, they valued him.
“You should go and eat,” Seamus said. “There is a bakery two blocks away on Taylor Street. I’ve only seen it closed when Rose is . . . out at night, but it looks like a decent place.”
Wade smiled.
Seamus had not lost his humanity.
Eleisha woke as dusk settled.
The guest room door was cracked open, and she could hear the sound of pans rattling from somewhere out in the apartment. When she tried to sit up, she found her hair tangled around Philip’s throat, and she reached to pull it free.
He grabbed her hand.
His amber eyes were open, and he was looking up at her.
“I need to go out for a while,” he said quietly. “Can you stay here with Wade?”
“Why do you need to go out?”
“To buy some things.”
She pulled her hand away, freed her hair, and sat up. She could think of only a few items he might wish to buy. “You don’t need Paul Mitchell hair products for a three- or four-night stay, Philip. Why didn’t you bring your own?”
He moved over and climbed off the bed. “I just need to go out. Will you stay with Wade? I don’t want him here alone.”
He reached for his shirt, and she studied the white cigars burns covering the back and top of his shoulders. Their kind healed from flesh wounds quickly, but they retained any scars from mortal life—and apparently, Philip’s father had not been the nurturing type.
“You sound strange,” she said. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want Wade left alone.”
Was he worried Rose would hurt Wade? After reading Rose’s memories last night, she thought Philip would completely change his attitude toward the situation, but he seemed just as angry and hesitant now as before. How could he not pity Rose for what she’d been through?
But as he pulled on his boots, Eleisha only said, “Of course I’ll stay. You won’t be long?”
His expression softened. “I won’t be long.”
He walked out. She climbed off the bed and followed him partway. But he didn’t even look around to try to find Wade to say good-bye. He just left, closing the front door quietly.
Puzzled, Eleisha padded off toward the kitchen, where she found Wade frying eggs and talking to Seamus.
“No, seriously,” Wade was saying. “As a kid, I lived on a farm in North Dakota, with cows and chickens.”
“And horses?” Seamus asked.
“Sure, horses.”
They both fell silent as they noticed her in the open archway between the sitting room and kitchen.
“Where’s Philip?” Wade asked, spatula in midair.
“He went out. He said he needed to buy some things.”
Seamus stared at her.
Then Eleisha heard the sound of a door opening, and she turned to see Rose come from her room wearing a long sage green dress and gold earrings, with her hair brushed to a shining luster.
Eleisha became poignantly aware that she was still wearing a pair of Wade’s old sweatpants and the pink Hello Kitty tank top she’d slept in all day . . . and her hair was a wild mess.
Suddenly the whole scene felt awkward.
Vampires didn’t invite overnight guests. This “morning after” moment was foreign and uncomfortable.
But as Rose walked over to join her in the archway, she did not even notice Eleisha’s attire. She was looking at Wade in what appeared to be wonder.
“Eggs,” she whispered. “Where did you get the pan?”
“Went shopping,” Wade answered, pointing to some paper bags on the counter. “I saw you had a kettle and mugs, so I picked up a few kinds of tea and washed out the mugs. Eleisha likes a cup when she wakes up.”
Rose walked in and looked inside the shopping bags. “Here, let me get the water boiling. Eleisha, come sit at the table.”
And the strained moment was gone.
Eleisha walked over and sat down a few feet from where Seamus appeared to be standing. Rose bustled about, finishing Wade’s eggs and making tea, and the image was so natural that Eleisha almost forgot their quartet was made up of two vampires, a telepathic mortal, and a ghost.
They just seemed like four people enjoying an evening in the kitchen.
With a stab of guilt, Eleisha was suddenly glad Philip had gone out. He would hate this. He would have ruined it.
She sat quietly as Wade dropped down into a chair beside her with his eggs and a croissant he’d pulled from a bag. He was eating with a plastic fork and talking to Seamus about horses.
Rose put a cup of tea in front of Wade and handed one to Eleisha. Then she took a sip from her own. Eleisha knew that she should say
something
. She pointed to a purple pot. “Is that saffron? I haven’t seen that growing in many years.”
something
. She pointed to a purple pot. “Is that saffron? I haven’t seen that growing in many years.”
Rose nodded. “I don’t know why, but growing all the herbs has helped fill my nights, as William did for you.”
Wade stopped talking to Seamus in midsentence and looked at Eleisha. “You told her about taking care of William?” he asked in mild surprise.
Eleisha glanced away. “Yes, in our letters.”
Of course Rose had heard something of William from Edward, but Eleisha had not known that before. Secrets within secrets. Perhaps it was going to be difficult to stick to safe subjects. But Wade only yawned, as if he was tired, and took a long drink from his mug and turned back to Seamus.
“I hope you won’t mind an upstairs room at the church,” Eleisha said to Rose. “I almost started decorating one for you, but I didn’t know what you’d like. I’m sure I would have gotten it wrong.”
But this caused Rose to wince, as it probably reminded her of the impending journey to Oregon. Eleisha searched for some way to change the subject again. It felt so good to be sitting here with Rose and a cup of tea. She didn’t want it to end.
Wade yawned again.
His eggs were gone, and he tried to stand up from the table and wobbled slightly.
“Are you all right?” Eleisha asked, standing to help him.
“Yeah, I’m just tired.”
His eyes looked glassy.
“Let’s move him to a couch,” Rose said.
Eleisha helped him to a low burgundy settee. “Didn’t you sleep at all today?” she asked, growing more concerned.
“Yeah, Leisha . . . I slept.”
His white-blond head rolled back and his eyes closed.
“Wade!”
“It’s all right,” Rose said quietly from behind her. “He’ll just sleep for a few hours.”
Eleisha whirled around. “What did you do?”
“Just gave him something to make him sleep.”
“You drugged his tea?”
She couldn’t believe it. Philip had been right. Rose was an enemy. How was that possible? Eleisha positioned herself in front of Wade, wondering if she should try using her gift or look for a weapon. Or she could try taking hold of Rose’s thoughts, as she had with Julian.
“It’s all right, Eleisha,” Rose said again. “I would never hurt your friend, but I need to show you something, and he cannot see it. We need to go out tonight . . . by ourselves.”
As these words landed smoothly on Eleisha’s ears, she believed them. Of course Rose was right. Rose was wise, and she would never hurt Wade. She just had to share something with Eleisha.
Philip took a taxi to Fisherman’s Wharf.
Reliving Rose’s memories last night had been too much for him. Through her, he’d experienced real hunting again—a true feeding. But instead of satisfying him, the sensation only made him feel like he wanted to claw out of his own skin.
When he woke up tonight, only a few seconds ahead of Eleisha, he knew he had to leave the apartment by himself. It troubled him to leave her and Wade by themselves, but nothing would have stopped him from heading for the door.
Nothing.
“Pull over here,” he told the cabbie when they reached Beach Street. He paid his fare and got out.
The lights and music of Pier 39 filled his senses, and he rejoiced in the sight of the busy crowds. Walking down the pier, he passed an endless variety of shops: souvenirs, chocolates, seashells, wine, T-shirts, novelty stockings . . . all bursting with tourists.
Then he reached a large, two-story carousel in the center. Colorful horses moved up and down to canned music, ridden by children gripping caramel apples.
Eleisha would like this
.
.
He pushed the unbidden thought away. He did not want to think about her.
Hearing the sound of feminine laughter, he turned his head quickly. Three young women were standing outside a souvenir shop, carrying bags and talking in low voices, occasionally laughing more loudly.
Suddenly, Philip realized coming to Pier 39 presented a problem he had not considered: people rarely came here alone.
In the past, this had never hindered him, as he would simply kill anyone he needed to. But tonight he wished to do this quietly, which was why he’d come down to the waterfront.
He studied the group of laughing women: a tall one with a blond bob haircut, a chubby one—not far out of her teens—and a slender, dark-haired one wearing a T-shirt from the North Beach Museum.
He zeroed in on the last one.
The crowds continued to pass around, hiding him in the flowing mass.
How could get her alone? He could easily approach the trio and use his gift to draw her off, but if she disappeared, the other two could provide a detailed description of him.
He did not fear police, but any trouble at all would let Eleisha know what he’d done.
So he tried something new.
The dark-haired woman was not carrying a purse—and the other two were. Perhaps she did not bother with such things?
But he reached out with his thoughts, slipping them inside her mind. In her recent memories, he saw they had eaten in a café farther down the pier, and she had been carrying a mesh bag. She did not seem aware of his mental invasion.
Your bag. You left it in the café
, he suggested, moving a little closer.
, he suggested, moving a little closer.
“Oh, damn it,” she said suddenly, looking down. “I left my bag. I’ll be right back.”
She trotted off, leaving her friends to wait.
He followed her.
He had no idea where she’d left the bag, but it didn’t matter. As she passed a fudge shop, he came up behind her.
“Excuse me.”
He let his gift begin to flow.
She froze and then turned around.
“I have heard there are sea lions nearby,” he said. “Can you show me?”
Her eyes moved up to his face, and she did not speak for several seconds. Then she said, “Sea lions? Oh, yeah, I saw them earlier, that way.” She pointed to the right.
“Are they far?” he asked, letting his accent grow thicker, letting more of his gift seep out.
Eyes fixated on him, she breathed in and shook her head slowly. “No, just over there.”
“Show me.”
She seemed to forget about her lost bag and her friends. Turning right, she led him down a passage between two buildings, through a set of doors, and out onto a long, fenced dock. Away from the carousel’s music, he could hear water lapping against the shore.
As they left the crowds of the busy section of the pier, he rejoiced at the numerous shadowed nooks and crannies on the backsides of all the shops.
The young woman was leading him farther into the darkness toward the edge of the pier.
He heard sea lions barking, and he saw lights all the way from Beach Street glinting off the water ahead. Then he spotted a flight of stairs that formed a landing at the top of the first level.
“Here,” he said, moving to stand under the stairs, beneath the landing. Without a word, she followed him. Several people passed by, but no one looked inside the dark hollow.
She was breathing quickly now. He pressed her up against the wall and kissed her, reveling in the warmth of her mouth and the pounding of blood just below her skin. He grew excited but fought to control himself.
It was a pity he couldn’t let her scream.
He vowed that next time, he’d find someplace more private, someplace where he could take more time.
Moving one hand up, he took his mouth off hers, whispering soft words in her ear. She was gripping his waist, trying to pull him closer.
Other books
The Complete Works of Isaac Babel Reprint Edition by Isaac Babel, Nathalie Babel, Peter Constantine by Nathalie Babel, Peter Constantine Isaac Babel
Silent Fall by Barbara Freethy
Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series by Selina Fenech
The Reluctant Communist by Charles Robert Jenkins, Jim Frederick
Gang of Four by Liz Byrski
Wildflowers of Terezin by Robert Elmer
The Sorrow King by Prunty, Andersen
Monroe, Melody S. - Verdict (Siren Publishing Classic) by Melody S. Monroe
Two-Way Split by Guthrie, Allan
My Seventh-Grade Life in Tights by Brooks Benjamin
