In Memories We Fear (10 page)

Springing to his feet, he didn’t bother grabbing his shirt off the chair and hurried down the stairs. At the sight of her dark blond head and Wade’s white-blond head by the couch, a moment of intense relief passed through him.

But it lasted only a few seconds.

He stepped toward the couch and got a clearer look. A sharp emotion, something he couldn’t name, rushed in and replaced his relief.

He’d seen Wade and Eleisha in mental contact before—mainly back when they all lived in Seattle—but it had looked nothing like this. When the two of them joined telepathically to work on their skills or to share memories, they normally sat cross-legged, facing each other, their faces calm and collected.

Now Wade was on the floor with his back against the couch. Eleisha was still in her nightclothes, and he’d pulled her small body up against himself, gripping her hand so hard that three of her fingers were turning red.

Their expressions were rapidly flickering and flinching with emotion, and Wade’s breath came in ragged gasps.

The sharp unnamable emotion inside Philip expanded, and he was hit by an impulse to grab Eleisha and pull her away. He stepped toward them.

“Philip?”

The voice broke through his haze, but he snarled anyway, seeing Rose in the doorway to her bedroom. Her eyes widened as they dropped down to Eleisha and Wade on the floor, and she seemed to understand what Philip had been about to do.

“Don’t,” she said, hurrying forward. “Just stay back.” When she reached them, she crouched down. “Eleisha!” she said, her voice resonating. “Come out of it. Now.”

Wade gasped loudly as Eleisha blinked and then opened her eyes.

“No!” Wade cried, gripping down on her hand. “Wait.”

But Eleisha was looking up in confusion at Rose . . . and then at Philip.

Every muscle in Philip’s body was tight, and this time he didn’t stop. Striding over, he took Eleisha’s arm to pull her up.

“Let go,” he told Wade.

Wade released her hand, but he was shaking and sucking in air. His eyes were wild and lost. Too many questions roared through Philip’s mind, and he wanted to shout, to ask what in the hell they’d been doing. But he couldn’t. His mouth couldn’t form such words, and he just stood there, holding Eleisha on her feet. She clung to him to steady herself.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to choke. “We got lost in a memory.”

For once, her soft voice did not move him. She said she was sorry too much. And
what
memory would cause Wade to breathe like that? Philip was angry, but he didn’t exactly know why, and he didn’t know the proper response. He did know that every response or possible reaction passing through his head was wrong—and violent.

The three of them had shared memories and thoughts countless times.

Why was this different?

“That was very bad timing,” Rose said, making light of the whole scene. “You both know better than to share memories on a mission unless it’s necessary. What on earth were you thinking?” Her voice took on a matter-of-fact quality, which Philip suspected was intentional, as if the whole event had simply been another practice exercise. “Wade, you should order something to eat,” she went on, “and Eleisha, get into the shower. Your hair is a mess. The search begins tonight, and I’ll call on Seamus once you’re all ready.”

Her businesslike manner broke through the tension in the room, and Wade climbed to his feet, still trembling. When he looked over at Eleisha clinging to Philip, his eyes flickered slightly, but he nodded to Rose and walked toward the desk phone.

Eleisha let go and stood on her own for a few seconds before stepping away. “I’ll get in the shower.” She turned back to Philip. “I am sorry.”

She did look sorry, but this only made him feel worse. Maybe she told him she was sorry too often, but she’d never once apologized for sharing memories with Wade.

She’d never needed to.

About an hour and a half later, Wade stood in the shadows outside the British Museum, waiting to see what Seamus might be able to sense. Eleisha and Philip stood a few feet away, but no one spoke. Due to Rose’s cavalier handling of the “incident” back in the hotel suite, they’d all been able to get past it and move on with tonight’s mission.

Wade wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or not.

The air shimmered, and Seamus appeared behind a tree along the quiet street.

“I have something,” he said instantly. “Not far. In the Russell Square gardens.”

Wade tried to clear his head and get focused. Over and over, he just kept seeing the memory Eleisha had shown him.

“Where in the gardens?” he asked. “East or west end?”

Eleisha and Philip listened carefully.

“I can’t tell,” Seamus answered, sounding frustrated. “He’s not like one of you. His signature isn’t so clear.”

“I wonder why?” Eleisha asked. She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail, and she was wearing straight-legged jeans and a short wool coat. But she didn’t seem to expect anyone to answer her question. “How should we play this?” she asked Wade.

They’d already decided not to even try making verbal contact and to lean completely on telepathy for now. But beyond that . . . they hadn’t been in a position yet to make a more structured plan.

Telepathically, they all had different strengths. Wade was best at mind reading. Eleisha was best at pushing commands into someone else’s mind, even the mind of another vampire—to the point of using this ability as a weapon. Philip had amazing control over what he did and did not show to other telepaths, even when they were lost inside his memories.

Wade thought for a moment. “Seamus, just try to get us as close as possible. I’ll do a scan and see if I can home in on his thoughts. Once I’ve got him, Eleisha, you link with me, follow the path, and then try to get control of him. Can you do that?”

She nodded. “That’s good, Wade.” She turned to Philip. “You . . . just be ready to put him down if I fail. Try not to hurt him, but do what you have to. We have to get him off the street.”

So far, Philip had spoken a total of two words all night. “Then what do we do?” he asked. “Bring him back to the suite?”

“Of course,” she answered, sounding surprised. “What did you think? If he’s as wild as Seamus says, he won’t be able to fly back to Portland yet. We’ll have to lock him up somewhere until Wade can assess the best way to help him.”

“At the Montague?” Philip asked.

This did sound a bit absurd, and Wade realized they probably should have discussed the situation more before this point. Everything had just felt so . . . off balance lately, and they hardly constituted a crack professional team yet. So far, they’d only managed to locate a total of three vampires, and Julian had beheaded two of those before they’d even reached the church.

“If the Montague doesn’t work, we’ll make a change and stay somewhere else,” Eleisha said, “but every vampire we find is going to be different, and every situation will be different.” She paused and then asked Philip, “Can you put him down without wounding him?”

“Yes,” he bit off.

Her expression softened. She started to reach out for him but drew her hand back. “I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t come to that.” She turned to Seamus. “Okay . . . meet us at the gardens.”

He nodded and vanished.

Philip started walking. “This way.”

He had not reacted at all to Eleisha’s gesture of reaching for him, as a mortal man might, and Wade struggled with the knowledge that
this
was the true problem—even though Eleisha did not know it yet. Almost as soon as Wade had come out of the memory she’d shown him, or as soon as he could think clearly again, he’d understood the situation.

For the first time in her existence, she was experiencing an almost-normal life. She was in a relationship and sleeping in the same bed with a man. From what Wade now knew, vampires in the distant past had overcome certain obstacles of being undead. They had wanted romantic attachments. Whether Eleisha understood this or not, she was following a normal path . . . even for a vampire.

And Philip would never, ever be able to reciprocate. He was incapable. Wade had been inside Philip’s mind enough to know this.

If Wade wanted to, he could exploit this enough to make a radical change in their trio.

But he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

The three of them needed one another if the underground was to succeed. And to Wade’s surprise, the underground was still more important to him. Finding vampires who were a danger to the public was important to him. After accomplishing this, the next part of his job was to help train them to feed without killing.

He valued this job.

It made him useful.

 

Mary was up on the roof of the museum, looking down.

In some ways, she was enjoying herself here in London. Julian kept to his room in the suite much of the time, while she and Jasper had the run of the main living area.

But now she was wondering how this whole hunt was going to play out if Seamus stayed so close all the time. Mary had several advantages over him. For one, he was tied to Rose, and she wasn’t tied to anything. She could go anywhere she pleased and stay as long as she liked—while he got weaker the farther he traveled from Rose.

However, at the moment, Rose was in a hotel just up the street, and he looked as strong as ever. The blue in his plaid was positively glowing.

If Mary got any closer, he’d sense her, and Julian really wanted to maintain the element of surprise. Sure, they’d suspect he was around somewhere—but they weren’t supposed to
know
anything.

That left her in an awkward position.

She couldn’t hear a word they said from this distance, but . . . she could see them clearly, and their body language caught her attention. Something was wrong. Philip looked as stiff as a board, and Wade kept fidgeting as though uncomfortable. Eleisha stood there with her arms crossed.

They seemed deep in conversation with Seamus, and Mary was frustrated she could not hear them. Then Seamus vanished, and Philip started walking.

Mary floated off the roof and followed.

 

Eleisha was torn between feeling miserable inside and settling into the quiet focus of locating a lost member of her own kind. She never should have shown Wade that memory.

But it was done and over, and she couldn’t go back in time and change anything.

Philip just looked so . . . tight.

Everything about him looked ready to snap, and she didn’t know how to make him feel better. Worse, she really needed him at the top of his game here, as she had no idea what they were moments away from facing.

Only a few people wandered down the sidewalks at night here, and then Eleisha followed Philip from the street down a narrow path into the Russell Square gardens. Flowers and trees soon surrounded them, and several squirrels dashed past, darting for the trunks of the trees. A large fountain gushed water up ahead.

“Veer left,” Seamus said, “away from the fountain.

She looked around but didn’t see him. Philip veered left, moving into the darkness of more clustered trees. A few moments later, Wade stopped.

“Wait.”

He closed his eyes. Wade had been born a telepath, and his ability to pick up thoughts exceeded hers.

But within seconds he gasped loudly. “Eleisha!”

Instantly, she closed her eyes and reached her thoughts into his, nearly dropping to her knees. Flashes of wild fear and savage impulses hit her too fast to absorb. She stumbled once and then fought to get control of the mental onslaught. The thoughts were cold and ugly and driven by pure instinct. She separated Wade’s mind from the source he’d located, feeling just a hint of clarity on the other end.

Something
knew they were here.

It could see them.

It was terrified.

It began to run.

Wait!
She flashed, using all her internal power of suggestion but trying not to hit Wade with the same command. She could feel the mind on the other end of her thoughts nearly burst into emotions beyond panic as its body jerked to a halt.

“Eleisha?” Philip asked, his tone concerned.

But she couldn’t see him. She could barely hear him, and she fought to hold on to her target’s mind.

We won’t hurt you,
she flashed.

The sound of wailing came in answer . . . and screaming exploded from the darkness ahead. Anyone within a half mile would hear it. Eleisha opened her eyes and bolted forward, but Philip was already moving. She ran after him, leaving Wade behind, and she skidded to a halt between two trees at the sight of something crouched on the ground, still screaming.

It looked up, and she froze.

It was a young man . . . or might once have been. His eyes were black and void of reason. His filthy black hair hung in crusted pieces around a stark white face. His feet were bare and his shirt was rotting off his body, exposing a glowing, hairless chest. His yellow teeth were pointed, and red flakes of dried blood clung to the side of his mouth.