Blood Memories

"Here," she murmured through cracked lips. "Bite down on this and suck."

William snapped down as though the rat were a juicy bit of fruit. She watched in dull horror as he drained every last drop of blood and fell back in exhaustion without choking or spitting as he had with Julian.

Wanting to vomit, but finding herself unable, Eleisha lay on the floor and stared into darkness.

"What am I?"

Chapter 14

Wade pulled out of my head and lay back on the carpet. Funny how he was always the one to jerk away first.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't look anymore," he choked out. "Need to stop."

"Are you okay?"

"It hurts."

My hands shook from intense emotion, and I realized why Wade asked so many questions after letting me read his memories.

"That old man downstairs is the same Lord William?"

"You know that," I answered. "You can recognize him."

"The memories are hard to take. What Julian did to him. What he did to you."

"It's more complex than that. The nobility labors under a pride you could never understand. Julian epitomizes that mental trap. He got lost in it."

"That doesn't make him any less of a bastard."

"No," I said slowly, regaining my composure. "It doesn't."

"I thought Dominick had lost his mind," he whispered. "You do live on blood, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Did Maggie?"

"And Edward Claymore."

Long-fingered hands drew up to cover his face. "Your thoughts were so different back then. You were so-"

"Ignorant? Naive?"

"Compassionate."

"That was a long time ago." I laughed. "Julian left us to fate, hoping we'd drop off the earth and fall into whatever pit waits for incompetent vampires. But we didn't. Edward showed me what my gift was, and I taught myself to use it."

"You'd do anything to survive, wouldn't you?"

"Probably. So would you."

He sat up suddenly and fingered the bottom edge of Maggie's satin comforter. "What do you want, Eleisha? Showing me that past was painful. I could feel how much it hurt. You never would have let me in without a reason."

"Could you feel everything as I experienced it? Like you were there?"

"Yes." The psychic in him canceled out morality for a moment. "Everything-fear, horror, love, pride-like being inside a movie, watching your life flow past me."

"Did you have any emotions of your own?"

His eyes dropped. "Pity. Frustration."

"Frustration?"

"That I wasn't there. That I couldn't do anything."

His reaction caught me off guard, as I wasn't emanating my gift. "You couldn't have helped us, Wade. No one can stop Julian."

"You still haven't answered my question about what exactly you want."

"I've changed my mind about leaving. I want to keep William in this house-moving terrifies him-and I want Dominick to leave us alone."

"He won't quit."

"Then make him think we've run. I can charge a set of airline tickets to Boston or Sweden or China. Pretend to track the charge card down like last time. Just help me convince him we're gone."

He stood up and walked over to the cherrywood vanity table, lifting a small crystal bottle of perfume. "How many people a month do you have to kill?"

"What?"

"How many?"

"Don't judge me. I didn't do this to myself."

His shoulders were hunched forward. I realized how torn he must feel. How would I have reacted in the same situation one hundred sixty-nine years ago? How would anyone react? "If it makes you feel any better, William lives on rabbits."

"Rabbits?"

"Yeah." I almost smiled. "Want to walk out back and see my hutches?"

The corners of his mouth curved up slightly, but no words came.

Maybe he felt it a split second before me. The world slowed down, and I watched his knees buckle just before the waves hit. Psychic energy cut off my own physical control and passed through my thought patterns in rapid bursts. It was not agonizing, not like the death of Maggie or Edward. The release was milder, yet more vivid.

Visions of green fields, pheasants, a young Lady Katherine, rabbits, chess pieces, wolfhounds, and most of all, myself… image after image of myself. I could see his dreams, the focus of his undead energy leaking out, dissipating into space.

No!

It went on for what felt like hours. I couldn't move. I couldn't get up. I cried without tears, caught in the choppy sequences of his confused, beloved mind.

"Eleisha." Wade's sweating face looked down into mine. He was gasping for air. His eyes were wild. "Dominick's in the house," he breathed. "William's dead."

We both knew it was true, but I still cried out, "No!" and struggled up on all fours.

"You can't help him! He's gone."

This was too much. Too much. I couldn't think or cope or even feel anger.

"Hide here. Stay here," Wade rushed on. "I'm going downstairs. Whatever happens, don't open the door."

I should be protecting him. Hiding him. Fighting his battles. But I didn't. My William was gone, murdered, and I'd been upstairs, sharing memories with a mortal.

Frozen in sorrow and guilt, I just crouched there and watched Wade walk out.

William. My William. What did his body look like?

A sharp confusion struck me, and I could see an aged, headless corpse.