Blood Memories

"Anywhere away from here," he said. "It'll be light soon, so catching a plane is out. You go upstairs and change clothes. We'll have to hole up in a motel for a day or two and figure something out." He knelt down next to me. "I don't mean to sound like this. I know what William was to you."

People say those words all the time-almost a cliche. But Wade really did know.

My torn, bloody tank hung at an odd angle over one shoulder. Knowing he was right about changing clothes, I stumbled back up to Maggie's room. Would it be the last time? Would her lovely room pass out of my life as she had?

Numbly, I got undressed and then pulled on a clean pair of jeans, and a long, oversized T-shirt. Then I found a knee-length wool coat, black but thin and lightweight.

A drawer slammed downstairs. I heard Wade's feet shuffling about rapidly, as if he was in a hurry. After saying good-bye to Maggie's room, her creation, for the last time, I went back down to find my companion stuffing a small box inside his sweatshirt.

"What's that?"

"Nothing. I'll show you later," he said.

Ashes floated up from William's body, like dandelions gone to seed.

Chapter 15

I woke up the following night with lingering memories of Wade carrying me into a hotel room as the sun came up. What happened? Bits and pieces of memory floated back like a chill wind. William's death, Dominick's threats, Julian's inevitable arrival. Black world.

Wade had become more than a simple asset. My behavior the previous night embarrassed me beyond words. He'd taken over and protected me, dragged me out of Maggie's house, and checked us into a hotel.

Now I was lying in a large bed. I sat up and looked around. The room had decent decor-not that I normally cared about such things-in soft blues and grays, with a cedar wardrobe closet. Someone had covered the windows with thick blankets. Wade was sleeping in a chair a few feet away from me, his head lolling back, blond hair in a mess, the Beretta in his lap. He still wore his jeans and the faded Colorado State sweatshirt.

"Wade?"

His eyes clicked open. "Yeah?"

"Where are we?"

"Kirkland, northeast of Seattle."

"Did you hide the car?"

"Yeah."

We'd taken a taxi to a twenty-four-hour Hertz office, and then Wade rented a Toyota Prius. I didn't like the idea of using a credit card-in case Dom found a way to track us-but Wade assured me that his partner no longer had any form of police access. And we didn't have a choice. I can remember not too many years ago being able to pay for almost anything in cash… but not anymore.

By the time he got us to the hotel, I was falling dormant and no longer cared how he paid for the room.

Now he just sat staring into empty space.

"This is a nice room," I said.

"You like it? It's my first hideout."

"I should get out of here. When Julian finds us, he'll kill you."

"What?" His expression turned incredulous. "You're just going to leave? After last night, after everything that's happened, you're going to say ‘thanks' and take off?"

"What do you want? If you stay with me, you'll die. If Dominick doesn't kill you, Julian will. No matter what you've seen of me so far, I'm faster than you, I'm probably stronger, and I know how to disappear. I also know how to make people help me."

"Like me?"

"You're different, and you know it."

"How?" He got up, grasping the gun, his voice bordering on hysteria. "How am I different? You aren't using me?"

What was I supposed to say?

His feelings actually mattered to me. "Last night when I saw you sitting on the steps at Maggie's, bringing you over to my side seemed like a good idea. I did use my gift a bit, but not much, and not anymore. If you help me now, it's because you want to."

He calmed slightly. "What are these gifts you keep talking about?"

"When we're turned, a strong personality trait grows into a hypnotic aura, impossible for mortals to resist. Maggie's was sexual attraction. Julian's is fear."

"What's yours?"

"Helplessness. People perceive me as small and frightened. Some feel a need to hurt or take advantage. Some feel an overwhelming urge to protect."

"And you kill them?"

"Usually the ones who fall into category A."

His gaze fell to the carpet. "Do you need to take a shower?"

The sudden change of topic relieved me. I was glad to talk about anything else. My T-shirt was still clean but wrinkled. "Yes, but I don't have any other clothes."

"Me either. All my stuff is with Dominick."

"Oh, that's right. Sorry."

"Doesn't matter."

I walked into a surprisingly large bathroom and stood under steaming water for ten full minutes. It felt good, comforting. Small bottles of hotel shampoo and conditioner sat on the tub. I washed my hair and face slowly, not thinking about reality or Maggie or William… or Wade. I got dressed in the same set of clothes I'd slept in.

Wade was lying quietly on the bed, watching television, when I came back out. His gun lay on the nightstand.

"You should probably order some food," I said.

He nodded. "What about you?"

"No, I'm okay. I fed last… Don't worry."