Blood Memories

Something new passed behind his eyes. Something unreadable. "If we get stuck hiding, and you can't get out, could you feed on my blood without killing me?"

"What?"

"Could you?"

The thought frightened me. "Don't talk like that. You're my-"

"I'm your what?" he pressed, his brown eyes intense.

"Just don't say that. How can you think it?"

Slipping inside his head for half a second before he pushed me out, a startling desire flashed through-and I'm not easily startled. He wanted me to. The thought of my mouth on his neck excited him.

"It isn't like that," I said. "It's ugly and painful. Your throat wouldn't heal completely for weeks, maybe months."

Humiliation colored his face. He'd been casually reading everyone else's thoughts, needs, and drives since childhood. Fair turnabout shamed him. I felt bad for causing him embarrassment.

Everybody has weird thoughts sometimes. I didn't know what to say to make him feel better, so I crawled up onto the bed and laid my wet head on his stomach. A moment later, he reached out to stroke my hair.

"I love you," he said quietly.

No matter how abrupt or out of place this declaration might be, it didn't surprise me.

"No, you don't," I answered. "You feel close to me because we've shared private memories… because we're caught in the same trap. You don't even know me."

I'm sure my blunt dismissal must have hurt him, but it was for the best. He was quiet for a long time, and then he asked, "Have you ever loved anyone besides William?"

"Edward, but not like you think. I didn't live a mortal life long enough to learn much about human relationships."

"What was his gift?"

"Charm. And besides Julian's terror, it's the strongest pull I've ever felt. Everyone adored Edward, like Laurence Olivier and Peter Pan rolled into one."

"How many others are there… like you?"

"Only Philip and Julian as far as I know. They might have made others by now. But I don't think so. Julian hates most other vampires."

The word «vampires» caused him to wince. "It seems odd there are so few you know about. Did Julian turn Edward?"

"No, that's a long story." I paused. "Do you want to see it?"

Wade truly was unusual; the prospect of another trip down undead memory lane perked him up. "Yeah, can you start where you left off?"

Without answering, I sat up, grasped his hand, and let my focus flow back.

Back to Edward.

Chapter 16

Edward

Eleisha felt only confusion when the heavy merchant ship stopped moving. The tiny hold space she and William shared reeked of rotting rat corpses. Sailors had long since ceased to check on the hold's two passengers.

"We've stopped, William," she whispered through cracked lips. "Perhaps we're in port."

"Time for lunch, then. Yes, yes, must be time for lunch."

Too weak to argue or answer, Eleisha left him and crawled up the cargo hold stairs. Their good fortune that the ship had reached dock at night suddenly occurred to her. What would have happened had they docked during the day, while she and William slept? Would the sailors have begun to unload wooden boxes around them?

"William," she called quietly, "we have to get off right now."

No answer.

She hurried back to find him crouched over. "What's wrong?"

"Can't leave. Haven't had tea. Haven't had lunch. Wait for Julian."

"Come on." She pulled his arm over her shoulder. "We have to get off now."

They also had to hide from the crew. Even without a mirror, she knew what a skeletal sight she must be. She only had to look at William to imagine her own condition. They both smelled of filth and dried blood. But she understood his fear. What sort of land was America? What sort of people lived in this place?

Peering up on deck, Eleisha saw a busy crew. No one paid attention to the hatch door. A wide plank extended to the dock. It was surprisingly easy for Eleisha and William to slip past the sailors, off the ship, and run toward some faded wooden shacks on the shore.

They hid in the mud by a decaying wall, William panting in wordless panic. Eleisha looked around. Now what? Not since Julian pulled her from the bedroom closet had she felt so out of control.

"Well, I must say." A smooth voice flowed through the night. "This is hardly what I expected. Two fugitives in rags?"

She leapt up, casting about for a stick or a rock. "Who's there?"

"Oh, calm yourself."

A man of medium height stepped into view. He wore the most outlandish costume she'd ever seen. His short, dark hair was topped by an absurdly wide-brimmed hat, and a black cape with purple silk lining billowed out over a too-large white shirt. "What do you think?" he said, smiling. "I thought to look the part. Julian has no imagination, you know." He stepped close enough to see Eleisha clearly. "Oh, dear."

Positioning her body in front of William's, she asked, "Who are you?"

"This is Lord William Ashton, is it not?" The man's foppish manner faded by the second.

Hope, or the barest hint of it, made her cautious. "How do you know that?" She stumbled from weakness and then caught herself.