Blood Memories

"Julian sent me a letter by clipper ship. It arrived a week ago. He asked me to meet you here. I owe him a favor."

"Can you help us?" she whispered.

For an answer, he reached out and caught her as she collapsed.

"What have you been feeding on?" His tone sounded hard now, completely serious.

"Rats."

"My God." He grasped William's wrist. "Come, I have a carriage."

Eleisha didn't remember how he managed to get them both to the carriage. But her coherence returned as he led them into a building with red velvet wallpaper and a sign that read "Croissant House Hotel."

"I have guests," he snapped at the desk clerk. "Have fresh towels sent up at once."

"Yes, Mr. Claymore."

He led them into a room of braided rugs, velvet couches, curved wooden tables, and fringed, floor-length drapes.

"Are you a lord?" Eleisha asked.

"Moi? Hardly." Some of his earlier joviality returned. "No one cares a whit for such things here. The only thing that counts here is money. If the Prince of Wales showed up tomorrow without a dime to his name, they'd ignore him completely. I am simply Edward Claymore."

"What's a dime?"

"Oh, dear."

He helped William over to a couch. "Would you like to rest, Lord William?"

"Time for tea. Yes, it's time."

Edward looked at Eleisha. "Is he delirious?"

"No, he's always like that. It's an illness."

"That's impossible. We can't become ill."

She sank to the floor. Nothing this man said made any sense. He seemed nearly as much at a loss himself. Her physical appearance stirred him into action again, and he hurried into a second room. She heard the sound of splashing water.

"I'm running you a bath," he said. "Go ahead and climb in. You'll feel better when you're clean. Then we must talk. I promised to meet you, not play nursemaid."

Eleisha walked in and beheld a porcelain tub with a metal spigot on one end. Steaming water poured from the spigot directly into the tub. She stared in amazement, then took off her clothes and stepped in. When the depth reached a dangerously high level, she called, "Mr. Claymore, how do you make the water stop?"

Her amazement grew when he walked in without even knocking. Startled for an instant, she leaned over to cover herself.

"Oh, please," he said. "I should think you'd be past that by now."

He turned some tiny levers, and the water ceased flowing. Then he looked up at her thin, pale body and dull hair. "How long has it been since you've really fed?"

She knew she should be burning with shame, sitting there naked… but somehow, she wasn't.

"What do you mean?"

"Since you've hunted?"

The warm bathwater felt soothing, but she stared at Edward in confusion, wanting to understand him, wanting to communicate.

"When did Julian turn you?" he asked.

"Turn me? The night we left, I think. He opened his wrist and put it in my mouth. Then he put us on the ship."

"Without telling you anything?"

"He told me to take care of William and stay in the darkness."

Edward fell silent. Small drops of water dripped from the spigot into the overfull tub. What was he thinking? Eleisha could tell that she and William were somehow a great deal more trouble than Julian had led this man to believe. Finally he picked up the soap.

"Lean back. Your hair is filthy."

"Shouldn't someone stay with William? He won't remember where he is."

"I put a blanket over him. He's lying by the fire."

"Thank you."

In a world turned upside down, Eleisha sat quietly in the water, letting Edward wash her hair and face and neck. Back in Wales, during her infrequent baths, she was so modest that she kept her shift on in front of Marion. But she somehow felt connected to this man standing beside the tub, as if his ministrations were commonplace. He was gentle and thorough, making her rinse twice. She tried to reach for a towel afterward, but he stopped her.

"No, don't get out yet." Indecision weighed heavily on his face. "I can't believe I'm doing this." Putting his own wrist to his teeth, he ripped pale skin down to open veins. "Open your mouth."

She didn't argue or question or even wonder at her own lack of character for obeying him like a child. The blood in his arm didn't taste like anything. Her consciousness barely registered the physical action of sucking or drawing at all. But heat and energy pushed through her with a tingling satisfaction unlike anything in her memory. Strength and speed and desire to live seemed tangible, attainable again. William must be cared for, protected…

"That's enough."

Edward's voice broke through as he disengaged her tightly clutching fingers from his wrist. Realization of what had just taken place sent her spinning into the void again.

"What am I?" she asked.

With an expression close to-but not quite-pity, her newfound caretaker dampened a cloth and wiped her mouth. "Julian should be disemboweled for this. An old man and a child. But I feel your gift… I think. We'll stay here a few nights, and you'll understand."

She watched him wrap a cloth around his wrist and then let him dry her with a thick purple towel. Neither one spoke.