Blood Memories

Several heads turned in pleasure at the sound of Edward's voice. Eleisha observed the cheerful effect he had.

"Black heart," one of the barmaids said, smiling. "Matilda's nearly wasted away just waitin' for you to come back in."

"How many times have you been here?" Eleisha asked softly.

"Once. Last week."

The extent of Edward's popularity kept everyone's attention on him as he flirted with barmaids, teased the bartender, and joked with customers. But his eyes never strayed far from the door. No one besides Eleisha noticed a lone sailor who paid his tab and left.

"I've kept you all from serious drinking long enough," Edward said a moment later. "Off to a late supper now."

Laughing over loud protests, he handed Eleisha her cape, and they stepped outside. What happened in the next few moments took place so fast she almost couldn't follow the order of events. They caught up with the sailor outside another alley, and Edward suddenly jingled a change purse.

"Excuse me," he said. "I think you dropped your pouch."

When the sailor turned to see who had hailed him, a relaxed smile curved his lips. "Oh, hello. Don't think that's mine. Someone else might have dropped it."

"Are you sure? It struck the ground right behind you."

Holding it out like an offering, Edward waited until the sailor leaned over to inspect the purse. Before the actual movement registered, both men disappeared inside the alley, and Eleisha heard bones cracking.

Just like the cat.

Her companion had chosen a good time and place. No one else passed by to hear the struggle. Not that it was much of a struggle. She moved into the dark alley mouth only seconds later to see Edward leaning over a slumped form.

"It's time," he said.

"I can't."

But as she looked at the open throat, exposed veins, red fluid running down onto the ground, a hunger-and not a hunger-sent her memory into a wavering haze. Had this source ever talked and moved and danced? Or was it just a source? A wellspring?

"This pulls at you," Edward whispered. "Don't let yourself think."

He reached out and gently took her wrist. No pulling back. No fighting. She let him draw her forward, and then knelt down on her own.

The experience was similar to feeding on Edward's arm but more intense. The warm liquid was sweet. Heat raced through her while pictures of ocean waves and fistfights and a brown-haired woman etched themselves into her brain. After the initial physical connection, she was no longer conscious of her mouth on the sailor's throat, only the strength and pleasure and energy his life force brought.

Just as she could take no more, she felt his heartbeat stop. When she lifted her head, she saw torn-edged flesh and two dead eyes staring up into empty space.

Euphoria faded.

Edward's hand touched her hair. Turning, she hid her face in his chest, forgetting she might get blood on his jacket, not hating him anymore.

On the fourth night, they began traveling to Manhattan in Edward's carriage.

"The trip should take three days or so if we don't dally," he said, falling into his charming fop routine. Perhaps he played it so often the personality had become part of him. "I know a delicious little dress shop on Market Field Street. It's divine. We'll buy you something low-cut in red taffeta."

A handsome pair of bay horses trotted ahead of the carriage, pulling it away from the Croissant House Hotel. Eleisha felt sorry to be leaving. The hotel room had grown comfortably safe.

"Once more into the breach, dear friends," Edward called, snapping his whip in the air.

Despite the fact that he seemed genuinely glad to be heading for home, he was also avoiding any serious conversation. Not that she blamed him. What could they say? Last night had been brutal and emotionally exhausting. She didn't want to think about it, much less discuss it. And getting William into the carriage had been a nightmare. Although stronger from feeding on the cat, he was also more aware of his surroundings and terrified that Edward might be taking him back to the ship. Eleisha's coaxing and comforting did little to help. In the end, Edward lost his patience, slapped William hard enough to daze him, and then carried him outside like a sack of potatoes past the openmouthed desk clerk.

All in all, it hadn't been an easy night. Edward's empty chatter soothed Eleisha while she rocked William back and forth, assuring him there was no ship in sight.

She felt surprisingly safe beginning a new journey so soon after finishing the last one. But her trust in Edward was profound. He may not have been an overwhelming force like Julian, but he was strong and careful, no matter how frivolous he might pretend to be.

"Do you live in a house?" she asked.

"No, a hotel suite. You'll like it." He glanced over at William. "Can you put him to sleep?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"Because we'll have to cross W-A-T-E-R in a short while, and he's going to throw a fit."

"Can't you go another way?"