Blood Memories

I turned away from the railing and went downstairs, feeling no relief now, no sense of triumph, only a dim ache that hadn't quite registered yet. My handsome, blood-covered friend stumbled about the room, staring at his mangled victim. Maybe no mortal had ever fought back like that before.

"I did try to warn you, Philip, to tell you."

He looked up at me with liquid eyes-no pleasure, no triumph either. For some reason that pleased me. Perhaps Philip might have wept over Thorne's grave, too. Perhaps he was beginning to understand the sorrow of needless waste.

Instead of answering me, he just kept weaving back and forth like a jack-in-the-box.

"What's wrong?"

Then I noticed patches of flesh peeking through the blood on his chest. It wasn't just pale anymore, but nearly white. Reaching out, I caught him before he fell.

"Try to get your arm around my neck," I said.

The basement bedroom wasn't far, but I couldn't carry him. He shouldn't have jumped off the banister. It was a waste of energy. It seemed to take hours to drag him downstairs through the cellar, his head bobbing up and down with weakness. Would this ever be over? Would we ever get on a plane and just leave this nightmare behind? Was he dying?

No, I pushed that thought away while finally laying him on the mattress in Maggie's basement. He couldn't die. We weren't destroyed by mere wounds.

"Can you talk? Tell me what to do?"

"Blood," he mumbled.

Long ago Edward told me that vampires who refused or were unable to hunt fell into agonized paralysis, forever immortal, forever starving. Half of Philip's throat had been blown away. That he could speak at all amazed me. Maybe he'd simply lost too much life force.

"What do I do?"

"Like Edward."

My own shoulder wound had sealed itself and was regenerating slowly. But I'd been bleeding, too. "Don't go to sleep. Keep your eyes open."

I ran up the stairs and down the hall. Dominick's body was in the same broken position as before-like a filthy G. I. Joe. After pulling the stake from his back, I turned him over. Dead eyes stared up into nothing.

Would this even work? I'd never fed on a corpse, but he'd only been dead a few moments. Maybe I could still draw residual life force.

I drove my teeth into his neck. No pictures or visions or scenes from his life touched me. Nothing. But I felt something, some strength flowing from his blood… though it was fading fast.

After a few minutes I couldn't take any more and left him lying there.

His empty gun was still upstairs, and his ID was in his pocket. I didn't bother taking either one. Maggie was missing, and he'd recently gone rogue. It could be a while before anyone even found him, and then the police would be lost attempting to unravel what happened. Philip and I would be long gone by then.

Even in death, Dominic had lost. And who would mourn him? Would Wade?

Hurrying back to the cellar took only seconds this time. Philip's eyelids fluttered. He looked so pale lying there. I moved to the mattress and crawled over beside him. Opening my wrist savagely, I put it in his mouth.

"Bite down."

Having long since put aside the feeling of Julian's lips burning and crisping my neck, pain stunned me blind when Philip drew down. It hurt far worse than being shot. After about thirty seconds, he suddenly lashed out with his right hand and grabbed the back of my head, pulling me down beside him, still sucking hard on my wrist. His amber eyes were wide… wild. I didn't struggle. I knew he was just hungry and desperate. Then slowly, the fire evened out and grew bearable. Had my body still been human, I might have stroked his cheek and comforted him. Those memories lingered, but not the ability to enact them.

Instead, I whispered in his ear, "Like Edward."

Chapter 21

The next night, my eyes opened to the sight of Philip's red flaked chest. Where were we? Peeling my hair off his body, I felt brittle and light, like Chinese paper. Maggie's cellar surrounded us.

I must have passed out on Philip's shoulder. He was a mess.

Dominick lay dead upstairs.

"Philip?"

Amber eyes flickered faintly. "Where…?"

"The basement. Your throat looks better." I smiled weakly. "It's really over."

He pushed himself up off the mattress, lost and disoriented. "Are you hurt? Your skin is too white."

"No, I'm okay. The bullet went through my shoulder. I just couldn't get you to stop feeding once you'd started."

"Once I…?"

Recent events must have flooded back because he suddenly grew embarrassed and turned away. "We should get cleaned up."

Nodding, I tried to follow. My bones made hollow cracking sounds.

"I'm going to need to hunt pretty soon," I said.

"Can you walk?" he asked, turning back.

"Maybe. Give me a sec."

Struggling up, I limped after him for the stairs. We both ignored Dominick's cold body and headed for the nearest bathroom.

"We don't have to look perfect," Philip said. "Just good enough to get around in public."

"You're the vain one, baby, not me."

"Get in the shower."