Blood Memories

Pulling my shirt over my head seemed an effort. "Could you go to Maggie's room and find me something to wear? I'm not up to climbing more stairs."

"Yeah, be right back."

I finished undressing and stood beneath a steaming spray of water. Once all the dried blood had been washed away, my shoulder sported only an inch-wide hole. Our bodies hold together well. A bullet from a.357 Magnum should have taken my shoulder off. The wound had been much larger last night, though. I was regenerating quickly, my undead condition striving to resume the form it had been turned in-a blessing and a curse. We never change.

Philip came back in and started messing around with Maggie's bottles and hand mirrors. I could hear him outside the shower curtain. Maybe he was making a place to lay my clothes, but he was still being far less talkative than usual. He'd never been shot before-that was pretty clear-never seriously injured by a mortal. He thought himself a lion, indestructible, and I had fed him from my wrist. Not that it really mattered anymore. We were free from Dominick. Perhaps Philip would listen to me a little better in the future. I stepped out of the shower.

"Your turn."

He handed me a towel. "I brought you a dress. Will that do?"

I would have preferred a clean pair of jeans, but the dress was simple enough, black and sleeveless.

"Designer?" I joked.

"Yves Saint Laurent."

"You're serious? You actually looked at the label?"

"Don't you?"

Teasing him made the soreness in my arms less noticeable. I hadn't felt this weak since getting off that ship at Southampton. Philip stepped past me into the shower, his expression troubled.

"Eleisha?"

"Mmmmm?"

I got dressed, noticing he'd laid out his own pants and the flannel shirt I'd given him the night before. Maybe he couldn't find anything else that fit.

Behind the curtain, he stayed silent, not finishing his question, probably searching for words long forgotten.

"It's all right," I said. "You don't have to say anything. Let's just finish up and book a flight."

"Not yet. Not tonight."

I went cold. "What?"

"Julian's in the country by now, probably in this city. We can't leave, or he'll think we're running."

"We are running! Is that a news flash to you? No way. There's no way I'm facing down Julian. And look at you. You couldn't take out a cat like that."

"There won't be a fight if we face him. We don't have to go anywhere, except maybe find a hotel room. I know his cell phone number. He'll come to us. Honor demands he look into this. But if not for Katherine, William would have died years ago. Julian may be pleased his abomination is gone."

"William wasn't an abomination."

"We just tell Julian I need to help you for a while," Philip said. "He'll believe that. He already thinks of you as crippled, that you can't function alone. But he sees you as no threat."

Could it be that simple? Could Philip convince Julian to leave me in peace?

"What if he wants me dead anyway?"

Sensing victory, Philip smiled slightly and shrugged. "I don't know. We could use Dominick's big gun. Another inch to the right, and I might have flown off to hell."

"That isn't funny."

Two hours later, we checked into the Bellevue Red Lion and settled into an attractive suite of soft tans and yellows-but too many windows with thin drapes. I ordered extra blankets and hung them carefully over the curtain rods.

Philip might have been shaken by his near-death experience, but he considered the event a fluke. I had been hoping he'd let me rent a car and drive fifty-five to the hotel. No dice. He ripped off an old Charger right in front of Maggie's house and ran two stop signs in the first mile. When a policeman flashed his siren, Philip stopped, knocked the officer unconscious, pulled his body inside the car, and told me to feed as if we were at a McDonald's drive-through window. This all took place on a busy downtown street. The really weird part was that nobody else stopped or even noticed.

My companion's disturbing nature seemed a small thing tonight, though.

Now that we'd checked into the hotel, there was only one thing left to do.

Philip made a quiet-very short-phone call to Julian. He spoke in French, but I picked up a few words… like the name of our hotel.

Torn between true freedom and fear of how it might be achieved, I tried not to listen while I paced about the hotel suite, fussing over the drapes.

"Is he coming?" I asked once Philip hung up.

"Soon."

I glanced away, not sure whether to be frightened or relieved.

"You know," Philip said suddenly, "once we settle this matter with Julian, we don't have to go up north. We could go to France."

"Even Paris?"

"Anywhere."

I'd never been to Paris. The thought calmed me, made me smile. "What's it like?"

"Good hunting. Few rules." He seemed about to go on when something unreadable shifted his expression.

"What's wrong?"

He turned pale, his features twisted, and he stumbled on an ottoman. Before I could move to help, Wade pushed inside my head.

Where are you, Leisha?