Blood Memories

"Telling secrets?" Philip asked, smiling. "About me?"

Angelo Travare, Earl of Scurloc, rested in a stone chair. He was a slender Norman creature who told stories of crusades and knights with swords, his flesh long since grown so preternaturally pale he scarcely passed as human. Dim candlelight exposed deep lines of strain now marring his milky forehead.

Two thick pieces of parchment lay on the oak table before him.

"Sit down, son," Angelo said.

"What's wrong?" Philip asked.

"Our time this winter is over. You must return to Gascony."

"But it's not even January yet. We have months to go."

"How many vampires do you know?"

"How many? You, John, Julian, Maggie, and John's servant, Edward. What does it matter?"

"Do you ever wonder if there are others like yourself, beyond your circle?"

"No."

"There are, Philip. Nearly thirty others in Europe alone."

"Like us?"

"Just like us," Angelo said. "But tonight, we've learned that three of them are dead." He pointed down to the parchment letters.

"Dead?" Philip repeated. "We can't die. We're immortal."

"Of course we can. I've explained this. ‘Undead' does not mean your body can't be destroyed. Fire, sunlight, and decapitation will end your existence. Now, listen to me carefully. Do you know why Maggie has no psychic powers?"

Philip frowned without answering.

"Because you were not able to teach her," Angelo said.

John leaned forward in his chair, nodding, dark blond hair falling across his eyes. "And neither does my Edward because I chose not to teach him yet, and he has no contact with others of our kind."

Their manner annoyed Philip, speaking to him in short, slowly spoken words. "I'm not simple! I'm not a half-wit, but I don't care about psychic powers." He motioned to the parchments. "And what does any of that have to do with us? A few vampires we've never met have flown off to the great beyond. Why do you care?"

"Because they were murdered," Angelo said flatly. "Decapitated by Julian."

"By Jul-… some kind of fight?"

Angelo always had seemed ancient to him, but tonight was the first time his master looked old and fragile.

"No, Philip, not a fight. Julian has left us. He has become an enemy to his own kind and is destroying vampires who possess psychic power."

"What? Who told you that?"

"It is the truth. His gift has turned back in upon itself, and he now fears what he does not possess… to a degree that has sickened his mind." Angelo paused as if gauging his next words. "Psychic ability isn't truly a gift like the one great power we each use against mortals. It is learned, developed. And as John did with his Edward, I have chosen to postpone your training until you have existed longer, learned more of yourself and our world. But I cannot explain Julian's lack of ability. I have sometimes thought his gift to be so strong it has kept him from developing other powers."

"Have you told him that?"

"Of course." Angelo almost smiled. "Long ago."

"And he still fears you?"

Angelo did not answer.

Rubbing his hands, John peered up at Philip through tired eyes. "It's important that you don't become involved in this. I don't think you're simple or a half-wit, but you could be hurt if you stay. Go home to Gascony and wait with Maggie until this thing is over."

"What will you do?"

"I leave tonight. I'll go to Amiens and get Edward first. He and I will go back to Edinburgh. Master Angelo has a few affairs to tie up here, and then he'll leave in a week or so for his summer home in Venice."

"Why are you splitting up? Wouldn't we all be stronger as a group?"

"No," Master Angelo said. "I am hopeful that Julian may come to his senses, and giving him so much ground to cover makes his current task more difficult, if he means us harm at all. Killing strangers is one thing. Killing those in our circle is another."

"How many of the other vampires are psychic?"

John's gaze dropped. "All of them besides you, Julian, Maggie, and my Edward."

"All of them?" Philip's eyes widened. "Then what does he possibly hope to gain?"

"Nothing. He is simply afraid… to the point of madness."

This made no sense. Philip experienced a moment of intense unhappiness and hated the emotion. "All right, John. You go. I'll stay here with Master until he's ready to leave for Venice."

Angelo leaned back in his chair. "I have no need of protection, my son. My hands can snap Julian like a matchstick."

"No matter. I'm staying anyway, until you're ready to leave."

With no more words to say, John moved for the stairs, looking back at them once.

Eight nights later, Philip and Angelo packed a few scant belongings and prepared for their separate journeys. The short time they had spent alone together pleased them both. The old master forgot his books and cerebral conversation, preferring to spend spare time outside hunting with Philip. But the house had now been secured, carriage horses stabled inside Harfleur, and bank accounts transferred to Venice.

It was time to leave.

Philip jogged with snow-covered boots into the library. "Horses are saddled. You ready?"