Memories of Envy

by Barb Hendee

  “Seamus is back from Denver,” he said. “I think he found something. The others are waiting in the sanctuary.”

  She started slightly and turned her head. Her eyes seemed far away. Lately, she had been thinking too much. Much too much. He wasn’t stupid, and he knew she was nearly bursting to talk to him but had so far managed to hold herself back.

  Suddenly, kneeling there on the ground, she appeared anxious, almost afraid of him.

  “Since you made Maggie,” she asked without any warning, “and Maggie made this girl . . . this Simone, does that mean she is related to you?”

  The question stunned him. “What?”

  This was what he didn’t want! Discussions like this.

  But the half-frightened look on her face kept him from turning around and walking off. He didn’t want her to be afraid to ask him questions.

  “No,” he said with effort. “I don’t think it works that way.”

  “Did you turn Maggie because you loved her?” she rushed on. “Only because you loved her?”

  He went rigid, grinding his back teeth, but her expression had changed to hope now. For some reason, she needed to speak aloud of these things. He walked over and crouched down, with little idea what to say.

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “You know I can’t remember anything of my life before Angelo turned me. Julian said that Maggie and I were going to be married, even though my family was against it, even though she was common and had no money.”

  “Then you must have loved her.”

  “I must have.”

  “But you turned her afterward. Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He did know. Perhaps he couldn’t remember anything from before being turned, but he was keenly aware that he’d been very different before and that Maggie didn’t like the new version. She was repulsed. He thought that by turning her, he could change the way she looked at him.

  Eleisha reached out to touch his fingers. “Can you show me?”

  He jerked his hand away. “No!”

  Her eyes widened, and he cursed himself.

  “No,” he repeated more calmly. “I cannot show you anything from before, and after . . . after, you don’t want to see. I don’t want you to see.” How could he possibly explain this? “I like the way you look at me now.”

  To his great relief, she pulled her hand back. “Oh, Philip, I’m sorry.”

  He studied her face. She did understand. He placed great importance on what he saw in the eyes of others, but the reflection in Eleisha’s was most important.

  She saw him as strong, resourceful, and good company. She trusted him.

  That could not change.

  In his memories, she’d already seen some of what he had once been, in the early days. But Philip had discovered that he possessed the best control over what he did and didn’t show Eleisha and Wade in their memory exchanges. He couldn’t filter or change a memory, but he’d been careful with what he’d shown her, and there were entire decades he wanted to lock away and pretend never happened.

  She stood up. “We should go in. The others are waiting.”

  Even more relieved, he followed her back to the sanctuary.

  Mary Jordane hovered on the opposite side of the church.

  Whenever she decided to fully materialize, anyone nearby could see her, but she’d learned to be cautious, and she knew the layout of the churchyard by now, so she could initially appear behind rosebushes, shrubs, or one of the few small trees in the darkness, just to be sure she was alone.

  Yes, she knew every inch of the garden and most of the church quite well. After all, she’d been stuck here—on and off—for months, waiting for Eleisha or Wade to stumble across another vampire and set up a meeting.

  So far, they hadn’t found zip.

  How long could this take?

  But she wouldn’t abandon her “post,” as she liked to call it. Julian had a temper, and making him mad was never a good idea. He’d managed to call her spirit back from the gray, in-between plane, but unfortunately, this gave him almost complete power over her. He could call her to him at any moment—whether she wanted to go or not—and he could send her right back to the other side.

  She wasn’t going back there . . . so she obeyed him.

  Still, even here in the real world, she longed to go someplace else, anyplace else, and she hoped Eleisha would find something to investigate soon.

  In the meantime, in addition to spying on Eleisha’s group, Mary had been practicing her abilities.

  One of the first things she’d learned was that she could “blink herself ” right inside the walls of a building. This didn’t hurt her, and no one could see her. The problem was that she couldn’t see or hear either.

  So she was still working on new ways to spy and eavesdrop without being spotted, and she was gaining a much stronger grasp on wishing herself into “nothingness,” or a state of limbo in which she was invisible to people until either she wished to materialize again . . . or Julian called her.

  But she’d also learned that she had an advantage over the other spirits who’d remained here in what she called “the real world.” From what she understood—from talking to other ghosts—spirits of the dead could exist on three different planes: (1) the real world of the living, (2) the gray in-between plane, and (3) the Afterlife. She had no idea what the Afterlife looked like, as she had never seen it, but during her time on the gray plane, she’d come to believe that the vast majority of ghosts ended up in the Afterlife, as she once could have . . . had she been willing to leave the in-between plane of the spirits who refused to accept death, who still longed to find a way back here, back to the living.

  But all of the few ghosts she’d met here in the world of the living had been trapped the moment they died by strong ties to either a person or a place. Being tied down to a person or place, they could not move with the ease that she could. As yet, she hadn’t met a single spirit who’d crossed back from the other side, like she had.

  Mary was unique.

  She could go anywhere she wanted and stay as long as she liked, or as long as Julian allowed.

  She floated a little higher up the walls of the church and peeked in through a stained-glass window. Then she froze, on the verge of wishing herself away into nothingness.

  Wade, Rose, and Seamus were all gathered in the sanctuary. She knew their behavior patterns by now, and a gathering in the sanctuary normally meant some kind of meeting.

  But Mary didn’t like being this close to Seamus. Sometimes he could feel her presence and would try to find her. As yet . . . she had no idea whether another ghost could hurt her, but she’d never waited around long enough to find out. She could easily whisk herself away before he spotted her—as he was tied to Rose and had more trouble moving around—but he sometimes picked the worst moments to feel her on the edge of his senses.

  Julian wanted Eleisha’s group completely unaware that they were being spied on, so Mary had to bolt if she felt Seamus coming. He couldn’t be allowed to see her now.

  She forced herself to remain in place, peering through the window. He looked preoccupied and tired and well . . . kind of faded. She knew he hadn’t been around much the past few days. Where had he been?

  But he didn’t seem to know she was even there.

  Good.

  Just then, Eleisha and Philip walked through the main doors.

  Mary moved her left ear through a bit of red stained glass so she could listen.

  Eleisha knew that Seamus had found something the second she saw Wade’s face: excited and tense at the same time. Poor Seamus looked exhausted, and she could barely make out the yellow and blue tones of the plaid draped across his shoulder. He also looked slightly . . . unsettled. She wondered why.

  The sanctuary always felt so large to her, even when they were all gathered here. At first it had just been a big empty room, with a big empty altar. But she and Rose had slowly been turning it into a mix of a library and sitting
room, with couches, small tables, lamps, and bookshelves. The six arch-topped stained-glass windows created a warm effect, even at night. She, Rose, and Wade all liked to read. So did Seamus if Wade turned the pages.

  But the sanctuary also functioned as a meeting place—like right now.

  She hated to launch into questions, but if they had finally found someone, she wanted to get started right away, especially in this case, because Simone would not know she possessed telepathic abilities and was still killing to feed.

  “You found her?” she asked, but it came out more as a statement.

  Seamus nodded weakly. “She owns a house on High Street, near some fancy public gardens. Her last name is Stratford, and I have her address.”

  Eleisha glanced around at the others. After all this time, Simone was still in Denver. This meant that in spite of her comments inside the memory, she was capable of planting roots. That was a good sign.

  Philip stood stiffly beside a light brown couch, and he wouldn’t look at anyone. But Wade and Rose both turned to Eleisha, clearly eager to get started.

  “I should write to her,” Rose said. “Let her get used to the idea that we are here, let her invite us to come meet her.”

  This had been Rose’s strategy before—as she had contacted Eleisha first. Some element of her gift of wisdom seeped through into her letters, often causing the reader to be slightly seduced by her words. This hadn’t worked on Philip, but Eleisha and Wade had both been affected.

  However . . . with Simone, Eleisha was convinced that such an attempt would not be the best approach.

  She steeled herself for the bomb she was about to drop. In the past few nights, she had been going over and over Maggie’s memory, trying to get a better grasp of Simone. Although everyone changed and grew, from what she’d seen, Simone was selfish and violent . . . rather like Philip had once been. He never would have responded to a letter.

  Eleisha had already decided on the best way to move forward if Seamus actually found Simone.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so, Rose. She won’t respond, and a letter might spook her. She could run, and then we’d lose her. I think an initial meeting in person might be best . . . so she can see we’re not a threat.”

  “What?” Wade asked. “We just track her down and introduce ourselves?”

  “Sort of.” Eleisha hesitated. “But just me and Philip.”

  Wade blinked in surprise. “You and Philip?”

  She rushed in before he could go on. “Think about it. Rose can’t travel, so she’ll have to stay here, and we shouldn’t leave anyone alone.” She paused again. “We don’t want Simone spooked by a small crowd . . . and at first, I think she might be dangerous, not at all like Rose or Robert. You should stay here.”

  “No,” Wade argued angrily. “You’ll need me to help spark her telepathy.”

  Rose’s expression crumpled, but surely she must have considered some of this before. She could barely handle the train ride from San Francisco, and she was terrified of airplanes.

  The problem was that they all wanted to be useful. Seamus had already done his part. Rose had planned to help with initial contact, and Wade’s main job was to help instigate the new vampire’s psychic abilities. Both Wade and Rose must feel like the rug had just been jerked from beneath them.

  “Of course we’ll need you,” Eleisha told Wade, “once we get her back here. But first, we have to get her back here, and I’ve only just realized that every situation is going to be different . . . depending on what kind of vampire we find.”

  Wade opened his mouth again, but Philip cut him off. “Eleisha’s right. Rose can’t come, and no one should be here alone. After we leave, you should load your gun and bolt all the doors. Don’t go out until we get back. Do you have enough food?”

  Wade stared at him.

  Philip’s job was to protect anyone they found from Julian long enough for a journey back here to the underground.

  But Eleisha could see how much he liked her suggestion—that only he and she take this trip to Denver. He’d been uncomfortable with Simone’s connection to Maggie from the start. Having only one other member of the group partaking in the search to find Simone seemed to put him slightly more at ease.

  Frustrated, Wade glanced at Seamus.

  “I’m in agreement with Eleisha,” Seamus said. “From what I saw of this woman, Wade, I don’t want you in the same city with her.”

  “Is she that bad?” Eleisha asked. “A thoughtless killer?”

  “No, not like that. I didn’t see her kill anyone, but she seems to like . . . playing games with people’s lives, to hurt them slowly.”

  “What do you—?”

  “I don’t know!” Seamus nearly snapped. “I wasn’t there long enough.” He studied her face. “Her gift is envy. It’s strong.”

  “Envy?” Eleisha had never encountered that before. “Did you learn anything else?”

  “No.” He paused, still seeming unsettled. “Just be careful. Don’t trust her.”

  “We’re not going to trust her,” she promised.

  Trust was not an issue, at least not at first. If Simone had spent forty years hunting with Maggie and then another thirty or forty hunting on her own, Eleisha’s task would not be easy. But Philip had been the most savage killer in their entire history, and he understood the need for laws, for safety, for secrecy. He had learned to alter memories and to feed without killing. He had learned to value the opportunity to exist inside a community of his own kind.

  If he could do it, so could Simone.

  “So, we’re agreed?” she asked. “Wade and Rose hold down the fort, and Philip and I go to Denver? Seamus, you might need to act as a go-between if we can’t find her at her home. Can you do that?”

  “I think so.”

  Wade didn’t say anything, but at least he’d stopped arguing.

  Rose still looked crestfallen. “I wish I could be more help. I thought I could at least write the letters, help arrange a meeting.”

  Eleisha reached out and grasped her hand. “Simone will need you as much as Wade when we get back.”

  Philip walked away abruptly, heading toward the door behind the altar. “I’ll book our plane tickets. We should leave tonight.”

  “You bring that cell phone I bought you!” Wade ordered after him.

  Eleisha found herself just standing there, holding Rose’s hand and looking at Wade. He was stunned and angry.

  But there was nothing left to say.

  Julian paced the floor of his study.

  He hadn’t fed in more than a week, and he was hungry.

  Normally, he didn’t hunt near Cliffbracken, not even in the villages. Although he was adept at hiding evidence, completely disposing of bodies could prove difficult unless he was near either a large or a moving body of water.

  A disappearance in a village caused a good deal more notice and concern than a disappearance in a larger city, and he didn’t want an investigation focused within eighty kilometers of his home.

  Mary had still not checked in, and although he did not wish to miss a report from her, he found himself growing hungrier each night.

  So he pulled his Jetta out of its refurbished garage—from what had once been part of the stables—and drove toward Riverside. He could have afforded any car he wanted, but he’d liked this black Jetta. It was dependable.

  Driving along the dark roads, he couldn’t help dwelling on Mary’s recent news that Wade had sent Seamus to London, seeking the truth about a madman biting a woman in an alley . . . and the two police dogs turning on their own handlers. Could this be another elder like Robert who had somehow slipped through Julian’s net? If so, it would have to be someone who’d been hiding for so long that he had lost his grip on sanity. Julian had never heard of an elder who could use telepathic control of animals, but the idea seemed possible.

  He was anxious for a report from Mary, and yet he feared calling her back in case she was in the middle of learning somethi
ng important. If Eleisha’s group had found an elder, he would need to act soon. Anyone from the distant past who’d practiced the laws, who might yet teach the laws, was a danger—mad or not—and he was anxious to know the outcome of Seamus’ search.

  So lost in his thoughts, he was surprised to realize he was nearing Riverside. He didn’t plan to be here long, just long enough to feed.

  He was aware that vampires like Philip sometimes liked to spend time with their victims, to talk and interact before feeding. But Julian had no interest in speaking with mortals. He fed on blood and fear and life.

  That was all he required.

  Pulling into the small city, he parked on Castle Street and left his car, walking toward the river.

  It was after midnight, and the streets were nearly deserted. He walked along, passing a filthy old man with a bottle in his hand. Julian kept going. Farther down, he passed a group of teenagers engaged in a loud argument. Again, he kept going. He was interested only in someone alone.

  Then he saw a figure walking toward him, up the sidewalk by the river. He could see her slender shape from a distance, and he heard her alternately humming and singing a tune in French. He moved off the sidewalk and stepped between two buildings.

  The woman came closer, and he stared through the darkness. She was about twenty years old, with long light brown hair, wearing faded blue jeans, a T-shirt, and a backpack. He always preferred foreign travelers when possible, especially those traveling alone. It could be weeks before they were missed, and then friends or relatives often had no clue where to begin looking.

  His routine was nearly always the same. He varied it only slightly based on the situation. Waiting there in the darkness between the buildings, he almost allowed her to walk past, and then he turned on his gift.

  Fear.

  Waves of fear flowed outward, surrounding her, engulfing her.

  She stopped, her eyes widening.