by Barb Hendee
Eleisha pulled out of his mind and turned off her gift, looking at Simone.
“Did you see?”
Simone nodded, wordless.
They got out of the car, and Eleisha made sure all the doors were locked—like she was worried about the unconscious man behind the wheel.
Leaving him there, they both headed for the stairwell.
“He’ll wake up in a few minutes, and he’ll be okay,” Eleisha said.
So many things were becoming clear.
This? This was how Eleisha insisted Philip feed himself ? This bland, unsatisfying act of luring someone into a car and putting him to sleep? No wonder Philip had been ready to explode. How many times could he do this without going mad?
“All our predecessors fed this way,” Eleisha said in the stairwell, moving upward. “They never killed to feed, so they were no drain on the population, and they could exist without fear of discovery. They could exist in harmony with mortals. They could exist without remorse.”
Something in that last word had more emphasis, more meaning, than the others. Simone focused sharply, thinking about that word. When they emerged back onto Sixteenth Street, there was no one within earshot, so she reached out for Eleisha’s arm.
“Remorse?”
Eleisha looked away, and Simone could feel excitement building inside her chest. She’d hit on something important.
“I didn’t know . . . ,” Eleisha whispered. “I didn’t know any other way to hunt . . . before, and I was turned in the 1830s.”
“And you feel regret?”
“We’ve all done terrible things. We didn’t know there was a choice.” Eleisha lifted her hazel eyes, and they glowed with a hard intensity. “But we have a choice now.”
The last piece of the puzzle fell neatly into place.
Eleisha wallowed in guilt for what she considered to be past sins, and she revered vampires who could experience remorse . . . regret. She would trust a vampire capable of remorse.
Simone had suffered the emotion once.
There was only one way she could prove this to Eleisha, and it was time to put the next part of the plan into motion.
“This was a good beginning,” Eleisha said, breaking the moment. “But I’ve left Philip alone too long. He’ll be chewing on the furniture by now.”
This casual reference to Philip caused a heated instant of rage and panic.
“Wait,” Simone said. “Please stay with me. This has been so . . . different from last night. Please stay. I want to show you something.”
The resolute look in Eleisha’s eyes faded, replaced by sympathy. Simone still could not believe any undead capable of sympathy. It was repulsive.
“Don’t worry, we’re not leaving the city,” Eleisha said. “I wish you’d tell me what happened last night, but no matter what, I promise we won’t leave you. Maybe tomorrow . . . maybe you and Philip can try talking again.”
“I’m not ready to see Philip, but I don’t want to be alone right now,” Simone said. “Would you come with me to a place I always feel safe? I like the Hyatt Regency, and I go there sometimes to book a room up on the thirtieth floor, so high off the ground that it feels like my own small space.” She kept her gift off but increased the longing in her voice. “I want to show you a memory, but I want to do it someplace where I know we won’t be disturbed.”
“A memory?”
“Please.”
The sympathy in Eleisha’s eyes turned to pity. It was sickening.
“All right.”
Simone nearly melted in relief. “This way.”
Philip slammed open the front doors of the Mercury Cafe, not caring whom he might hit, turning his head as he ran inside.
Several people looked up in alarm, but at the sight of his face, no one said anything.
He’d already been to the Samba Room, and he was going everyplace he could think of to which Simone might have a connection. He felt foolish that he’d not come here first. Eleisha had liked this place. She’d told him so.
Eleisha!
He flashed the thought out as loud as he could, searching the entire room of wooden tables.
No one answered.
He sensed nothing but mortals drinking coffee and eating blackberry cobbler.
He felt sick.
Not only was Eleisha alone somewhere with Simone, but she was in a strange city with an unfamiliar vampire, and the last time that had happened, Julian had come hunting them.
He moved between the tables, still looking around, heading for the stage—just to be sure.
Finally admitting to himself that she wasn’t here, he gripped the back of a chair and closed his eyes.
He had nowhere else to go and nowhere left to look.
Mary searched the city, using her senses to try to pinpoint the presence of the undead. The living put off such a strong signal that finding a vampire was simply a matter of locating a hole in the fabric of spiritual energy, or at least that’s how Mary viewed her abilities.
She had learned to tell the difference, for the most part, between the signatures of ghosts and those of vampires. A little earlier, she’d located Philip near Simone’s house.
He hadn’t looked good.
In fact, he’d looked awful.
But she didn’t stay to follow him. Her job was to find Simone.
She wished herself into nothingness, and then materialized in an alley off Larimer Square downtown.
Time was passing, and she knew Julian was furious. She didn’t blame him. She never should have lost track of Simone.
She kept searching until she felt something—that familiar hole in the night—near Grant Street. She hadn’t seen that area yet, so she didn’t know where she might materialize safely. But Grant Street wasn’t far. She floated upward, over the tops of buildings, blending with the darkness.
Down below, she saw a camera shop closed for the night, and she blinked out, rematerializing just inside the front windows. She reached out with her senses, this time feeling a clear undead presence somewhere close.
Looking across the street, she saw the Hyatt Regency.
People passed by the windows, but she ignored them, just waiting.
Then, finally, she saw Eleisha walking with Simone on the other side of the street. They went into the Hyatt.
This wasn’t good. The very thought of Eleisha alone with Simone made her nervous, and how was Jasper supposed to take out Simone without Eleisha seeing him?
First things first.
She had to be able to report their exact location.
She waited about fifteen minutes, and then she began to search for their signatures again. She looked up, near the top of the hotel.
She blinked out, rematerializing thirty-five stories up, realizing she was too high. She floated down five floors and looked inside a window, seeing a man in a suit working at a notebook computer. Then she drifted to the next room and saw a balcony with a sliding glass door. Floating over, she looked inside just as Simone and Eleisha walked into the room from the hallway.
The door opened inward, and Mary clearly saw the numbers: 3012.
Simone’s expression was serene and pleasant as they moved farther inside together. Then Eleisha stepped out in front, dropping her bag on the floor.
As Simone glanced at Eleisha’s back, her entire face altered for just a second to a visage of hatred so savage that Mary floated sideways on instinct.
Then, as Eleisha turned around, the expression vanished. Simone smiled at her.
Mary wished herself into nothingness, rushing back to Julian.
Julian paced the floor of his suite, beginning to resent the fact that he’d come here at all. Too much pointless time had passed since his arrival, and Mary seemed to be more than slightly off her game.
What if she was wrong about Simone?
What if Eleisha was in no danger?
If he had come all this way for nothing, there would be repercussions.
Jasper sat on the couch, watching
an old John Wayne movie. In truth, that at least was a relief, as Julian had nothing more to say to him. He’d given Jasper a fairly lengthy lecture on how to focus his thoughts to avoid being affected by another vampire’s gift, but that had been hours ago.
The air shimmered by the couch, and Mary appeared, her magenta hair seeming brighter in the lamplight.
“I’ve got Simone,” she blurted out. “Hyatt Regency, room 3012. But she’s with Eleisha. We’ll have to split them up somehow.”
Jasper stood up, grabbing his long sword and his coat.
“You got any ideas?” he asked before Julian could speak.
She nodded. “Yeah, maybe. I think so. But we need to hurry.”
“Okay, meet me there.”
Again, this familiar exchange between his servants left Julian unsettled.
“Is Eleisha in trouble?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Mary answered. “But I don’t think she knows it yet.”
Julian watched as Jasper strapped on the sword and buttoned his coat.
“Remember what I told you,” he said. “Don’t let her gift overwhelm you. Mary told me it’s envy, and I’ve never encountered that before.”
“I can handle her gift,” Jasper answered, heading for the door. “And I’m getting pretty good with my own.”
Jasper’s gift was pity. He seduced his victims while they felt sorry for him. Julian would have hated such a gift. He reveled in his gift of fear.
Fear overcame any and all other gifts he’d ever known.
Could pity outweigh envy?
Doubtful.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take her head,” Jasper said, leaving the suite and closing the door behind himself.
Julian wasn’t worried about Jasper.
He just wanted Eleisha safely out of Denver—and back hunting for elders again.
chapter 15
Mary remained hidden in an alley on Fifteenth Street, watching Jasper come up the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Their own hotel was only four or five blocks away, so he hadn’t bothered with a taxi.
His narrow face was calm as he looked up at the Hyatt. With his black coat buttoned to his chest, he reminded her a little of Philip.
This whole situation pissed her off.
She fully understood that Jasper had been created only to handle Julian’s dirty work, but this was different. If Julian wanted Eleisha out of this mess, he should be facing down Simone by himself. Simone might not be as old as these “elders” he was so obsessed with, but she was . . . toxic.
Jasper came across the street.
“Mary?” he called softly.
“In here.”
His head turned toward the alley, and he walked in the entrance, spotting her in the shadows.
“I knew you’d beat me here,” he said.
“Yeah, but you were pretty quick.”
He sometimes liked to fill silences with small talk, but she didn’t mind. She liked talking to him.
“So now what?” he asked. “You said you had an idea?”
His black coat swung in a smooth rhythm around his boots when he walked.
She floated a little closer to the mouth of the alley. The doors to the hotel were only a few feet away.
“Go inside the lobby. Find an in-house phone and call room 3012,” she said. “We’re on Simone’s home ground, so I’m pretty sure she’ll pick up. When she does, pretend you’re staff and tell her there is a Mr. Philip Branté asking to speak with her, but that he wants her to meet him outside the front doors.”
Jasper raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “That’ll never work. She’s never going to come down here and walk outside in the dark to meet Philip.”
“Oh, yes, she will. Trust me.” Mary paused. “Can you fake a French accent?”
Inside the hotel room, Eleisha looked over at her canvas bag on the floor, debating whether she should call Philip.
By now, he was either in a rage or having a panic attack—or both.
But even if she did call, nothing she could say over the phone would calm him down, and he’d just insist she come back immediately. Within moments, the conversation would turn into a fight.
Simone walked gracefully toward the balcony. Her tan dress clung lightly to her hips, and her eyes seemed far away. She needed Eleisha right now a lot more than Philip did. This was more important. He could wait a little longer.
“Do you like tea?” Eleisha asked, heading toward the coffee-maker. “I could heat up some water.”
“That would be nice.”
Eleisha reached toward the faucet, and the hotel room’s phone rang from the nightstand.
She froze. No one else knew they were here.
Simone glanced at her and then picked up. “Yes.”
She just listened for a few moments. Her face didn’t flicker. Her expression didn’t change.
“Yes, I see,” she said. “I’ll be right down.”
She hung up. “I’m sorry, there’s an issue with my credit card. I need to go downstairs for a moment.”
“Do you need me to charge the room?”
“No, it’s just an error. I’ll be right back.”
The elevator doors opened on the ground floor, and Simone stepped out into the lobby with a mix of anxiety and hope.
How could Philip possibly have known where to find her?
But since the moment they arrived, Eleisha and Philip had both been exhibiting one telepathic power after another, each more surprising than the last. Perhaps he had some psychic method of tracking her down.
The thought was exciting.
Had he realized the truth? That he belonged with Simone? Had he come to claim her?
If so, the game was over, and Eleisha became irrelevant: just another forgettable woman who’d lost.
Only this time, the game had a different ending, and Simone would leave with Philip, go anywhere he wanted, do anything he wanted. Eleisha could rot in the hotel room until she figured out Philip was gone and Simone wasn’t coming back.
The elevator doors closed behind her, and she looked around the lobby, wondering whether he might come inside after all.
He was nowhere in sight.
She moved quickly toward the front doors, suddenly wishing she’d worn a richer color—and some lipstick. She’d dressed for Eleisha tonight, not Philip.
But stepping outside into the warm night air, a moment of fear gripped her when she didn’t find him waiting on the sidewalk.
Had he changed his mind again?
“Simone,” a low voice called from the alley, drawing the “o” sound out with a French accent.
“Philip,” she answered in relief, walking toward his voice.
Jasper stood between two overfull trash cans, the sword in his hand.
But he couldn’t help feeling a jolt of shock as the slender woman came striding toward him down the alley. Mary had tried to warn him, but he still wasn’t prepared.
He’d grown used to the company of pretty girls in the past few months. His town house, clothes, car, and the money had changed everything.
But in all his life, he’d never seen anything like Simone.
Her skin was pale and perfect, and her hair swung like black silk. She wasn’t just pretty . . . she was different. A doll come to life. But she moved like a cat, and her china blue eyes narrowed when she saw him. She looked all around.
“Philip?”
Then she looked back at Jasper, and her gaze dropped to his sword.
He came to his senses and stepped forward, gripping the hilt. He didn’t care how pretty she was. He was here on a job.
He let his gift flow outward, surrounding her, engulfing her with the impression that he was pitiful, not a real threat, just some skinny guy trying to act tough. She shouldn’t fear him—just feel sorry for him.
He took another step.
In the early days, he’d hated his gift and thought he’d drawn a short straw. But then he’d learned how to use it and decided it wasn’t
so bad. Drawing his arm back, he increased the aura of his own tragic state, focusing so he could take her head off in one swing. He’d been training hard with the sword and knew exactly how to aim it.
And then something fogged his mind. Almost instantly, he lost his careful focus.
The alley blurred in his vision, making him dizzy. He suddenly realized how much he wanted to be like her. She had it all . . . everything, and he wanted it. He wanted to be with her, to let her show him her perfect world.
Why hadn’t he seen this right away?
She was standing right in front him, so perfect. He wanted to touch her, to absorb everything about her.
Growing hazy, he couldn’t see the alley anymore, only her.
“Drop the sword,” she whispered.
His hand opened. Metal clanked against the pavement.
Upon seeing the dark-haired young man alone in the alley, Simone’s first emotion had been crushing, almost crippling disappointment.
Philip hadn’t come for her.
But this disappointment was short-lived.
The second she saw his sword, her survival instincts kicked in. In the same instant, she realized he wasn’t breathing and had no pulse pounding in his throat.
Vampire.
As with Eleisha, she was stunned by the strength of his gift when he let it loose. The image he created was astonishing, and he seemed to physically change before her eyes—from a threat to a tragedy. She could sense the emotion he was trying to invoke.
But there was one thing he hadn’t taken into consideration.
She couldn’t feel pity.
It was beyond her.
She turned on her gift and watched his face in satisfaction. He’d raised her hopes. He’d pretended to be Philip, and she would make him suffer.
“Drop the sword,” she whispered.
He dropped it.
“Get on your knees,” she said softly.
