by Barb Hendee
More silence followed, and Philip tried to pitch Angelo off again. He wanted more blood. But Angelo held him down.
“What do you want?” Christian asked finally.
“He cannot speak, so I have no idea how much he understands. Go inside and help him to find words. You’re the only one who can implant suggestions. Just help him to find speech. After that, I can help him myself.”
“Inside his mind?” Christian asked, incredulous. “No. I’m not going in there. Not for you. Not for anything.”
“Then you leave me no choice.”
The words between them blurred in Philip’s ears as he longed to get free and go back to the body before all its blood ran out onto the ground. But the argument went on and on until he suddenly had a feeling Christian had lost.
For some reason, this unsettled him, and he tried harder to buck Angelo off. He fought and snarled and then screamed as he saw Christian’s face coming closer. Christian knelt down on the ground, just above his head, and Philip had no idea what was coming.
But he was afraid.
Two slender hands settled on his shoulders, and then he felt a sharp pain slicing through his head. It was blinding.
He heard a voice in his mind.
Where are you? Where is Philip Branté? I know you are here.
In terror, Philip tried to squirm away. The voice in his head wanted something, searched for something, and he did not know how to make it go away. He tried to fight, but it just kept cutting deeper and deeper into his thoughts.
The words are in you. Use your mouth. Use your voice. Speak.
Philip kept fighting, tried to hide from the voice, but after a few moments, he stopped hearing any words at all, and he just felt an impulse that was growing harder and harder to fight.
Finally, the resistance inside him built to such a frenzy that he thought he would burst. His mouth and tongue struggled to move, and he heard himself scream.
“No!”
The word felt as if it had been ripped from his throat, but then the slicing pain in his head vanished. It was gone. His body trembled and relaxed.
“Don’t make me do that again!” Christian choked out.
But Angelo leaned low over Philip’s face. His eyes glittered, and he said, “Philip, what is my name?”
Philip knew his name. He’d known it for some time now, but the impulse struck him again. He forced his tongue and mouth to move, and he said, “Ang…elo.”
Above him, Angelo smiled.
Eleisha released Philip and pulled out of his memory.
He gasped and coughed and then slid off the bed onto the floor, wrapping his arms around himself. He stared at nothing.
“Philip!”
She slid off after him, trying to hold one of his hands, but his arms were crossed, and he wouldn’t let go of his own shoulders.
“It’s all right,” she said, feeling more than guilt for what she’d just put him through. How awful it must have been to see himself like some feral animal.
But her mind was reeling. She could still see Christian’s face clearly, so young and unlined, but framed by wavy, steel gray hair, and she tried to make sense of the images she’d seen through Philip’s chaotic memories. Angelo had been unable to awaken spoken language in Philip, but he’d forced Christian to try, and he’d suggested that Christian’s telepathic ability was stronger than his own. What had he said? You’re the only one who can implant suggestions.
And yet Angelo had gained Christian’s help only by making a threat…to include him in the book cataloging detailed accounts of all vampires in existence before 1825. To the best of Eleisha’s knowledge, all of the elders knew that Angelo had made this account, and none of them had objected. A few had even helped him. Why had Christian been afraid to be included?
Philip’s teeth began chattering, and Eleisha got up onto her knees, putting her arms around him. He didn’t push her away, but he didn’t respond either.
“At least we know,” she whispered in his ear. “We know there was an elder named Christian…who wasn’t listed in the book. And we know what he looks like. You’ve helped us, Philip.”
Of course there was no way to tell yet if this “spiritualist” that Wade had read about had any connection to the vampire from Philip’s past. Christian was a common enough name.
But Eleisha could not help feeling certain they were onto something.
A telepathically powerful vampire named Christian had been left out of Angelo’s book. It had to mean something.
Mary Jordane watched through the bedroom window as Eleisha held Philip and rocked him back and forth. At first he didn’t respond at all, but finally, one of his hands released his own shoulder and he pulled her closer.
The sight of them in such an embrace did not move Mary in the slightest.
She’d lost the only thing she’d ever loved, and she had no pity for Philip. Plus, she hated it when these vampires sat silently reading each other’s memories, as it left her nothing to report to Julian.
But tonight she’d picked up a few juicy details. Right after they came out their trance—or whatever the hell they were lost in—Eleisha had said, At least we know. We know there was an elder named Christian…who wasn’t listed in the book. And we know what he looks like. You’ve helped us, Philip.
That alone was worth reporting back to Julian, and it filled her with hope.
Her biggest fear had been that Wade and Seamus would uncover some new vampire who wasn’t an elder—someone like Rose or Maxim who didn’t count—thus dragging her deal with Julian out for God knew how much longer.
But this? This sounded promising.
Julian had sworn to her…just one more elder, and he’d send her back to the in-between plane, where she was certain Jasper would be waiting. He wouldn’t want to move on without her. But each passing day brought more fear that he might fall into despair and give up on her and go onward into the afterlife. She’d never been there, so she had no idea if she’d be able to find him. No, she had to get to the in-between plane as soon as possible.
That meant tracking down an elder and helping Julian kill it.
She had every intention of moving this hunt forward as fast as she could.
chapter three
For some reason, Seamus was having a hard time focusing in his search through the Puget Sound area of Seattle.
Well…maybe he did know the reason. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Mary.
He kept seeing her on her knees in that graveyard in England, wailing in sorrow over a dead vampire. He’d once believed that if she served Julian, she must be evil…but he didn’t believe that anymore. He also kept seeing her standing in the rain in front of the church a few nights later, looking up at the stained-glass windows, with her face so sad.
He’d wanted to help her. To protect her. But she’d vanished, and he had not seen her again.
Sailing through the night air over a Seattle golf course, he was trying to force himself to focus when he sensed a hole in the fabric of life somewhere ahead. All thoughts of Mary fled. He had a mission tonight. It wasn’t that he could exactly feel an undead’s presence. It was more like he felt an absence in the vicinity, and that’s what he zoned in on.
He was moving west, toward the water, and suddenly he stopped, midair, about fifty feet off the ground, and he tried to sharpen his senses…and realized he felt two black holes.
Two undeads?
That concerned him. Vampires didn’t normally travel in pairs—except for Eleisha’s group. Had he found something else?
Even in the darkness, the area all around him was beautiful, thick trees and sculpted gardens—and high fences with stout gates. This was where the affluent of Seattle often chose to live. Focusing hard, he began drifting forward again, moving faster until he reached a winding street called Cherry Loop, and he sailed through the trees to see a mansion spread out before him.
It boasted no front yard, but once someone made it through the front gates, he o
r she would drive about a quarter mile over elaborate stonework in shades of cream and tan, which then formed a kind of courtyard. Over the top of the house, Seamus could see the dark water of the Puget Sound, so the view must be from the back.
But he didn’t hesitate long enough to get a good look at the house. Instead, he moved around to the north side, sensing for those two black holes.
Whoever he was tracking…they were inside.
Zeroing in on their location, he pinpointed them on the main-level floor, so he blinked out and blinked back in on the second floor, directly above them, hoping he would materialize in a room by himself.
He did.
Looking around, he realized he’d appeared inside a guest room that was currently not in use—or did not appear to be in use. The furnishings were lavish, from the four-poster bed to the gold-gilt curtains hanging from ceiling to floor, but somehow, the décor seemed to lack good taste. For one, the room was hopelessly overcrowded with tables, brocade-covered settees, vases, huge brass lamps, and far too many paintings on the walls…and nothing seemed chosen to complement anything else. Seamus was certainly no expert at interior design, but it seemed to him that someone had spent a great deal of money to make the room look like an extremely expensive garage sale.
However, he believed himself to have arrived in a good location for his own purposes, and he floated downward, turning his body to achieve a horizontal position so he could pass his face down through the floor.
Within seconds he could hear voices, and then his face just breached the ceiling so that he could look down and see what was happening below.
The sight caught him off guard for almost a full minute before he began to take stock of the situation.
The first thing he truly absorbed was the sight of a large round table with a candelabra at the center. But the room did not appear to be a dining area, more like an old-fashioned sitting room of some kind—with the large table placed dead center. As in the guest room, there was far too much furniture scattered around and far too many paintings on the walls…and Persian rugs and vases of dried flowers and candles and Chinese vases and Egyptian statues and uncountable crystal and porcelain knickknacks everywhere.
But once he’d assessed the room, he turned his attention to the six people sitting around the table.
Of course the first ones he studied were the vampires—as they indeed were vampires. He could tell easily from this close range: a man and a woman.
The man looked about twenty years old, but his hair was steel gray and hung in waves to either side of his forehead and curled around his ears down to the nape of his neck. His face was narrow, and his eyes were almost clear, with just a hint of sky blue. He wore a wine-colored shirt and a black sport jacket, which seemed an odd contrast to the thick gold ring in his right earlobe. Something about his expression and facial structure reminded Seamus of a silver fox.
But the man’s companion was even more striking, and she held Seamus’ attention longer.
She was lovely, small and delicate. Her hair was fine and white-blond, similar to Wade’s. She wore it nearly to her shoulders, with the bangs tucked behind her ears, and a small jeweled clip held about half of the length pulled back at the crown of her head. Long silver earrings dangled from her lobes, glinting in the candlelight. Her eyes were green and slightly slanted, and she wore a burgundy V-neck evening gown.
“Do we have enough for the circle, Christian?” a short, stocky woman in a purple caftan asked him. “I can always call in a few servants. They won’t mind.”
“No, Vera,” the male vampire answered. “Six is a perfect number.”
His accent was French.
Vera clapped her hands cheerfully. “Good enough, then. Shall we begin?”
Seamus took a better look at her. She had short hair, dyed orange-red, and a string of huge blue stones around her neck. The other members at the table comprised a middle-aged man in a suit, a slightly younger man—also in a suit—and an attractive woman about thirty years old. Both of the younger people looked distressed, but the middle-aged man looked more…annoyed, as if he was wasting his time and would rather be someplace else.
Christian leaned forward, looking at the three of them in turn, beginning with the middle-aged man. “Richard…Nathan…Laura, you understand how this will work?” His voice was soft and comforting, as if he wished for nothing in the world but to help them. “I will call upon your mother, and when I reach her, she will speak through Ivory.” He gestured to the delicate woman beside him. “In this way, I can ask questions, and she will be able to answer.”
Seamus wanted to roll his eyes. Were these people paying good money for this show?
As he took in the sight below in its entirety, the whole scene reminded him of several episodes of a terrible television show Wade had forced him to watch on DVD—called Night Gallery.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Richard answered absently, still seeming annoyed at the prospect of being here. Perhaps he was the only one with any sense.
“Reach out and join hands,” Christian said, closing his eyes. The table was so large they had to reach out to touch one another, but he joined hands with Vera on one side and Ivory on the other.
In spite of the ridiculous sham playing out below, Seamus found himself curious about what would happen next. Would chains rattle? Would the candles go out? Would eerie voices wail? He couldn’t wait to see.
But none of those things happened.
With his eyes closed, Christian called softly, “Althea, I call to you from the other side. Hear me. Come to us now.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake, Seamus thought, wanting to roll his eyes again. Fortunately, no one looked up to see him peering down at them through the ceiling.
“Althea?” Christian said, opening his eyes. “Is that you?”
Laura gasped sharply. “Have you reached her?”
Christian smiled. “Yes, she is with us. She is standing beside you…a tall woman, about sixty, but her hair is still long and black. She’s wearing a wool skirt with a light blue sweater set.” He squinted slightly. “And a charm bracelet.”
“Yes,” Laura breathed. “That’s her.”
“What is it you wish me to ask her?” Christian said.
Nathan shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Her will was read last week, and she left everything to Richard. All three of us would like to know why.”
Christian focused on the empty air beside Laura’s chair. “Althea, why did you cut your two younger children from your will? Why would you leave everything to Richard?”
Ivory’s green eyes were wide open, and she stared straight ahead. “I did not,” she answered. Her voice was like music, and once again, Seamus could not wait to see what happened next.
This time, Nathan gasped. “Mother, what do you mean?”
“She can hear only me,” Christian said. He paused. “Althea, what do you mean?”
Suddenly Richard looked less annoyed and more…uncomfortable.
“The will read last week was not the one I wrote,” Ivory said, still staring into open space. “Richard replaced it with a new one.”
At this, Richard was on his feet, but his breaking the “circle” seemed to have no effect. “This is absurd,” he said, though his face had gone pale.
“Richard is right,” Laura said, speaking directly to Christian. “Mr. Bransen authenticated the will that was read, and he’d been mother’s lawyer for twenty years.”
“What of Mr. Bransen?” Christian asked the empty space.
Ivory answered. “He was working with Richard, and he signed off on the false will for a payment of two million dollars. You can have his accounts checked for the deposit last week.”
“Stop this nonsense!” Richard roared.
But by now, Nathan was on his feet as well, and he was taller than he’d appeared sitting down. “If that’s true, then where is the real will?”
“Althea,” Christian said. “Where is the real will?”
“The same place it’s always been,” Ivory answered, still lost in her trance, “in my safety deposit box in the Seattle National Bank, box number four-six-seven. Richard has not yet been able to gain access to the box and destroy the papers there. Nathan, you must alert the authorities and have it opened yourself.”
Richard’s mouth fell open in shock the instant Ivory spoke the numbers for the box.
Laura simply seemed confused, shaking her head at her eldest brother. “Richard…?”
Nathan looked as if he were close to taking a swing, but Richard suddenly grabbed his head, as if dizzy, and leaned against his chair.
The buzz of voices continued below as Seamus pulled his face back up until he was floating in the guest room again. Was Christian for real? Had he truly been speaking to a ghost through his partner?
Regardless of the ridiculous trappings of the scene below, it appeared that Christian had just saved two people from penury by speaking to their dead mother—and he’d exposed a criminal at the same time. Or was Ivory the real medium, and Christian was simply asking the questions?
Seamus did not know, and in truth, he wasn’t sure it mattered.
What did matter was that he’d located two vampires, and he needed to get back and tell Wade.
It was a bit late to be coming home from a grocery run, but Wade didn’t like leaving the church during the day, so he tended to go shopping at night.
Eleisha, Rose, Philip, and Maxim all fell dormant during daylight hours, and nothing would wake them. It just seemed…wrong to leave them like that. He had no idea what might happen if somebody got past the locks on the doors and went nosing about inside while he was gone. Even Philip would be helpless. Without telling anyone, Wade had stopped sleeping in his bedroom. Now he napped during the day on a couch in the sanctuary, and he slept lightly.
Maybe this leaned too far into paranoia, but he couldn’t help it.
So he tended to run his errands at night, while the others were up and awake. Until recently, Philip had insisted on going with him, to stand guard, but after Wade had blown one hole in Julian’s chest and a second in his stomach on their last mission to England, Philip hadn’t been quite such a mother hen anymore.
