the other half was screaming that this journey was wrong.
How could she leave Loam Village? How could she leave her home?
But she never saw Scotland again. The sea journey was a nightmare. She starved herself inside her cabin as the shipped rocked on the high waves. One night, she grew so desperate from hunger that she managed to draw off a sailor alone, feed, and push his body over the side. Occasionally, men fell overboard at sea.
But she and Seamus arrived in Philadelphia to a busy crowded world, an alien world. How had Edward done this? She wondered over and over why he had gone to so much trouble to warn her of the danger Julian posed. She wondered why he had not asked her to come to him in New York . . . and yet she had no desire to see him.
He had murdered Seamus and destroyed her life.
Still, after securing herself in a hotel, she wrote to him:Edward,
We are here in Philadelphia. We have arrived.
Rose
She could not bring herself to write more, but she did not wish to leave him wondering what had become of her. Why? Perhaps because besides Seamus, she had no one else, and some part of her did not wish to forever sever the connection with Edward. She included her current address. Three weeks later, a letter arrived.
Dear Rose,
I am relieved. I have a contact in France, and she tells me the situation in Europe grows worse. I do not know how Julian is managing to behead so many vampires who are older and more powerful than himself, nor do I know how he is finding them.
Please keep your existence a secret. Do not go back to Europe, and I believe you will be safe.
I have enclosed four hundred dollars in American money.
Your servant,
Edward
Rose found the letter detached and informational. He spoke of vampires she’d never met and a conflict she had no part of. She also felt that he wished to say a great deal more but would not.
She tried to exist in Philadelphia.
She tried to be good company for Seamus.
She began writing more lengthy letters to Edward, mainly about Philadelphia and their various hotels and nightly activities. She did not write often, perhaps every six months. Time felt different to her now.
He always wrote back. He kept her informed of everything he learned of Julian’s bloody actions, and her fear of a mad vampire she’d never met began to grow. In spite of everything . . . everything he’d done, she could not help being grateful to Edward for helping her to leave Scotland.
The years passed.
Seamus learned to move about in the world a bit more freely, never allowing himself to be seen by anyone besides Rose, but he never liked the feel nor the sights of Philadelphia, and when she sought out books to read to him, he began asking for accounts of other places in America. He was especially fascinated by accounts of the West Coast, and Rose began to fear he might wish to relocate again.
The adjustment from Scotland to Philadelphia had been almost too much for her, and she had no desire to ever go through such events again. She learned to use her “voice of wisdom” well during hunting. Edward called it her “gift.”
Although she had no affection for Philadelphia, she had learned her way around well enough to hunt at safe distances. In addition, though she would never admit it aloud—or possibly even to herself—she had grown comfortable with the thought of Edward just up north in New York, far enough never to see him . . . but not too far.
But Seamus began asking for more and more books about the west, on gold hunting and horses and new cities cropping up and the adventures taking place there, and by 1870, he began focusing his interests on California.
His obsession began to make her feel more and more alone. As if she had no one to truly talk to—except Edward. And Edward often reiterated the importance of her living alone, remaining in secret. These reminders caused her to think on his existence as well, always staying in hotels, even more alone than herself. At least she had Seamus. She did not feel sympathy for Edward but rather empathy for the hollow, changeless existence they shared. In a moment of weakness, one night in a letter, she expressed these thoughts to him.
He did not answer for a month, and then a letter arrived that shifted Rose’s