She sat quietly as Wade dropped down into a chair beside her with his eggs and a croissant he’d pulled from a bag. He was eating with a plastic fork and talking to Seamus about horses.
Rose put a cup of tea in front of Wade and handed one to Eleisha. Then she took a sip from her own. Eleisha knew that she should say something. She pointed to a purple pot. “Is that saffron? I haven’t seen that growing in many years.”
Rose nodded. “I don’t know why, but growing all the herbs has helped fill my nights, as William did for you.”
Wade stopped talking to Seamus in midsentence and looked at Eleisha. “You told her about taking care of William?” he asked in mild surprise.
Eleisha glanced away. “Yes, in our letters.”
Of course Rose had heard something of William from Edward, but Eleisha had not known that before. Secrets within secrets. Perhaps it was going to be difficult to stick to safe subjects. But Wade only yawned, as if he was tired, and took a long drink from his mug and turned back to Seamus.
“I hope you won’t mind an upstairs room at the church,” Eleisha said to Rose. “I almost started decorating one for you, but I didn’t know what you’d like. I’m sure I would have gotten it wrong.”
But this caused Rose to wince, as it probably reminded her of the impending journey to Oregon. Eleisha searched for some way to change the subject again. It felt so good to be sitting here with Rose and a cup of tea. She didn’t want it to end.
Wade yawned again.
His eggs were gone, and he tried to stand up from the table and wobbled slightly.
“Are you all right?” Eleisha asked, standing to help him.
“Yeah, I’m just tired.”
His eyes looked glassy.
“Let’s move him to a couch,” Rose said.
Eleisha helped him to a low burgundy settee. “Didn’t you sleep at all today?” she asked, growing more concerned.
“Yeah, Leisha . . . I slept.”
His white-blond head rolled back and his eyes closed.
“Wade!”
“It’s all right,” Rose said quietly from behind her. “He’ll just sleep for a few hours.”
Eleisha whirled around. “What did you do?”
“Just gave him something to make him sleep.”
“You drugged his tea?”
She couldn’t believe it. Philip had been right. Rose was an enemy. How was that possible? Eleisha positioned herself in front of Wade, wondering if she should try using her gift or look for a weapon. Or she could try taking hold of Rose’s thoughts, as she had with Julian.
“It’s all right, Eleisha,” Rose said again. “I would never hurt your friend, but I need to show you something, and he cannot see it. We need to go out tonight . . . by ourselves.”
As these words landed smoothly on Eleisha’s ears, she believed them. Of course Rose was right. Rose was wise, and she would never hurt Wade. She just had to share something with Eleisha.
Philip took a taxi to Fisherman’s Wharf.
Reliving Rose’s memories last night had been too much for him. Through her, he’d experienced real hunting again—a true feeding. But instead of satisfying him, the sensation only made him feel like he wanted to claw out of his own skin.
When he woke up tonight, only a few seconds ahead of Eleisha, he knew he had to leave the apartment by himself. It troubled him to leave her and Wade by themselves, but nothing would have stopped him from heading for the door.
Nothing.
“Pull over here,” he told the cabbie when they reached Beach Street. He paid his fare and got out.
The lights and music of Pier 39 filled his senses, and he rejoiced in the sight of the busy crowds. Walking down the pier, he passed an endless variety of shops: souvenirs, chocolates, seashells, wine, T-shirts, novelty stockings . . . all bursting with tourists.
Then he reached a large, two-story carousel in the center. Colorful horses moved up and down to canned music, ridden by children gripping caramel apples.
Eleisha would like this.
He pushed the unbidden thought away. He did not want to think about her.
Hearing the sound of feminine laughter, he turned his head quickly. Three young women were standing outside a souvenir shop, carrying bags and talking in low voices, occasionally laughing more loudly.
Suddenly, Philip realized coming to Pier 39 presented a problem he had not considered: people rarely came here alone.
In the past, this had never hindered him, as he would simply kill anyone he needed to. But tonight he wished to do this quietly, which