any vampires still in hiding together that she would do anything, go to any lengths just to manipulate meetings? Could Eleisha blame her? Isn’t this what they both wanted? What they had planned and dreamed of in their letters? If that was the case, then perhaps Rose could be trusted—as long as Eleisha never forgot how single-minded she could be in this pursuit.
Without asking, Eleisha slipped inside Rose’s mind.
You found him and drew him here? Through Seamus?
Rose’s eyes widened again. Yes, and a brief exchange of letters.
Why?
If we are to build a community, we have to find the others. But I never thought to find one like him still in existence—
“That is impolite,” Robert said. “And this is pointless. You have no knowledge and no manners. You plan for things of which you have no understanding.”
Eleisha pulled out of Rose’s mind and tilted her head to one side. In Philip’s memories, she had seen detailed images of him living with Julian, John McCrugger, and his maker, Angelo Travare. Only after the beginning of Julian’s killing spree did the vampires break up and travel alone. Had it been normal for them to exist together before? This Robert Brighton had been hiding—just like Rose—but he had come out of hiding and traveled all the way from Russia to San Francisco, so no matter how much he protested, he must be desperate to rejoin his own kind.
“Why did you come here?” Eleisha asked him. “Did Rose tell you about the church? Do you want to come home with us?”
He seemed taken back by her direct questions and paused. Then he shook his head. “Not if you keep company with Philip Branté. He’s feral. As blood brother to Julian, he was the only one with a chance to stop those horrors, and he did nothing, not that I should have expected more. Angelo had already ruined him, taught him nothing, let him run wild, let him kill whoever he pleased.”
Eleisha was getting sick of these vampires constantly bashing Philip, but she froze, taking in Robert’s words. If he knew Philip and Julian personally . . . then Julian must have known him, and he was clearly telepathic.
“How did you survive?” she asked.
Again, he seemed unsettled by her direct question, as if he thought her rude.
“I did not,” he answered. “Julian believes he hacked my head off.”
“What?”
“Eleisha,” Rose interrupted, “this can all wait.” She turned to Robert. “You can see the truth of my words.” She pointed to Eleisha. “She fought Julian and won—sent him packing. Everything has changed. You must agree to meet Philip and Wade. There is strength in numbers.”
His expression went still for a moment, as if he considered her offer, and then he took a step backward. “I’ll not be in the same room with Philip Branté. He’s feral. And a coward.”
Eleisha turned around and headed for the stairs. “I don’t care who you are. I won’t listen to this.”
Rose ran after her, catching her arm, leaning close to whisper, “Wait. He is old, with knowledge of our kind we could never find anywhere else. Please, Eleisha, convince him. He may be the only one from . . . before.”
Eleisha stopped. How old was he? She’d believed that any survivors would most likely be like herself or Edward or Rose—turned either right as the killing spree began or after, with no opportunity for telepathic training or somehow off Julian’s radar.
But she could not help being disgusted by this Robert Brighton’s arrogance and contempt. If he was going to join them, he would have to accept a few truths.
She turned to face him. “You call Philip a coward?” she asked. “When you’ve been hiding in Russia? Yes, Philip is terrified of Julian. We all are. But he kicked Julian out a twelve-story window. Do you know why? To protect me. Don’t you ever call him a coward.” She dropped her voice lower. “I don’t believe Julian will ever come near us again, but I can’t promise anything will or won’t happen. If you want your freedom, if you want to live with your own kind again, then you have to be willing to expose yourself and fight.”
He stared at her in surprise.
“If not,” she added, “you can go back to Russia and hide out by yourself. I’m sure the high summers are lovely there.”
“Will you at least meet with them?” Rose rushed to say. “Can I set up a meeting?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, and then nodded stiffly, once. “Not