Hunting Memories - By Barb Hendee Page 0,52

nowhere in sight, and she wasn’t yet quite sure how his existence worked, so she didn’t know if he was with them or not. Lights all around illuminated ponds and sculpted shrubs, but Eleisha continued to dwell on several things Philip had told her the night before.

For one, he’d mentioned a book in which Angelo had written down information about all the elder vampires. Doing anything of this nature had been expressly forbidden as far as Eleisha knew. Edward had warned her against writing anything down regarding names, addresses, and phone numbers—even though he’d broken that rule himself later. And Julian had sent short letters drilling this into her head.

But Angelo had created a detailed book of information. Was such an act acceptable back then?

Second, she couldn’t stop thinking about Robert’s maker telling Angelo that Julian should be destroyed if he did not develop telepathically. Eleisha had been led to believe—even by Philip—that Julian had “gone mad” and launched upon his killing spree. Was it possible that some of his fears were justified? Why would the elders care so much that he wasn’t telepathic?

In the back of her mind . . . she might already know the answer: Because without telepathy, he couldn’t alter a victim’s memory, and so in order to feed, he would have to kill to protect himself from exposure.

“Did you decide on anywhere more specific to meet?” Wade asked.

“No, just here,” Rose answered.

Although the night wasn’t cold, both the men had intentionally worn their coats—with the slight distinction that Wade’s came from Target and Philip’s was Armani. Wade wore his gun out of sight, and Philip had hooked the machete’s sheath to his belt and then buttoned his long coat over it. Eleisha had wanted to argue with both of them, but she didn’t. Their agreement to this meeting was already too tenuous.

Now all four of them waited by a koi pond.

Wade pointed to Philip’s hip. “I don’t know why you bought that thing. I would have helped you get a gun.”

Oh, lovely, Eleisha thought. They were going to engage in a discussion of weapons. That was all Rose needed to hear.

Philip shook his head. “I don’t want a gun. This is better.”

“Better? You have to be in close quarters to use that thing.”

“I know how to use it. It won’t jam. It won’t misfire. It won’t run out of bullets. It’s better.”

“Yes, but—”

“Wade, please,” Eleisha cut in, glancing at Rose.

He followed her gaze and stopped talking. Eleisha walked over to sit on a bench. Philip paced in front of her, too agitated to sit, but he looked down at her. “I like your hair like that.”

For some reason, she had dressed more carefully than usual tonight, wearing a pair of new jeans, low-heeled boots, and a sleeveless white linen shirt. She’d brushed out her hair and pinned up part of the back, leaving loose wisps hanging around her face. She still wasn’t sure why she’d gone to the effort. Maybe because she’d met Robert last night looking like a runaway teenager—and she wanted his confidence. Maybe because Rose always took so much time and looked elegant every waking moment.

“Are you certain he’ll come?” Wade asked.

“Yes, he’ll come,” Rose answered.

Eleisha was suddenly nervous about facing him again, about the contempt she’d seen last night in his eyes—and she hoped he would not antagonize Philip. She knew so little, almost nothing, about this older vampire, what powers he might have that they did not.

“Rose?” she asked quietly. “Do you know what Robert’s gift is?”

“No, I haven’t felt him use it yet.”

“It is the mirror image of yours, Eleisha,” Philip answered.

“A poetic answer,” said a low voice from their right. “How surprising.”

Philip whirled toward the sound as Robert stepped from behind a meticulously shaped tree. He looked much as he did last night—except that he, too, was wearing a long coat. But as with Seamus, Eleisha couldn’t help seeing his face as a painting from a bygone era, like something she might view on a museum wall.

She tensed, knowing these first few seconds were crucial.

Robert glanced briefly over Wade, Rose, and Eleisha, and then he locked eyes with Philip. To her surprise, he didn’t look angry. He didn’t even look arrogant. Rather, he looked . . . uncertain.

No one spoke.

After a while, Rose finally said, “Well, someone should say something, or the moment might turn socially awkward.”

In spite of the tension, Eleisha smiled. “No,” she answered. “We certainly don’t want that.”

Rose smiled back and moved over to Robert.