Barb Hendee - Hunting Memories

"Leave me," Angelo answered. "Go back to your travels. I will deal with my own family."

There was nothing they could do. Vampires did not fight among each other.

Jessenia started for the door. "I cannot believe that you, you of all among us, chose to break the law. You endanger us all."

With nothing left to say, Robert followed her out.

Although deeply shaken, they could only hope that Angelo would adhere to his word. It was Angelo's place to destroy his sons if need be-which was already the case in Robert's opinion-so they had to believe he would do the right thing.

Needing some sort of comfort, some sense of familiarity, they decided to go back to England for a few years, and they crossed the Channel again, later taking rooms in London. Jessenia wrote to let Cristina and Adalrik know where they were staying, and yet she remained sad, a shadow of herself, for several months. Robert worried about her.

But London proved a lively place in 1821, with many sights and distractions, and soon she joined with him again in their bed, running her hands up his chest, filling his mind with the promise of tomorrow.

They heard nothing worrisome from their friends. Perhaps Angelo had lived up to his word?

Then, in 1824, Jessenia received a letter from Adalrik with news he'd only recently learned. Apparently as far back as 1816, Angelo's first son, John McCrugger, had turned his own serving man, Edward Claymore, into a vampire, and later, Philip, the feral one, had turned his mortal lover, Margaritte Latour, as well… long before the hundred-year mark. Law upon law was being broken due to Angelo's breach.

Robert was uncertain what to do, and Jessenia was frightened.

About a year after this, strange psychic onslaughts began to hit them without warning. Most were weak, as if coming from a great distance, but some were strong and painful. In the same moment, they would both see images and memories of other vampires, sometimes hundreds of years played out in moments. Neither of them knew what this meant.

In 1826, the last letter arrived… and it was from Cristina. Jessenia read it aloud, almost as if she were sleepwalking.

Oh, Jessenia, my dear one, I think we are lost.

Angelo is dead. His son John McCrugger is dead.

Our sweet Adalrik is dead.

Several others, whom you have never met, are now dead.

I have hidden some events from you, but in recent years, many of us began to counsel Angelo to destroy Julian and Philip… most pointedly Julian, who shows no sign of developing his telepathy and will never be able to follow the first law. Our gentle counsel soon turned into demands and, to my shame,… threats of taking this matter upon ourselves. We fear Julian learned of our urgings. He must have believed Angelo would eventually relent to us.

Julian's presence cannot be felt and he is coming from the darkness to take our heads. I do not know how he is finding us with such ease and haste, nor how none of us has managed to hold him with a telepathic defense.

You and Robert must find someplace to hide, someplace you've told no one about-not too far. I will send another letter soon. You know Demetrio will not leave the villa, but I expect more news within a few nights. Knowledge is safety.

Jessenia dropped the letter onto the floor.

"We're leaving here tonight," Robert said. "We'll hide up north."

"No," she whispered. "I want to wait for her next letter."

The letter never came.

A few nights later, they were hit with waves of memories from Demetrio first… followed shortly after by Cristina's.

Once she had recovered from the onslaught, Jessenia began to pack her few things. "We're going to Italy, to the villa, to make sure they are safe."

"Italy?" Robert repeated. "No."

"You are a soldier!" she shouted. "Demetrio is an artist! Would you not protect them?"

He grasped her hand. "I would protect you first."

"Please," she whispered. "Please, Robert. None of us will survive by hiding. We have to fight. This Julian is still a newborn. His luck will not hold."

They began the long journey back to Italy, to the villa, where they found two piles of dust, just inside the terrace.

Jessenia fell to her knees. "It is them," she said. "My maker told me that we turn to dust. They are gone."

This was the first time Jessenia had ever mentioned her maker.

"We have to go," Robert said. "We need to leave this place now." An unfamiliar and unpleasant feeling had begun crawling around inside him. He couldn't quite place it, but he believed it was fear. "Jessenia, come. There is nothing you can do."

She let him lead her through the front doors, into the dense gardens. Cristina had always liked thick, wild gardens. Jessenia stumbled out ahead of him, and he longed to comfort her, but what could he say?

His mind was churning with decisions over the best possible place to take her and hide, when she walked past a mulberry tree, and the darkness beside her seemed to move on its own. A glint arced through the air, and her head flew off her body before his eyes could absorb what was happening. Her body fell forward with a slight thud.

Before he could even scream her name, a wave of memories hit him.

It was nothing like what he had experienced back in England. He was only a few feet away from her, and he buckled from the impact, rolling on the ground. And what he saw… He saw her dressed as an English lady in the fifteenth century in a velvet gown and headpiece with her hair pinned beneath. He saw a vampire with a wizened face lecturing over a small pile of books, hitting her hand with a wooden pointer, and going on with the lecture. But her name was not Jessenia back then. It was Jane.

The memories went on as if Jessenia was speaking to him.

The wizened vampire had wanted a daughter with imagination, and he'd chosen her. He seduced her agreement through promises of travel and learning. But he was coldhearted and cared nothing for her well-being.

Yet only when he allowed her to begin meeting other vampires, such as Cristina and Demetrio, did she understand the loneliness of her existence. She wanted a different life.

She ran away.

She was alone and lost and frightened-even of some mortals, once she learned her gift did not work well on those with little imagination.

While traveling with a group of gypsies, she changed her way of dress, her hair, her name. She learned the power of her gift. She began looking for a companion, and she could see him in her mind. She would never break the laws or make someone too soon, but still… she searched.

And then she found Robert.

He saw image after image of himself, the way she saw him. She thought him handsome, with his lean face and broken nose. She loved the way his presence changed the way brutal mortals treated her. Harsh men would only need glance at Robert and then look away. None of them came near her. Robert was the real thing. A hardened soldier. He protected her, saw to her needs, loved her, and he asked almost nothing in return. All he wanted was for her to plan their next journey, their next delight, their next exploration, and to share in her enjoyment. He washed away the pain of the past and took everything upon himself. Every night, she looked at him and wondered if he was real…

Robert was choking from unbearable physical and emotional pain when his vision cleared enough to see the blade arcing down at him, and on instinct he rolled to one side.

The sword sliced through the front half of his throat, sending a spray of black blood into the air. He finished his roll, bleeding onto the ground, and looked up to see a dark-haired man standing over him, raising the sword again.

Julian.