Barb Hendee - Hunting Memories

"You promised you'd stop making decisions for us," she said.

"I never promised you anything."

When she half turned to look at him, a stab of pain flashed through her side, and she winced. He came over and crouched down beside her.

"Did he break you?"

"I don't know," she answered.

"Let me see it."

He reached out to pull up the side of her sweater-Philip's sweater-and she didn't try to stop him.

A purple-black bruise covered her ribs, and he touched them cautiously. "I don't think they're broken, but you'll need to feed soon."

Suddenly, she wasn't angry at him anymore.

"I really thought he would leave us alone," she whispered. "What are going to do now?"

His face was so close she could see the shadow of light brown stubble on his jaw. She'd never noticed it before.

"We have to kill him," he said.

She sat up straighter. "What?"

"He won't stop, Eleisha. Now that you've been with me, he'll see you as contaminated." He hesitated and asked, "How did you run him off… before?"

She'd never talked about this, not really, but the words started flowing. "I got inside his head, and he couldn't push me out. I took control of his body. I showed him ugly images, anything I could think of: the vampires he'd murdered hunting him down, nailing him to a cross, Angelo lighting it on fire… anything. He was writhing, and he couldn't keep me out, and I told him if he ever came near me again, I'd lock him in a nightmare forever. He was so scared. Then Philip grabbed him and kicked him out a window. That was the last time we saw him… until tonight."

She'd never seen open shock on Robert's face before.

" You came up with all that? You? How could you have known what Angelo even looked like?"

"Philip showed me in a memory, like what I did with you. I saw Angelo die. It was awful."

Robert looked away. Was all this too much for him? He liked his battle tactics cut and dried. Maybe he'd never used his telepathy as a weapon.

She didn't have much else to use.

"All right," he said after a while. "He'll expect us to get off in Salem."

"Why would he expect that?"

"Because he knows I'd never lead him from an end point-and the train ends in Portland." Still crouched, he rocked on the balls of his feet. "We'll head for a rental car lot outside in the dark, taking the shortest route. He'll step out of nowhere and swing at some point. If I can make sure he misses, can you get inside his head before he turns on the fear?"

She couldn't believe what he was suggesting. "Bait? You're going to use yourself as bait? What if he doesn't miss, Robert? You'll be dead, and I'll be rolling around on the ground when your energy breaks, and then I'll be dead a second later!"

"What do you want to do? Go back to the church and lead him right to Wade and Rose?"

She stared at him.

"I won't let my guard down, and I'll make sure he misses," Robert said softly. "You get a hold of him, hit him with anything you can until he freezes, and I'll take his head. We won't be free until he's gone."

"What if he's not waiting for us?" she asked. "What if he doesn't attack yet?"

"I don't know. But I do know we can't lead him to your church, and I can't do this by myself."

She ran his scenario over and over in her mind, seeing various outcomes, and she was frightened. What if she failed? What if she couldn't make Julian freeze again? She didn't want to get Robert killed, and what would Philip do if she didn't come home?

But in the end, what choice did they have?

"We'll get off in Salem," she said. "But if he's there waiting, you better make sure he misses."

"Good." He leaned back against the couch, and he seemed to relax now that they'd come to a decision. His shoulder had stopped bleeding, but his coat was torn and stained.

"Let me try to wash that out," she said, climbing to her feet, "or people will look at you when we get off."

He nodded, slipped out of his coat, and handed it to her. Beneath, his shirt looked worse, but they could cover it once the coat was clean.

"We'll get you some new clothes in Portland," she said, determined to speak of the future as if it would happen.

He opened his mouth and closed it again. She wondered what he was worried about now.

"What?" she asked, turning on the faucet.

"You've said a few times that you're going to buy this church. How are you going to pay for it?"

"With money."

He frowned at her. "You know what I mean. Where are you getting the money? You and Philip both seem to have an endless supply. That coat he's wearing must have cost two thousand dollars."

"At least." Embarrassed, she focused on washing out the blood-stains. "I don't know where Philip gets his money."

Come to think of it, that was a good question. He must have inherited his family's wealth, but he had always made fun of her stockbroker, and she'd never seen him contact a bank.

The irony of her own wealth brought more discomfort, considering what she and Robert were about to do. "Julian always… He sent money so I could take care of William… a lot of money. We lived with Edward Claymore in New York for years, and back then he handled everything for me. But I wanted control of my own affairs, so I took William, and we moved to Portland. I started investing around 1954, and later, I just learned what to look for, and I made some lucky choices at a ground floor buy-in… Coca-Cola, Apple, Microsoft, Starbucks, Exxon."

She paused her scrubbing and glanced at him. He still looked troubled, but he also seemed interested in what she was saying.

"I don't have any money," he said. "I've been living night to night for a long time, just taking a few dollars from people I fed on, and I used almost everything I had left to buy my plane ticket from Russia."

"Why were you living in Russia?"

He shrugged. "It was just a place. I didn't care where I lived… but Jessenia and I never traveled there, and I couldn't stay anyplace where we'd been." He paused. "But I always pay my own way, so I'll start contributing as soon as I can pick up a few jobs. I just haven't cared enough to work for a while."

"Jobs?"

He'd been working? Doing what?

"I ran a small business in Moscow for a while where I found lost objects, stolen objects, for people," he explained. "More than half the time, one of their friends or relatives took it, and I just had to read the right mind."

He'd used his telepathy to earn a living? That was clever. She'd never thought of doing anything like that-but then she'd never had to.

His coat looked better. She wrung it out and laid it over a chair. "I've never used my telepathy for much of anything besides feeding or defending myself or reading memories."

At her last two words, he tensed up and then pointed at the floor right in front of where he was sitting.

She joined him, cross-legged, puzzled again. He was changing topics too fast tonight.

"How did you do that?" he asked. "Make me see and feel everything like it was happening?"

"I don't know. Wade taught me to guide the stream, but I can't control where someone chooses to start-like with you. I didn't mean to make you go through all that. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. That isn't what I meant."

He stopped talking, and she had no idea what he wanted, but she could see by the desperate look on his face that he wanted something, and he wanted it so badly he feared asking her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"We still have enough time before Salem," he said quietly. "Can you do it again?"

He wanted to be with Jessenia. He was addicted to someone long gone. If Eleisha did this for him once, would he ask her again… and again?

And could she ever say no?

She reached out and grasped his pointer finger to help make the connection stronger.