"I'm your what?" he pressed, his brown eyes intense.
"Just don't say that. How can you think it?"
Slipping inside his head for half a second before he pushed me out, a startling desire flashed through-and I'm not easily startled. He wanted me to. The thought of my mouth on his neck excited him.
"It isn't like that," I said. "It's ugly and painful. Your throat wouldn't heal completely for weeks, maybe months."
Humiliation colored his face. He'd been casually reading everyone else's thoughts, needs, and drives since childhood. Fair turnabout shamed him. I felt bad for causing him embarrassment.
Everybody has weird thoughts sometimes. I didn't know what to say to make him feel better, so I crawled up onto the bed and laid my wet head on his stomach. A moment later, he reached out to stroke my hair.
"I love you," he said quietly.
No matter how abrupt or out of place this declaration might be, it didn't surprise me.
"No, you don't," I answered. "You feel close to me because we've shared private memories… because we're caught in the same trap. You don't even know me."
I'm sure my blunt dismissal must have hurt him, but it was for the best. He was quiet for a long time, and then he asked, "Have you ever loved anyone besides William?"
"Edward, but not like you think. I didn't live a mortal life long enough to learn much about human relationships."
"What was his gift?"
"Charm. And besides Julian's terror, it's the strongest pull I've ever felt. Everyone adored Edward, like Laurence Olivier and Peter Pan rolled into one."
"How many others are there… like you?"
"Only Philip and Julian as far as I know. They might have made others by now. But I don't think so. Julian hates most other vampires."
The word «vampires» caused him to wince. "It seems odd there are so few you know about. Did Julian turn Edward?"
"No, that's a long story." I paused. "Do you want to see it?"
Wade truly was unusual; the prospect of another trip down undead memory lane perked him up. "Yeah, can you start where you left off?"
Without answering, I sat up, grasped his hand, and let my focus flow back.
Back to Edward.
Chapter 16
Edward
Eleisha felt only confusion when the heavy merchant ship stopped moving. The tiny hold space she and William shared reeked of rotting rat corpses. Sailors had long since ceased to check on the hold's two passengers.
"We've stopped, William," she whispered through cracked lips. "Perhaps we're in port."
"Time for lunch, then. Yes, yes, must be time for lunch."
Too weak to argue or answer, Eleisha left him and crawled up the cargo hold stairs. Their good fortune that the ship had reached dock at night suddenly occurred to her. What would have happened had they docked during the day, while she and William slept? Would the sailors have begun to unload wooden boxes around them?
"William," she called quietly, "we have to get off right now."
No answer.
She hurried back to find him crouched over. "What's wrong?"
"Can't leave. Haven't had tea. Haven't had lunch. Wait for Julian."
"Come on." She pulled his arm over her shoulder. "We have to get off now."
They also had to hide from the crew. Even without a mirror, she knew what a skeletal sight she must be. She only had to look at William to imagine her own condition. They both smelled of filth and dried blood. But she understood his fear. What sort of land was America? What sort of people lived in this place?
Peering up on deck, Eleisha saw a busy crew. No one paid attention to the hatch door. A wide plank extended to the dock. It was surprisingly easy for Eleisha and William to slip past the sailors, off the ship, and run toward some faded wooden shacks on the shore.
They hid in the mud by a decaying wall, William panting in wordless panic. Eleisha looked around. Now what? Not since Julian pulled her from the bedroom closet had she felt so out of control.
"Well, I must say." A smooth voice flowed through the night. "This is hardly what I expected. Two fugitives in rags?"
She leapt up, casting about for a stick or a rock. "Who's there?"
"Oh, calm yourself."
A man of medium height stepped into view. He wore the most outlandish costume she'd ever seen. His short, dark hair was topped by an absurdly wide-brimmed hat, and a black cape with purple silk lining billowed out over a too-large white shirt. "What do you think?" he said, smiling. "I thought to look the part. Julian has no imagination, you know." He stepped close enough to see Eleisha clearly. "Oh, dear."
Positioning her body in front of William's, she asked, "Who are you?"
"This is Lord William Ashton, is it not?" The man's foppish manner faded by the second.
Hope, or the barest hint of it, made her cautious. "How do you know that?" She stumbled from weakness and then caught herself.
"Julian sent me a letter by clipper ship. It arrived a week ago. He asked me to meet you here. I owe him a favor."
"Can you help us?" she whispered.
For an answer, he reached out and caught her as she collapsed.
"What have you been feeding on?" His tone sounded hard now, completely serious.
"Rats."
"My God." He grasped William's wrist. "Come, I have a carriage."
Eleisha didn't remember how he managed to get them both to the carriage. But her coherence returned as he led them into a building with red velvet wallpaper and a sign that read "Croissant House Hotel."
"I have guests," he snapped at the desk clerk. "Have fresh towels sent up at once."
"Yes, Mr. Claymore."
He led them into a room of braided rugs, velvet couches, curved wooden tables, and fringed, floor-length drapes.
"Are you a lord?" Eleisha asked.
"Moi? Hardly." Some of his earlier joviality returned. "No one cares a whit for such things here. The only thing that counts here is money. If the Prince of Wales showed up tomorrow without a dime to his name, they'd ignore him completely. I am simply Edward Claymore."
"What's a dime?"
"Oh, dear."
He helped William over to a couch. "Would you like to rest, Lord William?"
"Time for tea. Yes, it's time."
Edward looked at Eleisha. "Is he delirious?"
"No, he's always like that. It's an illness."
"That's impossible. We can't become ill."
She sank to the floor. Nothing this man said made any sense. He seemed nearly as much at a loss himself. Her physical appearance stirred him into action again, and he hurried into a second room. She heard the sound of splashing water.
"I'm running you a bath," he said. "Go ahead and climb in. You'll feel better when you're clean. Then we must talk. I promised to meet you, not play nursemaid."
Eleisha walked in and beheld a porcelain tub with a metal spigot on one end. Steaming water poured from the spigot directly into the tub. She stared in amazement, then took off her clothes and stepped in. When the depth reached a dangerously high level, she called, "Mr. Claymore, how do you make the water stop?"
Her amazement grew when he walked in without even knocking. Startled for an instant, she leaned over to cover herself.
"Oh, please," he said. "I should think you'd be past that by now."
He turned some tiny levers, and the water ceased flowing. Then he looked up at her thin, pale body and dull hair. "How long has it been since you've really fed?"
She knew she should be burning with shame, sitting there naked… but somehow, she wasn't.
"What do you mean?"
"Since you've hunted?"
The warm bathwater felt soothing, but she stared at Edward in confusion, wanting to understand him, wanting to communicate.
"When did Julian turn you?" he asked.
"Turn me? The night we left, I think. He opened his wrist and put it in my mouth. Then he put us on the ship."