Their manner annoyed Philip, speaking to him in short, slowly spoken words. "I'm not simple! I'm not a half-wit, but I don't care about psychic powers." He motioned to the parchments. "And what does any of that have to do with us? A few vampires we've never met have flown off to the great beyond. Why do you care?"
"Because they were murdered," Angelo said flatly. "Decapitated by Julian."
"By Jul-… some kind of fight?"
Angelo always had seemed ancient to him, but tonight was the first time his master looked old and fragile.
"No, Philip, not a fight. Julian has left us. He has become an enemy to his own kind and is destroying vampires who possess psychic power."
"What? Who told you that?"
"It is the truth. His gift has turned back in upon itself, and he now fears what he does not possess… to a degree that has sickened his mind." Angelo paused as if gauging his next words. "Psychic ability isn't truly a gift like the one great power we each use against mortals. It is learned, developed. And as John did with his Edward, I have chosen to postpone your training until you have existed longer, learned more of yourself and our world. But I cannot explain Julian's lack of ability. I have sometimes thought his gift to be so strong it has kept him from developing other powers."
"Have you told him that?"
"Of course." Angelo almost smiled. "Long ago."
"And he still fears you?"
Angelo did not answer.
Rubbing his hands, John peered up at Philip through tired eyes. "It's important that you don't become involved in this. I don't think you're simple or a half-wit, but you could be hurt if you stay. Go home to Gascony and wait with Maggie until this thing is over."
"What will you do?"
"I leave tonight. I'll go to Amiens and get Edward first. He and I will go back to Edinburgh. Master Angelo has a few affairs to tie up here, and then he'll leave in a week or so for his summer home in Venice."
"Why are you splitting up? Wouldn't we all be stronger as a group?"
"No," Master Angelo said. "I am hopeful that Julian may come to his senses, and giving him so much ground to cover makes his current task more difficult, if he means us harm at all. Killing strangers is one thing. Killing those in our circle is another."
"How many of the other vampires are psychic?"
John's gaze dropped. "All of them besides you, Julian, Maggie, and my Edward."
"All of them?" Philip's eyes widened. "Then what does he possibly hope to gain?"
"Nothing. He is simply afraid… to the point of madness."
This made no sense. Philip experienced a moment of intense unhappiness and hated the emotion. "All right, John. You go. I'll stay here with Master until he's ready to leave for Venice."
Angelo leaned back in his chair. "I have no need of protection, my son. My hands can snap Julian like a matchstick."
"No matter. I'm staying anyway, until you're ready to leave."
With no more words to say, John moved for the stairs, looking back at them once.
Eight nights later, Philip and Angelo packed a few scant belongings and prepared for their separate journeys. The short time they had spent alone together pleased them both. The old master forgot his books and cerebral conversation, preferring to spend spare time outside hunting with Philip. But the house had now been secured, carriage horses stabled inside Harfleur, and bank accounts transferred to Venice.
It was time to leave.
Philip jogged with snow-covered boots into the library. "Horses are saddled. You ready?"
Angelo gazed around. "Yes, but I will miss this place… and you."
"Don't be so maudlin. Julian will forget this by summer, and we'll all meet in London, or maybe Paris."
They walked outside into the night air. Dark trees lined the path to the barn, allowing bits of light from the moon to glimmer through. Philip seldom formed attachments to places, but this path had always held a certain charm with its hidden black spaces-but still so wide that he could drive Kayli into full gallop two steps out of the stable door. Wanting to lock this night in his memory, he stared at each tree they walked past. Because of this, he stopped short when movement caught his eye.
"Angelo, there's something-"
Before he could finish speaking, a shadow stepped out from the base of a tree, and moonlight glinted in his eyes. He heard the sweeping arc rather than seeing anything. Then Angelo's body toppled to the ground, his separated head landing with a soft thud in the snow. The whole picture took a few seconds to sink in.
Then the pain hit.
Searing, scorching, hysterical faces exploded inside his eyes. Turks, ragged peasants, pale children, sobbing women, all danced and clawed at his brain while he writhed helplessly, scratching at his own temples to get them out-men with long surcoats, crosses in one hand and swords in the other, crying fanatical words while rushing to battle, horses and fire and a lady called Elizabeth who always waited, a dark-skinned vampire with no name biting his shoulder, hating him, making him pay for all eternity by stealing his dream of heaven. The visions and agony went on and on, a parade of lost souls seeking retribution. Finally the waves began fading. The sounds hushed.
"You're all right. It's over." Julian knelt beside him, a sword in one hand, blood smeared all over the other.
Twisting up to all fours, Philip stared at his master's body as it began to turn gray and crack. This couldn't be happening. "You killed him."
"I had to," Julian rasped. "Don't you see? We are meant to be alone, not to live in twisted families like mortals. Our kind has become diseased, feeding upon each other's powers until some of us began to throw off the balance… growing stronger than others, creating a threat. I'm putting the balance back. Soon we will be pure again, equal… safe."
The words sounded far away, at the end of a long corridor. Philip climbed to his feet in shock, not understanding or absorbing Julian's words. "What will John say? This will make him sad!"
"No, it won't. He's already dead." Still kneeling, Julian pressed the sword into the snow and leaned on the hilt with his hands. "Angelo must have known. He must have felt it."
"What?"
"Four nights ago, I took his head right in front of his servant."
"Edward? Where is he now?"
"Long gone. He's not one of them."
This was a night of new emotions. Acute pain and sorrow faded as something infinitely worse crept up Philip's spine. Julian's black eyes bored into him, emanating fear, making him back away.
"You may not remember," Julian whispered, "but we've been friends since childhood. That existence is over. You are an immortal hunter, forever alone. Do you understand? Alone."
"No. Maggie's mine."
"You stay away from her, or I will send her after. I'm not being cruel, only strong. You will thank me later. And it's not so harsh as it sounds. We can speak to each other, sometimes even hunt together. But never can we live together, never feed off each other's gifts. If even one of us gets this disease, the whole nightmare might begin again. Purity is what matters now-your first priority, more than me, more than Maggie, more than hunting. Do you understand?"
Terror filled Philip until fear was all he could see. What would he do? Existing by himself was worse than death. Perhaps this was a vision, the dream on the edge of John's sleep that he never quite saw, the bad thing he saw coming and couldn't stop. Julian's voice echoed through the darkness.
"Alone. Do you understand? Alone…"
Chapter 23
Alone."
I pulled out to see him mouthing the word almost silently, amber eyes lost in a fog of memories.
"Philip, wake up."
He blinked and looked down at me. Without thinking, I laid my face against his knee in a gesture of comfort, like a mortal, like a woman.