He dropped into a chair near the fireplace, trying not to feel sorry for himself. He knew Eleisha and Philip were both working to come to terms with the chain of events that had brought them here, too.
Wade let his mind roll back. When had it started?
Last March? When a vampire named Edward Claymore had committed suicide by jumping off his own front porch in broad daylight, bursting into flames?
Or when the police investigation had dropped Wade right into Eleisha's path, and he discovered someone just as telepathic as he was?
Or maybe it really began when he had quit his job in Portland to follow her here?
No, it began long before that, in Wales, in 1839 when a vampire named Julian Ashton had turned her undead and then cut her loose, sending her to America with no information and no real idea what she was, forcing her to figure things out on her own.
No it started even before that, in France, in 1825, when Eleisha's maker, Julian, had realized that unlike most vampires, he was incapable of developing psychic powers, and he fell into an obsession of fear and began killing his own kind. He'd spared any vampires who had not expressed telepathic abilities-and this included Eleisha and Philip.
But Wade had changed all that. He'd woken Eleisha's and Philip's latent abilities and, in doing so, turned them into targets.
And then Julian had come hunting them.
Somehow-and Wade still didn't know exactly how-on the night Julian found them, Eleisha had forced her thoughts inside Julian's mind and shown him something terrifying that caused him to freeze up after which Philip kicked him out a twelfth-story window. Eleisha firmly believed that she had permanently driven him away, and they were all safe from him.
Philip didn't seem so sure.
But four weeks had passed since that night, and Julian had not come after them, and now the three of them seemed to be existing in a state of limbo, waiting for something, but none of them knew what. Eleisha had suggested
that Wade find a new job here in Seattle. He agreed. She had suggested he might feel better if he found an apartment of his own. He partially agreed. She had suggested that they might clear out all of Maggie's things, buy new furniture, and make the house their own. He agreed.
But he'd taken no action to accomplish any of these things.
How long could he continue like this?
Voices coming from outside caught his attention. The front door swung inward as Eleisha walked inside with Philip on her heels.
"Wade, tomorrow will you see the new Rambo movie with me?" Philip asked before the door closed behind him. "Eleisha won't go."
Wade blinked. "There's a new Rambo movie? Who's playing Rambo?"
"Stallone."
"Stallone? That can't be right. The guy's sixty years old."
Philip turned to Eleisha. "Tell him I'm right. You saw the preview with me last week."
"What?" Eleisha was pulling off her jacket with a distracted expression, as if she hadn't been listening. "Oh, yes, Philip's right."
Looking at her face, Wade forgot all about Rambo. He could tell when something was bothering her.
The three of them had been together such a short time, but they knew each better than most people who'd coexisted for a lifetime. They had looked into each other's minds and down the paths of time and personal experiences, seen fears and loves and private corners.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Glancing back at him, she dropped her jacket on a chair, opened her mouth halfway, and then closed it again. For once, Philip seemed to forget about his own desire for entertainment, and he walked closer to her, his head towering over hers.
"Eleisha?" he asked.
Just when Wade thought he'd grown accustomed to their physical appearance, he'd look at them together like this and feel surprised all over again. Their pale, softly glowing skin made them both seem timeless, yet there the resemblance stopped. Eleisha was probably not what a typical American would consider beautiful. But she was alarmingly pretty. Born in a different era, she was small and slender with a mass of wispy, wheat gold hair that reached the top of her jeans. Sometimes, just the sight of her left Wade speechless.
Philip, on the other hand, looked like someone on the cover of GQ posing for Calvin Klein's fall fashion line, and without meaning to, he tended to make Wade feel diminished. They were both tall, but where Philip's tight muscles showed through his shirt, Wade's build leaned toward thin. Wade's white-blond hair stuck out in different directions, as he wore it fairly short, but he often forgot to see a stylist for months.
His feelings about Philip were conflicted. He didn't always exactly like Philip, but they were deeply connected by circumstance, and they knew each other far too well.
Eleisha glanced up over at Wade, almost as if she was nervous. "I need to show you both something, and I don't know what you'll say."
She walked halfway over to the staircase, lifted the top of one of the steps, and took out an ivory envelope. Wade had no idea that step lifted up to create a hiding space. When had Eleisha discovered that? What had she hidden there?