Looking up at his face… I believed he was protecting me.

But no one asked for his help. No one asked him to hang around and clean up my mess. And it must have hurt to see Dominick like that. Nevertheless, he'd done it, and now he was standing up to Philip-not an easy feat.

"If you've been at the house burying Dominick all this time," I asked, "how did you find us just now?"

He hesitated. "How much does golden boy know?"

That struck me as half humorous, half dangerous. "His name is Philip, and I wish he knew you a lot better than he does."

Philip's eyes softened, some of the cruelty fading. "This won't work, little one. He has to die. You know that."

"No, he doesn't. Just sit down on the couch, both of you." I was desperate. "Wade, let him read your past, what Dom used to be like. Show him how, like you showed me."

Both of them jumped slightly, stunned speechless. I looked to Wade. "Burying Dominick means nothing. No one asked you to do that. But do this for me. Please, do this thing for me."

Without a word, he walked to the couch. I almost sagged in relief.

But instead, I whirled back around. "Philip, it's easy. You don't have to touch him. Just sit down and look inside his head."

"No," he said harshly. "You kill him, or I will."

"Just look at his thoughts!"

"Why?"

"Because if you do, I won't care what happens next. If you do this for me, I'll let you tear his throat out and not blame or hate you."

He tensed, staring down at me uncertainly. I'd just offered him the one thing he wanted.

This was a bet, a gambit on my part. If some higher power had let me choose any two companions in the world, I must admit my choices would have been Edward and Maggie. But they were gone. Mourning or missing them didn't help. Somehow I thought if Philip became psychically involved with Wade-and vice versa-the two of them might be okay together, not friends exactly, but not enemies.

Besides, Philip needed a glimpse of humanity. He had long since stopped thinking of mortals as sentient beings, viewing them as little more than toys in his personal playground.

"You ask too much," he said quietly, "more than you know."

"I won't enter your thoughts," Wade said. "And if your ability works like Eleisha's, you'll be able to block me after the first second or two anyway."

"Don't speak to me until asked." Philip wouldn't even look at him. "You should have been dead five minutes ago."

This was getting us nowhere. What was Philip so afraid of? I'd known him only three days-an intense three days. He didn't strike me as the type to back away from something new. Last night I'd actually used my psychic ability as a weapon against Dominick. Until experimenting with Wade, a mental attack would never have occurred to me. This new gift could be useful. But for some reason, instinctive perhaps, I hadn't told Philip the extent of my growing telepathy, or even mentioned it to him. Why?

"Do this one thing for me," I repeated. "Please."

"Afterward, when I kill him, you won't hate me? Once we see Julian, you'll forget all this and come to France?"

"Yes."

How did Wade feel, hearing his life discussed as a bargaining chip? His face was unreadable.

Philip walked slowly to the couch and sat down, looking disgusted and uncomfortable. "What do I do?"

"Look at me," Wade answered. "Imagine your eyes are fingers pushing inside my head, searching for pictures."

They stopped speaking. With rapt interest, I watched Philip's face. Could he do it?

Expecting both their expressions to go blank, I was stunned when Wade began crying. Philip, of course, had no tear ducts, but a sobbing choke escaped his mouth. Is this what Wade and I had done while lost down histories past? Did we feel each experience in our forgotten bodies?

Their faces both shifted into faint smiles. What were they seeing now? Perhaps I was wrong to observe this private exchange. Wade had unselfishly given up the core of his most hidden self simply because I asked him to.

Telling myself every few moments to get up and leave them alone, I stood there for over an hour, gauging every flicker, every twitch, wondering what memory had passed by.

A Japanese vase overflowing with freshly cut red and yellow flowers sat on the table behind them. Wade's near-white hair contrasted sharply against the bright tones, and Philip's blended perfectly. Bizarre pair, these two men. One ruled by unrealistic concepts of right and wrong, the other by incomprehensible physical drives. Maggie would have laughed at them.

Without warning, Wade grabbed Philip's wrist and looked away.

"No more. It hurts."

Instead of jerking his hand back, Philip sat with chattering teeth. I went over and crouched by his leg. "Do you see now? You won't hurt him?"

"Such an existence," he whispered. "Spending every day in the same building. Typing on computers… walking in the sunlight. I'd forgotten what the sun looks like."

"That felt different than melding with Eleisha," Wade said, still trying to get his breath. "I kept showing you darker emotions, uglier scenes."

Philip carefully drew his wrist away. "A sad life. Alone, like us." He gazed down at me. "But we have to run now. No more truce with Julian."

I blinked, confused. "You said he'd let me go."

"Not now," Philip answered. "If he finds us now, we are all lost… and your pet."

Too much. Too fast. I thought to solve Philip's fear, his hatred. How could things be worse? "What are you saying?"

"A nightmare from the past, something long over. When I sought you out, wondered about the company of my own kind again, I had doubts. Would my gift affect you? Would you even want me? Could I hunt with someone else? But not this, never this."

"Never what?"

He looked so sad, defeated. I hated it. Philip feared no one, not even Dominick. Why was he doing this?

"Can you see inside of me?" he said. "Read my thoughts?"

"I don't know. Can't you just tell me what's wrong?"

He turned to Wade, almost politely. "I have to show Eleisha something private. Will you go into the bedroom for a while?"

Wade opened his mouth as if to argue and then closed it. Keeping secrets from him seemed pointless. He knew so much already. But his manner with Philip had changed drastically since an hour ago. Finally, he nodded. "Call out when you're finished."

"Yes."

I remember noticing that Wade was wearing a thick canvas jacket-probably something he'd bought on his shopping excursion- and he hadn't taken it off. Since the room was warm, I thought this odd, but events were moving so quickly, I never bothered asking about it.

The bedroom door clicked shut behind him.

Philip pulled me up to the couch, and I turned all my attention to him. Not waiting for words, I slipped inside his eyes, finding access almost too easy.