at her, trying to ignore her crude speech patterns. She was American after all, and allowances must be made. Mary had much greater freedom of movement than other ghosts, as she was not tied to any one person or place; unfortunately, however, Seamus could sense her presence if she got too close, and Julian didn’t want Eleisha to know when or if she was being watched.
However, Seamus’ doing sweeps of London in search of a vampire could be problematic in other ways. Julian would not be able to book a hotel inside the city.
“You want me to teleport to London and see what I can learn on my own?” she asked.
He put his fist to his mouth for a few seconds, thinking. If Eleisha had found an elder, every move he made would be vital. He had to intercept her quickly once she’d made contact and take matters into his own hands. History could never be allowed to repeat itself, so he had to get closer without getting too close.
“No . . . go to San Francisco. Tell Jasper to book a flight and meet me at the Great Fosters hotel on Stroude Road in Surrey. It’s only about nine miles from Heathrow Airport. He should have no trouble.”
She brightened. “Okay.”
He started to turn away and then stopped. “But tell him to calculate the time zones properly. London is eight hours ahead of California, and he has to land in the dark.”
Her transparent forehead wrinkled, and then she said, “Oh . . . yeah, I’ll make sure he’s careful.”
Julian hoped that between the two of them, Mary and Jasper possessed the ability to count to twenty-four. He unsaddled his horse, set it loose in the pasture, and walked back toward the manor.
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
Jasper Nesland tossed the keys of his BMW to a valet, paid his cover charge, and walked into the Cellar nightclub on Sutter Street. Loud music and purple-red lights washed over him before the door even closed. The place was packed, but he still noticed a girl in a short skirt by the wraparound bar flash a smile at him.
Sometimes, he couldn’t believe how much his life had changed. Six months ago that girl wouldn’t have bothered to spit on him. He walked through the crowd, straight to her.
Jasper wasn’t into playing games when he hunted. He didn’t like to dance; dancing was for losers who didn’t care if they made fools of themselves. And unlike Julian, he never drank red wine or tea, so hanging out at a table with someone seemed equally pointless.
He did, however, get satisfaction from the way flashy girls treated him now that he had money, now that he got his hair cut at L’ShearHair and bought his clothes at Uomo in Union Square.
Money changed everything.
He didn’t bother smiling back and just slid up to the bar beside her. She had layered brown hair with blond highlights, and although she wore too much eye makeup, it was artistically applied. But her eyes held no warmth, no light of their own. She was his favorite type.
“You want to dance?” she asked without asking his name.
She wasn’t shy.
“No. It’s too loud in here. Let’s go somewhere else.”
He turned on his gift ever so slightly, just a hint. When he’d first learned his gift, he’d hated it, been humiliated by the thought of it, and he would have taken anything else. He’d longed for a gift like Philip’s or Julian’s. But in the nights that followed, Jasper had come to understand the benefits of his gift: pity.
There was great power in pity once he learned how to use it.
Right now he was making this girl feel sorry that the music was too loud for him and that he wanted to leave. She grabbed her clutch purse off the bar.
“Sure,” she said.
He took her hand and led her toward the doors. He’d been inside the nightclub less than ten minutes.
A different valet went to get his car, and he stood on the curb, enjoying the night breeze blowing across his face.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Jasper.”
“I’m Melanie. You married?”
No girl he’d ever picked up
However, Seamus’ doing sweeps of London in search of a vampire could be problematic in other ways. Julian would not be able to book a hotel inside the city.
“You want me to teleport to London and see what I can learn on my own?” she asked.
He put his fist to his mouth for a few seconds, thinking. If Eleisha had found an elder, every move he made would be vital. He had to intercept her quickly once she’d made contact and take matters into his own hands. History could never be allowed to repeat itself, so he had to get closer without getting too close.
“No . . . go to San Francisco. Tell Jasper to book a flight and meet me at the Great Fosters hotel on Stroude Road in Surrey. It’s only about nine miles from Heathrow Airport. He should have no trouble.”
She brightened. “Okay.”
He started to turn away and then stopped. “But tell him to calculate the time zones properly. London is eight hours ahead of California, and he has to land in the dark.”
Her transparent forehead wrinkled, and then she said, “Oh . . . yeah, I’ll make sure he’s careful.”
Julian hoped that between the two of them, Mary and Jasper possessed the ability to count to twenty-four. He unsaddled his horse, set it loose in the pasture, and walked back toward the manor.
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
Jasper Nesland tossed the keys of his BMW to a valet, paid his cover charge, and walked into the Cellar nightclub on Sutter Street. Loud music and purple-red lights washed over him before the door even closed. The place was packed, but he still noticed a girl in a short skirt by the wraparound bar flash a smile at him.
Sometimes, he couldn’t believe how much his life had changed. Six months ago that girl wouldn’t have bothered to spit on him. He walked through the crowd, straight to her.
Jasper wasn’t into playing games when he hunted. He didn’t like to dance; dancing was for losers who didn’t care if they made fools of themselves. And unlike Julian, he never drank red wine or tea, so hanging out at a table with someone seemed equally pointless.
He did, however, get satisfaction from the way flashy girls treated him now that he had money, now that he got his hair cut at L’ShearHair and bought his clothes at Uomo in Union Square.
Money changed everything.
He didn’t bother smiling back and just slid up to the bar beside her. She had layered brown hair with blond highlights, and although she wore too much eye makeup, it was artistically applied. But her eyes held no warmth, no light of their own. She was his favorite type.
“You want to dance?” she asked without asking his name.
She wasn’t shy.
“No. It’s too loud in here. Let’s go somewhere else.”
He turned on his gift ever so slightly, just a hint. When he’d first learned his gift, he’d hated it, been humiliated by the thought of it, and he would have taken anything else. He’d longed for a gift like Philip’s or Julian’s. But in the nights that followed, Jasper had come to understand the benefits of his gift: pity.
There was great power in pity once he learned how to use it.
Right now he was making this girl feel sorry that the music was too loud for him and that he wanted to leave. She grabbed her clutch purse off the bar.
“Sure,” she said.
He took her hand and led her toward the doors. He’d been inside the nightclub less than ten minutes.
A different valet went to get his car, and he stood on the curb, enjoying the night breeze blowing across his face.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Jasper.”
“I’m Melanie. You married?”
No girl he’d ever picked up
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