Fangs For The Memories

CHAPTER 13

Jane watched as Rhys grabbed a coat from the rack by the door. The same black coat he'd worn the night he'd saved her.

Guilt ripped through her-she didn't seem to be able to save him. But she'd done everything she could think of-including offer to go to bed with him. She probably would have been offended by his refusal if she wasn't so worried about him.

He shrugged on the coat and then opened a door off the kitchen, which led into a long, almost industrial looking hallway. Metal ducts and bare wallboard ran the length of it. At the end was a freight elevator, nothing more than a huge cage with a gate that manually pulled down once the individuals were inside.

How strange that the hall would be so different than the luxurious apartment. But what was even stranger was that she had no idea that this part of the building existed. It really was as if she'd been dropped into a fantasy world, unaware of anything outside of the apartment.

Not for the first time, it hit her how weird this situation was-and it was about to get weirder yet again. And potentially damaging to Rhys.

She just couldn't think of anything to get him to stay- outside of finding Sebastian. He was probably in the nightclub, but she didn't think bringing Rhys into a club with flashing lights and loud music would be good for his mental state. And she couldn't figure out how to get away from him. He was determined to take this outing.

They reached the elevator, and he easily lifted the grate, holding it for her to enter. Once she was inside, he got in and pulled down the metal grid. Without a moment's hesitation, he pressed the black button marked G for ground level.

Jane stared at the button, then looked up at Rhys's profile. His face was composed, serene.

He wasn't confused by the elevator. He understood exactly how it worked.

She frowned. Now that she thought about it, he wasn't confused by anything modern. Lights, plumbing, the digital clock this morning. Why hadn't she noticed that before?

"Do most buildings in London have elevators?" she suddenly asked him.

He considered the question, then shrugged. "I would think the bigger ones do."

"And do all the buildings have lights?"

He nodded. "Of course. We are hardly primitives here." He smiled at her as though he thought she must be daft.

Why hadn't Sebastian noticed this? Had he? Had he asked the doctor why Rhys's amnesia appeared to be selective?

"Here we are." Rhys threw up the metal gate as if it was little more than a rolling blind.

They stepped out into another hall that matched the one upstairs.

He led her to a heavy steel door with several deadbolts. He unlocked them, then said loudly, "Mick, lock these behind us."

Jane glanced around until she realized there was a small room, back up the hallway.

The huge Mick stood in the doorway; the faint bluish light of electronics flickered behind him. He nodded in greeting as she stared at him.

She nodded back, then quickly glanced away.

Rhys stepped outside and waited for her, his hand extended to help her down the step. She accepted it and joined him outside. The heavy door slammed, and they were in a dim alley.

Back where they'd begun, she thought ironically.

Rhys must have caught her wry expression. "Not the best view to start your adventure with, but come this way."

Still holding her fingers, he tugged her toward the brighter lights of the street.

The faint rumble of bass sounded from inside the building, and Jane realized the noise must be coming from the nightclub.

They reached the street, and for the first time, Jane got to see the outside of the building where she'd been living.

It was a large, brick warehouse, although a gothic façade had been added to the front. Gargoyles and spires decorated the roof. The windows were stained glass, colorful patterns that glowed with each flash of the lights inside. Two more large gargoyles, crouched and poised to leap, guarded the front entrance. Over the double doors in scrawling blood red neon was the name Carfax Abbey.

She stopped, which forced Rhys to stop, too.

Again, she was struck by the surrealism of her situation, that she'd been living in a building that held three distinct worlds.

Two very odd looking characters, with ashen complexions, heavy eye makeup and black leather clothes, came up the sidewalk toward them. They gave Jane and Rhys curious looks before going up the few steps and into the club.

She hesitated a moment, then decided maybe she should risk taking Rhys inside the club to find Sebastian. She needed to tell him about Rhys's selective memory. "Maybe we should go in and look for Sebastian."

"Sebastian? Why would he be in there?" Rhys followed her gaze.

"This is his club."

Rhys snorted and cast a disgusted look at another crowd of goths as they approached the club. "No, no. These are hardly the sort of people our family would associate with."

Jane glanced at the group, giving them an apologetic smile. Once they passed, barely acknowledging either of them, she asked, "Where is Sebastian's club?"

"White's? It's not far. Although we cannot visit him there, it's a gentlemen's club."

Rhys didn't remember his own nightclub, the club he owned with Sebastian, but he did remember the name of a nineteenth century club. Why?

A yellow taxi honked loudly behind them, causing her to jump. Rhys didn't even react, except to look over his shoulder and frown at the driver.

Then he asked, "Should we take a public conveyance, or would you prefer to walk?"

She stared at him for a moment. "I think I'd like to walk." She needed the cold air to clear her head and help her make sense of all this.

They walked in silence, the sounds of the city making the quiet between them less noticeable. And it gave Jane a chance to watch him, to study his reaction to his surroundings. A police car with its sirens blaring. A youth with his ears, eyebrows and lips multiply pierced. Brightly lit signs. Skyscrapers. Traffic.

None of it gave him the slightest pause.

He definitely had selective memory loss, which made her think, again, that there was something in particular he was trying to forget. But was this type of amnesia more or less severe?

Part of her thought it might be less serious as he had fewer things to remember, because most of his memories were still there. But another argument could be made that the ailment was worse, because it wouldn't be as easy for something to jar his memory and force him to remember. He could just continue to adapt everything to his own belief system.

He needed a doctor. That much she knew for sure. And not the quack who had diagnosed him over the phone. He needed a specialist, and she was going to see that he got one.

"Look," Rhys said suddenly, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward a large plate-glass window. The storefront was filled with animatronic elves and reindeer. The holiday decorations were still up until the New Year.

The creatures worked diligently and repetitively to build the toys to fill Santa's sleigh.

"That is amazing," he said, his golden eyes filled with amazement and delight.

She couldn't help but smile. It was like watching a person see something for the first time. But he must have. Why would he forget something like that?

"Look at this one," he said, tugging her on to the next store before she could consider a reason.

Hand in hand, they walked down the crowded street, stopping to admire the beauty and whimsy of the holiday decorations. And soon, Jane decided to put Rhys's ailment out of her mind, just for tonight. He was obviously enjoying himself-and so was she.

"Elizabeth should be here," he said suddenly as they peered through a window at more automated creatures-this time old-fashioned dolls in Victorian clothes, waving candles and singing carols. "She used to be crazy about her dolls. She had dozens."

He glanced at Jane, an indulgent smile on his lips. "She was extremely spoiled being the only girl."

"I can imagine. It must be nice to have three older brothers."

"She is very easy to spoil," he said, casting one last look at the dolls before gently squeezing her fingers and starting down the sidewalk again. "She is very fragile, often sick. But she's always full of laughter, despite her health. She says that she can't be too serious-that it is my job to be the serious one."

Jane considered that description. The Rhys she'd met in the bar had seemed serious-more than serious, almost grim. But now, she couldn't correlate that person to the one holding her hand. This Rhys could be determined and serious, but he also smiled, a lot.

"Maybe she mixes up serious with responsible," she suggested.

Rhys's step faltered for a moment. "Why do you say that?"

She shrugged. "I can tell from the few things that you've told me that you are the reliable one. I've met Sebastian-he's happy-go-lucky, devil-may-care. You said that Christian is the wild one. And Elizabeth is the baby. That leaves you to care for everyone."

She fell silent after her explanation. Maybe she'd said too much. But somehow, she knew that was the truth-Rhys did care for others. His amnesia didn't affect that. He was a good person, a compassionate person. The kind of person who would save a stranger. She knew that firsthand.

After a few moments, she realized that he was still silent. His eyes had lost their excited glitter, and his mouth was set in a solemn line. He suddenly reminded her a lot of the man she'd met in the bar.

"I should have taken better care of them."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted them back. He didn't even understand why he said them. He had done his best to care for his siblings since their parents' deaths.

But he should have done more. If he'd been stronger, he could have stopped everything that happened. He should have…

"Well, from what you've told me, it sounds like you've done a wonderful job," Jane's sweet voice said, pulling him back from wherever he'd been.

He blinked. "I hope so."

"It can't be easy to be the oldest. All the burdens fall on you."

That was true. Sometimes far too much burden.

He gazed down at Jane at his side. She offered him a reassuring smile. He smiled back, glad that she was there. Maybe she'd help him. Help him cope with all the burdens.

They both focused on the sidewalk in front of them.

"Oh, look," Jane said suddenly, pointing to a cart selling hotdogs. "I have to get one."

He smiled, bewildered by why she would be so excited about a common barrow. But he nodded. "All right."

She let go of his hand and dashed up to the cart. The man with olive skin and a thick mustache didn't appear nearly as thrilled to wait on her as Jane was to order.

Rhys picked up his stride to join her.

"I'll have a hotdog with mustard and relish. Lots of mustard, please." She shot Rhys a proud sidelong glance as if she had done something amazing. "You always see people in movies-I mean, people always talk about ordering hotdogs from street vendors in New- er, London."

Rhys noticed that the barrow man raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised by that comment, too. Hotdogs? What an odd thing for Americans to find so fascinating. He didn't even know that England was famous for that particular product.

"What can I get you, buddy?" the man asked him as he prepared Jane's food.

Rhys breathed in deeply, and even though the smell of the hotdogs didn't appeal to him, he ordered one anyway-exactly the same as Jane's.

"My treat," Jane told him as she pulled money out of her coat pocket.

Rhys started to argue, but Jane smiled saucily and said, "Tough." She thrust a bill at the barrow man.

After the change had been given, and they both got their foil-wrapped meals, Jane led him over to a low concrete wall that ran the perimeter of a fountain.

They sat, their backs to the gushing water. Jane happily peeled open her food and bit into the yellow and green slathered concoction. Her eyes closed in bliss, and she moaned with complete satisfaction.

Rhys's body reacted immediately to the throaty sound. Hunger of his own ripped through him, his eyes fastened on her rapturous expression. Then his gaze strayed from her face to the glimpse of bare skin at the base of her throat.

Suddenly he wanted to taste her there. He had to taste her.

"Are you going to try it?"

He blinked, focusing back on her eyes. She lifted her hot-dog and then gestured to the one he still held.

It took him a few moments to calm his raging desire, but finally he managed a nod. "Yes."

After a few more moments, he followed her earlier actions and unwrapped the foil. He hesitated, inspecting the unappetizing tube of meat. Then he took a bite.

He immediately grimaced, chewing slowly, fighting back a gag. How could she enjoy this? The meat tasted old and rancid, like the sausage had been improperly smoked.

He forced himself to swallow, even though every muscle in his body was ordering him to spit out the vile creation.

"Good Lord," he groaned, after he could speak. "That is absolutely disgusting."

She chuckled, having to finish chewing before she could ask, "You've never had a hotdog before?"

He shook his head. "No. Nor will I ever have one again."

She laughed again. Suddenly her eyes widened, and she grabbed the remainder of the horrible meal from his hands. "Oh, no! You probably aren't supposed to have them. Sebastian said you are allergic to a lot of foods."

"Yes, I remember you saying that," he said, giving her a wry look. "And I have no idea where he gets that information. Surely, I'd remember if I had these allergies. In this case, I don't believe I'm allergic-I simply think I dislike hotdogs. Intensely."

She studied him for a minute. Then relief softened her features. But the look was quickly replaced by another look that was almost impish. "Then I just have to eat yours, too."

He shuddered, then laughed. "By all means."

They sat there quietly. Jane happily munching. Rhys still feeling hungry, but certainly not for hotdogs. He was hungry for something out of his reach. Something he couldn't quite define.

He watched Jane. Maybe he was mixing up hunger with desire, although he didn't have to try to figure out what he desired. Jane. Definitely Jane. Too bad, for the time being, she was out of reach, too.

Jane finished, wadded up the wrappers and sighed. "That was great. Sorry you didn't enjoy it."

"Well, I enjoyed watching you. I have to respect a lady with a hearty appetite."

She blushed. "I don't think that is a compliment."

"It certainly is," he assured her, then leaned in to steal a quick kiss, despite the fact that it was just a frustrating torture. A sweet taste of what he couldn't have. Not for a little longer anyway.

She responded immediately, as she always did.

When they parted, she shivered.

He hoped it was desire that caused the tremble, but he asked, "Are you getting cold?"

She shook her head, but her voice didn't sound quite as definite. "I'm fine."

"Maybe we should try to find a place to get out of the night air for a while."

Jane shook her head again. "No, I'm having a wonderful time walking around, taking in all the sights. Just as you said I would."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She stood. "Plus, I'll warm up once we start walking again."

Rhys relented. "Where to, then?"

"Let's go to Central Park," she suggested with a wide grin.

He smiled indulgently. "You mean Hyde Park."

Her smile slipped slightly at her mistake. "Right."

"Don't worry," he told her. "You'll remember where you are soon enough."

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.