With a shake of her head, Daisy put the crowbar aside and lifted the lid of the coffin. The vampire inside wore a flamboyant red dressing gown embroidered with silver dragons and green pagodas. His bright red hair made a sharp contrast to the white satin lining.
Daisy was reaching for her syringe when the vampire's eyelids flew open. His eyes, a pale brown, quickly turned a hellish red as his hand--his cold, dead hand--snaked out and grabbed her by the wrist. His grip was like iron.
For a taut moment, they stared at each other. Then, with a shriek, Daisy yanked a wooden stake from her jacket pocket, only then realizing that, with only one free hand, she couldn't hold the stake and use the mallet at the same time. In a panic, she raised the stake and drove it into the vampire's heart.
She had never staked a vampire before and she was surprised at how easily the wood pierced its flesh, and how quickly the body turned to ash, until all that remained was the gaudy dressing gown looking like a splash of fresh blood on the white satin, and her stake.
Daisy pressed a hand to her chest as her legs went out from under her and she slid down to the floor.
She had destroyed a vampire, killed something that had once been human. The idea filled her with horror and revulsion. She had taken a life.
Turning her head to the side, she was quietly sick to her stomach.
Erik drummed his fingers on the bar top. Either Daisy was late, or she wasn't coming. Was this her way of getting back at him for standing her up the other night? Or had something happened to her? Perhaps she was sick, or injured. Humans were such fragile creatures. The thought of her in pain distressed him more than it should have. He hardly knew the woman, although that was something he hoped to remedy as quickly as possible.
By ten thirty, he accepted the fact that she wasn't going to show. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt such keen disappointment.
He was about to leave the club when Rhys appeared at his side. Vampires were notorious for keeping their emotions well hidden, but one look at Rhys's face and Erik knew something was wrong.
"It's Saul." Costain's words, though quietly spoken, were edged with steel. "He's been destroyed."
After taking a long, hot bubble bath, Daisy put on her favorite pj's and her fluffy white robe and curled up in a corner of the sofa. She couldn't stop shaking, couldn't get the image of the vampire's hell-red eyes out of her head. She hadn't wanted to destroy him. All she had wanted was a little of his blood. Was that so bad? Strange that there had been no blood when she drove the stake into his heart. Maybe he wasn't really dead. Maybe he had just disappeared. Worked a little vampire voodoo and vanished. Wishful thinking, that.
She told herself it had been self-defense. She had seen her death in the vampire's hellish gaze and her instinct for self-preservation had kicked in. She'd had no choice. It had been him or her. And he was already dead.
Drawing her robe tighter around her, she went into the kitchen for a cup of hot tea heavily laced with honey, hoping it would calm her nerves.
It didn't. Maybe she should have added a shot of brandy, only she didn't keep anything stronger than root beer in the house.
Knowing she was never going to be able to sleep, she turned on the TV and skipped through the channels until she found an old comedy she hadn't seen in a while. But even Gene Wilder couldn't chase the memory of what she had done from her mind.
She glanced at the clock, hit Mute on the remote, then picked up the phone. She knew her dad was in bed at this time of the night, but she needed someone to talk to.
The sound of his sleepy hello made her feel a hundred percent better.
"Daisy?" His voice sharpened. "Is something wrong, honey?"
"I...I destroyed a vampire tonight."
"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice sharp with concern.
"Yes. Did you hear what I said?"
"I heard. What happened?"
She told him, as quickly and succinctly as she could, what she had done.
"It was you or him, honey, you did the right thing. I'm just glad you're okay. Do you need us to come out there?"
"No." Now that she was feeling a little better, she was ashamed of herself for calling home. But then, it had been calling home that made her feel better. As far back as she could remember, her father had been her bulwark. He had never made light of her fears, never chided her for being afraid. Instead, he had helped her face her fears, whether it was her dislike of spiders, or her irrational fear of the dark.
"Do you know which vamp you destroyed?"
"No. But I think he must have been an old one, otherwise he wouldn't have turned to ash. I don't know if it was the one you told me about or not."
"An older-looking vamp with gray hair?"
"No, this one had red hair. Bright red."
"Ah, Saul."
"Saul." Knowing his name made it worse somehow.
"Daisy?"
"I'm all right, Dad. Sorry I woke you."
"No problem, honey. Mom wants to say hi."
Daisy assured her mother she was fine, then spent the next ten minutes listening while Irene O'Donnell extolled Kevin O'Reilly's many virtues.
"Yes, Mom, I'm sure he's wonderful," Daisy said, hoping to cut the conversation short by agreeing with her mother. "He sounds like a cross between Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp. Yes, Mom, I love you, too. Good night."
Tossing the cell phone on the table, Daisy grabbed one of the sofa pillows and clutched it to her chest as images of a vampire moved across the silent TV screen. With an aggrieved sigh, she switched off the set, only then remembering that she had missed her first real date with Erik.
Chapter 6
Irene O'Donnell sat up, a worried expression on her face. "You should have told Daisy to come home," she said, folding her arms over her chest. "She would have listened to you."
"She's a big girl," Noah O'Donnell replied. "Sure and she'll be all right."
Irene shook her head. "Dealing in vampire blood is no fit occupation for a young woman. It's bad enough that our sons followed in your footsteps."
"Darlin'," Noah said patiently, "we've been through this before."
"And we're going through it again. Daisy is a beautiful girl. She should be out looking for a husband, not vampires."
"Oh, Lord, don't start with Kevin O'Reilly again," Noah said, groaning. "The man's a first-class idiot."
"He is not!" Irene said hotly. "He's a perfectly fine young man with a wonderful future."
"He's an insurance salesman."
"And what's wrong with that? It's a nice, safe line of work. Steady income. Fixed hours. Good retirement. "