After turning out the lights downstairs, she went up to her bedroom. She undressed, brushed her teeth, combed out her hair, then crawled into bed, only to lie staring up at the ceiling, while a little voice inside her head kept repeating, "He's gone. He's gone. He's gone..."
She told herself it didn't matter. He was a vampire, after all. Human, but not human. Real, but not real. Alive, but not alive.
"Why would you want him anyway?" queried her conscience. "What kind of life could the two of you have? Even though he saved Alex's life, your parents will never really accept him. He can't give you children. You can't grow old together. You're so different. You'll never be equal, you'll never truly understand him. It's like you're Lois Lane and he's Clark Kent. His supernatural powers will always overshadow your humanity."
All true, Daisy admitted. And you haven't even mentioned the worst part. I'll grow old and wrinkled and one day, I'll die. And he won't.
"I didn't want to bring up the obvious," her conscience said.
A single tear leaked out of Daisy's eye and slid down her cheek. When she reached up to wipe it away, she remembered how Erik had kissed her tear from her cheek before he left her.
That memory, that last tender act of affection, unlocked the floodgates and unleashed the tears she had been holding back.
Sobbing now, she turned onto her side and wept.
Erik paused in the act of calling his prey to him as his mind filled with images of Daisy. She was lying in bed, crying, because of him.
"What's wrong?" Rhys also paused, his eyes narrowed as he lifted his head to sniff the wind.
Erik shook his head. "Nothing."
"Uh-huh." Rhys turned his attention back to the women he and Erik had chosen as prey. Wrapping his arm around the waist of the taller woman, he lifted her hair away from her neck and sniffed her skin.
Erik blew out a sigh as he glanced at the second woman. She stood unmoving, her brow furrowed. Muttering an oath, Erik exerted his will and she walked toward him, her face wiped clean of expression.
Rhys smiled knowingly. "You'll feel better after you've eaten," he promised, and drawing the woman into his embrace, he bent his head to her throat.
Erik stared at the woman standing in front of him. She was plump and pretty, with curly blond hair and vivid green eyes. Probably a nice girl. But she wasn't Daisy. And although the woman's blood called to him, he found no pleasure in taking it. It was sustenance, nothing more. It was like craving champagne and settling for beer. It quenched his thirst, but that was all.
Pulling her roughly into his embrace, he drank quickly and released her from his thrall, then watched as she walked away, weaving slightly.
Rhys shook his head; then, with an aggrieved sigh, he sent his prey away.
Erik shoved his hands in his pants pockets. "What are you looking at me like that for?"
"I should have known you wouldn't take it all."
"Yeah? Well, I'm surprised you didn't."
"Yeah? Well...oh, forget it. Let's get out of here."
Erik fell into step beside Rhys. "Any idea why Mariah wanted your head?"
"Sure. She wanted to be Master of the City."
"You're kidding! She never could have pulled it off. She wasn't strong enough."
"Or smart enough." Rhys turned his gaze on Erik. "In case she gave you any ideas, just remember that I'm older and--"
"Wiser and stronger," Erik finished, grinning.
"And don't you forget it."
Erik grunted softly. "As if you'd let me."
Side by side, they wandered the city's dark streets. Erik didn't know where Costain's thoughts lay, but his own thoughts were lodged in a small white house with yellow trim where a precious flower shed tears over a soulless monster.
Chapter 37
It was midmorning before Daisy found the energy to get out of bed. As she stepped into the shower, memories of the past week splashed over her like drops of water.
The night after Mariah had been destroyed, Rhys had shown up with a diamond necklace and a bouquet of flowers for Daisy, and a bank draft for two hundred thousand dollars made out to Alex. The Master of the City had made no mention of Erik, and as much as she had wanted to, Daisy hadn't been able to bring herself to ask about him.
After Rhys left, Alex had insisted on taking Daisy out to dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town, even though Daisy hadn't felt much like celebrating. How could she, when her heart was breaking?
The next day, Alex had surprised her by taking her to the bank, where he deposited a hundred thousand dollars into her savings account.
"You can take a long vacation now," he had said with a wink. "I know that's what I'm going to do. Why don't you come with me?"
But Daisy wasn't in the mood for a vacation. She just wanted to be alone. As though sensing that, Alex decided to go back to Boston and spend some time with their parents.
Daisy had agreed that was probably a good idea. No doubt the folks were feeling pretty lonely, with just the two of them rattling around that big old house. Alex had left for home the next day.
Daisy sighed as she stepped out of the shower. Her house had been feeling pretty empty ever since Alex left.
After slipping into her favorite sweats, she tied her hair back into a ponytail, brushed her teeth, and then went downstairs.
She hadn't been functioning very well since their encounter with Mariah. Every time she thought she had shed her last tear over Erik, a new flood arrived. At night, her dreams were plagued by nightmares, fragmented dreams that quickly shifted from one hazy scene to another, dreams that made no sense, even while she was asleep.
Last night had been the worst of all. Her nightmares had been peopled with monsters--a ravening ghoul preying on baby dolls with painted faces had transformed into a huge black bat devouring a lamb. The bat had metamorphosed into a big black wolf stalking a rabbit. Lastly, the creature had turned into a red-eyed vampire draining a young girl with russet-colored hair and green eyes....
Daisy paused in the act of opening the refrigerator. How could she have been so blind? Of course the monsters in her nightmares represented Erik, her unconscious fear of what he was. She, of course, had been the prey in each scenario, helpless to save herself from the ravening beast.
She pulled a bottle of orange juice from the fridge and poured herself a glass, then dropped two slices of bread into the toaster.
"You're better off without him," she muttered. If only she could make herself believe it.
After buttering the toast, she put it on a plate, then sat down at the kitchen table, the toast forgotten. Maybe it was time to move back to Boston. As much as she loved living on her own in LA, she felt a sudden need to be with her family.