Daisy had to shut her eyes, and she could only guess what Esperanza thought of this strange behavior. "Mrs. Moreno, I am sorry to come here at this hour, but I met your niece a few nights ago, having been left neglected and wandering. She told me of—well, traumatic events that went unaccounted for in her previous home. She was hoping, as am I, you will be willing to take care of her."
Esperanza said nothing at first, and Daisy had to open her eyes to understand the woman’s silence.
I know it is a lot to take in, but she's family. Please don't turn her away.
Esperanza's eyes were on the sleeping child, and they filled with tears. "Are you saying she's been abused?"
Daisy took in a long, sharp breath only to feel the pull of blood assail her again. She closed her eyes and held her balled fists tight at her sides. "What I know is what she's told me. I'm not sure if she's been abused ... yet, but she made it quite clear that there were problems in that house that were very rapidly coming to a head." Daisy risked opening her eyes again.
Esperanza nodded slowly, and Daisy noticed that this woman and the child had the same thick, richly dark hair, only Mrs. Moreno's showed silver streaks amidst the black. "Si. Of course. She's my niece. There will be questions, but if Arabella’s home is as bad for her, it will come to light quickly."
Daisy relaxed a little and smiled at the woman. "Thank you."
Esperanza held out her hand as if to shake Daisy's and said, "No, thank you for bringing her here. She is all I have left of my sister."
Daisy looked at the proffered hand and shook her head. "May I say goodbye to her? She's been such a good friend to me."
Esperanza turned Perdita, cradling her so she faced slightly outward. Daisy went to the child, and knelt down beside her, brushing Perdita's hair back. The girl sucked in a deep breath and her eyes fluttered open. "Anthea?" She looked at Daisy and then around her. She saw the walls and the couch, and her aunt, but looked back at Daisy's face. "You're leaving?"
Daisy nodded once, and ran her fingers over the girl's forehead once more. "I have to go now, but you'll be safe here with your aunt."
Small hands reached out and clung to Daisy's shirt. "Don't go!" Tears fell freely from her brown eyes. "You can't go!"
"I'm sorry, Perdy, but I must." She carefully unhooked each finger from her blouse, and set the child's arms down to her chest. "Can’t she stay, Tia Espie? Can't you make her stay?"
Daisy shushed the child, smoothing the crease between her brows with her thumb. "Don’t worry, little one. You are safe now. This is your home."
"Can't you come to visit me?" Desperation choked the tiny voice, and her nose ran.
Daisy glanced up at Nathaniel, and at Esperanza. She trembled with sadness, feeling too dry to cry, and with the aching desire to rip out the aunt's throat and drain her dry. The hunger extended further—to Esperanza's children sleeping in a nearby room, and even to Perdita, though she pushed at those desires harder. "That's not a good idea, Perdy."
This time Daisy stood, and took a few steps back. Perdita howled in her crying and shouted nonsensical things beneath the tears and snot drowning out her voice.
Daisy hung her head and said, "Goodbye, Perdy," then moved determinedly toward the front door. Nathaniel was a step behind her, sensing how hard it was for her to hold on.
Esperanza said, "You can visit."
Daisy turned her head, her eyes alight with a ferocious hunger. "No. It’s better I stay away." Esperanza took a step backward, her mouth open and slack. Daisy was out of the house in a flash, and saw Nathaniel make some gesture at the woman inside, who snapped her mouth shut and turned to comfort the bawling child.
On the sidewalk, Daisy wheeled on him. "What did you do?"
Nathaniel looked chagrin. "I gave her my cell number. You know, in case there's trouble."
Daisy wanted to take a swipe at him. Those last moments in there were too hard, the crying and the close proximity of the warm, inviting smell of the aunt who was meant to protect Perdy. "I could have killed her, Nathaniel. I could have killed them all, and you think she should know how to contact me?"
"Technically, she'll be calling me, not you."
Daisy turned her back on him, and he reached out to hold her steady. "The problem is you're not eating proper. Rats and birds can't sustain you, and you're still weak." He walked around to face her. Daisy's face remained hard and hungry.
"A few hours ago, you were telling me how strong I am," she said, not willing to meet his eyes.
"It's a different kind of strength. Your body is still weak. It's recovering from, well, old age." He laughed a little, but stopped when he saw her head fall to the side. "You may not want to hear this, but you need blood. Human blood."
She scowled at him.
"I'm not going to kill a human. It's bad enough I'm ..." she gestured to herself, "this! I don't need to damn myself any further."
Nathaniel shook his head. "I never said you had to kill anyone. Ever hear of a blood bank?"
Daisy's face turned a shade of green, and she shook her head. "I can't."
"You're gonna have to if you want to be able to walk around humans without killing them. Come on."
She folded her arms, and refused to budge.
"Come ... on." He said again, and tried to move her.
"Yes," said a new voice, "come Miss Daisy Margaret. Vampire and savior of children." The lilting voice mocked her. Daisy whipped around, body tense and ready to fight, and saw the lithe figure of a young woman walking—almost gliding—up to them both.
"Nathaniel," she said and nodded to him. "Your presence is expected."
Daisy narrowed her eyes, still bent forward, ready to strike. "By whom?"
"Did you not hear? You have an audience with the Queen, and she is quite displeased you kept her waiting." A crooked smile lifted the bubble gum mouth of the woman.
The Queen of Atlanta
With a half-formed speech in mind, Daisy began, "Oh no, you are mistaken. Please inform the, uh, Queen ...," but she saw the slight jerk of Nathaniel's head that clearly said, Stop! Now! The spritely blonde no longer looked amused, and Daisy reconsidered. "Well then. I suppose we ought not to keep her waiting any longer."
The woman's voice hardened when she commanded Daisy to follow her. "You too, Nathaniel," she added, although he made no move to leave. Out of the corners of her eyes Daisy saw movement to either side of them, and picked up the individual scents of at least three other vampires—each of them alluring in their own way—in addition to the honeysuckle smell of their flaxen-haired leader.
One guard approached Nathaniel, and with a silent exchange and a cock of his head, they ran.
Daisy realized she worked harder to keep pace with them than she had with Nathaniel alone. Had he lagged behind for my sake? The guard flanking them said nothing, his eyes sliding lazily back and forth across the city scene. These were the others who Nathaniel feared more than whatever it was he saw in her.
As they ran, Nathaniel subvocalized to her at a level inaudible to humans, and Daisy imagined, not easily discerned from a distance by the other vampires running beside them. At least, she hoped it to be true. He said, "Keep your wits about you and your thoughts under guard."
Their feet barely touched the ground, and it felt more like flying than running after a while. Her senses, she noted, were keen enough she didn’t need to see where she was going to know when to dodge an obstacle or move into a shadow. She wondered at what point she’d learned this casual precision of a killer.
I must school my thoughts. Dear Lord, give me strength.
Daisy attempted the same quiet speech, "Are there mind readers among them, then?"
Nathaniel glanced once in the direction of the blonde leader, and back to Daisy. It was enough of a confirmation for her, but she had no idea how to guard her thoughts. Maybe if I blare the "Battle Hymn of the Republic," or practice the Fibonacci sequence? she asked herself, but couldn't fathom what it might take to keep her thoughts hi
dden. Nathaniel had also said not to laugh in the presence of this queen. What if I laugh in my thoughts?
They arrived in an upscale neighborhood, not at all where Daisy expected. The four—no five—members of the guard slowed, and Nathaniel and Daisy followed suit. Daisy took note of the fifth person, wondering why she failed to notice him before. Sniffing the air answered her question. He doesn't have a scent! The area looked familiar; the houses larger, many of them with multiple bedrooms and a pool or a large yard in the back. They clustered together in well-lit sections, each possessing a stone entrance bearing some self-important name, and signs along the road indicated where the horse riding trails could be found.
They jumped a high fence with ease, and the blonde led them up a winding hill through a small, gated housing community to the residence at the top of a hill overlooking the others. The lights embedded in the lawn cast a peach glow upon the Venetian-inspired house painted cream. Daisy noted with some measure of appreciation, the Palladian windows and tall Corinthian columns, as well as the domed cupola toward the back of the roof.
Instead of entering the house from the front, the others led Daisy and Nathaniel through a trellis tunnel thick with wisteria. As they exited the enclosed space, the scent of blooming magnolias induced a sense of heady drunkenness, their heavy perfume lingering in the humid, windless air of the backyard.
Cicadas played their song among giant hedgerows skirting the property, and fireflies danced in the air above a particularly damp patch of grass. The rapid whispering of a number of people beyond turned silent at the approach of Daisy, Nathaniel, and their guards. A pool in the back rippled tourmaline in the dozen lights bordering its edge. Several more shone from the floor below the water, giving a warm and inviting illumination to a group of individuals who didn’t require any light by which to see.
Among the disturbed revelers, three prominent figures stood across the pool from Daisy. A dark man in a black suit, a young woman with short hair and a simple jeans-and-t-shirt outfit, and between them, a third person with her back to them. Her auburn hair hung to bronzed shoulders, and she wore a diaphanous white jacket over a white silk tank top and matching capris. When she turned, she gazed lazily at the pair between the guards, and tapped a long fingernail against a brandy glass filled with a drink decidedly not brandy.
"So," she said, "you finally decide to grace us with your presence."
The tone and timbre of her voice sounded odd to Daisy’s ears. Practiced. Daisy studied the woman’s hands, then her throat. The truth struck her. She wasn't merely the Queen of Atlanta. The poor "joke" she had heard in Nathaniel’s tone made clear. He tried to warn me in his way. She bit back the laugh clawing its way up her throat, and bit down on the inside of her cheek. The bite stung her.
It wasn’t funny. Not even in the slightest. Daisy couldn’t care one way or another how someone identified, but in the terror and uncertainty of facing the clear fury on the Queen's face, she struggled to restrain her hysterics; a titter escaped her lips and she clamped them shut.
The tapping on the side of the glass grew louder, more impatient. "Well?"
Daisy had said nothing in response, and a tension ran through the group whose eyes all focused on her.
"Your Majesty," she said, and made a motion like the sideways curtsies she’d made as a little girl. An absurd motion for a woman of her years.
A noise erupted all around her—sandpaper sliding rhythmically across wood. The other vampires were laughing as if in whisper. All except the Queen, who sneered at her in disgust, and slammed her drink down on a glass table.
The short-haired woman moved to the Queen's side and touched two fingers lightly to her elbow. The Queen calmed and said, "Nathaniel, you disappoint me. Have you not explained anything to your child?" She lowered her voice, "Or taught her basic manners?"
Nathaniel stiffened, and said in the same whisper in which everyone else spoke, "I tried, Miss Valerie, but—"
"Tried? You tried?" Her voice came at a normal volume, but had the effect of shouting.
Nathaniel shrugged and gave a sidelong glance at Daisy. "She's reluctant to have me around."
Miss Valerie's voice dropped back into a quiet range, and she gave the same paper-rubbing laugh the others had before. "Ah, I see." She looked pointedly between the two of them before meeting Daisy’s eyes. "You don't care for his brusque charm, then?"
Daisy, unsure of how to answer, decided to follow Nathaniel's example and simplify. "We have a difference of opinion."
Another papery laugh. "Ooh, then tell me, Daisy Margaret, what is it you disagreed with?"
Daisy gave Nathaniel a sidelong glance. "It’s his opinion I should feed on children, because it plagues him that I dine on rats instead."
Everyone took up their hissing laughter, and Daisy held her ground, accustomed to being mocked for a difference of opinion. Court intrigues! I really am too old for all of this nonsense. Valerie interrupted Daisy's thoughts. "I believe you will find our meager offerings disagreeable as well," she said and motioned toward the back of the house. Daisy focused on the point and heard the small, unmistakable sound of muffled voices and struggling bodies just beyond an open cellar door.
Daisy kept her face stony, not willing to betray her disgust in front of those who would likely do her harm if she called them names and tried to walk away. Lord, give me strength, so I can face these demons and their ways. "You’re correct," she said to Valerie at a whisper, her jaw clenched.
The Queen clicked her tongue against her teeth, and picked up her glass. "Jared, be a dear and refill this glass. It has become too cold for my tastes." She emphasized the last word and shot Daisy a deliberately wicked look. Daisy barely moved her foot to turn and storm out before Nathaniel's hand shot out and gripped her arm. "Don't," he said using subvocals again.
"Tsk, tsk, Nathaniel. Are you certain your little friend can behave herself?" Valerie approached as fast as a cottonmouth. Her fingers reached out and touched Daisy's jaw, gripped it and forced it from one side to the next, appraising her face. "She should have healed by now."
Daisy wrenched herself out of the Queen's claws and took a step back. "I haven't been injured," she said.
Valerie growled. "You are healing from age," she spat as if to a foolish child. Her eyes turned to Nathaniel, and she said, "She has not fed on any human blood?" Nathaniel jerked his head once indicating, "No," and the Queen focused again on Daisy. "You should be much stronger by now, but your insistence on starving yourself leaves you weak."
She spoke Jared’s name, and in a moment he appeared at her side, towering over Daisy.
"Yes, Madame?" His face remained inscrutable, the look in his eyes aloof, but his body leaned toward Valerie, as a cold iron drawn to a magnet.
"Fetch two medical bags for our guest, and see to it she drinks it all." Valerie's hand flicked him away, and he invited Daisy to follow.
Valerie stopped Nathaniel with a look before he moved to pursue them. "You shall remain with me and tell me more of your disagreements with your friend."
Daisy glanced back. Nathaniel offered an apologetic shrug and returned with the Queen to her place beside the short-haired woman. Though their words were too faint and far away for her to hear, she saw the moving of their throats as they subvocalized to one another. All of the other vampires standing about watched either the pair by the pool or Daisy and her guide as they passed.
Jared led Daisy to a kitchen of marble, stone, and wood. The arching ceilings evenly dispersed the gentle lighting. The dusky stained cabinets and black marble island balanced the cream and bone colors of the floors, vent, and walls. Daisy wondered what use vampires had for a kitchen.
Jared opened the steel door of the refrigerator; inside were neatly piled bags of blood and plasma, each shelf labeled with blood type in scrolling calligraphy. Jared chose two bags seemingly at random and placed them on a counter. He opened a cabinet door and selected a large crystal goblet, tapped the first bag, and allowed the blood
to fill the glass. "Unfortunately," he said to her, and his voice rang clear and rich through the room, "it will be cold. Best to drink it quickly and be done with it."
"I don't mean to be rude," she said, "but I can't drink that."
He lifted his eyes to her lazily—she saw the pupils swirling amber—and asked, "Why?"
"Because it's—it's not right. That blood was intended to help heal someone in an emergency." Because it's human!
Jared tipped the bag up as the blood reached the top of the glass, and set it upright. Surprisingly, the bag did not slide back down, but stayed where he placed it. He shook his head at her and laughed, a full-bodied laugh that coiled up the walls and cascaded down again from the arched ceiling. "Madame, you are someone in need of healing. Please sit." He gestured to the bar beneath a lower arch off the far end of the kitchen.
Not willing to argue further, Daisy pulled a stool back from the bar, and took a seat as gracefully as she could manage, finding it easier to do now that decades of arthritis no longer plagued her. Jared brought the glass, not letting a drop spill from the crystal, although the blood touched the brim. Daisy spied the goblet with suspicion. She wanted to deny to Jared and to herself how delightful it smelled as he placed it before her.
The hunger fought her will, and she decided it would be better to drink it than to harm to innocent people. With a mixture of desire and repulsion, she lifted the glass slowly to her lips. When the first drops of liquid spilled across her tongue, she couldn’t stop herself. The need for it consumed her. She tipped the glass upright into her awaiting maw. It slid down her throat and warmed her, quenching her thirst in a way the blood of birds and rodents never had. The bouquet of the blood lingered on her tongue and elicited a shiver up her spine as it suffused her being.
Jared watched her with his shifting, golden eyes, and asked, "More?"
Daisy assented, ashamed of her need for it, the violent craving that threatened to break her control. She imagined racing back to the bags, rending them open and guzzling several pints down. Somewhere she knew amidst the animalistic urges, doing so would breach etiquette. He refilled the glass. Though she slowed to sips, but held the stem of the glass with a tight grip.
Daisy After Life (Book 1): Perdition Page 6
