Daisy After Life (Book 1): Perdition

by Demers, Raven J.

  They rushed her attackers far from the cottage in a blur, leaving Jared alone with her. He turned and grinned. "All right, then Mrs. Shaw?"

  "Yes, thank you." She gestured toward the cottage. "The sun will rise soon. Will you be staying here?"

  He shook his head and said, "I can outrun it." The pride lay unmistakable in his voice.

  "Of that, I have no doubt," said Daisy. Jared looked ready to leave, but she added, "Where's Nathaniel, by chance?"

  Jared stopped and gave her a meaningful look. "You'll see him again tomorrow night."

  Daisy dropped her voice into the commanding, maternal tone she used with deceptive children. "That doesn't tell me where he is, Jared."

  Jared weighed his words, "Valerie needed to speak with him."

  "For two nights?" she asked, unimpressed with his answer.

  Jared laughed. "No, for one. He needed the second night to recover." He looked ready to leave, but a question weighed on her mind.

  "Jared?" she asked. "Why must it be human blood?"

  "Why do we need it over the alternatives? If a human needed a blood transfusion, they would require a blood type match. We were once human, and while our bodies can sustain themselves a short time on alternative blood types, they lack what we need to stay alive, and to stay sane."

  Daisy sighed.

  "Hey, at least we don’t need to each feed on a specific blood type, right?"

  He pressed two fingers to his forehead and saluted her. "See you, Miss Daisy Margaret."

  She stood alone in front of the cottage.

  She remained there until the sun rose over the horizon before entering the house. The first rays of light hit her hands as she shut the door, and for a second or two, the warmth of the sun spread in glorious, golden waves through her.

  Reunion

  Another day spent in solitude, Daisy explored the available books to read. The shelf dedicated entirely to books about vampires amused her. The rest of the small library contained an eclectic mix, boasting numerous textbooks and nonfiction, most of which taught practical skills a vampire might need: survivalism, worst case scenarios, sewing, creating a side business, skateboarding, archery, building birdhouses, and even a book on starting a cult. She supposed given an eternity of days to putter around a house would make anyone want to find novel ways to occupy their time.

  At first she played with paper while reading the origami book, but as she discovered, being a vampire made many of these pastimes too easy. Before noon, she had mastered most of the book of folds, and sat amidst a pile of paper animals. Her fingers moved so swiftly that what might take a human several minutes, took her seconds. Swift repetition created experts in a matter of hours.

  Daisy sighed, and used her little paper friends to decorate the attic. She strung her cranes and other birds from the rafters, and lined the rest along the piano. Opening the cover to caress the keys again, she decided to work on a different skill, and one she could never quite get the hang of so well as a human. Now she rapidly learned the songs she played, as her brain fired to make new neural connections. Though she learned to read music in her childhood, and continued playing off and on through her mortal life, she’d never found the craft of reshaping music accessible. When she played now, creating variations on themes and harmonies proved as simple as tying shoes.

  Nathaniel came after dusk, and since she hadn’t bothered locking the door, he entered and stood behind her as she played.

  "Hello, Nathaniel," she said without turning around.

  "We need to get something straight between us."

  Her fingers continued to move up and down the keys, producing a rich, melancholy sound, no longer resembling the original notes on the pages before her. "I have always been exceedingly clear with you."

  He snarled. "Don't be evasive. Your stunt the other night cost me, and we're going to talk about the rules."

  "Valerie's rules?" Her hands stopped on the keys, but the echo of the music continued to ring through the attic.

  His hand gripped her shoulder as he said, "No, mine."

  She placed her fingers on his as though to gentle him, but within a breath, she grasped them, pushed them off her shoulder, and whirled around to a standing position to face him. Lacerations marred his face and crisscrossed down his neck to below his collar where she could no longer see them. Dark circles ran under his eyes and he looked gaunt and malnourished.

  Daisy gasped. "Nathaniel, what happened?"

  "This," he said and gestured to his own face, "is what happens when you disobey the Queen." He stepped forward, but Daisy didn’t move. "This," he said, nearly spitting venom into her face, "is what happens when your recalcitrant child doesn't listen and obey." He pressed his chest into hers. "And this, Daisy Margaret, is what happens with you spurn me."

  His mouth was on her, fierce and rough. The tips of his teeth grazed her lip and pierced it. She stood still, her lips firm and unyielding. Mutilated hands came up to her face, fingers reaching into her hair pulling her head to his, crushing her, yet she didn’t move. He threw himself like waves against a cliffside, and she refused to crumble. A rolling growl built up from his throat. He pulled back from his attempts to kiss her and saw her staring straight forward.

  "Daisy, darlin', you're going to have to learn who your master is around here." With one hand he continued to hold her hair, with a free hand, he reached down, about to lift up the hem of her dress.

  She moved.

  Nathaniel landed on the ground, a furious red mark across his face quickly receding. Glass shards pierced the hand she’d broken—the hand that had reached for her dress. It bent at an unnatural position. He pulled himself up and looked around, pulling the glass out of his skin and coat.

  The window through which she’d thrown him lay shattered, shards spilling across the grass at the front of the house. The curtains hung askew and torn from their rod. Daisy stood inside the living room, not the attic, staring back at him, her eyes wild with fury.

  With a sickening crunch, he forced his hand back into place. He walked forward, and stepped through the broken window. Daisy watched his movements, but he kept his distance as he walked into the house, his eyes scanning her, studying her the way some men gazed with horror at a loaded shotgun pointed at their heads. "How did you get me all the way—?"

  "We need to discuss the rules, Nathaniel. Not Valerie's. Not yours. Mine," she said, the calm of her voice belying the torrent in her eyes. "How did I grab your wrist?"

  He stood dumb, and waited.

  "How did I break it and throw you down the attic ladder and out the living room window all before you had time to think?" Daisy sniffed, a feral look overtaking her features. "Because you're weak, Nathaniel. I can smell it. She drained you, didn't she? The hollow cheeks and dark circles give you away."

  She stepped forward, and he took two steps back, bumping into the credenza. "These are the rules: you do not touch me, Nathaniel. Not unless I give you permission, and you do not have my permission. You will never have my permission."

  She moved again, and he slid into the corner.

  "You will not flaunt your hunting habits before me, unless you wish me to rip you apart. I am more than willing at this present moment to finish what Valerie started and to drain you and burn the husk. Whatever you did to that girl should be only out of necessity for what you are; hunting is not a sport."

  Nathaniel found his back to a wall, his eyes wide and pupils dancing.

  "Finally, as soon as this series of lessons with you is over, I don't ever want to see your sorry face again." Her hand pressed into his chest, crushing him against the wall. "Do we have an understanding?"

  Nathaniel spoke so quietly she almost didn't hear him. "I didn't kill her," he said.

  Daisy took a step back from him. "What?"

  He slid down the wall fully, placing his hands on his knees. "I didn't kill the girl." A pained laugh shook his chest, and a few spare tears shot down his cheeks.

  Daisy shook her h
ead, her mouth going slack. "But you said—"

  "I said her trail went dead. I let you make your own conclusions." His eyes lifted to meet hers. "I wanted to push your buttons."

  She blinked, sending loose a few curls from the knot of hair at the back of her neck. "Oh you fool! You wretched ninny! You and your pranks! I suppose you got what you deserved." Daisy walked into the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. By the time she had the glass in her hand, she remembered she didn’t need it.

  Nathaniel followed her in, a weary grin on his face. He put his hand on the refrigerator's handle, as he asked, "Got any bags left?"

  "No," she said, but wondered if Jared might have snuck a few in. As Nathaniel pulled it open anyway, it only confirmed what she knew. Empty. "You need blood, don't you? If you're to heal all those cuts?"

  He shrugged. "I don't go in for rat, myself. I wouldn't need it if she hadn't kept draining me. It took forever, Daisy," he said, pointedly making eye contact.

  She looked away from him, feeling a twinge of guilt. "They kept having to cut me to keep the blood flowing out of me, and Valerie had them catch it in an oil pan, like they were changing oil in a car."

  She put the glass away and moved passed him and out of the kitchen. He pursued her, close behind, but stayed out of range so he wouldn’t accidentally touch her.

  "After a while, it got easier. I stopped healing so damned fast, and they let me hang all night and day. I watched it drip and then run out of me. Have you seen our blood?"

  Daisy said nothing, but had seen it. The blood that came out of Guilherme the night before was almost black, and moved slowly, like sludge or molasses. Molasses sweetened with frangipani. It triggered her hunger in a way the blood of humans and deer had not, an icy burn, a need to feel the ice slide down her throat. Dear Lord, what is this monster I am becoming?

  She swiveled around to face Nathaniel, catching him up short.

  "Ah yes, you've seen it. I know that shiver. But hey, what can I say? Valerie was kind. At least she didn't let them drink it."

  Before she could stop herself, Daisy asked, "What did she do with it?"

  Nathaniel chuckled. "Well, first she dipped her finger in it and had a taste. Teased me for a while about it. Then she asked Jared to set it on fire after he took me down off the meat hooks."

  Daisy moved toward the attic ladder. Nathaniel was less determined to follow her. "Daisy," he said. "You still have a lesson tonight."

  "I don't think you're fit for teaching," she said.

  Nathaniel said, "No, you're probably right. Would you get me what I need, Daize?"

  She turned slowly to look at him. "I'm not willing to kill someone for you, or bring you a victim to kill."

  He shook his head. "Would you feel better if you could read their minds? Know they were criminals?"

  "I'd still be no better than they are; I'm not willing to kill." She took the steps two at a time.

  Nathaniel called up after her. "Just get me some medical bags, then. You don't have to hurt anyone."

  Her face appeared over the opening to the attic. "Alright, Nathaniel, you tell me where to get the blood, and I'll do it." His face lit up. "On one condition." His face fell.

  "Who killed the girl in the park?"

  Nathaniel sucked his teeth and studied the floor. "Come on, Daize, do we have to do this?"

  "Yes," she said.

  "No one, ok? No one killed her. She ain’t dead." He sighed in exasperation. "Look, I picked a girl from the club I’d seen before, and I stole her sock."

  Daisy narrowed her eyes. "Try again. Her trail went cold."

  "Yeah," he said and laughed. "It did. She went skinny dipping in that pond when she thought no one was looking. I took her sock from the pile she left by the water's edge. That's it. She's still alive; lives a couple of blocks from the park."

  Daisy came down the stairs hesitantly. "If you're lying, Nathaniel, so help me—"

  He held up his hand, thumb and pinky together. "Scout's honor."

  She sniffed. "You were never a Scout." He watched her deliberate. "Fine, tell me what I need to do."

  "Finally! I've been waiting for you to say that for sixty years."

  Daisy scowled. "Oh, shut up, Nathaniel," she said, but the words held little force.

  They made their way to a blood bank on Dunwoody Nathaniel knew well. It took him more effort to stay abreast of Daisy as they ran, so she slowed her pace. She asked, "Why don't the vampires in this city start their own blood bank? Surely, they're resourceful enough."

  "Oh, Valerie has one, but no one’s allowed to make withdrawals but a select few," Nathaniel said with a sour face.

  Daisy pondered this. "Jared, I assume, is one of those?"

  "No, but Jill is."

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Which one is Jill?"

  "Short-hair, pixie nose, always hovering."

  Daisy could easily picture the young woman who could calm Valerie with a simple touch. "Powerful?"

  "Yup. She’s soothing, known by the locals as the Balm of Gilead."

  This struck Daisy as a worrisome phrase. "Isn't the phrase, 'Is there no balm in Gilead?’ The question is meant to show there is no consolation."

  Nathaniel laughed at her. "You overthink things, Daize."

  As they rounded the alley behind the bank, Daisy listened for the people in the building gauging how stealthy she would need to be. When she agreed to this, she thought a lone janitor or a technician might be working late; she didn’t anticipate arriving and finding the bank still open. "What's going on? Shouldn't they be closed?"

  Nathaniel looked at the sky as though counting the stars. "Oh, damn! It's Thursday. They're open late Thursdays."

  Indeed, at least a dozen people could be heard inside chatting, mostly medical technicians and donors. The vampires watched from the shadows in the alley, a solitary light blazing over the back door that led down a ramp to a docking station.

  As Daisy started to protest against proceeding with the theft, a bloodmobile pulled into the alley, and the pair dashed behind a dumpster without anyone seeing them.

  There was enough space to turn the van around to the receiving area. The driver and passenger jumped out of the cab of the bloodmobile. The former headed up a ramp to knock on the back door to the blood bank, while the passenger unlocked the back door to retrieve the contents of the fridge. Nathaniel and Daisy both looked at one another. Daisy gave a silent nod of approval.

  A tech from inside the building opened the door, and said, "You're late tonight!"

  "Yeah, Jerri, we got a squeamish one at the last minute. Took forever to find a vein," said the driver. "Anyway, I've got some papers for you to sign."

  Jerri said, "Come on in."

  The driver turned around and shouted, "I'll be back out in a minute, Matt. Can you get started without me?"

  Matt said, "Sure, no problem," sounding less than pleased about going it alone.

  Nathaniel walked around to the side of the van they couldn’t see, and started rapping on the door. "Hey," he said.

  The tech inside froze for a moment, but pretended to ignore the sound. Nathaniel pounded his fist against the metal, too weak to put a dent in it, but barely. "I said, 'Hey,' mister."

  Matt poked his head out of the van and looked around the side. "Don't hit the van, got me?"

  Daisy snuck in through the open door and found a refrigerator stocked with filled plastic bags. She pulled out her handmade backpack from inside her jacket, and took enough to last them both for days—longer if Nathaniel were not so weak.

  How pathetic, Daisy Margaret, she thought to herself. Stealing to survive, stealing from the infirm. She provided herself with some consolation: at least she wasn't killing anyone for it.

  Nathaniel continued talking to the young man, now clearly irate. "No!" he shouted. "For the third time, I don't have any spare change or cigarettes, you filthy bum. Get out of here, go find your next fix somewhere else."

  "Aw, you
don't have to be such a jerk, I was only asking." Nathaniel saw Daisy fly past them in a blur the tech didn't register.

  Matt muttered an insult at Nathaniel, and before Matt's heart finished its current beat, he'd been knocked to the ground, a resounding crunch to his jaw. Nathaniel laughed and took off around the corner to where Daisy waited. He walked up to her, grinning from ear to ear. "What?" he said.

  "Let's go," she said. "You don't even deserve these," she said, shaking the bag in her hand.

  "Did you hear what that punk kid called me?"

  "Yes," Daisy said, "and I heard his jaw break when you punched him. You went too far."

  "He doesn't belong in the medical field if he can't deal with diverse people," he said, turning his nose up in a righteous manner.

  Daisy chuckled. "Diverse? Like vampires?"

  "He thought I was a heroin addict. You can't have prejudices like that when you become a nurse, or ... whatever he is." Nathaniel nodded to the bag. "Give me one of those, will you? I can't take running this slow."

  They rounded a corner behind a fitness center with a tall wall bathed in darkness. He punctured the bag with his teeth and sucked out the blood in seconds. Daisy could see the scars along his face and neck fading, replaced with healthier skin.

  "One more," he said, wiping his mouth and groaning with pleasure.

  They both heard the vibration of his cellphone through his coat. He answered it in the middle of the first buzz before anyone heard, though Daisy doubted it could disturb the residents in the houses across the street. He said nothing, but exhaled sharply through his nose. For a moment there was nothing but the sound of breathing on the other end, and then a small voice asked tentatively, "A-Anthea?"

  Daisy wrenched the phone from Nathaniel's hand, at the same moment he loosened his grip to offer it to her. "Perdy?" she asked.

  "Anthea," the girl said, her voice raw from crying. "Aunt Espie says I can't stay here." The snuffling noises came between every word.

  Daisy's eyes scanned Nathaniel's face, and then she turned her whole body away, knowing he’d be able to hear no matter how she held the phone. "Shh, Perdy. It's all right. What do you mean? Esperanza seemed happy to have you when I spoke with her."