Daisy After Life (Book 1): Perdition

by Demers, Raven J.

  A sound from a different room caught her attention. She headed back down the narrow hall, and found a bedroom door ajar. The room had been papered in yellow and orange pinstripes on a blue background. Two small beds sat at opposite ends. One bed was made, the other messy. The children’s room sweltered in the remnant heat of the summer day.

  From behind the door leapt a wiry figure, sweaty and growling. He swung a rifle at Daisy to shoo her back, and when she didn’t move, he pointed it straight at her face. "Get out!" he shrieked. "Get out!"

  Daisy recalled the name of Perdita's cousin. "Randy?" she asked. "I’m not here to hurt you."

  He spat again, his hands shaking on the trigger. "GET OOOOUUUUT!" His matted red hair stood in wet clumps and his face looked dirty with blood and dirt.

  "Who did this to your parents?" she asked, her voice quiet and gentle. This troubled child had tried to hurt Perdita, and sometimes succeeded, but she saw him as a product of his environment. He needed help, too, though first she would need to calm him.

  Randy hesitated. His green eyes, the same green as his mother’s, stared at her wide shaky. But he didn’t answer her.

  "I did it," said a voice from behind her.

  Daisy whirled around. "Nathaniel," she said flatly.

  The rifle fired, grazing her shoulder, and missing Nathaniel by an inch. The bullet embedded itself in the wall, and Nathaniel moved fast around her.

  Before she could see what he did, she heard a crunch, and nothing.

  Randy lay dead on the floor, his head at an odd angle.

  "Why?" she cried out at him. "Why did you do this?"

  Nathaniel gave a lopsided smile and stretched his arms. "Really, Daize. You don’t appreciate me enough, and all I do for you."

  "What the devil are you talking about? How is this for me?!" Daisy bent down and touched the boy’s face. "He was a child!"

  Nathaniel rolled his eyes and wiped his palm down his face, stepping over the child’s body and toward the kitchen. Daisy ran after him, and reached for his throat, as she’d done before.

  He expected her, and swatted her hand away, pushing her back. "Don’t try it, Daize. You’re getting too big for your britches. Ought to tan your hide for disrespecting me for so long."

  She fought against him as he grabbed her by the arms, and sat her in a kitchen chair. "Sit and listen," he said. "You’ve caused me no end of trouble. Why couldn’t you just feed on the girl? We’d have been done soon enough with your lessons, and you could go on your merry way."

  Daisy scowled at him, and narrowed her eyes. Then she felt a twinge of fear. Where had he been hiding when I came in? Did he see her in the car? she wondered, but didn’t wish to give the child away.

  "What have you done?" she asked.

  "After a brief visit to see Her Majesty, I reckoned I ought to nip this whole nonsense in the bud. You clearly like the little morsel, you always were sentimental, so I came here to ensure your precious Perdy couldn’t be nabbed by this lot here."

  "Why did you leave the boy alive? Killing his parents was bad enough, but to let him watch? To leave him to see them rot?"

  "Eh. Not really in the plans. To tell you the truth, I had so much fun with those two, I forgot all about the little tyke. Now, as for your little tyke out in that car ..."

  She rose from her seat. "You better not have—"

  He thumped her chest and sent her backwards, slamming hard into the plastic-covered cushion and metal frame. The wall caught the edge of the chair and tipped her forward again.

  "I didn’t lay a finger on her. Like I said, I know you’ve taken a liking to her, and I’ve decided you can keep her on one condition," he said.

  Daisy seethed with loathing, but managed to say, "What condition?" She knew it folly to indulge him, but she couldn’t predict what he might do if she didn’t play along.

  "Come out dancing with me, again, Daize. Like old times," he said.

  Confrontation

  "Have you gone mad, Nathaniel Ray Hitchens?" she asked.

  He lifted her up by her hands, wrapped an arm around her waist, and spun her around the grim living room. "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do," he sang, "I’m half-crazy all for the love of you."

  Daisy stopped them both abruptly, he took an extra step and stumbled before steadying. "She got to you, didn’t she?"

  His pale eyes gazed at her with a hint of fear behind them. "Whatever do you mean, Miss Daisy Margaret?"

  "I mean Camilla," she said.

  He wrenched himself from her, and took several steps back, until he hit the bar separating the living room from the kitchen. "Don’t say her name."

  "She’s dead," Daisy said. "Camilla’s dead, or as good as. Jared cut her head off."

  He lifted his eyes from studying the carpet. "You lie. She’s impossible to kill. Impossible to res—" He cut himself off.

  "I don’t lie, and you know it, Nathaniel. Come see for yourself, if you need proof. The head’s at Valerie’s."

  "Then Valerie’s dead, too," he said, but left the house and slid into the passenger seat of the coupe without further word.

  Daisy turned off the lights, picked up the phone, and called the police for help. Then she got into the driver’s seat, and left the dark house behind.

  Once she merged onto the freeway, she asked him, "What about Esperanza?"

  "What about her?" Nathaniel said, staring out the window. His long legs didn't fit beneath the dash, so his knees pressed into the glove box, and his head grazed the top of the car’s roof.

  Daisy sighed. "Like pulling teeth," she muttered. "What did you do to her?"

  "Nothing." He paused. "We talked. I gave her some money—more than what Valerie gave you—and told her to start again somewhere else."

  "Why would she listen to you?"

  Nathaniel chuckled. "I told her if the other woman, the one back there didn’t turn her in to immigration, then she’d still have to worry about me."

  "You threatened her." Daisy failed to be surprised. At least this was predictable of him. The atrocities, the gleeful murders at the Kee house, were not him. She had to believe it.

  Perdita shifted in the back seat. "Um, Anthea?"

  "What is it, sugar?"

  "What's going on?" the child asked, her voice tremulous and full of fear.

  Nathaniel cut in in a saccharine voice, "You won't ever have to worry about your nasty aunt or cousin ever bothering you again, sweetie, and her name isn't Anthea. It's Daisy Margaret, but you ought to call her—"

  "Shush, Nathaniel Ray Hitchens, or I'll boot you from this car at eighty miles an hour, you hear me?"

  "Oh, why yes, ma’am," he said, laughing. He rolled down his window and stuck his head out like a dog, howling and whooping.

  "Sit down," she ordered.

  When he didn't comply, she rolled the window back up until his chest was pinned. The moment he struggled to sit, she released him, and rolled it all the way. "Buckle up, buttercup," she said, matching his fierceness.

  "Hey, that's my line."

  "Hush up, already. I need to think where to take her. Maybe the Moreno house, just for the night?"

  He barked with laughter once again. "No chance she’d survive. You're likely being tracked all over this state after what you did."

  "What I did?"

  "You may claim Jared cut off Camilla’s head, but her scent is all over you. I always knew you’d turn cannibal."

  Daisy wondered how much of Camilla’s blood remained within her.

  "They're expecting to fight. Valerie and the rest of her friends."

  "They're not expecting to win, I hope," Nathaniel shot back.

  "Honestly, Nathaniel, if you're not going to help come up with a plan, you might as well be quiet for once."

  He turned in his seat sideways to face her. "Fine. Here's your first suggestion: slow down. Unless you want the cops to pull you over, slow to a speed a human might actually drive. There's no way you can outrun cops in this thing."

&nbs
p; She dropped back to sixty-five miles per hour. The engine of the coupe quieted a bit, and no longer shook with the force. "Better?"

  "Infinitely," he said. "As for the girl, there isn't any place you can take her where she'll be safe. Either keep her with you, or accept her death as inevitable."

  Daisy sped up again, her fingers leaving depressions in the steering wheel.

  "Daize, your speedometer?" he reminded her. Once she’d slowed again, he said, "You said Valerie has the Queen’s head?"

  "Yes," Daisy glanced in the rearview to see Perdita, who sat curled in the borrowed blanket. Her eyes scanning everything and nothing.

  "Let me guess, it isn't dead?"

  "Right," she confirmed.

  "One thing about vampires is certain: we burn," he said.

  Daisy considered this. She pulled off the freeway toward a rest stop with a brand of gas station certain to be open all night. There she bought supplies, and put them in the trunk.

  "Will it work? Will they leave us alone if I do this?"

  Nathaniel shrugged. "At this point, it can't make things worse."

  Less than thirty minutes later, they pulled into the old house's garage, and exited the vehicle. All her senses were on high alert. She felt the pressure to move, to act, to fight. "Get the can, I'll get Perdy," she said.

  When she stepped outside, she smelled them. Dozens of vampires congregated in the neighborhood. Are we too late? Where can I hide Perdy?

  Nathaniel joined her in the backyard by the pool, gas can in hand. A look passed between them, and they raced together for the other house, hopping fences, and dodging lawn furniture. Daisy held tight to the girl; she’d simply have to stay with her; Nathaniel was right, there wasn't a safe place anywhere apart from her arms.

  When they reached the house, the battle having begun in their absence, Daisy saw at least half of the vampires she knew still alive and fighting hard. Three Camilla loyalists intercepted them, and with a single sniff, charged for Daisy.

  Nathaniel pulled a small hairspray canister from his coat and a lighter, and shot a stream of fire in their path, burning one, and sending the other two back. The burnt one screamed, and fell to the ground, rolling. "Try it again," Nathaniel said, holding lighter and spray can up in their direction. Daisy collected the gas can he'd set down, and pressed her back to his. He cleared a path to the kitchen door, while she alerted him to further attacks.

  The handle wouldn't turn. Locked. Daisy rapped on the glass and called for Jared. She turned and saw him on the opposite end of the yard, fighting three other vampires. He had a gash of dark blood running down his cheek. He shouted, "Stop!" at the biggest of them, and the woman seized all movement. Good, she thought, he still has Nikola’s blood.

  She prayed it would give him the strength he needed to defeat them and come out unscathed. Two of the unnamed vampires lay torn apart on the lawn, pieces too shredded to recognize.

  Other bodies lay across the ground, some also dismembered, one burning, another beheaded.

  "Valerie?" she called out.

  There. Behind the hedges, Valerie’s back was visible. She stood with a foot on someone, and worked to extricate hedge trimmers from the body’s chest. She opened them, lowered them to the neck, and forced them closed. With a kick, she sent the head rolling, and ran to the door.

  Before she arrived, another loyalist pounced on Nathaniel from the roof above, landing on his back, and sending him rolling. Nathaniel punched the moment the other vampire's face came into view.

  Valerie pushed her hair out of her face. "Daisy? Why is—?"

  "Where's the head?" Daisy interjected.

  Valerie looked at her a brief moment, then gestured inside the house. She pulled the keys from her pocket, and handed them to Daisy. She whirled around, and gave Nathaniel a hand with his attacker.

  Daisy entered the house and locked the door. If they really wanted in, they could break the glass or the door, but as long as they weren't immediately aware of her location, she hoped they'd be safe. At least long enough for her to try her plan, such as it was.

  If they remain loyal to her because she can be saved, what will they do when there's no hope left? Daisy asked herself, and not for the first time. Let's hope you know enough about court intrigues, Nathaniel.

  One thing worried her. She couldn't hold onto Perdy while she did it. She carried the child up to the guest bathroom, sat her down in the tub, and proceeded to repeatedly slam her fist into the ceiling. It split the skin on her knuckles, raining plaster and wood chips down into her hair and over her face. The repetitive force opened a small hole in the ceiling. If she timed this right, this crude skylight would protect Perdy for another day, possibly long enough for her to run away. The child watched confused and full of fear. She cowered in the bath, and shielded her eyes from the debris.

  "Perdy, sweetheart. I need to go outside, and see if I can put an end to this feuding." She reached out to touch the girl’s arm, but her own hands were bloody and torn. Perdita pushed herself further into the porcelain.

  "I'm going to lock the door when I leave. If I don't come back for you by dawn, you need to get out of here, once it's light out, unlock the door and make your way out the front door. Everyone should be in hiding by then. Stay in the light. Always in the light, you hear?"

  Perdita peered out at her from under her arm and nodded, but she sniffled and cried harder.

  "As soon as you're outside, find an adult, knock on the doors. Ask for help."

  Perdita sobbed and cried out, "I don't want you to go!"

  "I know, sugar, and I'll do all I can to come back for you, but if I don't, you need to get to safety. The moment you can see sunlight, run."

  Perdy reached for Daisy and squeezed her waist tight. "I love you."

  Daisy stroked the girl’s thick, black hair. "I love you, too."

  Then she removed herself from the embrace, opened the door, locked it, and pulled it shut.

  The child’s crying grew louder behind the door.

  Daisy returned to the living room, where the box containing Camilla’s head sat on the mantel. She stared into the glassy eyes, still following her movements. "You've caused a lot of grief, little girl," Daisy said. "It's time to put a stop to it."

  She lifted the head by its long, white hair, and carried it to the kitchen, where she'd set out the gas can and matches. A crash came from the sitting room where one vampire had thrown another through the window. She rolled and stood, picking glass out of her arms and blonde hair.

  Adelaide. They made eye contact across the long distance between rooms. She knows.

  Daisy made a hasty exit out the kitchen door with her supplies in hand, and headed for the small group of allies fighting in a cluster against at least another ten vampires. They moved so fast, she couldn't keep count, and Addie was about to overtake her. Jill wasn't sure of her allegiance, Daisy recalled. I have my answer.

  Daisy leapt hard, hoping to gain an advantage, and landed harder. Her ankle crunched, and she cried out in pain, but she wouldn't stop. Nathaniel saw them running toward the remaining vampires, and shouted to throw it.

  Daisy wasn't sure which he meant, and the hesitation cost her. Addie bowled into her back, knocking them both to the ground. Claws raked her neck, and teeth bit into her ear. Daisy screamed and bucked and rolled over, forcing Addie off of her.

  She used her heel to kick Adelaide's shin hard, heard a crack, and jabbed her elbow wildly behind her until it connected with Addie's collar bone. The other vampire loosened her hold long enough for Daisy to slide sideways off her, and get the gas can.

  On a broken ankle, she struggled to stand. Addie stood before her, grinning bloody-toothed and blonde hair matted, half obscuring her features. Daisy swung the gas can and whacked her hard in the face. The force sent her backwards, and Daisy used the moment to uncap the can.

  She held out Camilla’s head by her hair, and doused it in gasoline. Nathaniel came to her side, and offered cover. "Stop!" Daisy yelled, a
nd some of the ancient blood she'd stolen carried the potent command far.

  All the vampires slowed down and stopped around her. "I have the Queen!" Tension hung in the air as thick as the lingering humidity. Nikola walked down the hill from the back of the house, stopped, and folded his arms over his chest.

  One of the loyalists bared his teeth, and charged Daisy. The Basque twitched, and the man fell to the ground, his body twisting at impossible angles. The joints snapped and ligaments tore. He cried out in pain and betrayal.

  Nikola gazed at Daisy, saying nothing.

  Nathaniel handed her his lighter. She handed him the empty can, and flicked the sparkwheel. She held up the flame for all to see, and brought it to Camilla’s withered face.

  It caught quicker than Daisy expected, and both the head and her hand were engulfed in flames. She clenched her teeth and hissed from the pain. Skin sizzled and peeled from Camilla’s skull. When it became too much, Daisy dropped the head on the ground.

  A high screeching whistle blew through the skull’s orifices a moment, and then died in the crackle of the flames and popping of baby fat.

  Valerie brought an extinguisher and smothered the fire on Daisy, then snuffed out the flames on the lawn.

  Daisy collapsed to the ground, clutching her charred hand. A blur flashed across the lawn, and Nikola appeared at her side, kneeling and supporting her weight.

  Their eyes met once more, but he offered no explanation. Everyone stared at the odd exchange, equally unsure of what it meant.

  Nathaniel walked over to them both, and said to Nikola, "Why don't you get out of here? It's over."

  "Be quiet, Nathaniel," Daisy and Nikola both said at once. Daisy turned back to him and gave a short, disbelieving laugh.

  Nikola stood, bowed to her, and walked at a slow pace up and away from the scene of battle. All of Camilla’s remaining forces that could still move, followed him out of the yard, occasionally looking back at Daisy, still seated and leaning on her good hand where he'd left her.