“You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago,” I answered at length. I believe I realized, even then, that I would not be able to change Elisabeth back into Brenna, but I was not yet ready to accept the fact. I was still caught up in the miracle of finding her at all, and I did not think beyond the easing of my own terrible loneliness.
She held up the pouch and gave it a slight shake, causing the coins inside to jingle with merry solidity. “I guess you’ll want plenty for this,” she said with what seemed to me uncommon valor, given the circumstances. For all she knew, I meant to make full use of her grubby little body, kill her for sport, and reclaim my gold. She could not have guessed that I wanted only to be near her and keep her safe.
“Yes,” I replied, settling back against the upholstered seat and folding my arms. “I will expect a great deal from you. You can start by putting your knees together—you look like a bawd, sitting there with one foot on either side of the coach.”
Elisabeth flushed, and that raised the vampire hunger in me, though of course I quelled it immediately. Even I had standards, though one would not have guessed it by my behavior in the years prior to that momentous night, and I had no intention of feeding on her.
Which is not to say that the temptation didn’t present one of the keenest agonies I’ve ever had to endure. Elisabeth’s vitality, her sumptuousness, filled the interior of that carriage, thrumming like a heartbeat.
I took her to Colefield Hall, the estate that had been Challes’s and was now mine. I had not seen him again since his farewell, shortly after my making.
The moon was high when we arrived, and she’d fallen asleep on the coach seat opposite me, curled up like a child.
She did not awaken when I carried her into the keep, or when I laid her gently on the finest bed in the house and covered her with the best blankets.
I stood there, gazing down at her, spellbound by her disheveled magic, stricken by her unexpected reappearance in my life. I had not made the effort to investigate such things up until that time, having been wholly devoted to the pursuit of unceasing pleasure, but now I could only conclude that Brenna had been reincarnated as this grimy, tousled hoyden.
For what purpose, I wondered, if not to find me, her true and only love, once again? That would explain why she looked exactly as she had a century before, in that other, too-brief existence.
She stirred in her sleep, and I smiled to myself. By returning, she had transformed me, I thought—for I, too, was still naive in my fashion, having troubled myself to learn so little of life and love.
I left her to hunt, retracing my steps, so to speak, to the dooryard of the Horse and Horn to feed, and returned to Colefield Hall just before dawn. I was settled in my vault, far beneath the earth, where the acidic light of the sun could not reach my vampire’s flesh, when Elisabeth awakened and proceeded, as I later learned, to set the household on its ear.
Daisy
Between Las Vegas and Telluride, 1995
The orgasm was violent, when at last it overtook her, seeming to slam her deep into the mattress even as it sent her hurtling upward to collide hard with the ceiling. She alternately moaned and mumbled incoherently, having no breath for the screams of pleasure that throbbed in the back of her throat, pitching and thrashing and clawing at the sheets with splayed fingers as her body convulsed in spasm after spasm of ecstasy. She longed for peace and stillness, fearing her heart would explode at any moment, it was beating so fast, and at the same time she prayed the release would never end.
Alas, it did, ebbing away slowly, like a tidal wave in grudging retreat, leaving a limp and trembling Daisy behind. She felt the sheen of perspiration cooling on her body, felt her hair clinging wetly to her cheeks and temples and nape. She huddled there upon that strange and anonymous bed, quivering inside an intangible cocoon that still reverberated with the force of her satisfaction. Her breath came in gasps and her heartbeat was still too rapid, thudding like the hooves of a fleet horse racing over hard ground.
She wept, because her mystical union with Valerian had been so unbearably beautiful, and because he was not there to gather her in his arms and hold her close. Then, exhausted, utterly sated, in soul as well as body, Daisy slept.
She awakened with a start, blinking against the bright sunlight sneaking between the blinds at her window, to the sound of someone pounding at the motel room door.
“What?” she demanded, pushing back her hair.
“Five minutes until checkout time,” a woman warned cheerfully.
Daisy swore and scrambled out of bed to wash her face and brush her teeth. She wriggled into fresh clothes, grabbed her suitcase and purse, and made a dash for the door, and it was only later, when she had paid her bill, bought a breakfast sandwich, and hit the road again that she let herself think about what had happened the night before.
The languid, limp-muscled sense of well-being was still with her, a warmth that had settled in deep, soothing her nerves, permeating her very bones. As crazy as it was, and as impossible, there could be no denying that Valerian—or someone—had made slow, thorough, excruciating love to her in that motel room.
Without actually being there.
Daisy swallowed another bite of her sandwich. It was hypnosis again, she concluded, chewing. Valerian had known she was attracted to him, and he’d planted the seeds of that session of solitary passion by things he’d said to her, first in her apartment, and then over the telephone. Or maybe the whole thing had been a sort of hysterical hallucination and she’d done it all on her own….
She discarded the idea along with the rest of her sandwich and its paper wrapper, which she stuffed into a plastic garbage bag hanging from a knob on her dashboard. There was no easy explanation for the kind of long-distance lovemaking she’d enjoyed so much, or for Valerian himself.
He’d disappeared from her apartment, vanishing before her very eyes, and last night he’d given her the mother of all orgasms without even being there. Those were the facts—unless, of course, it turned out that she was suffering from a major case of self-delusion and had flunked the drug test after all.
Hardly likely, Daisy decided, keeping her eyes on the road. She’d tried to go into denial on several occasions, hoping to escape her problems, and it hadn’t worked. She was just too damned left-brained to fool herself for more than a few minutes at a time.
Much as she might wish otherwise, Valerian was real. His magic was just that, and he had really and truly seduced her with his mind, from who knew how far away.
Daisy muttered an expletive and reached out to turn on the car radio.
Nadine, normally petite, was as big as the A-frame she shared with her earnest but quiet husband, a greeting- card artist named Freddy. They both looked sleep- rumbled and a little dazed, and Daisy felt a mild twinge of guilt for awakening them at one in the morning. She supposed she could have checked into a motel, but the truth was that she needed some time to recover. Another bout of psychic sex would probably have killed her.
She kissed Nadine’s cheek and nodded to Freddy. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have let you sleep.”
Nadine, bundled in flannel, laughed and shook her head. She was twenty-two, with chin-length dark hair and brown eyes, and worked as a clerk in a supermarket. “Don’t be silly. We’re glad you’re here, and I would have been worried if you didn’t show up.”
They were standing in the living room, and Freddy went over to fold out the hide-a-bed while Nadine helped Daisy out of her coat.
“I thought you said you were in labor,” Daisy said, rubbing her hands together. The mountain air was crisp, and the fire in the woodstove had apparently gone out a long time ago.
“False alarm,” Nadine said with a cheerful shrug. “Do you want a cup of cocoa or something? Are you hungry?”
Daisy felt a small, sharp twist in the center of her heart. She and Nadine had always mothered each other, except for that short stint when they’d lived with their grandmother, since Jeanine hadn�
�t had a clue when it came to parenting. “No, sweetheart,” she said, blinking rapidly and looking away for a moment. “If I find myself on the verge of starvation, I’ll get up and raid the refrigerator. You go back to bed. You need your rest.”
Freddy, having folded out the couch, proceeded to fling a few chunks of wood into the stove, which was set into an old-fashioned flagstone fireplace. “The bathroom’s at the end of the hall,” he told Daisy, putting a gentle hand to the small of Nadine’s back and pushing her along ahead of him. “Night.”
“Night,” Daisy replied.
She found the bathroom, which was so cold they could have hung beef carcasses in there without fear of spoilage, and hastily washed and brushed her teeth. The living room was a little warmer, but she figured she would have been able to see her breath in front of her face if there had been enough light.
After stubbing her toe on one of the metal legs of the hide-a-bed, Daisy threw back the covers and plunged beneath them, shivering.
She tossed and turned and finally tumbled into a fitful sleep. A sound awakened her sometime later, and she sat up, shoving a hand through her hair. At first she didn’t remember where she was, and then she thought there was something wrong with her sister.
“Nadine?”
Silence.
Daisy sat up, groping for the switch on the lamp beside the couch, but before she found it her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she saw him, standing at the foot of the bed. She didn’t scream because she wasn’t afraid.
“Valerian,” she said softly.
“I’m sorry, love.” She heard a smile in his voice. “Did I frighten you?”
“No. Are you really here, or is this one of your tricks?” He came to sit beside her on the mattress, offering his hand. “I’m here, all right,” he said.
“I’d hate to have to explain you to my sister and brother-in-law.”
Valerian chuckled. “You won’t have to. They’re both sound asleep with visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads.”
Daisy leaned against the back of the couch. She was wearing long underwear for pajamas in an effort to keep warm. “Last night was pretty spectacular,” she told him. “Was I the only one having fun?”
He touched her face, and she saw in the dim light that one corner of his mouth was curved ever so slightly upward. “I knew what you were feeling,” he said, “and I took pleasure in that.”
“Why did you make love to me from a distance?”
“Because it would be too dangerous up close.”
“You certainly take an innovative approach to safe sex. Most people just use condoms.”
Valerian laughed, and Daisy was sure the sound would wake Nadine and Freddy, but apparently it didn’t, for neither one of them showed up in the living room.
He leaned forward and kissed her lightly, briefly, on the lips. “I was talking about another kind of danger entirely,” he said.
“You’re afraid you’ll pounce on me, in the throes of passion, and bite my neck?”
Valerian shook his head, and she caught a glint of mischief in his eyes, veiled in shadow though they were. “If we were in the ‘throes of passion,’ as you put it, I would already have pounced.” He raised a hand to her face, rubbing his thumb along the length of her cheek. “No, Daisy love, I’m quite capable of making love to a mortal woman. But it’s better if I stay away from you—I shouldn’t even be here now.”
“Because?”
He shoved his fingers through his lush, gleaming brown hair. “Because whoever—whatever—murdered Jillie and Susan might come after you next.”
Daisy shivered involuntarily, remembering the murder scenes and the bodies of those two ill-fated women as vividly as if she’d seen them moments before. She started to speak, but Valerian stopped her, laying a fingertip to her lips.
“It is vital that you listen to me, Daisy,” he said quietly, “that you believe what I’m telling you. You are in grave danger, but there is a place where you’ll be at least moderately safe.”
She closed her hand gently around his and spoke in a soft voice. “I’m a cop, remember? I’m not really safe—moderately or otherwise—anywhere. Hell, I don’t even want that kind of security. The only risk-free place is the grave, and I’m definitely not ready for that.”
Even in the gloom, she saw his magnificent face contort with some powerful emotion—anger? Frustration? Fear?
She couldn’t begin to guess.
“You don’t understand,” he said with admirable control, after a short, tumultuous silence.
“I do,” Daisy insisted. “You want to protect me, and that’s wonderful. But I’m a big girl, with a badge and a thirty-eight. I can take care of myself, and I won’t hide from anybody or anything.”
“What use would a piece of metal and a primitive handgun be against a vampire?” Valerian said, leaning in close to make his point. “Don’t you see that I—another nightwalker—am your only hope?” He paused, and his struggle to contain his emotions was visible in his face, despite the shadows. “Damn it, Daisy,” he whispered, “if you won’t do this for yourself, do it for your sister and her family. Do you want to draw this creature here, to this house?”
Daisy felt the blood drain from her face, and she raised one hand to her mouth. “Oh, God,” she murmured. “Nadine—Freddy—that poor little baby—”
Valerian gripped her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “They have guardian angels, Daisy,” he said quickly to stem her panic. “Especially the child. But angels are single-minded creatures, almost wholly absorbed in the adoration of their Creator. Sometimes they miss things.”
“Oh, great,” Daisy muttered.
“You’ve got to leave here now, tonight,” Valerian insisted.
She glanced toward the doorway to the hall. Just beyond it, Nadine and Freddy lay sleeping peacefully in their bed. “I can’t just abandon Nadine,” she argued frantically. “What would she think if she woke up and found me gone? She’s counting on me to help her—she’s about to give birth, for heaven’s sake!”
“That’s easy,” Valerian said. He was already pulling her to her feet, finding her discarded clothes unerringly in the dark, tugging the garments onto her body, over the bulky long johns, as if she were a child. “I’ll simply remove all memory of your arrival from both their minds.”
“That’s crazy,” Daisy protested and he closed her suitcase and shoved it at her. “You can’t actually do that, can you?”
“I can,” Valerian said, “and I have. Tonight your sister dreamed you came for a visit. In the morning she’ll feel a little wistful and wonder how you are and if you’re taking good care of yourself.”
He pushed her out the door, closed it quietly behind them, and ushered her straight to the car.
“What about Freddy?”
“Same thing. ‘Strange,’ they’ll say, ‘that we both dreamed about Daisy. Do you suppose it means anything?”
Daisy was pressed into the driver’s seat. “Won’t they hear the motor?”
“They might,” Valerian said, relaxing at last, “but they’ll just think it’s one of the neighbors’ cars.”
“But—”
“Just drive, Daisy.”
“Terrific. After all this, I don’t even get to travel by broomstick?”
She could see his face clearly in the moonlight, and his expression was downright reproving. “That was beneath you, Daisy,” he said. “Just go home before I lose my patience.”
“Okay, genius, I will. It’s not like Super-ghoul would think of looking for me there of all places. And what happens if you lose your patience?”
“Leave,” Valerian said evenly, “before you find out.”
With a sigh Daisy started the engine, backed out of Freddy and Nadine’s driveway, and headed back in the general direction of Las Vegas.
Valerian
Colefield Hall, 1457
Elisabeth let out a bloodcurdling shriek, not of fear but of fury, as I ripped away the last of her
clothes—no better than rotted rags, they were—and hoisted her off her kicking feet and into the brimming tub before the fire.
“This is foul treatment, sir!” she shrilled, hammering at my chest with her fists and splashing enough water over the sides—and down the front of my breeches—to fill the long-empty moat outside. “And it weren’t no part of our bargain, neither! Don’t you know I could catch me death? And you don’t care, neither, do you, you bloody mother-loving—”
“In the name of whatever deity you worship, Elisabeth,” I said through my teeth, “stop this mewling and thrashing, or I swear I’ll take you to the nearest nunnery and leave you there to rot!”
She fell silent, and I felt pity for her, seeing the look in her eyes, but I wasn’t fool enough to show it. She’d have been raising the roof again in a trice, the little imp.
“That’s better,” I said with what would have been a heartfelt sigh, had I been a mortal man. “You’ve been laboring under a delusion, my dear. Being clean is a most desirable state.”
Elisabeth’s expression was one of pure bafflement, and I realized, with both tender amusement and weariness, that she hadn’t grasped my meaning at all.
I tried again. “No one has ever died from taking a bath,” I assured her quietly. I scrubbed her from head to foot, for it was plain that she hadn’t the vaguest idea how to scrub herself, then wrapped her in a blanket.
She knelt in obedient silence by the fire while I sat in the hearth chair, gently combing the tangles from her copper-gold hair.
At last she turned and looked up at me, letting the blanket fall away, revealing her exquisite, creamy body with a combination of shyness and pride.
“Will you have me now?” she asked.
I could not help myself; I reached out to touch her damp hair, her smooth, fire-warmed cheek. “Not yet, love.”
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