Daisy After Life (Book 1): Perdition

by Demers, Raven J.

  "Please do not break the crystal," he said.

  Daisy relaxed her hand and once again chided herself inwardly for her rash behavior.

  She finished her second glass, and he continued to pour the blood for her until she polished off both pints. "Better?" he asked when done.

  "Yes," she said in a luxurious hiss, but checked herself. She straightened, eyes clearing from the madness which possessed her. "No, not entirely."

  He purred and said, "Ah yes, we always hunger."

  Daisy shook her head, irritated he didn’t understand her meaning. "No, that's not what I meant. I am not wholly at peace with stealing this blood from humans who need it more. I had my life, and I died. My mortal existence—this existence—is not worth saving."

  I was supposed to have been saved. Where did I go wrong? The Kingdom of Heaven has shut its gates to me. Dear Lord, why?

  Jared's eyes narrowed, and he took the crystal to wash it in the sink. "If you feel you are unworthy, go stand in the sun at dawn, and end it." He dried the goblet and returned it to the cabinet. He turned back to glare at her. "Otherwise you will have to find a way to give your existence meaning. Find a purpose if it suits you, but do not complain about the extra time you have been given in which to live."

  Daisy reassessed the broad-shouldered man who stood before her. "Sound advice," she said, "I'll consider it."

  His chest boomed with laughter, and he led her back out to the courtyard before the pool. She stopped him and said, "Thank you," and he gave the slightest bow.

  Daisy couldn’t keep from smiling a little, feeling lighter and stronger, almost giddy. The blood worked its way into her core and channeled it out to miniscule parts of her body in need of repair. It pulsed within her kindling her heartbeat, and leaving a radiant glow within her. The liquid may have been chilled, but it coursed within her with vigor and life, dancing through her dormant, hollow veins.

  The inner rhythm brought a thought back to mind: when she entered the house, she hadn’t seen any sign of the humans she knew were captive inside the building. "Jared," she said, and he looked once at her. "Where were the humans? I heard them before we went in."

  Jared’s features became a flat, unreadable mask of calm. "They served their purpose and were removed."

  Daisy's throat clenched and she struggled to keep down the liquid continuing to move through her. "They weren't—did I drink ...?"

  Jared reached out his broad hand and steadied her. She wasn’t at risk of fainting, but she wondered if her face had turned the particular shade of green that in life indicated being close to sickness. "No. The pints we keep in store for the ill and the, hm, squeamish, were from donated sources."

  The moment of worry passed, and she patted his hand in gratitude. "Good," she said. "There are more like me?"

  "A few, though they are rare. More often the bags are used by those who are injured or who, for whatever reason, are unable to hunt on a given night."

  Daisy mulled this over, but Nathaniel interrupted her musing. "Come on. She wants to talk to you."

  They made their reluctant way back outside. Valerie lifted her eyes toward the pair, motioning Daisy over. Daisy descended the few stone steps between the courtyard and pool at a human's pace, and made her way to them both.

  Valerie held her glass again, it smelled fresh and warm, inviting; she tapped her nails against the stem. "Nathaniel is most enlightening." Her free hand reached out and stroked his cheek; Nathaniel's expression turned stony, unwilling to show reticence to her possessive contact. Jared's expression hardened as well. Daisy watched the exchange and said nothing. "I see the refreshment agrees with you. Look, Nathaniel, already her cheeks hold color."

  The Queen was right, though Daisy was loathe to admit it. Her blood rollicked within her, and every cell of her being was alive and accessible to her awareness. She could reach out as a great conductor and orchestrate an aria of energy within her body; she could hear the commands of her own organism willing itself to repair over sixty years of damage since her fateful bite. She resisted their commands, and willed herself to remain as she was. She willed the truth.

  Valerie appeared uneasy with Daisy's silence, and the wild-eyed knowledge that swam in the green-fire of the fledgling's eyes. "What intrigues me most," began the Queen, airily as if she were not watching with narrowed eyes and a tense posture, "are the peculiarities you appear to possess."

  "Peculiarities?" Daisy asked.

  A swift flick of her hand, and Valerie's other guard came forward, placing her fingers into the crook of her arm. The Queen steadied, and said, "Yes, my dear. Did you not notice?" A tinkling laugh echoed out over the stone and water, but none of the other figures standing poolside made any noise. "You and Nathaniel are the only ones of our kind who survived the bite to live out mortal lives before awakening to this existence."

  "Really?" Daisy thought about the decades in between then and now. The disbelief in her experiences, the denial of anything Nathaniel had said in those youthful years. "How did it happen, then?"

  Valerie lifted a disapproving eyebrow. "Carelessness."

  Nathaniel interceded and said, "The woman who bit me didn't know what she was doing, and since she never told me anything more than the basics, I didn't know how to do it right myself."

  Daisy marked the disparities from Jared's earlier revelations.

  "Indeed," said the Queen, who sneered at the thought. "But now you are here among us. Nathaniel had time to learn, and so will you."

  Daisy gauged her words carefully. "I would much prefer to head out into the country and leave you all be."

  Valerie hissed a papery laugh. "If only it were so simple, my dear. Whether you enjoy his company or not, for the time being, you will remain with Nathaniel to learn the rules of this city." Daisy opened her mouth to interject, but the Queen held up a hand for silence. "Once I am satisfied you are not a danger to our secrets, then you may go whichever way you choose."

  With a clenched jaw, Daisy gave a small nod of understanding, if not agreement.

  Nathaniel shrugged in apology and said, "Guess you're stuck with me a while longer, huh?"

  Daisy glared at him before shifting her eyes to the ground. It chafed to be treated like a child at her age. Then again, adults who had yet to experience true aging treated their elders and their children equally—like incompetent fools. She'd had to disabuse her eldest son of his notion such behavior was acceptable or appropriate.

  "We have only a few hours of night left to us. Nathaniel, you will take Daisy to the cottage to wait out the day." Valerie turned her attention to the tall man standing in the courtyard above.

  "Jared," she said, and he came instantly to her side. "Please provide them with four pints to share between them—Nathaniel, I assume you have not fed tonight—and the keys to the cottage." With a polite smile she explained, "I would rather not have to keep replacing windows and locks."

  Valerie placed her hands upon Daisy's as if they were old friends. The broad, once tanned hands of the Queen encircled Daisy's tiny fingers. "Daisy, my dear, it has been most intriguing to have met you. Do mind what Nathaniel tells you for now, and we shall reconvene here in, let's say, four nights?" She looked up at the sky for a moment, and then back again. "Yes, four nights." The short-haired woman hovering near the Queen, brushed a feather's touch across Valerie's exposed neck. They linked arms and walked inside the house.

  Jared met with Nathaniel and Daisy, handed them a small cloth bag filled with pints of blood, and he slipped Daisy a pair of keys on a single chain. "A pleasure, Madame," he said and bowed from the neck.

  "To you as well," Daisy replied, and gave his hand another pat. As the pair exited through the path along the side of the house, Daisy could hear the whispers fill the night air again, mingling with the song of the cicadas.

  Once down the street, Nathaniel shook his head. "It's not right," he said.

  "For once, I agree. To force me to stay with you!" Daisy said.

  Nathani
el stopped up short. "No," he said, sounding hurt. "You, you're not right."

  "What? Why? Because I won't drink human blood?"

  "Not only that, but because you spent days with that girl and never once even tried to drink her dry. Anyone of them in their first years would have done it, and did do it whenever they got the chance." His finger pointed back in the direction of the house, but they were already out of sight of it.

  "I wanted to," Daisy admitted. "It took all my reserve of strength and a bit of God's grace to see me right. Her aunt proved even more of a temptation." The thought of her tenuous hold on control at Esperanza's house embarrassed her, and she hid her face in case vampires could still blush.

  "You really don't get it, Daisy. You're not right, and it's got the Queen nervous. You really don't want her to be nervous. Next thing you know you'll be a day walker and feasting on the blood of your own kind!"

  Daisy rolled her eyes. "Now you're being a tomfool, Nathaniel Ray Hitchens. Just because I show some restraint and resist becoming the monster you made me, does not mean I'll turn cannibal."

  Nathaniel looked properly chagrined, and Daisy stepped forward a pace or two ahead to look around. "Where is it we're going? Where is this cottage?"

  "Not far. About two more miles, we should be there in a few minutes," he said, and started running again with Daisy dashing back and forth at his side, clearly itching to pick up speed. "You're looking better," he said, and she wondered if it was a compliment or a complaint.

  Lessons

  They reached the outskirts of the city and passed the main line of suburbs to a small cottage hidden in a grove of peach trees. Daisy reveled in the luscious, heady scent of the fruit, wishing she could still enjoy them as she once did. In the shadows of a ring of pine trees, Daisy made out the elegantly carved bargeboard at the top of the roof, and the small white porch complete with swing. The rest of the house was painted periwinkle except the shutters. Delicate lace curtains covered each window and beyond those, pink satin drapes. Daisy used the key and entered the house, with Nathaniel close behind her. She locked the door and hung the key on a wooden rack meant for the purpose.

  Nathaniel broke the silence. "Before we go in, I need to say something. The house is likely bugged, and I can't say this in front of others. She lied to you back there."

  "Why doesn't that surprise me," Daisy said. "What did she lie about?"

  "It's true, I did mess up. So did the one who made me. But Valerie's nervous 'cause you haven't changed," he said, his hand hovering near her arm, but he'd remembered not to grab her.

  Daisy studied his face. "I rose from the dead, Nathaniel. What more does she want?"

  "You should look sixteen again," he said with a straight face, but Daisy still laughed. "I'm serious, Daize. The blood she gave you was a test. As far as I can tell, you failed."

  They entered the cottage in wary silence, and Nathaniel put the blood in the fridge. "So, uh, what's with all this talk about God?"

  "What?" The question surprised Daisy, and she stared at him a moment trying to assess where the question came from. Then she realized that after sixty years, he no longer knew her. Not really. "Oh, you know I was never one for religion as a girl," she said, but he interrupted.

  "Yeah, I know, that's why it's so strange now. I mean, your mom and your insistence religion was all nonsense. You go from that to ... what? A Baptist?"

  "Episcopalian," she said, and shook her head, turning her body away from him. "I lived an entire lifetime since we last saw one another. You know I loved spending time in nature; it's always made me feel right in the world. Lost my taste for my mother's spiritualism and séances, but no more did I inherit my father's stout atheism." Nathaniel moved with whispering grace to a loveseat near her.

  "Then I met Henry. His enthusiasm for walking through the woods and appreciating life matched my own, but his reasons differed from mine." Her husband's face swam in her memories, and she ached with a renewed sense of loss. Will I ever be with you again, Henry?

  Nathaniel couldn’t see her face, and asked, "What happened?"

  "You know, Nathaniel, we'll have to save this talk for another time." She walked away from him, and explored the rooms until she found one with a bed and heavy drapes. In the other room, she heard Nathaniel arise and move about the house finding his own safe space. The despair rose again and she let sorrow sing her to sleep.

  When Daisy awoke, the heat of the afternoon sun still beat against the curtains of the room. Though her clothes were rumpled, the vision in the bathroom mirror looked better, healthier. No, ethereal, she thought as she gazed at her reflection. Though she remained much her aged self, the blood and rest left her skin appearing wrinkled yet fuller, her dull hair shone white and fell in ringlets around her shoulders. The bags and crow's feet now surrounded glittering eyes. The few freckles she'd had in her youth stood prominently on her nose, and the effect left her shaken and disconnected with her body.

  It seemed horribly funny, and she guffawed, until the laughter became hysterics. Nathaniel rushed in to find her doubled over with the shock, still letting the tremors bubble up in the tinkling sound that echoing off the bathroom walls. "What's going on?"

  Daisy choked out the words between the chortles. "Look. At. Me."

  Nathaniel's irritation stood plainly on his face. "Yeah, so? The blood's working. Slow, but its working. That's a good thing," he emphasized.

  She shook her head, and worked to calm herself. "No, you don't understand." The usual methods she would employ—steadying her heart, taking deep breaths—still seemed to work despite not needing air. "This isn't me. This isn't what I looked like at seventy-six, nor sixteen. I’m an abomination."

  Nathaniel folded his arms and rolled his eyes. "Daisy, your body's changing to be more appealing to your prey, and you're the hottest septuagenarian I've ever seen."

  Daisy raised her voice this time, her anger rising. "No, you didn't live like I did. This isn't who I am. This is wrong." She motioned to her body from face to feet. "I'm meant to be an old woman with sagging skin and wiry hair. I earned these wrinkles. I'm supposed to be dead."

  "That's a fine way to show your appreciation for the gifts you've been given." He scoffed, clicked at his teeth, and turned, leaving Daisy alone.

  She used her time to wash herself and brush her hair, although she wondered if she needed to bathe. After all she'd been through, she didn't seem to be especially dirty. However, she expected as part of her routine, and the habit brought comfort.

  When she dressed again, and came into the living room, she found Nathaniel sitting with an open magazine laid out on the coffee table, and an empty IV bag next to him.

  "I didn't mean to upset you, but this isn't what I want."

  "You used to," he said gruffly, and picked up the magazine to block his view of her.

  "I thought I wanted it when I was younger, but how can anyone really know what they want at sixteen? Few are so lucky." She moved toward the loveseat, but he growled, and she stopped. They remained still for several moments before she spoke again. "How did you sleep?"

  "I don't sleep."

  "Never?" she asked, recalling him sleeping the previous night.

  "No, and neither should you now that you've healed." He put down the magazine and gave her a once over. "Damn, but you're beautiful."

  "Nathaniel," she said reproachfully and shook her head.

  His broad hands hit his knees, and he raised his voice. "Well? What do you expect? We loved each other once."

  Daisy turned her attention to the ceiling, asking for strength. "We broke up three times in less than a month. We never went more than an hour without arguing—"

  "Or doing something else," he interrupted, a smirk clear on his face.

  "It wasn't meant to last," she said, leveling her gaze at him. "We went separate ways, and I moved on." Nathaniel looked away. She softened her tone. "I hope you can, too. It's been decades."

  When he returned his eyes to her, they were h
ard. "Not for me it hasn't. I've had to keep tabs on you for sixty years. I had to watch you get married, have children, grandchildren, and grow old."

  Daisy could hear the hurt in his voice. "I'm sorry you went through that; I had no idea you still harbored feelings for me, but each time we saw each other, our paths seemed to diverge even further. Even a few years later, I guess that was right before the cougar?" He nodded in acknowledgement, but kept his eyes averted toward the floor.

  "Even then, I knew our parting was for the best."

  "For you maybe," he said, bitterness suffusing his speech.

  "Nathaniel Ray Hitchens, let me remind you that you broke it off with me." Daisy's arms crossed in the habit she picked up mothering back-talking children.

  He seemed properly chagrined, his shoulders slumped. "Yeah, I know. I've had a lot of time to realize what a fool I was for letting you go."

  "Now you're being a fool by dredging up what was long-since buried."

  He stood and headed to the kitchen. When he returned, he put a bag of blood in her hand, "Here," he said, and took his magazine with him as he returned to the back room. He called behind him, "When the sun sets, we start your training. The sooner you can be rid of me, right?"

  Daisy had a couple of hours to sit and think about what he said, and worse, to think back to their brief affair from so long ago. Somehow, the memories seemed clearer and sharper than they did when she was human, as if her brain repaired those fuzzy connections she'd nearly lost to time and the damage of aging. In contrast to Nathaniel's feelings, she only saw the flaws she couldn't when in the midst of their whirlwind romance. They argued almost constantly. Nathaniel returned from his wandering as something new and unusual in her world, and he came on the heels of a long-ended relationship with a boy who followed her around with puppy-dog eyes and a loyalty that grew tiresome.