Everlasting Kiss (17 page)

Frowning, Rhys tossed his cell phone on the dining room table. He’d been calling Erik for the last three nights with no luck. So where the devil was Delacourt, and why wasn’t he answering his phone? He considered the possibility that the Blood Thief or a hunter had found him, but dismissed it out of hand. Delacourt was one of the smartest, strongest vampires he had ever met. It was more likely that he’d left town. But where would he have gone? And why?

Rhys muttered an oath as he walked down the hallway to his bedroom. He was the Master of the City. As such, he demanded loyalty from those he allowed to dwell in his territory. To defy him was to court destruction.

Like most vampires, he trusted only a chosen few. Erik was one of them. They had met in Ireland over two hundred years ago. Rhys grinned at the memory. They had both been hunting the same woman, a bonny lass with hair like fire and eyes as green as the Emerald Isle itself. Had Rhys been younger and less in control of his hunger and his anger, he might have challenged Erik. Instead, they had called a truce and shared the wench. A tasty morsel, Rhys recalled. He had been all for draining her dry, but Erik, always gallant where a pretty woman was concerned, had talked him out of it.

Though it had seemed unlikely at the time, the two vampires had become friends.

They had met again by chance in California shortly after Rhys had destroyed the former Master of the City. Erik had been tired of wandering by then and had decided to settle down for a while. Like all the other vampires in the area, Erik had sworn his allegiance to Rhys. Until now, Rhys had never doubted Erik’s loyalty.

Rhys grunted softly as he opened his bedroom door. Someone had put a price on his head, and until he knew who it was, everyone was suspect, including his best friend.

The mortal who had tried to destroy him had apparently left the city. And so, it seemed, had Erik. Coincidence? Perhaps, and perhaps not.

Rhys smiled at the woman waiting for him in his bed. He would worry about traitors and bounty hunters tomorrow.

The night was young, the woman was tall, blond, and willing, and he was very, very thirsty.

Daisy slept until almost noon. Upon awaking, she lingered under the covers, thinking how nice it was to be home again, to sleep in her old bed in her old room. To pretend, for a few minutes, that she was safe, that nothing could hurt her here, in the house where she had spent most of her childhood.

Turning onto her side, she stared at the curtain covering her window. Where was Rhys? Would he come after her and her family? When would it be safe for her and Alex to venture outside during the day? The vampire couldn’t enter the house without an invitation, but her family couldn’t stay inside indefinitely.

Her thoughts turned to Erik. She wondered if he was awake. Was it too early to call? Warmth curled through her at the thought of hearing his voice. No matter how many times she told herself there was no future for the two of them, she couldn’t imagine her life without him. They had spent so much time together lately, being without him now made her feel empty somehow, as if a vital part of herself had gone missing.

When her stomach growled, she threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Padding into the bathroom, she took a quick shower, brushed out her hair, pulled on a pair of lavender sweats, and hurried downstairs.

As was to be expected, Alex was in the kitchen cooking up a storm. She stood in the doorway a moment, watching him. He wore an old Boston Red Sox T-shirt and a faded pair of cut-off jeans. His feet were bare.

Moving into the kitchen, Daisy poured herself a cup of coffee, then sat at the much-scarred oak table, her mug cradled between her hands while she watched Alex flip pancakes. He really was in the wrong business, she mused as she sipped her coffee. The world had lost a great chef when he decided to be a vampire hunter.

Alex glanced at her over his shoulder. “How many pancakes?”

“Six, seven, a dozen. I’m starving!” She was glad he had decided to make a late breakfast instead of an early lunch.

“Bacon or sausage?” he asked with a grin.

“Both.”

“Gotcha! Do you want eggs? I’ve got fried and scrambled.”

“No. Yes, scrambled.”

Five minutes later, Alex handed her a plate, then sat down across from her. “It’s good to be home again, isn’t it?”

Daisy nodded. Her roots, the majority of her memories, were here. Birthday parties and Easter egg hunts, camping out in a tent with her dad in the backyard, making brownies with her mom, breaking her arm when she fell out of the big old elm tree in the front yard. Her first kiss on the front porch. No matter what she did, no matter where she went, this would always be home. “The pancakes are wonderful.”

“A little orange juice in the batter,” Alex said with a shrug, but she could see he was pleased by the compliment. He had always been the best cook in the family.

“I’ll have to remember that.” Alex tucked into his breakfast and Daisy did the same, thinking again that it was good to be home.

Daisy was on her second cup of coffee when she said, “I’ve been wondering about something.”

“Yeah? What?”

“Your encounter with Costain. Did you drink his blood?”

“Are you nuts? Why would I do that?”

“I know you wouldn’t, on purpose. I just thought that, you know, during the struggle…we wouldn’t have much hope of escaping him if the two of you had exchanged blood. You know that.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course!” he said emphatically, but Daisy thought he looked a little doubtful.

“Where’s Brandon?”

“He got up early this morning to take Paula Christmas shopping.”

“Christmas shopping! It’s only October.”

“Uh, Daisy Mae, I hate to tell you this, but it’s the first of November.”

She blinked at him. November? It couldn’t be, she thought, then shrugged. With all that had been going on in her life the past few weeks, keeping track of the days had been the last thing on her mind.

Her father entered the kitchen a few minutes later, a grin settling over his face as he filled his plate. “It’s good to have you back home, boy,” he said, taking a seat at the table. “Brandon’s not the cook you are. And with your mother gone…well, I was getting mighty tired of cold cereal.”

The three of them made small talk while they ate, commenting on the weather and speculating on what Irene and Aunt Judy were up to.

“New Zealand will never be the same,” Noah said with a grin. Pushing his plate away, he slapped his palms on the table. “So, Alex, you up for a day of hunting?”

Daisy tried to talk the two of them out of leaving the house, but they brushed her concerns aside, confident that the two of them could handle Rhys Costain or any other vampire they encountered while the sun was up.

Daisy prayed they were right as she followed them to the front door. Standing on the porch, she waved as they climbed into her father’s pick-up.

Her father tapped the horn a couple of times in farewell as he backed the truck out of the driveway.

Daisy stared after them until they were out of sight; then, too antsy to sit still, she loaded the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, wiped off the table, and washed up the frying pans. After cleaning the kitchen, she dusted all the furniture, vacuumed the carpets upstairs and down, mopped the kitchen floor, and did a load of laundry, and still Alex and her father hadn’t returned.

Taking a deep breath, she told herself not to worry. Her father had been a hunter for over twenty-five years. He knew what he was doing.

Going upstairs to her bedroom, she glanced at the posters on the walls and the stuffed animals on the shelves. Impulsively, she took the posters down, rolled them up, and put them on the top shelf of her closet. The penguins followed the posters, all but the cute little black and white ceramic bird her father had given her for her sixteenth birthday. That remained in the place of honor in the center of the bookshelf.

She ran her fingers over the curtains. Maybe she would replace them, and the quilt, too. Her mother wouldn’t mind.

Later, she went into the kitchen for a glass of milk and an apple, then went back upstairs where she spent forty minutes cleaning out her closet, boxing old clothes and shoes she knew she would never wear again, as well as some old games and dolls.

She was almost finished when she came across an old photograph album. Sitting on the floor, she dusted off the cover, then flipped through the pages. Funny, how pictures could instantly transport you back in time. She smiled at the images of herself and her brothers—pictures of the three of them at various ages gathered in front of the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, all of them wearing new pajamas. Snapshots of them sitting at the kitchen table making cookies, cutting out valentines, decorating Easter eggs, or carving Halloween pumpkins. Funny, how every family took similar photos.

With a sigh, she put the album on a shelf in the closet, then unpacked her suitcase and hung up the clothing she had brought with her.

It was after four when she went downstairs.

“Hey, sis.”

“Brandon! Hi. I didn’t know you were home.” Daisy smiled tentatively at the young woman sitting on the sofa beside her brother. “You must be Paula.”

Paula was a pretty girl, with a fair complexion, brown eyes, and shoulder-length bright red hair. A sprinkling of freckles dotted her cheeks.

She stood up as Daisy entered the room. “And you must be Daisy. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good, I hope,” Daisy said, offering her hand.

“Of course it’s all good,” Brandon said. “I’m not telling her any of the bad stuff until she says ‘I do.’”

“Good idea,” Daisy replied.

Paula resumed her seat beside Brandon and Daisy sat in the overstuffed chair across from them.

“Where are Dad and Alex?” Brandon asked.

“Oh, they went out this morning,” Daisy said. “They should be back soon. I hear you’ve been shopping.”

“Yeah, Paula bought out most every store in town.”

“Really?”

“Not quite,” Paula said, poking Brandon in the ribs.

“Really,” Brandon said. “This girl has a credit card and she knows how to use it.”

“Brandon, stop it,” Paula said, blushing.

“She doesn’t like people to know her family’s rich.”

“Oh?” Daisy tried to keep her surprise from showing. Her mother hadn’t mentioned that the O’Reilly family had money.

“My dad writes computer software,” Paula said with a shrug. “He’s very good at it.”

“That’s great,” Daisy exclaimed with a smile.

“Well, we just stopped by to drop off a few things,” Brandon said, rising. “And now we’re going to dinner. You wanna come along?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve been cleaning my room all day and now I just want to relax.” It was partly true. She didn’t want to leave until she knew her dad and Alex were okay. But mainly she wanted to be here if Erik showed up.

“Okay, sis, catch ya later. Tell Dad I’ll be late.”

Daisy waited until Brandon and Paula left the house, then grabbed her cell phone and dialed her father’s number. There was no answer. Frowning, she disconnected the call and dialed her brother’s number. Again, there was no answer.

It would be dark soon, so where were they?

She jumped when someone knocked at the door. She peeked through the peephole, hoping it was her dad and Alex. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Erik on the front porch.

Unlocking the door, she smiled up at him. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

She stepped back so he could come in, frowned when he made no move to enter the house, and then remembered he couldn’t enter a home without an invitation. “Come on in, Dracula,” she said with a grin.

“Very funny,” Erik muttered as he followed her into the living room. He took a quick look around. The walls were off-white, the carpet a deep shade of forest green; the furniture looked worn and comfortable but not shabby. There were books and knickknacks on several shelves, numerous framed family photographs on the fireplace mantel. The morning paper was spread out over the coffee table.

“Sit down,” Daisy said, taking a place on the sofa. Her earlier smile had vanished. Worry lines creased her brow.

“What’s wrong?” Erik asked, sitting beside her

“My dad and Alex went hunting this morning. They should have been back by now. They’re not answering their phones…”

“Idiots.”

“Can you find them?”

“Maybe, but it’s doubtful.” Boston had roughly six hundred thousand people. Finding two amongst so many could prove to be difficult. Then again…“I might be able to follow their car,” he remarked, thinking aloud. Every vehicle carried its own individual scent.

“They took Dad’s truck.”

With a nod, Erik left the house with Daisy close on his heels.

He paced back and forth across the driveway, then closed his eyes, sorting through the myriad scents of gasoline, trees, and grass until he located the truck’s singular smell.

“Well?” Daisy asked.

“Go back inside and lock the door.”

“No way! I’m going with you.”

“Not this time. You’ll only slow me down. Keep your phone on. I’ll call you if I find them. You call me if they show up here.”

“But…”

“Daisy, we don’t have time to argue about this.”

“Oh, all right.” She didn’t like the idea of being left behind. She wasn’t used to it. After all, in her own way, she was a hunter, too.

He kissed her quickly, and then he was gone.

Moving too swiftly for human eyes to follow, Erik followed the distinctive scent of the O’Donnells’ truck, passing ancient red brick sidewalks, Federalist houses, and soaring towers made of glass. The trail ended near Dorchester Bay. Amid the smell of salt water, diesel oil, smoke, and fish, he caught a new scent, that of vampire.

He followed the vampire’s scent to a luxury yacht. It took little effort to make the jump from the shore to the deck of the ship. There were humans below, and a vampire. The smell of blood roused his hunger.

Going below, Erik followed the vampire’s scent into a stateroom where he found the two O’Donnell men lying on the floor, bound and apparently under some kind of supernatural enchantment. He was moving toward them when he realized he was no longer alone.

Erik whirled around, fangs extended, and came face-to-face with one of his kind. Clad in a pair of black trousers and a loose-fitting white shirt, the vampire was tall and lean and looked to be in his late twenties, though his aura was much older.

“What are you doing here?” the vampire asked. His voice was mild, though his eyes blazed red.

“I know these two,” Erik said, gesturing at Daisy’s father and brother. “They’re not to be harmed.”

The other vampire lifted one brow. “Indeed?”

Erik nodded.

“They violated my lair. They tried to destroy me. I am within my rights to do with them as it pleases me. And it pleases me to kill them.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to do that.”

“No? Who are you?”

“Erik Delacourt.”

“Ah.”

“You know me?” Erik asked.

“I have heard of you. It is said you are a close friend of Costain’s.”

Erik nodded, wondering if that was good or bad. “Who the hell are you?”

“Tomás Villagrande.”

Erik swore under his breath. Villagrande was the Master of the East Coast vampires, and was even older than Rhys. It was rumored among the ranks of the Undead that Villagrande was one of the first of their kind, that it was Villagrande who had bequeathed the Dark Gift to Dracula himself. Erik didn’t know if that was true, but Villagrande’s preternatural power was unmistakable.

Villagrande folded his arms over his chest. “Why do you care if these two live or die?”

“They’re related to someone I hold dear.”

“That does change things, does it not?” Villagrande mused aloud. “And yet the fact remains that they are mine.”

Tension thrummed through Erik as he summoned his power. If the other vampire wanted a fight, so be it, although pitting his strength against that of a much older vampire seemed like suicide.

“This someone you hold dear, is it a woman?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. And is she young and beautiful beyond compare?”