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As for Mariah, she had been Nosferatu longer than Erik though not as long as Rhys. She should have been stronger than Erik. Unfortunately, she had been turned by a young vampire, whereas Erik had been turned by one of the old ones. His sire's ancient blood gave Erik a distinct advantage in that he was stronger and more powerful than Mariah, even though she was older. She hated him for that. Erik grinned inwardly. Now that he thought about it, Mariah hated just about everyone.
"We've let this kind of thing go on for too long," Nicholas said, glancing around the room. Nicholas was a tall, angular vampire with wispy gray hair and blue eyes. He had been turned five years ago, when he was in his late seventies. Rumor had it that Nick had paid a vampire ten thousand dollars in gold to help him cheat death.
"Damon's right," Mariah agreed. She ran a well-manicured hand through her pale blond hair. "We should have put a stop to this as soon as it started."
Rupert, a handsome vampire who looked like a 1930s matinee idol, nodded. "Thanks to the Blood Thief and others like him, the Internet market for our blood is growing."
"Better they take your blood than your head," Erik remarked. They had been talking about the Blood Thief and what to do about him for hours. Solutions were few and far between, with the major consensus being to set a trap of some kind. "I think we're worrying too much about this Blood Thief. So he takes a pint or two. If you want to get a vendetta going, why not go after the hunters?"
"Delacourt has a point," Saul agreed.
With his bright red hair, pencil-thin mustache, and flamboyant clothing, Saul looked less like one of the Undead than any vampire Erik had ever met.
"Maybe so," Rhys said, "but the Blood Thief has tagged one of mine." He glanced at Tina and smiled. "And I've promised to avenge her."
Erik grunted softly. "If she'd made a more secure lair, it wouldn't be necessary."
"She's young," Rhys retorted.
"Another mistake like that, and she won't get any older," Erik retorted.
"Enough, you two!" Mariah said impatiently. "This isn't getting us anywhere. The demand for our blood is spreading. I've heard there are others like the Blood Thief in Chicago, New Orleans, and St. Louis, and who knows where else. They're invading our lairs, taking our blood, and in some cases, heads."
"We need to retaliate!" Damon said, his voice rising with excitement. "Take out a few hunters."
"I agree, let's shed some blood!" Julius spoke up for the first time. "We haven't had a good rumble in years." He pumped his arm in the air, displaying the red and black snake tattoo that seemed to slither down his left arm.
That was Julius's answer to everything, Erik thought, but then, it wasn't surprising. A former drug dealer, Julius Romano had been turned when he was twenty-three. With his short brown hair and mild brown eyes, he had often passed himself off as a high school kid when looking for new customers. Now that he was a vampire, he still preyed on the young and the innocent--the younger the better.
Rhys snorted. "Taking hunters out is sometimes easier said than done. And from what Tina told me, the Blood Thief didn't leave so much as a footprint behind. No scent, nothing."
Rupert shrugged. "Maybe Tina imagined the whole thing."
"I did not!" Tina exclaimed hotly.
Erik crossed his arms over his chest. It was almost eleven. If Daisy had gone to the Crypt, she had surely left by now. "This isn't getting us anywhere," he muttered. "I'm going home."
"Erik..." Rhys spoke mildly, but the warning was there, just the same.
But Erik wasn't listening. Moving with preternatural speed, he left Costain's house. Impatience, anger, and disappointment intensified his hunger and he preyed on the first lone mortal he encountered.
Later, strolling toward home, he told himself it was just as well that there had been a council meeting that night. The last thing he needed was to get involved with a mortal female like Daisy O'Donnell.
Chapter 5
Daisy went hunting the next afternoon. Driving through the city, she tried not to think about Erik, but the more she tried to put him out of her mind, the more firmly entrenched he became. She couldn't help wondering why he hadn't showed up. He didn't have a job, so he hadn't been working late. Maybe he had just decided she wasn't his cup of tea. Maybe he had arrived at the Crypt before nine and found someone he found more appealing. Or maybe he had lied about being married and his wife wouldn't let him out of the house.
She spent two hours driving up one street and down another, and at the end of that time, she had nothing to show for it. She glanced at the compass again. The needle remained gold, unmoving. Muttering, "Oh, well, you can't win them all," she turned the car around and drove into town. After picking up her mail at the post office, she had a quick lunch at the coffee shop, and then, on impulse, she decided to treat herself to a manicure and a facial before going home.
She felt better, inside and out, when she left the salon. There was nothing like a little pampering to chase away the blues.
Later, at home, she couldn't seem to settle down. She wandered through the house, her thoughts constantly turning toward Erik. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face. Like it or not, his image seemed indelibly imprinted on her mind. Where was he now? Why hadn't he shown up?
"Stop it," she muttered. "You're not the first woman in this century to be stood up, and you won't be the last." But it hurt just the same.
She ate dinner, then turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. It must have been down-with-love night, because every movie channel featured ill-fated lovers, from Dracula and Mina to Heathcliff and Cathy.
With a wordless cry of frustration, Daisy tossed the remote on the coffee table. Drumming her fingers on the arm of the sofa, she glanced at her watch. It was almost ten o'clock. Was he at the Crypt, hoping she would show up? Maybe he had a good explanation for last night. Maybe he would have called if she had given him her number.
Chiding herself for being a hopeless fool, she grabbed her handbag and her keys and headed out the door.
The Crypt didn't do much business on a Monday night. Daisy sat at a table in the back of the room, an untouched margarita in one hand. There were perhaps a dozen people at the bar. The dance floor was empty. Three young men were shooting pool. Two women shared a table near Daisy's. The younger of the two was pouring out her heart to her friend. From what Daisy could overhear, the younger woman had just discovered her husband was being unfaithful.
