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As the O'Reilly family took their leave, Kevin took Daisy aside.
"I know I shouldn't be asking this now, but I'm afraid if I wait, you might go back to LA before I, well, I'd really like to see you again, you know, in a couple of weeks, or whenever you're ready. I'm sorry, I..."
"It's all right, Kevin."
"I can call you, then?"
"Yes."
"If there's anything we can do, don't hesitate to ask."
"Same here."
Kevin nodded, shook hands with Alex and Noah, and left the house.
They held the funeral the following afternoon. At the graveside, Daisy stood between Aunt Judy and Alex as the minister said a few final words of assurance and the promise that they would see Brandon again. Her mother and father clung to each other, their cheeks damp with tears. Aunt Judy sobbed into a handkerchief. Dry-eyed, Alex looked like he had been carved from stone.
Daisy held up pretty well until they lowered the casket into the ground and the mourners dropped handfuls of dirt onto it. It hit her then, really hit her. Brandon was dead and she would never see him again. Almost, she wished that he was a vampire, that he would rise again when the sun went down. Her tears came then, tears of sorrow for the loss of her brother, tears of regret because Erik wasn't there to comfort her. Where had he gone? And why did she care? He was a vampire, the same kind of godless, soulless creature that had killed Brandon.
She should hate him.
She wanted to hate him.
If only she could.
Kevin waited two weeks before calling on Daisy. She went out with him in hopes that it would ease her sorrow, that it would help her to forget Erik. It did neither. She tried to tell herself the reason she couldn't warm up to Kevin was because it was too soon, but that wasn't the reason. There just wasn't any spark between them, and there never would be.
"It's not working, is it?" Kevin remarked at the end of their third date.
"I'm sorry," Daisy said. "It's not you, it's me."
"Is there someone else?"
"There was. I guess I'm not over him yet." It wasn't Kevin's fault that she was forever comparing him to Erik, nor was it Kevin's fault that he fell short in every way.
"I understand. If you'd like to try again, give me a call."
Daisy nodded, uncertain whether she felt relief or regret as she watched him walk away.
Thanksgiving came and went with little fanfare. The family shared a quiet dinner and went to bed early.
Alex and Daisy had rarely left the house since returning home. Alex started complaining that he was going stir-crazy. Daisy could relate. Not only that, she missed her own place in LA. They were both heartily sick of being housebound.
Hardest to bear was the emptiness Daisy felt inside. She missed Brandon. She hated seeing the sorrow on the faces of her parents. The world around them was dressing up for the holidays, but there was little joy in the O'Donnell house. Daisy wondered if her mother would ever smile again.
Most of all, Daisy missed Erik. She thought of him constantly during the day and dreamed of him at night--strange imaginings that were always the same. Sometimes they seemed more like visions than dreams. You weren't supposed to feel pain in a dream, yet her body felt like it was burning, and her stomach felt like it was on fire. When she woke in the morning, she was always thirsty, as if it had been weeks since she'd had anything to drink. She told herself time and again that she hated him even though she knew it was a lie. She might hate what he was, but she couldn't hate him.
By the end of November, she couldn't stand it anymore. Her dreams were nightmares now, becoming more vivid, more realistic, each night. She had never been psychic, never had visions of any kind, but she was continually plagued by the very real fear that Erik's life was in danger. Her worries increased when she called his cell phone and no one answered.
Where was he?
Finally needing to talk to someone, she shared her worries with Alex one night after their parents had gone to bed.
Alex listened patiently, then said, "Forget him, Daisy Mae. I never liked him anyway. Now, Kevin..."
"I am not interested in Kevin O'Reilly! I'm interested in Erik, and I don't give a flying fig whether you like him or not."
"You hardly know the guy. I don't understand what you see in him."
"I love him," Daisy said, and felt the truth of it sink deep into her heart and soul. "It doesn't matter if you don't like him. It doesn't matter that he's a vampire--" She clapped her hand over her mouth, horrified by what she had let slip.
Alex stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I knew it. Dammit, in my gut I knew it all the time." He shook his head. "A dirty, bloodsucking vampire."
"And a good thing, too," Daisy retorted, "or you'd be dead now."
"What are you talking about?"
"When I took you to his house that night after Rhys almost killed you, Erik saved your life."
Alex gained his feet and stared down at her, his brow furrowed. "Oh, come on, Daisy, I wasn't hurt all that bad. Hell, I was up and around the next day. I didn't have a scratch on me."
"That's right, because Erik gave you his blood!" She hadn't intended to tell him that, wished she could recall the words the minute they were spoken.
"A vampire." Alex speared a hand through his hair.
"Yes, and you should be damn glad he is, or Brandon wouldn't be the only one of my brothers who's dead now."
Muttering under his breath, Alex dropped down on the sofa again.
"I have to find him," Daisy said. "I just know he's in some kind of trouble. I can feel it."
"You can...?" Alex looked at her sharply, his eyes narrowed. "You didn't...tell me you didn't drink his blood."
"Just a taste, once."
"And he drank yours?"
Her gaze slid away from his. "Yes."
"So, the two of you share a blood bond," Alex said, unable to keep the disgust out of his voice. "That's why you can feel what he's feeling."
"I hope not," Daisy murmured. "Oh, Lord, I hope not." The thought that Erik might actually be experiencing what she had been dreaming about was horrifying beyond words. And yet she knew it was true.
Erik stared into the blackness. He had lost track of the hours, the days, he had spent shackled in the dark. It could have been a month, it could have been a year. All he was really aware of was the pain that burned through his body. The searing agony of the silver that bound his wrists and ankles. The knifelike hunger pains that speared through his insides, growing sharper, longer, with every passing night.
