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Blood and death.
“I found my dad first. He was in the hallway. His throat had been ripped open.” So much blood. She hadn’t screamed when she’d seen him. She should have, she’d even tried, but her breath had been gone.
She’d dropped to her knees next to him. His precious gun had still been in his hands. Her dad never loaded the thing so it hadn’t done him a bit of good.
Simon’s fingers skated down her cheek, and Dee realized she’d dropped her gaze. His hand curled under her chin, and he forced her to look at him again.
Better him than the past. “I found my sister next.” She paused, felt the pain. “She was seven.” They’d killed her in her bedroom, right there next to Sara’s pretty pink bed and her tall, white doll house.
“Some vamps get off on children’s blood. They think it makes them stronger,” he said. “Dee, look at me.”
She was, but she could still see Sara. “She used to drive me crazy. I was so much older and—” And Simon probably didn’t care. He didn’t want to know what a jerk she’d been to her kid sister. Didn’t want to know that she’d run straight to Sara’s room after finding her father, her heart burning her chest. When she’d found Sara, she’d fallen.
The scream had come then. Breaking from her mouth and shattering her.
“I screamed for her, for help, and then I heard the footsteps coming.”
So stupid.
“They would have heard you the minute you entered the house,” Simon said and his face hardened. “The bastards were just playing with you.”
She knew that now. They’d let her find the bodies, let the terror and grief break her, and they’d crept out to watch her. Sick, twisted freaks.
Then they’d attacked.
“Their mouths were stained with blood. When I saw their teeth, I-I didn’t believe what I was seeing at first.”
Because who would believe vampires were real? That they’d just slaughtered your family?
“We’ve been waiting for you, little Sandra Dee. Waiting so long.”
Dee jumped and the ice pack tumbled from her fingers. “What? What the hell did you just say?”
His fingers fell away. “I said they were waiting for you, probably trying to make sure you were alone before they attacked. It’s the way the bastards work.”
Yes, it was.
“How did you get away?”
Because of a miracle. Or, no, maybe because the devil had gotten bored and decided to stir up hell on earth. “My mother came down the stairs.”
Still alive. Dee had gasped those words. One vamp had held her right arm, another her left. She’d thought they were going to rip her apart. And the other vamp bastard—the one with the blond hair, coal black eyes, and the lying, kind face—he’d watched her with a smile.
Her mother had stumbled down the steps. Thick, gaping wounds covered her neck. “The vamps hadn’t been easy with her.” A rusty, broken laugh broke from Dee. “When are they ever easy?” A kind kill wasn’t generally an option for vampires. They liked prey to suffer.
Blood had soaked her mother’s shirt. Her face… “She was so pale. Trembling. And her eyes, they were—” Changing. Fading from a brilliant gold to dark shadows. Dee hadn’t known what that darkness meant. Not then.
“They laughed when they saw her. Told her that she couldn’t have a drink.” Mom doesn’t drink. The stupid thought had been the fifteen-year-old’s Dee’s first reaction. Her mother never touched alcohol. Never.
His jaw locked but his gaze never wavered. “Finish it,” he gritted.
She didn’t want to. Dee squeezed her eyes shut.
Darkness.
Just like her mother’s eyes.
Were all vampires really bad?
