Gillian lingered on the kiss, Harold’s warm mouth awakening the twin desires for blood and sex. Both could wait, however, for she hadn’t seen her daughter since the previous evening. “Where’s Lucy?”
Harold’s face drained of colour until it was as pale as his wife’s. “I took her to the shop with me,” he said. “I forgot all about her.”
“It’s six o’clock at night, Harold,” Gillian snapped. “That’s beyond forgetfulness.” She all but flew out of the door, her running speed easily outpacing Harold’s driving as she raced across the lawns and over the wall into town.
He caught up with her at the shop, breaking several laws to do it, and opened up. They needn’t have worried. Lucy was fast asleep in a corner of the office, surrounded by sweet wrappers, two imps in sugar-induced comas and one slumped over a tome of Dark Fairy Tales..
Image: "Sleeping Child" Francis Luis Mora (1874 - 1940)