As was normal for vampires of his age, by the time it was fully light outside Carrick was in a sleep so deep that it was almost deathly. Away from Russ' warmth, his skin cooled and paled until it was back to its usual pallor and he lay as motionless as a corpse.
The heat of the sun hit him, and his eyes shot open. A wave of a roasting heat rolled over him,the bedclothes doing nothing to protect him from its rays. As he had told Russell, an ancient vampire like him would not burst into flames the instant sunlight his his skin. No, it would be a slow smoulder that ultimately would be a far more horrific and slower death.
The heat was searing; the sunlight seeking to ignite his flesh. Carrick's skin cracked, smoke rising from him as if a fire was burning inside him. The pain was immediate and agonising, wrenching a scream from him. He leapt from the bed, fangs bared and eyes black with fury, staggering back from the open door and the killing light beyond.