Taste of Grief (Just One Bite #3) (14 page)

Lizbeth came to with a groan. Her head throbbed in agony,
and she struggled to raise her hand up to check the damage but quickly figured
out that she was restrained. She opened her eyes as she looked down to see what
was wrong with her body. Thick rope bound her to a tree- the bark sharp and
bruising against her skin, even with all the hot, heavy layers she was wearing.
Confusion left her in a flood. She remembered the noises, stupidly going to
investigate when she knew she was under a death threat, and then pain as
something hit her. She didn't understand why she was so hot and felt so bulky
until she studied herself more closely. She had to have been wearing two or
three pairs of pants over her work trousers, and she had an unknown amount of
shirts and sweatshirts over her blazer and shell top. Her skin ran cold under
the thick sheen of sweat as she realized someone had dressed her like the
homeless woman she used to be.

Lizzie's head snapped up at the low sound of applause coming
from just out of her range of vision. "Oh goody, you've remembered,"
a smarmy voice said from her right side. She recognized it- Giles Carson. Son
of a bitch, he had her. "I won't have to waste time covering old
ground," he said as he strode to stand in front of her. She craned her
neck up from her seated position at the foot of a large oak tree- she wanted to
keep him in her line of sight as long as possible.

"What the Hell is your issue?" she said with false
bravado.

Carson just gave her that self-assured smile once more.
"You, my dear," he replied. "You're my problem, but not for
long. You see, the problems in Rehoboth gave me an idea. After all, you know
what's going on over there, don't you?"

Lizbeth fought not to shudder. She knew exactly what he
meant. "Expanding your kill zone, are you? I knew those murders looked
like your work," she said coldly.

Carson's grin grew wider. "But of course I did. You
ruined the good thing I had going here- not once, not twice, but three fucking
times." The smile was large and scary- full of pointed teeth, and his
voice matched the fangs- sharp and deadly.

Lizbeth sat quietly pondering that. She remembered the
terror when he held her captive the last time- the warehouse in Rehoboth Beach.
He'd been smuggling all manner of nasty things- guns, drugs, etc. Anything and
everything that could kill, she thought sourly. She shut that down with Diandra
and Eamon's help. And now the murders she pinned on Kicks since she couldn't
implicate a squeaky clean district attorney. What three could he possibly mean?
She paled as she finally figured it out.

He gave a joyful laugh. "Yes, the doctor was my
puppet," he said proudly. "I provided him with the tainted heroin and
he just ran around making sure it was sold." Then the laughter was gone,
and so was the creepy smile. In its place was raw fury. "But you ruined
that, too, you bitch. Arresting him, locking him up, making sure he couldn't
play anymore. I had to waste my time laying a compulsion spell on him to keep
him from talking about me."

"You were behind the whole thing," Lizbeth said
wonderingly, surprised it hadn't dawned on her before now.

"Yeah, and that fucking useless cop got in my way,
figured it out way before you did, so I had to kill him. He was quite useful
until he figured that out, and because of you, some useless petty human bitch,
I had to kill him. You'll pay for all of it," he said, stepping towards
her with a knife in hand.

Lizbeth knew what came next and she struggled, fighting
against her bonds even as he drew the knife over her throat and wrists. She
stopped suddenly and tried to slow her heart rate. The more she fought it, the
more she panicked, the quicker she'd force her life's blood to leave her body.
She sat calmly, fighting the dizziness and nausea that came with blood loss.
She sat there calmly and waited to die.

Giles Carson walked closer, bending down in front of her and
filling a bowl with her blood. Using his finger as a paintbrush, he started
leaving his message on the tree above her body, like he'd done to nine women so
far in Rehoboth- LESBIAN BITCH. He laughed as he sipped delicately from his
blood-filled bowl, enjoying the spoils of victory.

A sudden primal scream filled the air as Diandra discovered
the scene. She'd followed the scent of her lover's blood and knew her death was
imminent. She took in the picture in front of her- Giles sipping from the
bloody bowl, Lizbeth dressed like a bag lady, her head lolling on her shoulder
as she drew ever closer to death. Diandra shrieked again and launched herself
at Carson.

"You bastard," Diandra screamed, planting her feet
firmly in preparation of a shift. Her canines elongated into fangs- sharp,
white and deadly, and quite a match for Carson's.

Giles smiled. "Your little pet tastes good. It's a
shame men aren't her preference or I may have found another use for her. I like
my women warm and willing. Sadly, she's no use to me as anything but a blood
bag now."

"You will die, once and for all. I knew I should've
gone after you that night," Diandra said bitterly. She launched herself at
him, choosing to use her human form as opposed to an animal. She wanted to feel
the rending of his flesh under her hands, not paws or talons.

A gust of wind blew her up and back, crashing her into a
tree next to Lizbeth so she fell in a graceless heap beside her lover.
"Now, now, you don't want to tangle with me. I'm much older than you are.
You show a lot of promise." He cocked his head to the side as if he were
thinking. "I'll tell you what- I can use your talents on my team. After
all, you did destroy my last one. There's lots of money to be made- you could
use your share for that little charity you created with Jonah's ill-gotten
take."

Diandra stood up and stiffened her body. She had been
trembling but she fought it down- it wasn't from fear but from anger and the
strain of hitting the tree with such force. "I never saw such power from
you last time, Giles. As a matter of fact, you just fled rather than fight the
last time we met."

He reddened, angered by her comments about fleeing the
warehouse rather than defending his territory. "Yes, well, I had to think
before I did something I might regret. I have use for your talents, and killing
you that night would have been a waste."

Diandra stared hard at him, gauging the truth of his words.
A question came to mind, and she ignored his justifications for running.
"Why is it so important that she die, if she's just a mortal?" She
was honestly curious, and waited anxiously for an answer.

She was disappointed. Carson merely shrugged at her.
"She's an annoyance, nothing more. Now she's a hunk of used up, dried up
meat. She's just as worthless in death as she was in life. Hell, she's more
useful dead- at least the animals will have a few meals." He threw his
head back and laughed- and that was his undoing.

Diandra gave a war cry and jumped the fifteen feet
separating them, landing on his chest. She grabbed his arms and bent them back
and up, snapping them quickly at the shoulders. Carson screamed with the pain
as he yelled, "Mercy- I demand mercy!"

Diandra pinned him by the throat easily while his arms hung
limp and useless at his sides. "Why would you dare assume I'd grant you
mercy for killing my mate?"

"She's not dead yet. If you take the time to kill me,
she will die. If you let me go, you can turn her. She can still be saved."
His last words were garbled as he choked on his own blood, before turning his
head to the side and spitting it out. Something must have torn inside his body
when she threw him to the ground and landed on top of him.

Diandra climbed off of him and picked him up in one quick
movement. Using all her strength, she heaved him a good fifty feet further into
the forest, not caring how he landed or if he even survived it. Her eyes were
only for Lizbeth- so limp, eyes closed- as she lay tangled in the ropes still
binding her to the tree. Using her unearthly senses, she nearly slumped with
relief. Carson wasn't lying- Lizbeth was still alive, although just barely.

She dropped to the ground and crawled to her lover, too
tired and heartbroken to even consider walking any further. Their conversation
replayed in her head as she stroked Lizbeth's hair and cried.

"I've been dreaming
of my death- I don't know if it'll happen, but I keep seeing it when I close my
eyes. I don't want to leave you or Rae- I need to know that if something
happens that RaeLynn can't fix, you'll take care of me. I need you to promise
you'll turn me, so I don't have to leave you."

. "If you mean
it, I'll turn you. If something goes horribly wrong, if I fuck up and let you
come close to true death, I'll turn you so you don't leave us."

"Do you
promise?"

"I promise. God
help me, but I promise."

Diandra's heart ached as she remembered those words. Had it
only been hours? It felt like weeks since they'd had this conversation.
Stroking Lizbeth's cheek softly with one finger, she bent her head and prayed
for strength. She didn't want to do this- not like this. She wanted Lizbeth to
come to her willingly, asking to be converted so she could spend their eternity
together. Dia didn't want it to be a matter of life or death, but of life and
love. Was it so wrong to have hoped Lizzie would ask her to change her because
she wanted to, not because it was better than true death?

"I don't want to do this, Lord," Diandra whispered
as tears rolled down her face. "I want it to be her choice, not Carson's.
He's left us no choice if she's to live, and I didn't want this for her. Give
me the strength to keep my promise, and help me turn her. I need her with
me," she said softly as she bent over Lizbeth's neck. With a whimper of
protest, she allowed her fangs to protrude. As gently as she could, she pressed
her mouth over the gaping mess of her mate's neck and inserted the tips of her
fangs into the wound. She sucked at the wound, gasping at the taste of blood
fresh from the vein. It tasted so good without the flavor of glassware or
plastic. It tasted strongly of life, even as she knew she could bring death if
she wasn't careful.

She didn't know how to do this. She'd never converted
anyone, and had never asked how to do it because she never dreamed that she'd
have to. Should she just continue sucking at the wound until the body drained?
She winced as she realized she'd relegated Lizbeth to a mere "body"
as though she'd given her up for dead already.

A sudden knowledge filled Diandra's mind and she carefully
withdrew from Lizbeth's neck. She flicked her tongue over the point of her
canines and bit down. The blood flow was instantaneous, and she pressed her
mouth back to the ruin in front of her. As she continued drinking, she made
sure the blood from her tongue lined the gash in Lizzie's throat. She prayed,
"Let this work. Save my lover. I need her, God, please save her." The
litany ran through her head over and over again. Finally, after a few minutes
of continuous blood exchange, the puncture marks in her tongue closed. That
same knowledge told her this was enough- it would work or it would fail, but
she'd done all she could.

Dia grasped the thick rope from around Lizbeth's body and
pulled hard once- the rope tore, the fibers snapping under the pressure she
applied. She recognized it as the kind of heavy rope used to tether a boat to
shore, then shrugged it off as her mind tried to distract her. She pulled
Lizbeth into her lap, cradling her as though she were a sleeping child instead
of a near-dead adult. Her prayers never ceased. She felt Lizbeth's heart
accelerate and hope filled her. Then the heartbeat stuttered once, twice, a
third time, and then fell silent. Lizbeth's heart stopped beating, and she lay
dead in Diandra's arms.

Diandra set her gently on the ground before lying down
beside her and cuddling her as she did each night when they went to bed. She
held Lizbeth close to her and wept- the loss unbearable. She buried her face
against Lizzie's slashed and tattered throat, blood coating her face. It
stirred no hunger in her, so she ignored it until she felt movement.

Sitting back, she stared at Lizbeth, hope and despair
warring for control of her emotions. The pulse in Lizzie's neck fluttered like
a trapped bird- the only sign of life to be seen. Then she convulsed once, then
again, and settled back on the ground.

Diandra leaned over her lover, whispering her name in
question. Lizbeth eyes twitched under their lids a few times. Diandra repeated
herself, and this time the eyelids flew open, eyes wide and startled as Lizbeth
clutched at her throat.

Dia gasped as Lizzie's locked onto hers. Those gentle sky
blue eyes she'd fallen in love with were replaced with the eyes of a stranger-
nearly an electric blue with elliptical pupils like Eamon's. Lizbeth's strange
cat eyes were wide as she sat up and looked around. Diandra hugged her and
ignored the bunching of the muscles beneath her. "Welcome," she
whispered, tears of joy pouring down her face. "Welcome to your new
life."

Lizbeth wasn't quite strong enough to do much of anything,
so under her direction, Diandra ripped the bark from the tree with its bloody
message, scuffed the dirt and leaves around to cover the spilled blood, and
scooped up the rope. Studying the area, she nodded once; satisfied that she'd
done her best to cover up any lingering signs of a struggle, she turned and
picked Lizbeth up from where she sat in bewildered silence on the ground at the
foot of the tree. Cradling her against her chest like a child, she took to the
skies and headed for home.

Giles Carson never showed his face, and Diandra was
confident that he had fled to safety. This wouldn't be all they heard from him,
Dia knew this, but for tonight he was gone, and that would have to be enough.
She had a score to settle with him now, for what he'd done to Lizbeth, the
murder of Alexar, and the murder of Jonah. Jonah was a nearly useless bastard,
but he'd been the love of her life once, and Carson took that from her. She'd
make him pay- someday.