Bitten By Regret (Just One Bite #2) (9 page)

Before these thoughts had finished in her head, Diandra was
up and tackling the vampire to the floor. It was easy to see now how Lizbeth
had managed to overlook him- he wore gray and black sweats, done up in a
pattern so the eye wouldn't notice them in the shadows. His shoes were black as
well, and nothing shined on him at all in the meager light, not even his eyes.
Even his skin tone was a bland gray shade, giving him the appearance of a
breathing corpse. Diandra looked like a pixie fighting a giant as she slammed
his head to the floor and straddled his chest. Her arms looked delicate but the
power in them was evident as she held the muscular man twice her size pinned to
the kitchen floor.

The assassin hissed as Dia sank her fangs into his shoulder,
tearing his right arm off of his body. She shook her head sending the arm and
splatters of blood to rest against the fridge.
 
"Who sent you?" she growled, fangs fully elongated as her
hunter's instincts were roused. He remained mute even as she ripped off his
other arm and spat that out as well. "Who fucking sent you?" she
repeated, but he remained mute. "Tell me now or I will rip your miserable
head from your body."

"I know not his name. He ne'er gave it, and he wore a
cloak so I saw not even his hair color. Kill me if you must for I have
failed." He nodded solemnly to her and shut his eyes. A moment later it
was over. Diandra rose to her feet, triumphant, holding the severed head by one
ear. A shiver raced down Lizbeth's spine as she, for the first time, realized
how truly terrifying Diandra could be in defense of her family. She was just
grateful not to be her enemy.

*****

Lizbeth had argued with Diandra right up until Alexar pulled
up in front of the house and honked the horn. She wanted to help dispose of the
remains but Diandra wouldn't hear of it. Minutes after she'd torn the assassin
apart the body parts started steaming. A bright light shone from them so
strongly that the women had to shield their eyes. When the light dissipated the
body was gone and a pile of ash remained in its place. The women eyed each
other in surprise- this was like nothing they had ever seen. It was more
fitting for some cheesy horror movie and not real life. Diandra finally
shrugged before saying that the horror movies finally got something right. All
that remained to show what went on that morning was the ashes and the blood.
She insisted that since the mess was relatively easy to clean up there was
nothing to stop Lizbeth from doing her duty. Lizzie gave up- she leaned in and
kissed Diandra goodbye and headed out the door. She grimaced as she realized
she'd never gotten her coffee.

The taste of her fear was still thick in her throat-
metallic and heavy as though she'd filled her mouth with pennies and even
though she'd spit them back out the taste lingered. Sighing, she headed out the
door, giving in and allowing herself one quick shudder of distaste before
heading towards Alexar's car. If it weren't for the headlights being on she'd
never have seen the damned thing. Mud brown, it blended in with the decreasing
shadows as a faint light on the horizon let on that dawn was just around the
corner.

"Hey, could you have been just a little more abrupt on
the phone?" she said by way of greeting as she climbed in the passenger
side. He grunted as he peeled out of the driveway, his tires squealing just a
bit. Lizbeth quickly buckled her seatbelt to prevent being tossed about the
seat like a rag doll during the drive. "Hey hero, can we stop by the gas
station up ahead? I need coffee- badly. I'm even willing to drink bad coffee.
I'm not picky." She lifted a hand to rub her temples as he shot past the
convenience store. This promised to be a very long day if she didn't get her
coffee fix. Some people smoked, some drank- Lizbeth was fine as long as she had
her coffee. Without it she knew it wouldn't be long before her head started
pounding like a steel drum and her eyes would burn from the lack of sleep. And
let's face it- she would turn into a first class bitch without it.

Shifting her mind from its internal fixation on caffeine to
her boss she was stunned at what she saw. Her normally impeccably dressed boss
looked like a slob. His stubble had come in thick and dark, providing an
oddly-compelling contrast to his salt-and-pepper hair. Speaking of hair, he'd
obviously run his fingers through it frequently during the night as it stuck up
and out in all directions. His tie was askew and his shirt was wrinkled beneath
his pristine suit jacket. The only thing that saved the jacket from being a
wreck like the rest of his outfit was his penchant for removing it and hanging
it on the coat rack in his office as soon as he reported to work. He only wore
it during the day when he had a press conference he needed to speak at or if he
had a case that took him out of the office.
 
His disheveled appearance, more than anything else, drove home to her
the fact that this case was taking a very personal toll on him.

"Alexar," Lizbeth said quietly, "when did you
last sleep?" An angry glare was the only response she got but it was
enough to show that he hadn't slept in quite some time. "You need to take
a break when this is all over. You're running yourself into the ground, your
mood has become surly, and frankly, my friend, you look like shit."

Alexar barked a laugh in response. "You never do pull
any punches, do you?" He grinned a little and eased back in the seat.
"The mayor has been chewing my ass on this one, and the district attorney
has been harassing my secretary daily for updates. Everyone wants this solved-
they're worried it'll catch on in the news and cause public hysteria. Part of
me is pissed to the teeth that it hasn't. Yes, the victims were heroin addicts,
but they were still humans. They're being murdered and no one gives a damn
about a dead junkie. I think if we hadn't covered up the murdered cop angle the
press would've been all over it by now. It's not right that murder is
considered an annoyance instead of a severe injustice."

Lizbeth studied him silently, flushing a little as she
remembered thinking the same thing when she saw the first body- it's just
another dead junkie. Now she was personally invested in catching the bastard
manufacturing this shit, but that didn't excuse the fact that she viewed the
case in the same light at first. She was also puzzled as to why DA Giles Carson
was so interested in this case. Did he have a stake in this, too, or was he
merely worried about nailing a bad guy and getting more good publicity?

"When did this become personal to you?" Lizbeth
asked hesitantly. He didn't need to answer and she was torn- part of her truly
wanted to know, while the other part of her dreaded a peek into his personal
Hell.

Alexar was silent for so long that Lizbeth didn't think he'd
answer. "My older brother fought in Vietnam." Lizbeth was quiet,
letting him tell his story in his own way. "When he came home he was a
wreck. He barely slept, he looked like a corpse. I sometimes wondered if
Vietnam had killed him, even if he was still standing. Turns out it did. He
came back a heroin addict. I watched my brother use. I was too young to
understand much of it at the time other than the man I idolized was doing
something I knew had to be wrong. He was depressed, angry,
moody
all the time. We never understood until the autopsy. He OD'd on heroin- he
killed himself deliberately because he couldn't break his addiction."

Alexar wrenched the car to the curb. A shudder shook the
man's broad shoulders before he took a deep breath. "Ever since then I've
really had an issue with heroin addicts. I pity them and I despise them. My
brother died in Vietnam, but he'll never be recognized for his sacrifice. He's
not the only one, either. Several of his friends returned addicted. A couple of
them are clean now, a few are dying of AIDS or hepatitis, and several more are
dead. So seeing someone deliberately kill these men and women, men and women
who could get clean with help if they wanted to, hurts me on a deep level. This
case is probably one of the most personal cases I've ever worked. I should back
off the case, but I just cannot do it, Lizbeth. I have to see this
through."

Lizbeth reached towards him, helpless, wanting to help him.
He pulled slightly out of reach before clearing his throat and wiping furtively
at the tear marks she could see in the street light they were parked beneath.
"In any case, we have our guy. Doctor Leonard Allsgood. How's that for a
name for this prick? He's an ER doc, and according to his DMV photo he's the
one who's putting this shit on the street." Alexar handed her the case
file, open to the picture of Dr. Allsgood, then checked the mirrors out of
reflex before pulling the car back onto the road. The streets were still empty
of the early morning rush of people commuting to work. "He's on the
overnight shift so we should catch him as he's leaving the hospital." He
flicked his gaze at her before concentrating very hard on the road. "I'd
appreciate it if this stayed between us, okay?"

Lizbeth nodded, knowing he could see it with his peripheral
vision and the rising sun.
"Yeah, of course.
Just us."
She slumped a bit in the seat as they
continued towards the hospital. No coffee, a vampire assassination attempt, a
dirty doctor, and a boss with a personal axe to grind. Boy, this was just
shaping up into a real peach of a day. All she could do was hope it got better
from here- not worse.
 
As she reached
into her briefcase for a pair of sunglasses to guard her aching head against
the low light of the morning, she silently acknowledged to herself that chances
were slim this day would be as easy as she hoped it would be.

Chapter Fifteen

While Lizbeth set out to work with Alexar, Diandra settled
down in the kitchen to clean up the mess she'd made of the assassin. She shook
her head as she got a bucket from the kitchen closet. Setting it in the sink,
she got her cleaning products from underneath. She added a cup of bleach to the
bucket and leaned against the counter as she waited for the bucket to fill. She
started to shake as her heart stopped racing- it was beating nearly as fast as
a human heart from the adrenaline. She allowed herself to ponder the important
questions as she lifted the heavy bucket out of the sink with next to no effort
expended. Who sent the assassin and why? It obviously wasn't work related or it
wouldn't have been a vamp they sent to kill Lizbeth but the average thug. No,
this was obviously a vampire thing, but the list couldn't be that big… could
it?

Diandra's reflexes kicked in as she heard a thud against the
kitchen door. She hissed, her fangs protruding once more in anticipation of
another assassin entering her home. She rushed the door at a crouch when her
enhanced hearing caught the sound of a familiar groan from the other side of
the door. When she flung the door open Eamon staggered into the kitchen. His
eyes flickered from the blood to the bucket and then to the pile of ash on the
floor before flicking back to Diandra's. He cradled his aching head in his
hands as he slumped to the floor. Diandra followed him down, her knees buckling
in relief as once again the adrenaline left her system.

"Eamon, what are you doing here? And what happened to
you?" She studied his face, pale behind his usual golden skin tone. A cut
at his hairline was oozing blood, and blood smeared his face from where it had
gushed previously before his vampire blood started the healing process.

Eamon peered up at her over his hands before bowing his head
once more. "I was keeping an eye on the house like I normally do." He
cut off as Diandra raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Okay, yeah, I watch
the house. I'm still your trainer. Even if you couldn't see me, I've been here.
I would've stepped in if it seemed like you needed me. May I continue?" At
her nod he did so. "I was watching the house when I saw him swoop down and
go to work on the window here," he said as he gestured towards the window
with its screen still missing. I came up behind him but he sensed me somehow
and spun on me. He hit me full force in the head with his tool bag- it's still
outside the window on the ground, by the way. I'm healing now but he knocked me
out cold and fractured my skull. If I were human I'd be dead right now."
He rubbed tiredly at his head and Diandra watched in fascination as the wound
finally finished sealing itself, the skin smooth and perfect except for the
blood remaining on his face.

Shaking herself, Diandra filled him in on everything that
went on that morning. Saying nothing, he got to his feet and went to the closet
to get the broom and dustpan. He swept up the ash while Diandra picked up a
sponge and a scrub brush. They worked in silence as they both pondered the
strange attack on Lizbeth and what it could possibly mean.

"You know," Eamon began, "Carson got away
that night. He may have sent one of his lesser vamps to remove her from the
picture. Maybe you and I were supposed to be on the list as well and he botched
it."

Diandra nodded thoughtfully. "I was considering that
option myself. He admitted he failed. He just refused to say what he failed at,
and I didn't think very carefully before I ripped him apart like I did. I was
just so damned angry that he would dare enter my house like that. I should have
asked exactly what his mission had been."

Eamon agreed. "Yes, you should have. The vampire
assassin creed states that if the assassin is bested in his mission he must
answer truthfully what questions are posed to him. I'm sorry I never told you
but I didn't think there'd be a need for that information when you haven't even
seen your first birthday. Most people need to make it at least ten years before
they become an issue. And I certainly never considered that Lizbeth could be a
possible target. Most vamp assassins only attempt to kill another vamp- it's a
point of pride for them. It's like a human killing only duck or geese compared
to those who hunt bears and wildcats." At her eye roll he laughed.
"Yes, it's stupid, but vampire assassins believe they should be hired only
to kill vampires."