Taste of Grief (Just One Bite #3) (8 page)

He cleared his throat and then moved on. Diandra was silent,
only nodding when he looked at her to make sure he had her attention. He picked
up a sickle-shaped knife with a white handle. "This is a boline, a working
knife. Where the athame is used for figurative cutting, this is used for actual
cutting. Sometimes for carving symbols into candles, sometimes for cutting
herbs, but I always use this knife for actual ritual work. Some people prefer a
straight blade- I find the crescent shape more comfortable to wield, and
comforting as well since it reminds me of the moon." He blushed a bit at
that, but continued.

"I keep oil on hand- I prefer lavender oil as it goes
well with the type of magick I practice, but there are many other varieties
available and each means something different. And this is incense, as I'm sure
you know. It can be burned for all different types of magick, and each scent
has specific properties. For instance, you would never burn incense for a love
spell if it's meant to be used for monetary gains." He set down the
incense he was holding and lifted a small bowl. "This is a thurible, and
it's used for burning incense that isn't in stick form. I also burn herbs in it
as needed."

He shifted over to the right side, or Goddess side, of the
altar. He picked up a wooden chalice. "Wood appeals to me. There's
something so solid, so comforting, about the heft and feel of objects carved
from wood. That's why I chose a wooden chalice for the Goddess side of my
altar. I also chose wood for my paten." He set down the chalice and
offered up a wooden plate. Diandra took it wordlessly, running her fingers over
it and tracing the pattern of a star that was engraved upon it. She shivered
when energy ran up her fingers, through her arm, all the way to her shoulder.
She quickly set it down. Adrian continued speaking as though he hadn't noticed,
but she knew little escaped his attention. "The paten is for cakes and
such- think of it like a communion plate." He set it down and prepared to
move on.

"Wait," Diandra said. It was the first time she'd
spoken since shortly after they started, and he turned to give her his full
attention. "You've pointed out only two candles- the God and Goddess.
There's a large candle in the middle close to you. What is that one?"

Adrian nodded. "Good catch. That's the petitioner's
candle. I'm the petitioner, as this is my altar and I make the offerings. This
candle is lit first, and the other two are lit from it. The three candles are
situated like an inverted triangle, with the petitioner's candle forming the
point at the bottom. This is called a Delta triangle. I light my candle before
beginning my sacred circle and then I light my God and Goddess candles from it.
I use white for purity, as my intents are always pure when it comes to
magick," he said.

Diandra raised her eyebrows. "Oh, but outside of magick
your intentions are not pure?" She was teasing him, and he responded in
kind.

"Outside of magick my actions are not always pure, and
my thoughts never are." He wiggled his eyebrows and made her laugh. Then
the seriousness returned. He was back to lecture mode, but he was nearly
finished. "To the left side of my altar is my cauldron and my broom, or
besom. Neither has to be special but what they represent is. The besom sweeps
away negativity, and the cauldron is for mixing up my spell ingredients. It
symbolizes the Great Mother's womb; therefore it is sacred and should be
treated as such." He wiped theatrically at his brow and made her laugh
again. "And that's that. It's not so evil when you know what it's about is
it?"

Diandra shook her head. "No, but it's certainly a lot
more complicated than I thought it would be."

Adrian smiled. "It doesn't have to be. Some people
don't work magick at all- they simply worship. I just choose to do it
all."

Just then RaeLynn let out a small cry for attention. Diandra
thanked him for showing her this part of his life and then went to her
daughter. Her mind whirled, full of information. She certainly had plenty to
think about now.

Lizbeth felt like all she did was eat, sleep, and visit with
corpses. When she staggered in the front door after yet another endless shift,
it was already 8 p.m. and she couldn't remember what a decent night's sleep
was. She kicked her work shoes off, clutching the door frame of her home office
so she didn't fall face first onto the hard wood floor of the entryway, and
dropped her briefcase somewhere in the vicinity of her office. She didn't
bother looking to see where it landed. All she wanted was a soak in the tub and
some hot food- she wasn't sure what order she put those priorities, but she
knew food was probably the more important of the two.

She walked slowly, barely lifting her feet from the floor,
until she made it to the parlor. She threw herself down onto the loveseat and
put her feet up on the arm. She would just rest a moment until her feet quit
throbbing, she told herself. Then she'd get her food and maybe take a bath
before bed. She was asleep in moments.

Lizbeth dreamed, and even knowing it was a dream she felt
fear. A man in a black trench coat chased her with a syringe. Every time he
stepped into the pool of brightness cast by a streetlight, nothing lit up but
the syringe in his hand. Instead of a silver tip, the syringe glistened red in
that false yellow light. It wasn't until the drops hit the pavement that she
realized the tip was silver, but it couldn't be seen through the thick coat of
blood that struggled to congeal. She ran faster, and the hat covering the man's
face flew off in his efforts to chase her. She looked back over her shoulder to
find the street empty but for a trail of blood droplets, dark on the pavement.
When she spun forward again, she faced Giles Carson, and the syringe plunged
down into her arm.

Lizbeth woke screaming, and Adrian jumped back from her,
cursing under his breath. "I'm sorry, Liz, I didn't mean to startle you. I
was trying to wake you to see if you wanted to eat, or perhaps just head up to
bed." He looked contrite, obviously feeling guilty for scaring her out of
sleep.

Lizbeth shook her head. "Food sounds good, please.
Where's Diandra?" That question became moot as she flew into the room.

"Are you okay? What the Hell happened?" Diandra
barked out, the front of her soaked with water and what smelled like lavender
bath soap. Her hair was pulled up into a makeshift bun, but several strands had
escaped to float around her face. She brushed one wet hand through them,
pushing them back from her eyes as she searched their faces anxiously, seeking
a response.

Lizbeth shook her head and started to speak but Adrian beat
her to it. "I'm afraid that's my fault, Dia. I found her asleep on the
loveseat and went to wake her to see if she was hungry, but as soon as I touched
her arm she screamed." He turned to Lizbeth once more. "I'm really
sorry. I just wanted to help." He turned to walk away, shoulders slumped.

Lizbeth cleared her throat and called after him.
"Adrian?" When he turned she forced a smile. "Dinner sounds
good. What did you make?"

"Shrimp scampi," he answered with a smile. She
loved seeing him happy, she realized with a start. Whatever he felt was written
across his face, and when he was happy his eyes lit up, turning an impossible
shade of grass green. If he was angry or sad, the eyes were a bit darker, more
the color of moss under the shadows of the forest than that bright green of
grass in sunlight. She smiled at his retreating form as he hurried to get her a
meal.

Diandra was smiling at Lizbeth when she turned back to her.
"You really like him," Dia said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, I do. He's very sweet, and perhaps a bit
innocent, but I like him a lot," Lizbeth replied. "What were you
doing when I screamed, anyway? I assume RaeLynn got a bath, since you're so
wet."

Diandra's smile grew. "Well, I got one with her,
apparently, but I wasn't intending to. She discovered how much fun it is to
splash, and I couldn't stop her- she enjoyed it too much. When you screamed I
had just finished dressing her. I'd have been to your side sooner, but I needed
to place her in the crib first. I wouldn't want something to happen to her
while I was rescuing you," she teased.

Lizbeth lost her smile. She plopped down onto the loveseat,
and Diandra sat next to her, concerned by the abrupt change in attitude. "I
screamed because he woke me from a horrible dream," she confessed. She
filled Diandra in, pausing only to thank Adrian when he brought her scampi and
garlic bread to her. She finished her tale and he left the room, returning with
a beer and a soft smile.

"You could use this, no doubt, after a dream like
that," Adrian said.

Lizbeth took the bottle and drank a third of it in one large
pull. "Thanks, I guess I did need it," she said, smiling back at him.

Diandra remained silent as Lizbeth ate like she'd missed a
week's worth of meals. She didn't speak until Lizbeth had finished off her food
and drank the last of her beer. "Is this just a bad dream, or do you have
a reason for suspecting Carson?"

Lizzie stopped in the process of heading upstairs towards
their bedroom. Although eager for a hot bath now that her stomach was full, she
sat back down and filled Diandra in on her suspicions. Neither of them noticed,
nor would they have cared if they had, that Adrian stood listening in the
doorway. Not until he took a deep breath were they even aware he was still
present. "What is it?" Lizbeth asked him.

Adrian swallowed audibly. "I testified as one of the
District Attorney's witnesses a couple of times, and he's the one who prepared
me. Do I need to be worried?" he asked quietly.

Diandra answered for Lizbeth. "Yes, I'd say it's a safe
bet that you should be. And seeing as he's more like me than he is either of
the two of you, I'd recommend not leaving the house unless you have to,"
Dia said.

"I have errands to run, and many other things I need to
do. I can't just stay prisoner here, you know," he replied with a touch of
heat in his voice.

Diandra shook her head at him. "I understand that, but
you understand this: You say you have a purpose here. Do you truly believe that
purpose is to die because someone is after me, or after Lizbeth? Is that the
purpose you came here to fulfill?" Her voice was calm and reasonable, and
it seemed to soothe his ruffled feathers.

"No, no that wouldn't solve anything at all, would
it?" he said softly. "My purpose is to feed you, keep you healthy- I
can't do that from beyond."

Lizbeth raised her eyebrows. "Then you'll do as we ask
to keep yourself safe?"

Adrian nodded. "Yeah, I'll stay in the house. No
problem."

Once again the phone woke Lizbeth in the middle of the
night. Glancing at the clock she saw it was 2:45 a.m. and groaned as she
flipped the phone open. "Yeah," she said, clearing her throat into an
attempt to remove the sound of sleep from it.

"There was another call- another body. I flagged them
so they reach us first, then we'll call in the uniforms," Alexar said
without preamble.

That woke Lizbeth up. "We can't do that, can we?"
she asked.

"No, we can't, but I can," Alexar said. While she
sat in stunned silence, he quickly recited the address of the latest overdose
and hung up.

As Lizbeth dressed she couldn't help but wonder what Alexar
had been thinking. It was a definite breach in protocol to have these calls
directed to him alone. Yes, he was inviting Lizbeth, but there was a reason for
the uniforms besides securing the scene. Plus they could be accused of
tampering with evidence in the event that this case ever saw the inside of a
courtroom. Not that she believed it ever would, but that wasn't the point. She
was pissed by this asinine behavior. He had become beyond reckless, and she
prayed nothing bad happened to either of them because of it.

Lizbeth snatched up her coffee and briefcase. Adrian had
taken to setting the one-cup brewer for her in case she got called out in the
middle of the night, and she was extremely thankful for it as she rushed to her
car and drove as fast as she dared to get to the scene. She sipped her coffee
and mentally flipped through her notes on previous cases. She'd never been
among the first on scene for them, so it would be interesting to see the scene
without the distractions of crime scene techs and flashing lights.

She pulled up beside Alexar's unmarked car. She ignored the
creepy feeling she had, being one of the first on scene. Normally the scene was
bustling with people- those working the scene, the cops interested in checking
out the scene, and the rubberneckers who had no business being at the scene at
all. Now it was just her and Alexar.

Lizbeth shut the car off, opened her door, and snapped on a
pair of gloves. Using her narrow hip, she slammed the door shut, jumping a
little when the acoustics made the banging noise much louder than it should be
in the quiet. She looked around for Alexar but didn't see him. "Alexar,
I'm here. Where the Hell are you?" she hollered to him. When he didn't
answer she wandered towards the front door of the mom and pop store. Like all
the other small businesses here, it was closed for the evening. There was nothing
to see so she headed around back towards the rear door where deliveries were
usually dropped off.

There was no sign of Alexar, so she dug deep into her
training to remember how to secure a scene. He didn't have any markers up, no
sign he'd done anything except show up. Cursing under her breath, she decided
to check out the body before doing anything else.

From a distance she could see it was an older man. She
walked closer, head down studying the ground, making sure not to ruin any
possible trace evidence that might be underfoot. The body was positioned on its
back, the flood light positioned above the back door for security shining down
onto the empty face. Lizbeth looked into the all-too-familiar face of the dead
man before hurrying back to her car to radio for back-up. "Officer down,
officer down," she yelled into the radio. She gave the location of the
crime scene and already heard sirens approaching her location. She knew there'd
be a full house before all was said and done. In the meantime, she locked
herself in her vehicle, laid her head down on the steering wheel, and sobbed
her heartbreak at the death of Alexar Thompson.