Page 50 of Immortal by Morning (Argeneau #37)

“He didn’t have to tell me what had happened,” Diane interrupted impatiently. “He’d started taking a bat out with him when

he left for the bar and the back of her head was caved in. I had a pretty good idea what had taken place without his having

to explain.”

Resentment plain in her expression, she added, “And yes, she was pretty, but other than that, she just looked like any other

woman. John kept insisting, though, that she was a vampire.”

Before the woman could continue, Abril turned to Crispin in confusion. “The way you describe immortals I assumed you couldn’t

really be hurt, that you’d heal quickly from any injury other than having your head cut off or being set on fire. But you

can be hurt? And if you can, why wouldn’t he just drug her or something?”

“I presume either because he did not think of it, could not get any, or was not sure what would work. If it was the latter,

he was right, normal drugs do not usually work on us,” Crispin said, answering her last question first. “The nanos clear them

out too quickly.” When Abril merely nodded that she understood, he added, “But of course we can be hurt. Bullets and knives

will pierce our bodies, our bones can break and our skulls can be crushed and caved in. The only difference is they will not

kill us and we heal very quickly. But an injury as grievous as Mrs. Foley described would incapacitate us for some time.”

“Oh,” Abril nodded, her expression solemn.

“As I was saying,” Diane went on heavily, obviously annoyed at the interruption to her tale, “John insisted she was a vampire

and begged me to cooperate. He loved me and wanted our life back. Even if I might never be able to have a child again as a

vampire, I’d be able to walk. We could dance, travel, and so on, but most important, he could make love to me and stop feeling

like a cheating asshole. Of course I wanted all that too, so I finally agreed to let him use her to turn me.”

She paused briefly, her expression unhappy and then continued, her voice low and solemn.

“He said he’d researched it and while vampires usually bit their victim before turning them, he didn’t think that was actually necessary.

He suspected ingesting the vampire’s blood was enough to do the trick.

So he cut her wrist,” she said, and then released a short, sharp laugh.

“Actually, he very nearly severed her hand from her wrist he cut so deep, then he pressed the gushing wound to my mouth. I drank as much blood as I could stomach from the wound and was just trying to push her arm away when the vampire woke up.”

Diane paused and shook her head with a sort of awe. “The next thing I knew I was yanked from my wheelchair and flying through

the air. I hit something, probably the wall,” she guessed and shrugged. “I’m not sure what I hit, but the pain in my head

and upper back was blinding and that’s the last thing I remember so I guess I must have lost consciousness.

“I don’t know how long I was out, but when I woke up...” She shook her head, her face blanching with the memory that was

returning to her and then she suddenly straightened, all emotion leaving her face. Her voice was much stronger and colder

when she said, “When I woke up the vampire was lying a few feet away with her head missing and John was sitting on the floor

with me, cradling me in his arms. I was confused, in terrible pain, and unbearably hungry and he... I remember thinking

that he smelled sooo good.”

Abril seemed confused that would be the woman’s thought at such a moment, so Crispin explained, “By good, she means John smelled

absolutely delicious to her.” When those words didn’t clear Abril’s expression, he added, “Like a steak on legs.”

Abril’s eyes were wide with incredulity now and Crispin nodded solemnly.

“She was mid turn. From her memories of the scene at that point, it does not appear that her husband had even realized she would need blood, let alone arranged to get any for her turn. Sadly, this led to Diane attacking her own husband while she was out of her head with the turn and draining him dry before passing out again.”

“Liar!” Diane roared with fury, trying to rise up off her chair. Both men immediately caught her shoulders and forced her

to remain seated. She glared at Crispin and growled, “I would never hurt my husband! The vampire must have injured him horribly

before he was able to cut off her head, and then he bled out before I woke up.”

Crispin shook his head. “In your memories of that night, when you woke up the second time you were lying between the headless

woman and your cold, dead husband. There was a bloody machete lying near the immortal’s body, but other than that there was

very little blood anywhere else. So, while your memory of him shows him so pale he appeared to be drained of every drop of

blood in his body, he did not bleed out naturally.”

Diane Foley shook her head in denial, but her expression was stark now as she struggled with the guilt of what she’d really known all this time, but had done her best to deny.

Leaving her to her inner battle, he told Abril, “The second time she woke up, she was no longer in pain and could walk. Better than that, she was strong. She buried the immortal, her head, and John in the indoor garden, cleaned up the mess, including showering and changing her clothes. By that time, her stomach was beginning to cramp with the need for blood, and—” Noting Abril’s confusion, he paused to explain, “She was not done turning. That takes a while as a rule, but with the injuries she’d taken in the car accident there was even more to repair than would normally be the case.

She needed a lot of blood, and probably a week or two for the turn to reach the stage where she would remain conscious and seem normal despite the little repairs continuing under the surface. ”

When she nodded, he continued, “Anyway, when the pain became unbearable, she passed out on the couch. She was still there

when she was awoken the next afternoon by knocking at the door. Half asleep, she stumbled to open it and found a couple of

Jehovah’s witnesses on her stoop, eager to press pamphlets into her hand and talk to her about the Lord. Diane invited them

in.”

Sighing, he met Abril’s gaze and said, “They were the first bodies in the outdoor garden. She buried them in the dark of night

and drove their car out into the country, dumped it there, and walked back.”

Abril grimaced, but then gave him an encouraging smile and he continued, “Unfortunately, Jehovah’s witnesses did not come

around every day at dinnertime. But the next day her sister did come. Along with her husband and teenage daughters. With everything

that had been happening, Diane had forgotten she’d made plans the week before and invited them to dinner. They were the next

four in the outdoor garden and then she had to get rid of their car too.”

Abril’s jaw dropped. Eyes shifting to Diane, she gasped, “Your own sister? And your nieces?”

Diane scowled at her. “My sister was a know-it-all bitch who always got everything she wanted, and my nieces were spoiled

brats. As for my brother-in-law... don’t even get me started. I always loathed the pompous ass.”

When Abril just gaped at the woman, Crispin carried on with the tale, now eager to get it done. “After that, she invited different friends to dinner who also ended in her garden.”

“Really?” Abril glared at the woman with disgust.

“They deserved it,” Diane snapped. “They all pretty much abandoned me after I was paralyzed. Hell, my best friend even tried

to hit on my husband.” She scowled, and then added, “Besides, I didn’t kill all my friends, just the fair-weather ones. After

that I started going out to get my meals.”

When she fell silent, Crispin continued. “She did start going out to ‘get her meals.’ She went to bars, brought home men,

drained them, and buried them in the garden. She had gone through the twelve victims we found outside before she accidentally

discovered that she could control the minds of her victims. More importantly, she had a better idea of how much blood she

could take without it killing them while still satisfying her need. A need that had finally begun to wane now that the worst

of the turn was over with,” he added.

“After that, the people she feasted off survived their ordeal. At least for a while... more’s the pity,” he added dryly

and explained, “Because while she could control them, she did not at first know that she could wipe their memories. So, she

kept them rather than risk their blabbing about her. She was chaining them up in one of the guest bedrooms, but was sure it

would be safer to keep her victims in a basement, away from prying eyes. Besides, she could not risk the neighbors noting

that she was walking again or that her husband was missing, which would lead to questions. So, she decided she needed to move.

She went out to the bars, found a man who lived alone in a house with a basement, and went home with him.

“After feeding on him, and tying him up in his basement, she came back here to collect her other victims—the still living ones and took them there. The next day she contacted a Realtor to sell this house. Everything was fine at first. Her husband’s company built the house, but they’d put the deed in her name to protect it from his company’s creditors.

It wasn’t until she went to sign the sales contract for the house that there were any issues, and that was because her Realtor mentioned that Mr. Branson planned to dig up the gardens and build a deck that would run along the side and back of the house.

Diane could not have that, of course, and went straight to the Bransons.

She took control of Mr. Branson to make him drop the idea of the deck, cancel the contractor, and then had him arrange for a small patio instead.

One that wouldn’t need the garden being dug up. ”