Twice Bitten

  Twice Bitten

  Copyright © 2012 by R.G. Emanuel

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  Visit Us On Line

  Twice Bitten

  by

  R.G. Emanuelle

  Mystic Print Books

  Copyright © 2012 by R.G. Emanuelle

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-61929-089-1 (eBook)

  eBook Conversion December 2012

  Cover design by Donna Pawlowski

  Published by:

  Regal Crest Enterprises, LLC

  3520 Avenue H

  Port Arthur, Texas 77627

  Find us on the World Wide Web at http://www.regalcrest.biz

  Published in the United States of America

  Acknowledgments

  First, I would like to thank the members of my writer's group: Carrie Vaccaro-Nelkin, Judy Levinton, Marie MacBryde, and Anne Wagenbrenner. Over the years, they have given me the honest criticism and encouragement I needed to continue working on this novel. Thank you so much, ladies.

  I would also like to acknowledge my beta reader, Deb Morvant, for giving me a reader's perspective and bringing to light some things I hadn't thought about. Thank you also to my editor, Nat Burns, for a great job, as well as Cathy Bryerose and the RCE crew.

  Last, but not least, a huge thank-you to Andi Marquette for lighting the bulb over my head and providing me with that "Aha!" moment that allowed me to pull everything together and actually get this thing done.

  Twice Bitten

  by

  R.G. Emanuelle

  Mystic Print Books

  Chapter One

  SUSANNA GLANCED NONCHALANTLY at the long blade glinting in the moonlight. The ivory-inlaid handle was almost obscured by Fiona's trembling hands. Susanna's lips twitched into a small smile.

  "You won't do it, Fiona. You love me."

  Fiona flinched at the word love. "I used to. I used to love you with all my heart and soul."

  "And now?"

  Fiona looked around Hyde Park and wondered how to tell someone who had meant the world to her that she no longer wished to be part of her life. They were in a place where they'd spent so many happy hours together, walking, laughing, reading. Now, they stood face to face, and Fiona was ready to'¦to do what? She still wasn't sure.

  The winter had stripped the trees of their leaves, exposing their graceful skeletons that spider-veined the sky and reached across to one another, as if they would help one another brace against the season's harshness.

  In that moment, Fiona let go of all she had left of her devotion to Susanna.

  "I accept the fact that the woman I loved no longer exists. You are just using her body. She is dead." Fiona said this to shore up her own resolve more than to explain her actions to Susanna. She'd given up trying to reason with her former lover.

  "Of course I exist. And I've always loved you. Dead is a word that can be interpreted in different ways." Susanna stepped closer to Fiona but stopped when Fiona moved backward. "All I ever wanted was for us to always be together."

  Fiona straightened her back and set her jaw. "You did it for yourself. You weren't thinking of me."

  Susanna frowned and Fiona thought she saw a glimmer of pain flicker across her face.

  "I did it for both of us," Susanna said. "I wanted both of us to enjoy all that life has to offer and for as long as possible."

  Fiona had heard all of this before and wondered how Susanna could have such a limited understanding of the damage she had wrought. Quietly, Fiona said, "You didn't give me life. You took my life and love away from me. And you've given me no choice."

  "You won't do it," Susanna repeated with a short laugh.

  In the time it took for Susanna to laugh, Fiona sprang forward and thrust the dagger into her chest. Susanna's laughter abruptly stopped and the night seemed deeper and harshly quiet. She slowly brought her head forward and looked down at the blade plunged into her body, Fiona's hand still gripping the handle tightly. Susanna managed to lift her head up one last time to look at the woman with whom she'd shared so many years. Wide-eyed, she uttered her last word, Fiona, and slumped backward, pulling free of the knife.

  Under a waxing crescent moon, Fiona stared at the lifeless body crumpled on the ground. She clutched the long dagger, the blood of a thousand humans dripping from its edge. As she watched, Susanna's flesh disappeared from her frame, revealing dull, grayish bones. Those, too, began collapsing in on themselves as they thinned, layer by layer, and Fiona mourned the woman she'd lost, not this evening, but all those years ago.

  A breeze picked up and blew bits of the dust across the dirt road, bringing a lump to Fiona's throat. Susanna may have betrayed her and Fiona had come to hate her over the years, but she'd never wanted this kind of ending for her.

  "Fiona."

  The familiar voice beckoned her to turn around but she couldn't. There, disappearing right before her eyes, was the love of her life--the only person whom she'd ever loved, and who'd loved her--becoming nothing more than a pile of cursed, abominable ashes. At least, it had been the physical semblance of the woman she'd loved. Something had changed, and Fiona stood now, knowing that she'd murdered her. Destroyed her.

  "Fiona," the voice repeated. Ramon stepped to her side and gently took the weapon from her hands. "It's all right. Sometimes, these things must be done." He patted her on the shoulder and paused to watch the remains of what had once been Susanna, his protege, mingle with the dirt.

  He stepped into her line of vision. "Just remember what I told you," he said. "You are destined to find your true love. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have that destiny. But you are. You will find The One someday. I cannot tell you when or where, but you will."

  Ramon's words dissipated into the night. Fiona couldn't take her mind off Susanna. She shut her eyes tightly and remembered the beautiful, dark-haired woman she'd once loved. The smiles Susanna would bestow on her, the sparkle in her brown eyes when she murmured sweet things to her, the lilting laughter that sang in Fiona's ears. Images of their life together flashed behind her eyelids as remorse stabbed at her chest.

  "Why did she make me do this?" she whispered hoarsely. "Why? Why did she do this to me?" "My dear," Ramon said, "Susanna fought her own demons and we shall never know what drove her to do things she did. But you cannot let someone else's decisions dictate your life. She brought these circumstances on herself. You did what you felt you must." He stepped closer to her and lifted her chin with one well-manicured finger. "Now, go home and get on with your life."

  He turned and walked away, wiping the blood from the blade with a handkerchief as he did so. "Even this life has no guarantees,"
he called back quietly.

  Fiona looked down at the clothing on the ground...all that remained of Susanna. A blue silk dress, gloves, a hat...things that any fine lady might have worn. But sitting there, laid out as if Susanna's figure might be drawn into them, they were death clothes, a shroud of betrayal and regret that would cover Fiona for the rest of her days.

  She kneeled by the dress, carefully folded it into a compact bundle, and placed the gloves and hat on top. She picked up the clothing and walked to a big beech tree. After digging a hole with her hands, she placed the clothing in the grave and reverently arranged stray ribbons and lace. As she filled in the hole with dirt, she realized she knew no more about the secrets of life and death than she had before.

  Her sobs filled the cold night air with unspoken heartache and a longing for something she'd never have again. Even if she did find love again, as Ramon had promised, it would never be what she'd had with Susanna. Her first love, her only love. Love that had been given and taken in its purest form. She stood up.

  May God forgive you, Susanna, and allow you to rest in peace.

  Fiona shook the dirt from her skirts, brushed her hands together, and walked away.

  1850

  FIONA STROKED ELIZABETH'S hair as she draped herself across her supine body. Elizabeth's soft, pearlescent skin smelled of lemon verbena, and her cocoa-colored eyes sparkled in the candlelight. Fiona felt unworthy of this beautiful creature.

  "Please," Elizabeth breathed, lust and terror making her voice barely audible. "Please," she said again. Her chest heaved rapidly and droplets of perspiration slid down along her temples.

  In the seconds before Fiona would fulfill Elizabeth's wishes, she looked into the young woman's eyes and searched for confirmation that she was The One. She didn't find it. Elizabeth...this sweet, wonderful girl...was not Fiona's destiny.

  Elizabeth waited for the one thing Fiona knew she'd longed for her entire life. Fiona had promised to give it to her. Now, she hesitated.

  "Fiona, please don't leave me like this. Do it. We were meant to be together...forever."

  Fiona lifted herself off Elizabeth. "No," she whispered. "I can't. It's not right."

  "You promised," Elizabeth cried, trembling. "You promised." She grabbed Fiona's collar and pleaded with her entire body.

  Fiona leaned back down on her tentatively and brushed the hair away from Elizabeth's neck. Elizabeth eagerly turned her head and tilted it back, exposing her creamy skin. Her torso writhed and her breathing quickened. She closed her eyes.

  Fiona bent her head and bared her fangs, and slowly--very slowly--neared the delicate flesh. Doubt and remorse filled her with a disgust she hadn't felt since killing Susanna. Yet it didn't stop her.

  As Fiona penetrated her skin, Elizabeth's back arched and her pink lips parted in ecstasy. When it was done, Fiona pulled her head up.

  A tear fell where she had just made her mark of immortality.

  Chapter Two

  1900

  ROSE GODWYN STEPPED out of her New York City brownstone. Gliding down the ruddy red steps, gracefully, as she'd been taught, she glanced around at the bustling neighborhood. Livery coaches were busy making their way up and down the cobblestone streets, picking up and dropping off passengers. Some were businessmen, tending to the work of the day. Others were the wives of businessmen, going to and from appointments. Those ladies just returning home stepped out of the cabs in their finery and allowed the livery drivers to carry their packages into their vestibules.

  In contrast to all the well-to-do ladies and gentlemen were the servants, walking with baskets of groceries in their arms, sweeping the property in front of their masters' homes, or huddled on someone's steps, sharing the latest gossip. The sun was very bright this May morning and warmed Rose's face, even though it was a bit chilly. Still, she didn't want her face to redden too much or her mother would lecture her about maintaining a ladylike complexion. A proper young lady's face should be like porcelain--smooth and white, her mother had admonished her. A ruddy face was the mark of the lower classes. Rose untied her parasol.

  As much as she hated it, the parasol did allow her to hide from passersby. She hated small talk with her neighbors. It was always the same inane chatter and the same polite questions: How are your parents? Did your father profit well from that last negotiation with the construction company? Has your mother fully recovered from her condition? Have any suitors called upon you recently? If she saw a particular person, she could wager on exactly the questions he or she would ask. Most of the time, she sensed that they were no more interested in the answers than she was in answering them. It was all afacade, all a matter of proper social behavior.

  Even worse was the phony politeness of the more sanctimonious neighbors. Those people looked down their noses at her because her family had the audacity to be Roman Catholics instead of proper, upstanding Protestants. It disturbed non-Catholics who entered their home to see crucifixes hanging on a wall in every room. A neighbor once told her outright how disgraceful it was to have the image of our Sweet Lord Jesus Christ hanging lifelessly on a cross. Yes, he had been crucified but did we have to portray it so vividly and display Him like that for the world to see over and over again?

  She was sick of it all. She thrust her parasol above her head.

  After she'd walked only a block, she stopped abruptly. Turning a corner was their housekeeper Bridget, no doubt returning from some errand her mother had sent her on. Rose didn't want Bridget to see her, so she turned and moved as close to the building as she could, shielding her face with the lacy umbrella.

  She made her way quickly to Washington Square Park, occasionally clucking at a squirrel or glancing behind her. She wouldn't have much time to herself. Her parents would soon realize she was gone and send Bridget to come look for her. Thankfully, spring was in full swing. She'd had enough of April showers and was glad to finally smell the fragrant flowers, feel the warm temperatures, and gaze at blue skies. And she was finally able to visit the park's arch and not go home with mud-covered boots, always a tell-tale sign for her mother about where she'd been. Her mother had forbidden her to go to the park alone. Too many unsavory characters, too many dangers for a young girl. But Rose hated being escorted all the time. She liked being alone, and sneaking off was the only way.

  Finally arriving at the Arc d'Triomphe-inspired arch, she chose a bench, sat, and reached down to unfurl the hem of her dress over her pristine leather boots. When she sat up, there was a woman on a bench across the way. Had she been there before? Rose couldn't recall seeing anyone there, and she most certainly would have noticed this person.

  The stranger's face was hidden by the hood of the dark brown cloak she was wearing, but Rose could see the woman's eyes boring into hers. They seemed to almost glow from within the hood's shadow. Rose's chest tightened and the hair on her arms stiffened. Something about the woman frightened her, but she could not look away.

  FIONA SAT WATCHING Rose from the bench, not moving a muscle. This pleasure wouldn't last long. Rose's visits to the park were always so short, before the housekeeper came and escorted her away. Fiona had searched for so long for someone who would make her heart jump the way Rose did, and just watching her made her feel things she hadn't felt in a long time. Not since Elizabeth. There was a brief dalliance after her, but nothing serious. Not for her, anyway. Her encounter with Rose was purely accidental but she knew instantly that she was the one who had been promised to her.

  After watching Rose for months, she knew everything about her. Lucas and Marianne Godwyn, true to their privileged backgrounds, saw to it that their daughter would enhance their heritage and do nothing to disgrace them. She was sent to a ladies academy and began training for her role in life at the impressionable age of seven.

  Rose was to walk, talk, eat, and breathe like a lady.

  Rose was now twenty-three, practically an old maid in her social sphere. Her parents had tried to marry her off twice, but Rose had resisted so vehemently, t
hat they had no choice but to acquiesce to her wishes. Young men had wanted to court her, but she gave no encouragement to any of them, offering no hope that anything would ever evolve between them. Pretty soon, the choices of suitors grew thin. Gentleman callers now were few and far between.

  It's a sign, Fiona thought.

  Fiona slipped her hand into her pocket and tightly grasped the small book resting there. She'd paid well for it.

  Melissa, Rose's maid, said she'd been a bundle of nerves doing the job for her, but she had succeeded. When Melissa had handed the book over, Fiona desperately wanted to read it, and tried to get rid of the maid. But Melissa would not be satisfied until she'd told Fiona every detail of her espionage. Fiona didn't need Melissa's story, but Melissa had plowed ahead with it regardless and she'd listened, politely, because she might need the maid's services in the future.

  "I waited for Miss Rose to leave the house for her morning walk to the park," she'd said. "My hands trembled, they did. I peeked 'round the corner and watched Miss Rose go out the door. As soon as the latch clicked, I scooted me way up the staircase. Oh, you can be sure I kept checking to make certain no one saw me. Quiet as a mouse, I entered the miss's bedroom."

  According to Melissa, Rose was so neat, that Melissa didn't usually need to do much work in her room. Even the bed required very little tidying, since Rose pushed the sheets and blankets up toward the head of the bed so that all Melissa had to do was smooth them out and fold them over the pillows. Fiona believed this. It was very much in keeping with Rose's obedient nature.