Crave by Karen E. Taylor Page B

even fight them for myself. The only reason I’m not occupying the cell next door,” I shuddered, “is because Max’s ghost spoke for me.”
    â€œWell, I don’t imagine I’ll be that lucky. But there is something you can do.” Larry’s voice lowered to a whisper and he glanced over his shoulder to see if Ron was watching. He was, but not intently. He was confident that both Larry and I were under his complete control and his relaxed stance confirmed it.
    Larry shrugged and looked back up at me. “You could kill me. Kill me and put me out of my misery. This is hell, Deirdre, a hell you sent me to. Kill me, now. Please. I won’t even try to stop you. I’d do it myself if I could.”
    â€œOh, God, Larry.” I pulled my hands away from his and covered my face, pressing in on my eyes, trying to prevent the tears. “I don’t think I can. Not in cold blood. Not even if you beg me to.”
    â€œYou’re too soft, Deirdre. But you could have Mitch do it. He’d do it if you asked him to. Hell, he’d be overjoyed to kill me, he already said so. The only thing that stopped him from killing me was you.”
    I shook my head and gave a humorless laugh, dropping my hands back to my lap. “Yes, you’re probably right. But I don’t know, Larry. I just don’t know.”
    â€œDeirdre,” he grasped my wrists and brought my hands down to his face. “You have to help me. You just do. Here, feel how it is, see how it feels to be me.”
    I tried to pull away from him, but he was strong. I made the mistake of raising my head and meeting his eyes. And I fell deep into his madness.
    Fell deep into his hunger. This was the hunger of last night, the blinding red hunger that allowed no other feeling. It took hold of me and I began to shake. Larry’s anger and pain were mine. We were one. I screamed and as if from far away, I heard an odd rasping noise, heard a voice from outside calling a name I should have known. But the voices inside were stronger, the roar of the creature that lived within me, the roar of the creature that sought to control my soul. I cried out again, a half-human, half-feline call of distress and despair.
    Larry’s hands slipped from mine and he seemed to fold in on himself, collapsing into a misshapen lump on the floor. I roared again and felt the air pressure in the room change. Ron had opened the door.
    Before I could even react, I felt a wisp of air pass me, heard the high-screeching call of victory, saw a winged body fly past a startled Ron and out the door. I felt the elation and expectation wash over him as he disappeared from sight. “Death,” he sang. “I fly to find death and freedom.”

Chapter 11
    W ith Larry’s influence gone, I was able to force my body back from the partial transformation it had already made. When my mind cleared and I was myself again I discovered that I was alone and trapped inside the cell. The door had snapped closed before I could escape. Ron, I assumed, had gone in pursuit of Larry.
    Grateful for the time alone, I sat back down on the cot and tried to calm my shaking and collect my thoughts. The first one that ran through my head was: Victor would not be pleased. I laughed grimly at that monumental understatement.
    Looking to the doorway, I spoke out loud. “Victor is going to have us both for dinner, Ron. And we’ll deserve it.” But how could anyone have known that Larry had achieved the power of transformation so quickly? He’d only been a vampire for a little over two years. And he’d have had no training.
    Or, and my distrust of Vivienne surfaced anew, maybe he had. What if she’d been working with Larry for the past two years? Teaching him the tricks of the trade? She seemed secure in the knowledge that she could instruct Mitch in the mysteries and he was only a few months into his existence. “Damn.”
    I turned on the cot,