The Vampire and the Scorpion (Blood and Venom Saga #1)

6. Six

Six

M y scream caught in my throat, barely escaping my gaping mouth as a strangled squeak. Dominic’s smile widened, muffled laughter penetrating through the closed window.

SMASH!

With a single strike, he punched through the double glazing like it was a canvas. Glass rained over me, scratching my arms as I protected my face. With sweaty palms, I fumbled with the door handle, my fingers tangling themselves together. There was shattering of more glass as my stalker clambered through my bedroom window, and laughter as I struggled with the doorknob, slippery in my hand.

The knob twisted. I yanked the door open and slammed it behind me. I darted to the stairs, lost my footing, and slid down on my backside. One step after another. I landed in a heap at the bottom, scrambling to my feet, a twinge in my lower back. Dashing through the kitchen, agony shooting through my feet and up my ankles with each step. But I kept going. Into the garden. I half-sprinted, half-hobbled, biting back pain, ready to make the jump over the fence.

Something crashed into my back, driving me down onto the ground. The taste of earth and blood in my mouth. My attacker was on top of me. I was pinned. I scraped at the ground, trying to crawl free, but only pulled up fistfuls of grass. My fingernails bent back as I clawed at the dirt.

“HELP!”

A hand clamped over my mouth.

I don’t want to die!

I screamed into his palm, but was almost completely muzzled into silence, before a second hand seized me by my hair. He is going to break my neck!

The face of my grandma flooded my mind. I’m not ready! Please no! I exhaled what I thought would be my final breath.

“Dominic,” said a voice above me. “Would you mind removing yourself from my familiar?”

I tried to jerk my head upward, but was restrained so tightly my efforts proved futile.

“She made her choice,” my assailant said with a sharp tug at my hair. “She was mine the moment she ran away.”

“I instructed her to come home and collect a few of her belongings,” the voice said slowly, as though explaining something simple to a child. A pair of polished, black Chelsea boots appeared in my line of vision. A moment’s silence. The grip on my head slackened, and I looked upward to identify my rescuer.

Madigan .

His arms were folded, head tilted, a look of exasperation on his face that matched his drawling tone. “Isn’t that right?” He directed the question at me.

I nodded as much as Dominic would allow, and with a grunt, he released me, getting to his feet and dusting himself down. I gasped, my lungs drinking in air, almost choking on it until my head swam. Madigan offered me his hand, which I accepted, getting up off the ground and leaning on him, my knees threatening to give way. A sharp pain at the base of my spine flared into life—the consequence of my tumble down the stairs.

Madigan turned his focus back to Dominic. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t get involved with my familiar again. I know familiars rarely last a month, but it would be nice if this one could survive a single night.”

Dominic squared up to Madigan, craning his neck upward to maintain eye contact. “We both know you’re chatting shit, Len. You won’t be able to cover for her again, and the next time she tries to escape”—he ran his tongue over his upper lip—“I will drain her of every drop of blood she has.”

“Understood,” Madigan dismissed with a casual wave of his hand.

With a scowl so venomous it could shame a sulky teenager, Dominic departed, looking back only once, glaring at me through dark, narrow eyes.

“Are you hurt?” Madigan asked.

I nodded. With each passing second, the pain in my back and feet burned brighter. Lips pursed, I suppressed the urge to vomit as the sour taste of acid burnt my tongue.

Madigan shifted his weight from one foot to the other as his eyes scanned me up and down, sharply inhaling through his nose. “I ought to leave you with your injuries. Then perhaps next time you’ll think twice before doing something stupid.”

Though desperate to snap back, I dared not open my mouth in case my stomach’s contents reappeared.

“I will speak plainly,” he continued. “I didn’t expect you to run. The risk of death suffices to persuade most people to stay. But I was wrong, and I won’t make that error again.” He bent down, his face inches from mine, studying me with his cold, grey eyes. “Now, either come with me, become my familiar and join our coven, or I will leave and you can do as you please. By all means, run. Hide. Do what you think is necessary. But Dominic will find you, and I won’t save you a second time. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

Madigan drew himself up to his usual height. “So, what will it be?”

I faced the house I’d called home for the last two and a half years, the light from my TV streaming from my broken bedroom window, then back to Madigan, his brows drawn into the frown that I might spend the rest of my life viewing. I’d spent so much time and money getting myself here, and for what? An ex-boyfriend that didn’t care if I lived or died, a university course I was failing, and a shabby, unsafe house with extortionate rent. Perhaps it was the adrenaline clouding my judgement, but after my near-death experience, my decision appeared to be made for me. I swallowed, bowing my head.

“I don’t want Dominic to kill me, so I will go with you. I’ll be your familiar. But as soon as a moment arises when I can make my escape, I’m taking it. I’ll always look for a way out. Always .”

Madigan snorted, unimpressed. “Very well. Whatever you need to tell yourself to get through the night. Now, collect some belongings you wish to bring with you.”

As I began my walk back to the house, I drew a sharp intake of breath as the pain in my back twinged.

Madigan huffed, and without meeting my eye said, “And I suppose, as you’re in my care, I can have your injuries seen to when we get back.”

The showmen’s yard looked different now. The campfire roared with life, and no less than six people sat around it, their shadows stretching across the ground in the orange glow. Laughter carried on the bitter wind as Madigan assisted me over the gates.

“Are these damn things ever unlocked?” I asked through clenched teeth as he caught me, pain shooting up my spine.

“Master Ivan has the only key,” he said, echoing what Austin had told me.

I clutched a bag containing my only possessions in the world: mostly clothes, but also a photograph of my grandma, some makeup, and my sketchbook. I’d grabbed my watch after Madigan had made sure I’d left my phone.

“I don’t want anyone to track your location. It could cause trouble for us, and where there is trouble, death will surely follow,” he’d said ominously without further explanation. Although, he had made me send a message to Charlie to explain my absence.

‘Hey man,’ it read. ‘House was broken into. Doesn’t feel safe and I need some time to recover. I’m going to stay with my parents for a bit.’

I’d hoped that he might realise something was wrong by telling him I was staying with my parents, but Charlie wasn’t the most observant person in the world and usually forgot that I didn’t have such a happy home life. Perhaps my lecturers might question my disappearance. But then again, I was always absent, and all that resulted in was passive aggressive emails in my inbox. Damn...

I’d tried to persuade Madigan I needed my tablet and computer, on which I had spent most of my inheritance, but he’d met my request with a flat refusal. He did, however, allow me to bring an old handheld video game console when I’d shown him it didn’t connect to the internet.

We walked together to the campfire, and Madigan told me to take a seat. I perched on a stump, flinching as I lowered myself down. Beside me was a dark-skinned woman who I guessed to be in her mid-twenties. When she regarded me with one brow arched in curiosity, my mouth fell open. She was stunning. Afro hair worn in springy coils. Huge, dark eyes framed by the longest, curliest eyelashes I had ever seen. Her full lips were a deep, ruby-red that curled into a friendly smile, forming dimples in her plump, rosy cheeks.

“Who’s this?” she asked.

“Miss Ava Monroe,” Madigan said. “My familiar.”

“ You have taken a familiar? What happened to, ‘ I have no need of a servant, I can do it myself’ , Len?” she asked, mocking his eloquent tone.

“Hilarious,” Madigan said, rolling his eyes. “I haven’t presented her to Ivan yet. Do you know if he’s returned?”

“Yeah, he’s in his camper with Dominic, who, by the way, looked as miserable as sin. But once he heard Ivan was back, he perked up. He’s probably got his nose buried up Ivan’s arse as we speak.”

The others around the campfire sniggered at this comment. Even Madigan struggled to hide his amusement, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Then I’d better interrupt them. Can I leave Miss Monroe with you for the time being? It would be helpful if you showed her around and went over the coven’s rules before Ivan meets her. Oh, and she has acquired some injuries. We would appreciate any help you might offer.”

“Sure, I can do your job for you.” The young woman winked at him. “But I warn you, I might steal her for myself.”

Madigan didn’t rise to the young woman’s teasing, but merely rolled his eyes again and headed toward the campers.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with Mr Misery-Guts. My name is Latisha, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Ava. Now, tell me, where are you hurt?”

“Here.” I leant forward, touching the base of my spine. “I fell down some stairs. And my feet are all cut up.”

“No problem,” Latisha said, and turned to the woman sitting beside her. “Hetti, would you fetch what’s needed?”

“What would you like?” Hetti asked.

Latisha tutted. “You know what’s needed. Come on now. No need to get flustered in front of the newbie.”

Hetti twisted her fingers in her lap, nodded, then hurried toward the first camper of the row, furthest from Madigan’s.

Latisha turned back to me, smiling her warm, friendly smile. “Now then. Introductions. This is Luna and Aurora.” She gestured to a set of twins, the only noticeable difference being Luna wore her blonde hair in ringlets, while Aurora’s was straight. Everything else, their large, green eyes, flawless, ivory skin, and their pink, rosebud lips, was identical. “Their parents were hippies,” she added with a wink.

“Hi Ava.” Luna wiggled manicured nails at me in greetings, and Aurora copied. They, like Latisha, were breathtakingly beautiful, a shimmering aura surrounding them, as though they were the ones casting light instead of the campfire.

“And these two,” Latisha said, pointing toward the two remaining ladies who had almost gone unnoticed sitting beside the twins, “are Cassandra and Alex.”

“They’re our familiars,” Aurora said.

“And finally,” Latisha said, nodding towards the campers, “the woman I sent to get your treatments is Hetti. She’s my familiar. Though I’m not opposed to taking a second if Len becomes too insufferable.” Latisha winked again.

The bundle of nerves that had been building in the pit of my stomach eased slightly. “Are you all vampires, too?” I asked.

“No,” said Latisha. “No one here is a vampire. Myself, Luna, and Aurora are all witches, and I am the witch’s representative within the coven.”

Witches... Bloody hell... When I thought of witches, these were not the women I pictured. Latisha, Luna, and Aurora were so dazzling I felt unrefined by comparison, like when approaching the popular kids in school. I plucked at my t-shirt that now felt hot and restrictive, and became hyperaware of the dirt that caked my hands and face from my scuffle with Dominic.

“What do you mean, you’re the witches’ representative?” I asked.

“Each kind of supernatural—witches, shifters, vampires, and werewolves—has a representative within a coven. Witches’ familiars are technically shifters, but while in the service of a witch they’re part of the witches’ faction. Shifters who are not in service to a witch have their own faction and representative. I’ll introduce you to them and the werewolves later if you like?”

“Sure, I guess... but what are shifters?”

“It’s short for shapeshifter.” Latisha held out a hand to receive something from Hetti. “Let’s see what you’ve picked out.”

Hetti handed her a squat, little jar, a cup, and plastic bottle containing a colourless liquid.

“Good choices,” she said as she looked them over, before handing me the jar. Inside was a pink, viscous paste with a strong, chemical fragrance. “That’s for your feet. Rub it on the cuts and they will heal up within seconds.”

I pulled off my trainers and socks and gingerly applied the paste that left a burning sensation in its wake, followed by an itching as the cuts appeared to knit themselves closed. I strained my eyes, sure it had to be an illusion. But as she’d promised, the skin was smooth and whole again. “Holy shit...” I muttered, tracing my fingertips over the place the deepest scrape had been.

“Here.” Latisha held out the cup and plastic bottle. The cup contained four pills, two white and two pink.

“What are these?”

“Paracetamol and ibuprofen.”

“What?!”

“A painkiller and anti-inflammatory.”

Laughter bubbled out of me. “I know what they are! It’s just not what I’d expected from witches.”

Latisha shrugged. “Some human medicine is just as effective as my own. Slower perhaps—”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I’ll still take it.” I knocked back the pills in one go, flushing them down with water from the bottle. “So, witches make things like this?” I returned the jar of paste to Latisha.

“Yeah. We specialise in potions and remedies that can heal, enhance natural abilities, help you sleep, and so on. We can perform a ritual or two. And we can use a glamour.” She struck a pose, fluttering her eyelashes, and in that instant, her beauty became so radiant that for a second, my mouth grew wet as I zoned in on her pouting lips. “A witch has these basic skills, but extremely powerful witches have extra abilities... for a price.”

“And how powerful are you?” I asked, able to pry my sights from her mouth as her glamour abated.

Latisha inhaled through gritted teeth, looked towards her companions, and then back to me. “No one here has any extra abilities.”

Something was going unsaid, but I decided not to press the issue.

“What was Madigan talking about when he asked you to explain the coven’s rules?” I asked instead, changing the subject.

“The coven has rules that we all must follow. The first and most important rule is we must all obey our coven leader, Ivan. We remain within the coven until our—or Ivan’s—death. If he dies, the coven is disbanded and we go our own separate ways. Or we can elect a new leader and reform the coven.”

Death of the leader disbands the coven... That’s good to know... “Got it. Is there anything else?”

“Don’t bring anyone back to the coven’s location. And do not feed or harvest from someone you know personally. This protects us from being identified for what we truly are.”

I thought of Austin, wondering what terrible fate had befallen him, and considered asking Latisha if she knew, but decided against it. Ignorance, as they say, is bliss.

“Another rule applicable to you is that vampires that become rabid are executed.”

“What do you mean by rabid?” I asked.

Latisha cocked her head to one side in thought. “I believe it has something to do with their... feeding habits. You should ask Len. He knows more than I do. Witches and shifters are more my expertise.”

I nodded, making a mental note to follow her advice. “What kind of supernatural is Ivan?”

“He’s a vampire.”

“Which is why he uses the vampires to be his mini-Gestapo,” Hetti muttered under her breath.

Latisha whipped her head around to look at her familiar. “Do not get caught saying that,” she said, her tone reminding me of an old headteacher I was often in trouble with. “Come on, Ava.” She jerked her head toward the campers, smile back in place. “Let’s introduce you to the others before the prophet of doom gets back.” She got to her feet and headed towards the campers, looking back to check if I was following. “It will be alright. I know it’s all a bit of a freak show right now, but you’ll get used to it.”

She held out a hand, and after taking a steeling breath, I seized it.