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

9. Nine

Nine

W e walked in silence, but Austin’s screams still echoed in my brain. The image of his broken body flashed before my eyes, making my stomach writhe, an acidic taste at the back of my throat. I quickened my pace, almost stumbling in the dark, desperate to return to the caravan. I broke into a half-jog when the campers came into view, the pressure in my stomach almost at its peak.

“Good luck, Ava Monroe.” Ivan’s cruel voice stopped me as I grabbed the door handle. “I look forward to officially accepting you into the coven. And remember, break the rules, and I will break you .”

I nodded in response, the sour taste in my mouth intensifying.

Unable to hold it back, I crossed the threshold, went straight to the sink, knowing what was about to happen. My stomach crunched, and a spasm ran through my body as I erupted, vomit splattering into the washing-up bowl.

I opened my mouth to apologise to Madigan, but before I could spit the words out, my insides contracted, and I had to release into the sink again. My hair was slick to my forehead, soaked in a cold sweat. I spat, head bent down, afraid to emerge too early.

“Oh, dear,” Latisha’s voice said from the doorway. “I thought she looked peaky. Don’t just stand there, Len. Help her out!”

Someone was rummaging in one of the kitchen cupboards beside me, but before I could pay them any mind, a third wave of retching interrupted me. My stomach crunched, but I was running on empty and had only a burning, yellow liquid left to give. I raised my head, dripping with sweat, a stream of mucus running down my upper lip.

A pale, long-fingered hand appeared in my line of vision, holding a square of kitchen towel. I took it and wiped my face before turning to my companions, clinging to what remained of my dignity.

“Where is it?” Latisha said from inside the cupboard, pulling out a purple, glass bottle. “This is your potion stash, isn’t it? Where is the Mollifier?”

She pulled out more bottles. One I’d seen before—the small, blue bottle with a red gem set in the lid—the one Austin had suggested I take. The next, a darker shade of blue, patterned with silver moons and stars.

“I... uh...” Madigan’s white cheeks flushed red. “I’ve run out.”

“I topped you up this month! What have you done with it all?”

“I had a tough week...”

“It isn’t for recreational use.” Latisha gave him a small backhanded slap on the arm.

Madigan’s nostrils flared, the redness in his cheeks deepening. “It wasn’t recreational,” he said through clenched teeth, lowering his voice. “Those accursed humans were celebrating with fireworks. Night after night. It’s sufferable when they’re set off at midnight, but New Year has become a week-long celebration for those cretins.”

“Ahhh, yes.” Latisha gave an understanding nod, smiling weakly. “Well, be careful. Overdosing can have strange side effects.” She turned her attention back to me. “Ava, I’m going to get something from my camper. I’ll be back in five.”

She left, and I was alone with the vampire.

“Latisha will be back soon,” he said, drumming his fingers on the kitchen counter while I cleaned the sink. Each time I looked at him, he turned his head, avoiding eye contact. It felt like a long five minutes, but as promised, Latisha returned with a vial containing a sunny-yellow liquid.

“Drink it all,” she said as she handed it to me. I gave her a dubious look. “Go on. It will help.”

I knocked the liquid back. It had a pleasant flavour, almost floral, leaving a warm sensation in my chest like doing a shot of vodka. Almost immediately, a wave of calm washed over me. The tension in my shoulders eased as my muscles relaxed and the warmth in my chest spread through my body. I let out a long breath as the tightness in my chest dissipated. Even my squirming stomach unwound from the knot it had tied itself up into.

“Sit down,” Latisha said, gesturing behind me.

I obeyed, leaning into the sofa that felt squashier than I remembered. Latisha handed Madigan a larger bottle with a cork stopper containing the same yellow liquid.

“Make this last until November, and I’ll replenish it for Bonfire Night.”

Madigan inhaled so that his nostrils pinched and gave her a curt nod. “I appreciate it.”

“Ava.” Latisha’s huge, brown eyes were on me again, and I smiled at her, fighting back a strange urge to laugh, feeling dopier by the second. “I want you to rest up. If you can’t sleep, use this.” She shook the small, blue bottle with the red gem lid. “A couple of drops will make you drowsy. The whole lot will knock you out. You can start your training with Len tomorrow night. Do you understand?”

“Uh huh...” I said, and dribbled down my front. I tried to wipe the drool from my chin, but my hands wouldn’t do what I wanted, like trying to play a game with the controls reversed. “Woah, this stuff is crazy...” My voice sounded slower and deeper than usual.

“Len, take care of her. You know how easily influenced people are after a shot of Mollifier.”

Latisha left, but before she could close the door, Madigan addressed her, again keeping his voice low. Despite his efforts, I could still hear them.

“Thank you for your help, but I’d be grateful if you wouldn’t undermine me in front of my familiar. She’s unruly enough as it is.”

“I’ll stop undermining you if you stop trying to be a big, bad, scary vampire. You know you’re not like the others, Len. Stop pretending to be.”

She closed the door, once again leaving me alone with Madigan. I averted my gaze, pretending I’d not been listening.

Madigan pinched the bridge of his nose with eyes closed, before surveying me with an expression someone might give a troublesome puppy. “I’m going to”—he whirled about, like he was searching for something—“tidy up.”

There was nothing to tidy; Madigan was obviously one of those types that cleaned as he went. Nevertheless, he reorganised a few things in the illusion of busying himself. I felt useless sitting there watching him, but the Mollifier was still coursing through me, making the world seem hazy. After a few minutes of arranging some tatty, faded books on a shelf he removed his tailcoat, tutting as he examined flecks of dirt and blood visible against the black fabric.

“Why do you wear that?” I asked. My lips were numb, but I was relieved that I’d spoken without dribbling this time.

“It’s what I like to wear,” he said with a shrug, now leaning back against the kitchen counter, arms folded. “Though modernised, it reminds me of the fashion I wore as a young man. Black is my preferred colour. But I have others. Red, blue, green...” His voice trailed off. I knew why. He must have thought of Austin. “Those are for special occasions.”

“And the top hats? I’ve not seen you wearing them. What are they for?”

“I have those for when I’m working. I run the funfair’s haunted house attraction, and it goes well with the general ambiance.”

Of course he runs the haunted house. As if he wasn’t weird enough already.

“Speaking of my clothes, the laundry will be one of your responsibilities. Mine, and everyone else’s. But take extra care with mine; they’re tailor made, and expensive.”

“No problem,” I said, plastering on a confident smile, though a fluttering in my stomach suggested that the Mollifier was already wearing off. “What else will I have to do?”

“The other familiars have their own jobs, but should they become incapacitated, we will ask you to cover their work, too. As for your role within the funfair, I imagine you will be just litter picking and drawing in crowds like...”

Like Austin used to...

“Like others have done before you. Do you have any useful skills?”

“Well, I can sew, so laundry duty is perfect for me,” I said, giving him an over-the-top thumbs up. “But besides that, I studied art for video games at Uni, which I doubt is a transferrable skill.”

Litter picking didn’t sound like it would be much fun, but a lot of students did menial jobs after graduation, so in that sense, my situation wasn’t dissimilar.

Madigan’s mouth twitched as if trying to suppress a rare smile. “You studied video games at university?” I noted a hint of amusement in his voice. The cheeky bastard was judging me!

“Concept art for video games,” I said slowly, as though speaking to someone stupid. “It’s ok if you don’t understand. How old exactly are you?”

His eyes widened, either impressed or shocked by my gumption. “I am one hundred and thirty-something. Or is it forty-something?” He rubbed his chin. “I think it’s thirty. Most of our kind lose track of their age during our second century. And yourself?”

“Twenty-two. So, a bit of an age gap, huh? Shame. It will never work between us.”

Madigan ran his hand over his mouth and I was certain that, once again, he was trying to hide a smile.

“Is it weird looking younger than you really are?” I asked.

“Age is relative. Compared to other vampires, I am considered young. When I became a vampire, the man who sired me was around eight hundred.”

“Damn...” I rubbed the back of my neck, frowning as I tried to imagine what the world was like eight hundred years ago. “That is old.”

“Yes, he was. But looked to be in his forties—the age he became a vampire. Our kind does not age while we feed regularly, but should we stop feeding, our bodies age rapidly. The older we are, the faster the ageing process, and even vampires cannot live in a body that ages beyond function. So, as you can see, it is important we feed. Which is why we recruit familiars to assist us in obtaining the blood we need, whether harvested from another human, or themselves.”

“Damn...” I said again, lost for words. I’d figured vampire lore I’d picked up from books and movies couldn’t be entirely accurate, but it was strange to talk about it in such a matter-of-fact way. “Why did you join the coven? No offence, but I don’t think it was the best decision you’ve ever made. Ivan is a bit of a tyrant, isn’t he?”

Madigan grimaced. “Speak quietly if you’re going to say such things.” He slid down into the seat opposite me, leaning on his elbows as he leant in close. “I was in a dark place when I joined. My former master was murdered by a group that called themselves the Hallows—an organisation that kill supernaturals—and it was not a swift death. Ivan and his coven assisted me in taking out the Hallows responsible and wiped out their infestation within Kinwich. The price for their help was my membership. Since I required help locating the culprits, it seemed like a good idea... at the time.”

“And not anymore?”

He fixed me with a hard stare, possibly thinking of how he should respond, weighing up if he trusted me enough to be completely honest. “There have been rumours of the Hallows recent return that Ivan has dismissed. Those of us acquainted with the Hallows are somewhat... frustrated. But it doesn’t matter. We can’t leave, and Ivan remains in charge unless someone challenges him to a fight to the death for leadership.”

“I can’t see that happening,” I said with a snort of sarcastic laughter. “He’s built like a brick shit house.”

“And he has Dominic guarding him.”

“Dominic doesn’t look fit to guard anybody. He looks like he might keel over at any moment.”

“Don’t let his appearance fool you. Even I’d be no match for him,” Madigan said with a scowl.

“But you’re bigger than him. You’re taller, more muscular.”

“He looks the way he does because he drinks a lot more blood than I do.” Madigan wrinkled his nose with the same look of disgust he’d given me during our first meeting. “I limit myself to a mouthful each night. If a vampire drinks too much, they become a monster. We call it ‘going rabid’ . Human blood is highly addictive and if we indulge in our addictions”—he inhaled through his teeth as he searched for the right words—“we lose the humanity we have left. We lose our self-control, our self-awareness. You might say we lose our soul and become nothing but a mindless beast. Those monstrous, fanged depictions of vampires you’ve seen in films were inspired by rabid vampires. We call them Brain Eaters, as they’re no longer content with merely drinking blood, but eat the brain, too.”

“That’s bloody disgusting!”

“Yes, it is rather distasteful.”

“So, how is Dominic able to control himself?”

“He is teetering on the edge of going rabid. If he keeps drinking as he does, it won’t be much longer. Ivan views him as a wild dog, and when Dominic takes it too far, Ivan will just stick a leash on him. He kept a Brain Eater called Beckett for years like that, until... the accident...”

I didn’t know how to respond. This was information overload. I thought vampires were straightforward: they drank blood, didn’t age, had enhanced speed and strength and couldn’t walk in daylight. The End. But they were more complex than that. I felt sick again. The Mollifier must have worn off.

“I think I might be out of my depth here,” I said with an unconvincing laugh. “There is so much to remember. Vampires with and without fangs. Shifters who serve witches and shifters that don’t.” I rubbed my temples. “How am I meant to process this?”

“You’ll be fine. After all, you attended university. You must have something between your ears.”

“Well then, I really am screwed. Did I mention I was failing? I thought university would be good for me, but I was wrong. I wanted to be part of a community, and student life sounded like fun. So much freedom, y’know? After Grandma died, all I wanted was to belong somewhere.”

“I am sorry for your loss. I assume you have no other family?”

I looked into his eyes, biting my lower lip. This wasn’t territory I usually walked with strangers. Was he genuinely interested? Or was he probing to find out if he needed to explain my disappearance to them? Or worse—finding out if there was anyone he needed to dispose of? It didn’t matter either way.

“My mother, but I haven’t seen her since I was twelve, after she got herself a new boyfriend.”

I played with my fingers as I thought about her. Madigan would have difficulty finding her, and even if he did, I didn’t care what happened to her, or Darren . I shuddered at the mere thought of his name.

“And I’ve had no contact with my father. They deemed him an ‘ unfit parent’. ” I sketched quotation marks with my fingers. “That’s all, really. I don’t know if I have family on my father’s side, and my mother was an only child. Grandma was all I had.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but I had already shared more than I usually would.

“I’m... I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve lost loved ones, too.” Madigan turned his face away, looking at the old, black and white photographs framed on a shelf. Only upon closer inspection did I realise Madigan was the groom in the wedding photo, as well as one of the soldiers in the other. “My wife. Our child. My dearest friend...” He swallowed, but his stony expression remained fixed.

“I’m sorry. That must have been shit.”

“Yes. That’s one way to describe it.” Madigan didn’t take his eyes from the photos.

If a friend had dropped this bombshell, I might have known how to comfort them, but Madigan was still a mystery to me. An uncomfortable silence followed as I wracked my brain to change the subject.

“Latisha said I should rest.”

“You know where your bed is.” Madigan nodded towards the other end of the caravan. “It’s as you left it.”

I hauled myself to my feet, my legs sluggish.

“I’m going out,” Madigan said, mirroring me, standing. “Is it safe to assume you will still be here upon my return?”

“Don’t worry,” I said, getting ready to draw the curtain around my bed, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Miss Monroe.” Madigan’s eyes shifted to one side as he tugged on his shirt cuff. “I want you to enjoy your time here as best you can. Is sewing a hobby of yours?”

I nodded.

“Could you repair this?” He pulled the bottle-green waistcoat that Austin had borrowed from a cupboard. “It has a rip at the shoulder. Normally I’d be furious at the person who’d damaged it but, on this occasion...” His voice trailed away.

“No problem,” I said, sparing him the need to finish his sentence. He didn’t need to know that I’d been the one to damage it.

“The sleeping draught is there if you need it.” He pointed to the small, blue bottle still set on the kitchen counter. “Make sure you get some sleep. We’ll begin your training tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Madigan. I appreciate it.”

He coughed into a clenched fist, the palest of red tinges appearing on his cheeks. “It would probably be best if you addressed me as Master Len, or Mr Madigan.”

“Alright, Madigan , I will keep that in mind.” I winked at him before drawing the curtain, ending our conversation. I listened to him rummaging as he readied himself to leave, muttering under his breath, and though I couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, I was sure one of the words was ‘ petulant’ .

Now finally alone—or as alone as one can be in a small caravan—I closed my eyes, and exhaled slowly. Austin’s remains flashed before my mind’s eye and I flinched. I’ve only one option, I reasoned with myself. Keep your head down, follow orders, play Ivan’s game, and then —my stomach gave a sickening lurch as I contemplated the consequences of failure— when the time is right, get the hell out of Dodge.