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

10. Ten

Ten

T raining with Madigan was crap. He’d been surprisingly patient while showing me how to draw blood, but when he’d offered his arms for me to practise on, my attempts had been unsuccessful, either unable to draw blood at all, or bruising him so badly that if I’d harvested for real, I could expect a fight with my victim, as I’d done with Austin.

“I think that’s enough practise for now,” he said, pressing down on his inner elbow as blood leaked from the scratch, none of which had reached the vial I’d failed to attach. “Besides, you have another duty to attend to.” He picked up his laundry basket and dumped it into my arms. “I’m going out to harvest. If you have time to take a break, I’d advise you to practise on others, should they allow it.”

That evening I learnt a valuable lesson: laundry duty was shit. Some of the fancier motorhomes had washers and dryers which I took advantage of. Jacob and Sebastian were among those who didn’t let me use theirs, preferring to leave their baskets outside and letting me struggle. I didn’t even bother asking to use Ivan’s. Besides, his suits, like Madigan’s, needed to be hand washed.

It wasn’t long before my elbows ached from the constant scrubbing, and my back muscles seized up from being hunched over the wash bucket while sat on a stool. My fingertips wrinkled from how long I’d submerged them in the water, but I didn’t rush, working meticulously as I washed out the stubborn reddish-brown stains from Ivan’s jacket.

“You not finished yet, hen?” Billy’s jovial voice called. My neck clicked as I looked up from the wash bucket to see him heading my way.

I shook my head in indignation. “I’d like to see you do it faster.”

“Easy.” A pair of arms burst from Billy’s sides.

“Show off. Don’t you have lunch to prepare? I’ll be disappointed if it’s as bland as breakfast.”

He and his familiar were tasked with the coven’s catering.

“Ouch! Bit harsh,” he said with a laugh as he sat himself on the step up to Madigan’s caravan. “Growing extra limbs certainly helps get the job done faster. That, and having a familiar. W-why are you staring at me like that?”

“If you can grow extra limbs, could you let me practise drawing blood from them?”

Billy winced. “I hate needles.”

I looked at him pleadingly.

“Oh, go on then. As it’s for a good cause. You can practise on these after lunch.” He flexed the muscles of his extra arms, then pouted his lips, blowing me a kiss.

I spluttered with laughter. “Never mind your muscles. I bet having extra hands makes you popular with the ladies.” I wiggled my eyebrows, smirking.

“Anna’s never complained.”

“Oooh, who’s Anna ?” I asked, intrigued. But rather than his usual cheeky smile, Billy’s expression dropped. “What’s wrong?”

“I shouldn’t have mentioned her.” Billy retracted his extra arms and adjusted his shirt as he looked about, as though concerned someone was eavesdropping. He fixed me with a serious expression. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course, but why?”

Billy swallowed, his eyes flicking from side to side as he focused on each of mine, running a hand over his mouth before the words tumbled out. “Alright, fine. Anna is my girlfriend, but she’s human. Ivan doesn’t know about her. If he found out—”

“Say no more.” I raised a hand. “I understand.”

“Cheers, Ava. Only Trevor and Tish know about her. It just sort of slipped out.”

“It slipped out? I bet you say that to all the girls.” I winked, and Billy’s sombre expression cracked into his usual grin.

Before he could retort, the sound of a door slamming interrupted him. I sprung to my feet. I’d not realised how on edge I was, but already adrenaline was coursing through me, ready to face whatever horrors would present themselves. But it was Latisha that had emerged from Ivan’s camper, now storming away from us, towards her motorhome.

“Uh oh, what’s happened now?” Billy muttered under his breath, before calling out, “Here, Tish!”

Latisha turned around to face us, her scowl softening. She paused, weighing up whether to continue on her path, or to double back. With a sigh, her shoulders relaxed and she trudged towards us.

“Hey guys,” she said in a heavy voice.

“What’s going down in crazy town, Tish?” Billy asked.

Latisha made a guttural noise in her throat, shaking her head. “Ugh... just had a meeting with our master .” She folded her arms, leaning against Madigan’s caravan, scraping the toe of her shoe against the gravelled ground as she spoke, focusing on it, rather than us.

“Lucky you,” said Billy. “Looks like it went well.”

Latisha shot him a warning glance, not in the mood for his jokes. “It was regarding the rumours of the Hallows return. I was trying to convince him to investigate. I even volunteered to do it myself. And do you know what he said? He asked if I was going senile or wanted to relive the glory days. Sick bastard...” Latisha clamped a hand to her mouth, looking behind her, as though expecting Ivan to be standing there. She turned back to us and continued in a whisper, “I tolerated his cruelty when I thought he would protect us from external threats. But now... I don’t know... Makes me wonder what’s the point of being in a coven. But I suppose such speculation is pointless.”

Madigan’s words from the previous night echoed in my mind. ‘ Those of us acquainted with the Hallows are somewhat... frustrated’.

Before I could question Latisha further, Ivan’s camper door swung open again. This time, it was Dominic and his familiar, a scrawny human around my own age, named Randall. As soon as they were outside, they talked together in lowered voices, looking directly at me . I whipped my head around, wondering if there was something behind me. But there was nothing. Dominic remained where he was, but Randall strutted towards us, twitching with nervous energy. His lips twisted to the side in a pouting smirk as he swept back his short, sandy-brown hair. He passed Latisha, who eyed him suspiciously, but Billy got to his feet, squaring up to him, blocking his path.

“Can I help, pal?” Billy asked, folding his arms and thrusting out his chest like a bouncer who’d been handed a phoney ID.

The tension that had built up inside me relaxed slightly, my heart swelling with gratitude.

Randall craned his neck to look up at Billy, who stood at least a head taller. “I need to speak to Ava. Master Ivan’s orders,” Randall said in a nasally, shrill voice that suited his rat-like appearance perfectly.

“Did he specify you needed to speak with her now ?” Billy clicked his neck.

Randall glared at him, baring his oversized front teeth, before saying, “No, but—”

“Well then, jog on. She’s got work to do.”

“Master Ivan said—”

“Look whose clothes she’s washing. You think Master Ivan will be happy if you interrupt her and he has to walk about naked for the next week?”

Randall’s long, pointed nose wrinkled as he sneered, “That’s her problem.”

“You want to take that risk?”

There was a moment’s silence while they stared each other down, but Randall conceded.

He stood on tiptoes to peer at me over Billy’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later, washerwoman,” he said before slinking back to his master and the two of them headed into Dominic’s camper.

“Slimy git,” Billy said with a growl. “Be wary of him, Ava. He’s definitely up to something.”

“Probably part of his initiation,” Latisha said darkly. “He’s passed his harvesting trial, so Ivan’s probably testing him before making him a vampire.”

“And that test involves me somehow?” I asked. “What is Ivan’s problem with me?”

“It’s not personal,” Latisha said with a shrug. “He just hates humans.”

“I am human. That makes it personal.” I drew Ivan’s enormous suit jacket from the bucket and twisted, squeezing the water from it like I was wringing someone’s neck.

“Don’t do that!” Latisha snatched the jacket, water splashing everywhere. Billy cried out as it doused his jeans, but Latisha ignored him. “You’ll ruin it, wringing it out like that. Here, do it like this.” Latisha rolled the jacket in a towel before unrolling it and adding it to the washing line I’d set up. “Let’s not give Ivan another excuse to torment you further.”

“Come on,” said Billy, retrieving the last items from Ivan’s basket, handing one to Latisha. “Let’s get this done. You can take a break with us.”

After a quick lunch of soup that tasted like hot water, I sat with the shifters and, as promised, Billy let me practise drawing blood from each of his arms, until he’d finally had enough.

“Sorry, Ava. Shifting this much is exhausting.”

“What about this one?” I poked his normal right arm.

“I need this one in good working condition. It gets lonely around here and I need to take care of myself ,” he said, smirking.

I spluttered with laughter.

“It would be funny if he was joking,” said Marcus, Billy’s freckled, curly-haired familiar, as he threw another log onto the fire, sending a cloud of glowing embers into the air. I raised my eyebrows at Billy, who shrugged unapologetically, his mischievous smile fixed in place.

“Very well. Any other volunteers?” I looked at everyone sitting around the campfire individually, but no one would meet my eye. When Marcus noticed me watching him with an expectant expression, he hurried away to the campers.

“Seriously?” I called after him. “You aren’t afraid of spiders, but you’re afraid of a little needle? Pussy!” I turned to his master. “No offence, Billy.”

“So rude,” he said, grinning.

“You can practise on me,” said Latisha, rolling up her sleeve.

I bowed my head in appreciation as she took her seat by the fire and I gathered up my equipment. I was running low on needles. Madigan had given me some of his supplies to practise with, but he and the other vampires needed them for themselves, and stealing from local hospitals and doctor’s surgeries wasn’t easy.

Last attempt for tonight... You can do this, just take your time and remember what Madigan showed you.

Latisha offered her arm, and I placed the tourniquet above her elbow. My insides squirmed as a large, juicy vein bulged outwards. I readied the needle as Madigan had showed me while running my thumb over Latisha’s vein, feeling for the best place to insert.

Madigan’s words echoed in my head. ‘Insert at a 20-to-40-degree angle. Pull the skin taught before your insert.’ I pierced the skin and felt some give. My heart jolted. Could this be it? My first successful draw? I attached a vial to the barrel of the needle, waiting for blood to flow.

Nothing.

“Fuck!” I grit my teeth. My skin prickled and my clothes felt restrictive as my armpits and the back of my neck became wet. Don’t get flustered... Don’t get flustered... Perhaps the angle was wrong?

I tried to adjust it, but Latisha flinched, gasping. Still nothing. I sighed, pulling the needle out, not wanting to hurt her further. Another failure.

“It’s alright.” Latisha gripped onto my shoulder and squeezed. “No one gets it right away. You just need more practise.”

“Hopefully not too much more practise,” I said, stretching as I got to my feet, tugging at my t-shirt that was now sticking to my body, the chilly night air cooling me off.

“I’ll second that!” said Billy, ducking out of reach before I could swat him.

“Leave it for tonight,” Latisha said. “You won’t get it while frustrated.”

She was right, of course. After finishing the last of my laundry duties, I returned to Madigan’s camper and sketched costume designs, attempting to clear my mind. Apart from a gothic tailcoat design I could picture a long-limbed vampire wearing, most of the designs were lousy. I couldn’t block out the thoughts that I should be practising. I can always try again tomorrow.

Except, I didn’t. The following night, Madigan had other plans.

“The ability to draw blood is vital, but without someone to draw from, your skills are useless,” he said.

That night we left the showmen’s yard and headed into Kinwich City centre. It was bizarre being back, watching people go about their normal lives. It was a Saturday night, and Kinwich was buzzing with students falling in and out of clubs and bars. Madigan attracted a few puzzled looks from people as they eyed his strange clothes, but he was completely oblivious or chose not to acknowledge them.

“Students can be a suitable target, as you discovered first-hand,” he said.

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder.”

“Getting into pubs with your supplies isn’t difficult, but don’t be tempted to do what your predecessor did, and leave your supplies at home to get into a club. Always take them with you.”

“Got it. Austin screwed up. I’d worked that out for myself, actually.”

“Of course, picking the target isn’t the difficult bit. The target does a good enough job of picking themselves. Again, as you did, by getting drunk and going home with a total stranger.”

“Okay, I’m feeling attacked now.”

“The tricky bit is getting them to a location from where you can draw from them undisturbed. If you’re taken to their house and can be certain no one will interrupt, great. But if not, you may have to resort to some underhanded tactics.”

Madigan unzipped the bag that he’d brought with him. Inside, I saw more needles and vials, but he rummaged deeper and withdrew a bottle I recognised from his stores—the blue bottle decorated with moons and stars.

“So, what’s that then? Chloroform?” I asked with a laugh.

“Yes,” he replied, and now I spotted a white rag inside the bag, too.

“You have got to be shitting me.”

“Well, it’s not really chloroform. It’s a potion that goes by the name of Slumber Smoke. But it functions in the same way. Not to be used regularly, you understand. But in a desperate situation, it’s better to use it than come back empty-handed. And remember, should you get caught while drawing blood, it’s this”—he shook the bottle—“or you’ll have to kill them. You can’t let them leave and go blabbing to the police, or their families, or anyone. Better they wake up with a pounding head, wondering if it was a hallucination.”

I didn’t like what I was hearing, but I knew he was right.

“The best targets,” he said, “are lone, homeless people, especially if they are drunk or high on other substances.”

“That’s offensive. Not all homeless—”

“Spare me the political correctness lecture. It’s my job to tell you the facts and keep you alive. An inebriated individual is an easier target than someone who is sober. Someone difficult to trace is a preferable target over someone who lives in a house, pays bills, has a job and a family. Understand?”

“Yes...”

“Good. Then let’s find our target. In the meantime, make yourself useful.” He thrust the bag into my arms. It wasn’t heavy, but after walking around the city for a few hours, the strap cut into my shoulder and I started to fidget with it. Madigan’s grey eyes narrowed as he watched me hoist it from one shoulder to the other, but didn’t offer to take it back.

Whenever he saw a potential target, he would point them out with a few comments.

“You see those two over there? One of them looks ready to pass out. You could wait around to see if they go their separate ways. You see the old man on the bench? The presence of his sleeping bag suggests he’s homeless, but appears sober. You could return later to see if that remains the case.”

And on it went until the early hours of the morning, until my feet throbbed and I carried the bag in my arms instead of over my shoulders. Madigan sauntered up and down the cobbled paths and alleyways, whilst I jogged a few steps to catch up when flagging behind. I was going to ask if we could return to the showmen’s yard, when I noticed a girl in a glittery dress laying on the stone steps leading up to Kinwich Cathedral.

“I think we have acquired our target.” Madigan nodded in her direction.

“You can walk on church grounds?” I asked.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

I shrugged. “I just thought perhaps vampires wouldn’t be able to.”

Madigan raised an eyebrow. “Vampires aren’t inherently evil, you know. Demons on the other hand... But I digress. Come on.”

We approached the girl with caution.

“Hello?” I kept my voice low, stroking her hair to see if she would stir. Nothing. If it wasn’t for her breathing, I could have mistaken her for dead. Madigan hauled her up over his shoulder with ease, taking her to the churchyard around the back where we would be less likely to be seen. He drew blood from her quickly, his long-fingered hands almost a blur with the speed at which he prepared his needle and vial. My mouth fell open, half in awe, half in despair. How the hell was I going to master this?

Before we left, Madigan rummaged around in the bag again, taking out a thin blanket and draping it over her shivering body.

“What?” he asked when he saw me looking at him, mouth still agape.

“I just... didn’t expect you to be so caring.”

Madigan’s eyebrows drew together. “I suppose I should take that as a compliment.”

On the Sunday night, I practised drawing blood from members of the coven again. Billy and Latisha were the first to offer their arms to me. Madigan watched on, and would occasionally stop me from what I was doing to give some advice, but despite this, all attempts were unsuccessful.

“I just don’t understand why I can’t do it!” I said as Alfred, the last of my test subjects, returned to his motorhome, rubbing his sore arm, leaving me alone with Billy, Latisha, and Madigan by the campfire. “I’ve seen it done so many times now, and Madigan has gone over it again and again with me. What more can I do?”

“Have you asked the other familiars and vampires for help?” Latisha suggested.

“I think Dominic or Ivan have told them not to help me.”

I found it ironic that I was a vampire’s familiar, and yet the other vampires wanted nothing to do with me, whereas the witches, shifters, and werewolves were perfectly friendly, and often helpful.

“It was probably Dominic,” Billy said, wrinkling his nose. “Excuse my French, but that guy is a slimy cunt.”

Latisha and I sniggered, and even Madigan looked like he might smile, but Latisha’s laughter died when both she and Madigan suddenly sat upright, tense.

“Ivan is coming,” Madigan said, a slight tremor in his voice.

Within a few seconds, I heard the footsteps of the giant approaching. Billy got up to leave.

“Sit,” Ivan’s voice barked. Billy slowly sat down, eyes wide and unblinking, fixed on his master. Ivan reached us, and from my seated position, he appeared even taller. Dominic followed behind, along with the other vampires and their familiars. Ivan smiled a wide grin that did not reach his cold eyes as he lit his cigar, puffing foul-smelling smoke into the air.

“Ava Monroe.” The friendly way he spoke my name made my skin tingle. “It is good to see you practising. You’re almost halfway through your first week. How are you getting on?”

“Training hard,” I said in a small voice. It wasn’t a lie, but the leer on Ivan’s face stated plainly he knew what was going unsaid.

“Ha! Excellent.” He sat beside Madigan, gesturing for his minions to do the same. “Perhaps you would like to show me the results?”

I looked at Madigan, whose stony expression had not changed, but gave a small nod.

“Ok,” I agreed. “Do I have any volunteers?” Before a single person could respond, Ivan raised his hand.

“I do,” he said, the smirk on his face never faltering.

“No problem.” I tried to sound confident, but my treacherous voice broke.

Ignoring this minor loss of composure, I collected up my equipment. I didn’t need to kneel in front of him as I had done the others. He was so large I could do it standing. I rolled up his shirtsleeve and applied the tourniquet, pulling it hard to wrap around his huge, beefy arm, praying he wouldn’t notice my shaking hands.

A vein bulged straight away, fat and purple. Step-by-step, I readied the needle, then the vial, and prepared to puncture his skin. He is the same as everyone else. This is no one special. No one important.

With a deep breath, I inserted the needle.

At first, nothing happened. I could feel the weight of everyone watching with baited breaths. Stay calm... You can do this...

I adjusted the needle slightly. A red line—blood—appeared at the base of the barrel where I would attach the vial. My heart skipped a beat. I was in.

I swallowed and exhaled slowly, my chest having become tight. With my free hand, I grabbed the vial and attached it to the barrel. The smallest trickle of blood flowed into the vial—and then stopped. I tried adjusting it again, but I knew... it was game over.

“Amazing,” Ivan said, blowing cigar smoke into my face while his minions snickered. “I am truly blown away.”

“I was just nervous.” My face flushed as my eyes stung with humiliation, causing Dominic to laugh harder still.

“That is understandable.” Ivan rolled down his sleeve, his tone casual, like we were discussing the weather. “May I suggest you get a better grip on your nerves? It would be crushing to lose you.”

I nodded, but this wasn’t enough for him.

“The words you are looking for are, ‘Yes, Master Ivan’ . Say it.”

“Yes, Master Ivan.”

“Very good. At least get that right next time.”

He got up and started towards his motorhome, pausing only to lean into Madigan’s ear and say, “Teach that girl some respect, unless you want me to teach her.”

Ivan’s minions followed him, Dominic bringing up the rear, turning back to flash one last wicked smile before scurrying after his master.

I felt the eyes of my companions on me, Madigan’s in particular boring into my soul. The trembling I’d been suppressing had taken hold, my body shook violently as my stomach performed somersaults.

“I have to piss,” I managed to spit out, before turning on my heel and walking away, face burning.