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

12. Twelve

Twelve

T he wind bit me as the icy rain smashed down. My nose was streaming and cheeks tingled, my thick coat ineffective. I held onto the hood with numb fingers, shivering to my core until my muscles ached. My feet squelched in my sodden trainers as I walked my third lap of the city centre, searching for my target, hoping someone would stand out. A gaggle of girls dressed in cheerleading outfits passed, laughing and chanting, undeterred by the lousy weather.

Some people are too peppy... I wrinkled my nose at their sickly sweet perfume and shrill voices. Those kinds of girls stuck together; shadowing them was a waste of time, despite their inebriation.

After a few more laps, my heart stopped as I spotted my first potential target. A young man, perhaps in his twenties, taking shelter in a shop doorway, his waterproof jacket wrapped around him and a frayed woollen beanie pulled down low. Eager to make my move, I considered the best way to get him out of sight.

Hello, Mr Homeless Guy. How about we go down this dark alleyway together? Perhaps not...

Madigan said to bide my time and watch for patterns in behaviour. Maybe he’d find somewhere secluded to sleep? I’d have to be patient.

I stood in a doorway opposite, checking my watch, pretending I was waiting for someone. I kept up the charade for about thirty minutes, but soon grew twitchy as unwanted thoughts plagued my mind.

How long do I keep this up? Is he looking at me? I’m sure he was... Does he know what I’m doing?

I shook myself and steadied my breathing, regaining composure.

Get a grip. How could he know?

The target got up, grabbed his pack, and walked away. My stomach fluttered as I prepared myself to begin the chase. I waited until he’d disappeared around a corner before pursuing him, but as I followed, I was caught up in a tangle of students pouring out of the nearest pub. I pushed through the crowd, searching for the target... when a familiar face caught my eye.

It was mine . Staring at me, smiling, in black and white, across a missing person poster, almost lost among numerous others against the wall.

‘MISSING’, it read. ‘ AVA MONROE. Ava, 22, was last seen on Thursday 7 th January in Kinwich. She is described as white, approx. 5'6'', with white and brown piebald hair. She was last seen wearing a black dress and high heeled shoes.’

“Oh, you fucking idiots...”

Instinctively, I peeled the poster away from the others. The police had used a photo at least a year old and, indeed, depicted my distinguishing white tuft of hair, the rest a dark-brown. Problem being, my most distinguishing feature was currently bleached.

“Guess I can’t count on the fuzz to find me then.”

Not that I had much confidence in them anyway.

What to do? Should I replace the poster and hope that someone would recognise me? Then again, what would happen if I was? What would the police do? Rock up to the showmen’s yard and arrest Ivan? Yeah—right.

I’ll ask Madigan what I should do...

I folded the poster—there were bound to be others littered about Kinwich—and abandoning my mission, I thrust my hands into my pockets and marched towards the park to take the usual shortcut, head bowed against the downpour. I assumed the park was empty. The only sounds were the smattering of rain and creaking branches as the bitter winds swept through the trees and hedgerows.

“There she is!”

The shout pierced the quietude like a needle through flesh. I whirled around. A pair of shadowy figures that had been sheltering in the park’s bandstand approached. I should have ignored them, but curiosity kept me rooted to the spot. My insides dropped as they passed under a street lamp. Dominic and Randall.

“Can I help?” I asked with forced politeness, though my limbs tingled, readying myself for whatever they had prepared. Dominic stopped beneath the streetlamp, leaning against it as he watched his familiar draw closer to me.

Randall flicked his sandy-brown hair out of his eyes and looked at me with a wrinkled nose, like he could smell something particularly nasty, like sour milk on a hot day.

“I need something from you, Ava. Master’s orders. And it looks like you haven’t got your eight-legged freak here to protect you this time.”

“What do you need? My autograph?”

“I need what all vampires crave. Are you going to give it willingly? Or will I have to fight you?”

I glanced at Dominic. His small, dark eyes creased into a sneer as he watched on. I clenched my fists as adrenaline surged through me. The frustration, anger, and despair that I’d bottled up over the last week overflowed, my face contracting into a grimace, my muscles tensing, blood pounding in my ears.

“I’m afraid you are going to have to fight me,” I snarled.

Randall blinked, his facial features twitching, and looked back towards Dominic for a second.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Need Daddy’s permission?”

He returned his gaze to me, flushing. “You’re going to regret not cooperating with me when you had the chance.” He stepped forward and raised his fists, bouncing from one foot to the other.

Cocky little shit...

I stood on the balls of my feet, tense, ready to pounce as the fight-or-flight response pulsed through me. “Come on then!”

With a roar, he threw the first punch. I ducked, raised my fist and smashed it into his jaw. He staggered, dazed and blinking.

I spread my arms, drunk on adrenaline. “What was that?! You want to go? Let’s go!” I went to strike again, but he charged, crashing into me.

We wrestled in the muck for dominance, cold mud slapping into my face, clogging my hair. He was on top of me, blood splattering into my eyes from his gaping mouth. With a primal snarl, I drove my knee between his legs, and he rolled off me with a yelp. I scrambled to my feet, but someone seized me from behind in a tenacious grip that could only belong to Dominic. I thrashed on the spot, feet slipping in the mud.

“Get up, Randall!” Dominic’s crisp voice commanded.

Randall groaned, but hauled himself up, hand over his privates, face contorted, oversized front teeth bared, eyes wild. He balled up his fist and thrust it into my stomach. Winded, my knees buckled, and Dominic shoved me down. A boot struck the side of my head. Lights burst before my eyes as my head hit the ground, mud filling my ears and mouth.

A hand pulled at my hair, yanking upward, and hot breath washed over my face.

“Learn your fucking place, you little ratbag.” Dominic’s high voice pierced through my head before the hand released my hair. My vision blurred; the last thing I saw was Dominic’s skull-like features before being swallowed by darkness.

I don’t know how long I laid in the dirt, but even as my consciousness returned, I kept my eyes closed as my head pounded. When I prised my eyes open, I found to my relief the blinking lights had gone, but my vision remained blurry. The sun hadn’t risen, but the sky had turned from black to dark-blue.

I picked myself up, only now noticing my aching ribs, and the unmistakable bruising inside my elbow from where they must have stolen my blood, the sleeve of my coat ripped open. Bastards... I staggered back to the showmen’s yard. It was a tough climb over the fence. I reached the top and swung my legs over and braced myself for the drop.

“Fuck me, Ava! You’re filthy!” A tall figure stood below. Even through my blurred vision, I could tell from their muscular physique and crop of ginger hair that it was Billy. I hadn’t noticed him approach the gates and was now looking up at me. I squinted, making out his face. He was frowning, head tilted to one side.

“Need a hand?” He reached out and assisted me with the climb down. “What happened?”

I shook my head and instantly regretted it as it made the throbbing in my temples flare.

“I don’t feel too good,” I said through clenched teeth. “Will you take me back to Madigan’s?”

“Aye.”

He put an arm around me and let me lean on him as he guided me toward Madigan’s caravan. En route, we passed the caravans of the other vampires. Jacob and Sebastian were sitting outside Ivan’s motorhome.

“Uh oh. Your mates are here.” Billy couldn’t resist poking fun at me, even in my sorry state.

“They’re not my fucking mates.”

“What happened, Ava?” Jacob called out to me in his gruff voice. “You’re not looking so hot.”

Sebastian said nothing, but still smirked at my expense, running a hand over his perfectly styled hair.

Someone pulled back a curtain hanging in the motorhome’s window. Ivan leered at me from inside, grinning his wide, toothy smile as he tapped the windowpane, then beckoned me with a thick finger.

“Shit...” I said under my breath.

“Want me to wait for you?” Billy asked.

“Nah, but if you could get Madigan—”

“He is already there.” Billy nodded to the motorhome, the door now open. Madigan stood in the doorway, his brows drawn together and his lips a thin line.

“Wish me luck.” I took a deep breath and, with all the strength I could muster, walked upright, head held high, into Ivan’s home.

The inside was nothing like I had expected. It looked so normal. The clean, beige carpets, the maroon, leather sofa, the free-standing lamps. There was even a huge, flat screen TV, but from the layer of dust that had settled, I guessed it was rarely used. I jumped, spotting what I mistook for another figure in the corner, but it was just a sewing mannequin, just as big and broad as Ivan himself.

Dominic and Randall were sitting on the sofa, Dominic leaning back, not looking at me, but picking at the dirt beneath the nails of his spindly fingers. Randall, like me, was caked in mud, clashing against the pristine carpets and furnishings. He pulled his lips back into a snarl, but I just wrinkled my nose in response. Madigan stood beside me and my pounding heart eased slightly.

“Glad to have you join us,” Ivan said in his usual, pleasant tone that sent shivers up my spine. He was sitting in an armchair, hands together, fingers interlocked.

“Thanks,” I said, then added with a hurry, “Master Ivan.”

His lips spread back into a wide grin. “Very good. Now then, to business.” Ivan cracked his neck from side to side. “I wanted to clear something up. I’ve spoken to my subordinates and they informed me that yourself and Randall Johnson got into a minor scuffle. Is that right? Is this your handiwork, right here?” He pointed to Randall’s bloody mouth, and then his eye. I’d not realised that in our wrestling match I’d blackened his eye, filling me with a strange satisfaction.

Before I could even open my mouth, Randall cut in.

“You wanted her blood. She wouldn’t cooperate, so I took it by force. If she’d not been Leonard’s familiar, I’d have killed her for it.”

“Fuck off Randall, you little piss mite.” The words erupted from my mouth before I could stop them. “You only got the upper hand on me because Dominic got involved. If you want to fight again, let’s go!”

Madigan put a calming hand on my shoulder, steadying me, but growled low in his throat.

“You got involved too, did you?” Ivan asked Dominic, an unmistakable danger in his tone. “You failed to mention that.”

“That’s because it’s a load of bollocks.” He flicked the dirt he’d been digging from out of his nails. “It’s as Randall said. He asked for her blood. She refused. He overpowered her.”

Ivan looked at me over the top of his spectacles.

“He’s chatting shit,” I said. “I was coming back after going scouting and, yes, he asked for my blood. Was I meant to hand it over nicely? When I refused, he tried to overpower me. But Dominic discovered his familiar is a little bitch, so he held me back. Pretty cowardly, if you ask me.”

Madigan growled again, this time audible enough for the others to hear.

“Also,” I said, “why is Randall allowed to beat people up for their blood, while I have to stealth mission for it?”

“He’s passed his harvesting trial already,” Dominic said, rising to his feet, but Madigan stepped forward defensively. “All Master Ivan said was Randall needed to acquire your blood. Any means necessary.”

“Any means necessary?” I shouted, standing on tiptoes to view him over Madigan’s shoulder. “Did that include getting you to fight his battles for him?”

Ivan smirked in amusement as he lit up a cigar, watching our exchange as though it were a comedy performance.

“Ava Monroe,” he interrupted, “you were coming back here with something for me, I hope? No? How disappointing.” He puffed smoke into the air, eyes turned upward in thought. “Well, with his word against yours, I suppose we can’t learn the truth. Dominic Chase, you’ve been campaigning for Randall Johnson to make a full conversion to a vampire. He’s been harvesting for a couple of weeks and has the bloodlust required; he’s one of the most promising recruits we’ve had. But losing to a girl?” He snorted with laughter, flicking ash from his cigar into an ashtray. “That’s pathetic.”

“Master Ivan—”

“Silence!” He raised a hand, then withdrew a vial of blood from his breast pocket. “That said, he completed the task I assigned him.” He tilted the vial, the blood— my blood—sliding from one end to the other. “And I’m a man of my word.” He stood, still examining the vial before saying to me, “You don’t mind if I hang onto this, do you?” It was a rhetorical question.

In three strides, he crossed his motorhome to the kitchen, opening the fridge. My mouth fell open as I caught a glimpse inside. Like Madigan’s, it contained vials of blood. Unlike Madigan’s, it was packed full, and set inside the door were large bottles filled to the brim with dark liquid, each with a label. The closest was labelled ‘ Leonard ’. After writing my name on the vial in permanent marker and slotting it alongside the others, Ivan retrieved a bottle from the door.

“Here we are. ‘ Dominic Chase ’,” Ivan said, reading the label. He thrust it into Randall’s hands. “Drink.”

“A-all of it?” he asked, unable to hide the tremor in his voice.

Ivan’s usual sickening smile broadened, his wicked eyes lighting up. “All of it. It’s only a litre. What’s the problem?”

Randall opened the top, looking inside at the red-black substance, before turning his gaze to Dominic, then to Ivan.

“Do I need to fetch a funnel?” Ivan asked, squinting at him through his spectacles.

“No,” Randall said, bringing the bottle to his lips, and began drinking, screwing his eyes shut, gulping down the liquid as fast as he could. He gagged a couple of times, tears seeping between his eyelids, but kept going.

I put a hand to my mouth, dry heaving. Thankfully, Ivan was too preoccupied watching Randall struggling to drain the litre of blood to notice my loss of composure.

Randall gasped for air, wiping blood from his chin and set the now empty bottle on the kitchen counter. His whole body shuddered as he collapsed to his knees, holding his stomach, groaning.

“I don’t feel so good.”

“Good. That means it’s working,” Ivan said.

Randall’s body spasmed again, and he fell into the foetal position, his groans growing louder.

“That’s going to keep him busy for a while.” Ivan stepped over Randall’s writhing body and returned to his maroon, leather armchair. “And as for you, Ava Monroe. Come here. Give me your hand.”

He reached out towards me. Swallowing, I mirrored him. In a movement too fast for my eyes to follow, he snatched my hand, almost crushing it in his fist as he yanked me towards him so that we were face to face. I resisted the urge to wince at the smell of his sour breath.

“I am impressed. It’s good to see you won’t be bullied into submission. A very promising quality. I might not disregard you just yet.”

“Thank you, Master Ivan,” I said, voice raised to be heard over Randall’s ever-increasing wails.

“But”—his cold eyes flashed—“I am growing tired of your rudeness.” With a sharp tug, he ripped away what remained of my tattered coat sleeve. “This is a reminder that you are mine , and will show our brethren the respect they deserve.”

He brought down the tip of his cigar and pressed it deep into the flesh of my arm. I shrieked, as the smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils, white-hot pain radiating through my arm. I tried to tug my hand out of his, but his grip compressed even more so. Only when the cigar was extinguished did he remove it, leaving behind a red and black circular burn. He allowed me to pull my arm back, cradling it, my mouth open in horror, my body vibrating in shock.

“Will that be all, Master Ivan?” Madigan asked, his tone measured yet urgent.

“Get out,” Ivan said, waving his hand like he was swatting a fly. “And don’t you dare put any potions or healing balms on that burn, Ava Monroe, or the next cigar I extinguish will be in your eyes!”

Madigan grabbed my shoulder and steered me towards the door. I clutched my shaking arm to my chest, covering my burn from the elements with my hand.

Dominic spouted insults as we left, but I barely heard them over the noises issuing from Randall, now less of a groan and more of a scream, still thrashing on the floor of Ivan’s kitchen.

As soon as we were inside Madigan’s camper, he made me take a seat.

“Let me have a look.” He held out his hand, but I kept my arm to my chest, not even wanting to look at it myself. “I need to bandage it.”

“Ivan said not to—”

“He said not to put any healing balms on it. He said nothing about bandaging it.”

I licked my lips in hesitation, then extended my arm. In the centre of my forearm was a huge, red crater, about the size of a ten pence coin, peppered with black residue and covered in a shrivelled, dead flap of skin that dipped inward.

Madigan inhaled through his teeth. “This will blister soon, and you can expect a nasty scar, I’m afraid. But we’ll keep it clean and covered and it should heal up just fine.” He cleaned the ash residue away before applying a gauze and bandage. “Perhaps wear long sleeves for the foreseeable future.” He tightened the bandage, making sure it was secure, then held my hand in his. His touch was warm, and skin rough. “Would you like to tell me everything that happened in the park?”

As I went into detail of my fight, his eyes became hard and flinty.

“Bastards... Perhaps I might pay Dominic a visit later and—”

“No.” I put my free hand on his. “I don’t want you getting into trouble, too. I just want to get on with completing my trial.”

For a couple of seconds, we looked at each other and I noted once again his soft, vanilla scent that caused a warmth to spread through my chest. He flushed, suddenly releasing his hold on my hand.

“Besides your confrontation with Randall, how did your scouting go?”

“Not great,” I said, before remembering the reason I’d returned early. “I found this.” I retrieved the poster from my pocket and handed it to him.

Madigan unfolded the piece of paper, his eyebrows rising slightly as he ran his eyes over it, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. “Is this you?” he asked, referring to the picture.

I nodded. “I didn’t know what to do. What if the police come looking for me?”

Madigan didn’t respond right away—he was looking at my picture again, the curl of his mouth threatening to become a full-blown smile—but when he realised I was awaiting an answer, he said, “I understand you’d like to be rescued. However, I’d advise against attracting police attention. It wouldn’t be the first time they have come here, and Ivan always gets his own way. Perhaps you should adopt a disguise while harvesting. And remove any more posters you find.” He folded up the poster and handed it back to me. “Let us not provoke Ivan’s wrath further.”

“I’ll second that,” I said, putting a hand to my bandage. “Did Ivan torment you when you first joined?”

“Not exactly. I was already a vampire when I joined. All I needed to do was provide a blood sample, albeit... unwillingly. I’m sure you noticed Ivan’s supply is plentiful.”

“Plentiful is putting it lightly,” I said, my stomach lurching as I recalled the bottles of blood. “Why does he have so much?”

“The larger quantities are for transforming humans into vampires, as you saw for yourself. But the smaller samples—such as the one Ivan requested Randall obtain from you—are for tracking. Using it, he’d have Dominic detect where you’ve been, much like how a dog can follow a scent. Vampires—and Dominic in particular—have a powerful sense of smell. That’s how we traced you back to your home; you left a trail.”

I licked my lower lip, thinking. “He uses blood for tracking us down,” I said, more to myself than Madigan, processing the information. “He uses the blood for tracking us...” My pulse quickened, my muscles tensed, and I looked Madigan dead in the eyes before saying with a trembling voice, “So, you’re telling me, that all this time, I could have fucked off and he wouldn’t have found me?!”

Madigan’s eyes widened, blood draining from his already pale face. “Dominic and I found you without—”

“You found me because I left a trail, yes?”

“Well... yes, but—”

“And you didn’t feel it necessary to tell me this until now? After he’s taken my blood?!” My body quivered with a rage that longed to burst free. I rose to my feet, unsure of what I was going to do, but I had to do something . My fists clenched. Unclenched. I wanted to pace, but the space was too tight. Just enough room for me and the man before me. My captor . “You... you...”

I lost control, and without thinking, I raised my palm and swung it, aiming for his face.

The next thing I knew, Madigan was standing over me, my wrist in his hand, glowering, eyes darker than I’d ever seen them. Though my anger still burned, a cold pulse of panic rippled through me, along with another feeling that I couldn’t quite identify—suddenly reminded how much taller and stronger he was. And he was close. Very close. I caught the waft of vanilla again.

“Don’t. Do. That.” He spoke calmly, but his tone was low, firm, dangerous . I yanked my hand, but his grip was too tight.

“So help me, if you come between me and my freedom again, I’ll... I’ll...”

“I’m sure you’ll give me a jolly good slap. Yes, yes.” He released my wrist, rolling his eyes. “Look, I didn’t realise that he’d not yet acquired your blood. I haven’t taken a familiar in well over a decade and if truth be told, I forgot, alright? I’m sorry.”

I massaged the feeling back into my wrist, not looking at him, ignoring his apology.

He let out a deep sigh. “Look, I have... I might have a solution.”

I snorted a sardonic laugh. “I’m sure.”

“I’m uneasy about discussing it here, where we may be overheard, and sunrise is almost upon us. But, if you’re willing, tomorrow night I’ll take you somewhere private, and offer a suggestion that might benefit both of us. Is that agreeable?”

I gave him a sideways glance. I wanted to tell him where he could shove his suggestion. But, I couldn’t deny he’d piqued my curiosity, and if it really could help me get out of here...

“Fine.”