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

14. Fourteen

Fourteen

W hen I awoke, the first thing I saw was the disguise I’d prepared after letting Madigan patch me up. Tonight was the night. I could feel it.

The ginger wig beneath my beanie made my scalp itch. As my coat now had a ripped sleeve, I’d borrowed an ugly, brown one that I’d found among the werewolves’ piles of old clothes. It smelt like dog. Though accustomed to wearing ripped jeans, these were a size too big, and I had to repeatedly pull them up over my hips. The dirt I’d rubbed on my hands caught under my fingernails. I could have easily passed for homeless person on Kinwich’s streets.

I carried sandwiches in a paper bag, my trembling hands numb in the frosty night air. My heart leapt when I espied my target, a huddled figure sat on a bench outside Kinwich train station. A sleeping bag in a roll and a scrappy-looking bag beside them. I stood outside the Lagoon Lounge, a live music venue that attracted artsy clientele, watching the figure, completely invisible among the patrons in their snazzy outfits.

I took a seat beside my target, scrutinising him. He had a thick beard, flecked with grey hairs, and dirt had accumulated in the wrinkles on his face. He didn’t acknowledge my presence, keeping his head bowed. This was it. I was going to harvest from him. My heart pounded in time to the dull beat of the bass emanating out of the Lagoon Lounge.

“Would you like one?” I opened the bag of sandwiches, offering him one. He frowned at me, then dropped his eyes down to the sandwiches and swallowed, before returning his gaze to mine.

“Just ham and cheese,” I said, “and the bread is a bit stale.”

“What’s the catch?” he asked. His voice was low and raspy, and I noted that his few remaining teeth were blackened.

I feigned as friendly a smile as I could muster. “No catch. I just want some company. I’ve not been in my situation for very long. Maybe just over a week, and it gets pretty lonely.”

“I know what you mean.” His expression softened, and he took a sandwich with a grubby, calloused hand. “It’s a tough life, but better than the one I left behind.”

“How long have you been on the streets?” I asked, taking out a sandwich myself and taking a bite. My stomach was knotted so tightly I had to focus on chewing, swallowing, and forcing it down.

“Years. When I was younger, I had a few friends I stuck with. But they’re gone now.”

“Back home? Or did they get council accommodation?”

“Neither.”

I withdrew a hipflask from the pocket of my coat. The floral smell of the sunny-yellow liquid tickled my nostrils as I opened the screw top.

“Want some? I’m not sure what it is, but it does the trick, if you know what I mean. Got it off someone I met in the park,” I said, as I offered the flask.

“You didn’t get it off the guys that hang out in the bandstand, did you?”

My heart skipped a beat. “Friends of yours?”

“Fuck no. I’d keep away from them if I were you.”

You don’t need to tell me twice...

I pretended to take a swig, only allowing a drop to pass my lips, then offered it to him again. The sweet, sticky substance slid down my throat. I was careful not to have too much; even that small sip was enough to relax my muscles. “Go on,” I said, handing it to him. “It’s the only thing that helps me sleep.”

He took the flask and knocked some of the liquid back before returning it.

“That’s nasty.” He coughed, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve as he dribbled into his beard. “It’s like syrup.”

“Yeah, but as I said, it does the trick.”

I mimed another drink from the flask and continued chatting with him while watching the masses falling in and out of the Lagoon Lounge, occasionally handing him the flask. The more he drank, the more he opened up to me. I even shared some half-truths with him, telling him I had to leave my home when my mother’s new boyfriend had got aggressive.

“Mum asked me to come home, but I’d rather be here than living with that wanker. I don’t care how sorry he says he is.”

“People are cunts,” the old man slurred. He handed me the now empty flask, not bothering to wipe the spittle from his chin. “You’re better off staying away from the whole bloody lot of them.”

“I’d drink to that if we had any left,” I said, attempting to appear equally inebriated. If I was overacting, he was too spaced out to notice. “I can get more. Want to come with me?”

He cocked his head, his glazed eyes darting from side to side.

“If you want to avoid the group from the park, I can leave you halfway and meet you afterwards? I know the perfect spot where you won’t be bothered.”

He bit the inside of his cheek in thought, before nodding slowly. “Why the hell not?”

Shakily, he got to his feet, stretched, and picked up his belongings.

I led him toward Kinwich Cathedral, my plan being to get him to the same spot Madigan had harvested from the girl in the glittery dress a few nights back. The walk took a little while; he was dragging his feet and even stumbled a few times. Perhaps a whole flask had been excessive. My pulse was in my throat and my palms were sweaty despite the bitter cold. Every time we had to pause, the knot in my stomach tightened, half hoping that he would collapse in sight of others and I’d have to abandon my plan, but he kept going.

Eventually we reached the cathedral, illuminated by the yellow glow of spotlights, the steeple acting as a beacon. I guided him into the churchyard and into darkness, helping him to sit in the same spot that Glittery-Dress-Girl had been. Although she was gone, the raggedy old blanket remained, shredded and covered in dirt.

“Wait here,” I said. “I will be back soon.”

“I suppose I could come with you. For protection?” The words hit like a blow to the stomach.

“No, it’s just... I don’t want you to see what I do to acquire it. The guy I get it off...” I paused for dramatic effect, sighing and shaking my head. “He doesn’t accept money as payment.”

The old guy nodded, settling on the filthy blanket. “I understand.”

I wandered into the darkness of the graveyard, following a narrow, stone path leading through the tombstones and towards a mausoleum. Though surrounded by black, iron railings, someone had still broken in and covered it in graffiti. I hid around the back, crouched down low and waited, picking at the freshly mown grass and rolling the blades between my thumb and fingers as I listened out for the sounds of voices or footsteps following behind me, but only picked up the noise of the wind through the branches of a dead tree. My ribs ached as they restrained my thundering heart, and just as I wondered how long I should keep waiting, I heard a distant, snorting noise. Could that be snoring?

I crept back to where I had left him, using the gravestones as cover. As I got closer, his snores grew louder. By the time I reached him, there was no doubt that he was unconscious, head back, mouth open, a trail of saliva running from his lower lip into his wiry beard.

This is it...

I knelt beside him, opened my bag and withdrew my equipment, a single item at a time, and placed each piece down in order of need.

With a deep breath, I tried to roll his sleeve back, but his coat was too thick.

Shit, shit, shit... I took another breath, trying to calm my pounding heart and think clearly.

I slowly unzipped his coat, manipulating his arm until free. He was wearing a thick, woollen jumper, but this time I could roll the sleeve back, exposing the soft flesh of his inner elbow.

Stay calm. You’ve got this...

I attached the tourniquet. His veins were invisible in the dark, but I ran my thumb up and down his arm, feeling for them. His skin felt strange. Bumpy. Textured like nothing I’d felt before. But I couldn’t feel the squishy vein I’d been hoping for.

I had a torch with me. Did I dare use it? He snorted loudly, a raspy, wet noise in the back of his throat. I’d risk it. He seemed pretty intoxicated.

I took my torch from my bag and shone it on his arm. My blood ran cold as it became clear why I couldn’t find his vein. Not just his inner elbow, but most of his inside arm was covered in small, circular scars. My eyes and nose tingled with emotions that threatened to overpower me.

I’m so, so sorry...

It felt so wrong to puncture him with another hole. But what choice did I have?

I hope you’re not ambidextrous....

After removing the tourniquet, I pulled the sleeve down before removing his other arm from his coat. I froze, pulse raging in my ears as he snorted, only to settle, and I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. As I pulled back the sleeve, I saw more scars, but far fewer this time. This would be my best chance.

I applied the tourniquet and an electric pulse of excitement shot through me as I saw a vein bulge. Making sure I had my vials ready, I inserted the needle, holding the torch between my teeth until my jaw ached. I waited for a red line of blood to appear, prepared to attach the vial.

Nothing.

He snorted again.

I removed the needle a millimetre at a time. I’d started shaking, and my chest felt tight.

Breathe. You can do this. Just calm down. You can try again. There is no one else here. Take your time.

I felt for the vein and inserted the needle.

This time, he coughed, and his eyelids flickered. He sat up, looking at me through bleary eyes.

Shit!

I pulled the needle out, praying he was too delirious to notice, but he was already looking down at his arm, at the tourniquet, and rolled back sleeve.

He gaped at me with the same expression of horror I’d given Austin. “What the fuck are you doing, you little bitch!”

I fumbled in my bag, rooting around for the blue bottle and rag that I’d stupidly forgotten to prepare, but he shoved me backward and kicked the bag out of reach. I fell onto my arse, scrambling back, digging my heels into the dirt and pushing, my hands slipping in the mud.

“It’s not what you think!” I said, holding out my hand as though it were a shield, but he was already towering over me.

He seized me by the front of my coat, yanked me to my feet, and smashed a fist into my face. A sickening crunch echoed in my head as the punch knocked loose a tooth from the back of my jaw, and my mouth filled with blood. Sent flying, I crashed onto my back. I rolled onto my front, spitting out the loose molar, before he hauled me back up again.

“Please... stop...”

But he struck again. Once. Twice. And sent me hurtling into a gravestone. Smacking my forehead with a crack. Something warm and wet dripped down my face. Collapsing in the weeds, I crawled as fast as my limbs would allow towards the cathedral. I looked back. He stumbled toward me, the aftereffects of the Mollifier hindering him. I clambered to my feet.

“Get back here, you little cunt!”

My legs had turned to jelly, but I lurched forward, falling upon one of the cathedral’s stone walls, propping myself up against it as I hobbled around to the front of the building. I seized one of the cold, metal rings on the double doors and pulled. Locked.

My attacker’s face appeared around the corner, teeth bared as he lumbered towards me, grabbing me once again from the front of my coat.

“You’re dead, bitch!” he said with a snarl, eyes bulging out of his skull.

“No! Let me go!” I thrashed in his grip. Animal instinct took hold, and I sank my teeth into his hand.

With a yelp, he wrenched back his hand, and seizing the moment, I freed myself from his clasp.

“Just fuck off!” Propelling myself forward, I bulldozed into him, throwing my entire weight behind it. He staggered, taking a step back. Then a second. In what felt like slow motion, he lost his footing at the edge of the stone steps. He tumbled back, falling down one step after another, smashing his head on the corner of one, landing in a crumpled heap at the bottom.

I stood frozen, waiting, watching to see if he would get up again.

He didn’t move. A pool of blood seeped from beneath his head.

I cast around, unsure if I wanted to find someone to help, but was completely alone, except for a stone angel whose blank eyes stared at me in judgement.

My body acted on its own as I collected up my belongings from the graveyard and ran.

I found myself in the park, hidden in the Stoner Bush that I had used as shelter when fleeing the showmen’s yard, unable to recall how I’d got there. The only thing on my mind was the crunching sound as the old man’s head hit the stone step. My stomach writhed, followed by a sour taste in my mouth.

Oh no...

My stomach crunched, and I vomited.

I remained in the Stoner Bush for hours, huddled in a ball, sobbing. It wasn’t until the sky had turned from pitch-black to a dark-blue that I found the use of my legs and hauled myself back to the showmen’s yard. For a second, I’d considered returning to the cathedral to collect blood from the corpse, but the thought of going back to the scene of the crime made me want to hurl again. Besides, someone might have discovered his body by now.

Madigan had not yet returned from his own night time outing, and I bundled myself into the tiny shower. I washed away the dirt and blood, but not the harrowing thoughts that haunted me. I jumped as I heard the door of the caravan open and close.

“Ava, is that you in there?” Madigan called through the bathroom door.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, clutching my chest in relief to hear his familiar voice. “I’m knackered, so I’m going straight to bed after this, if that’s ok.”

“Do you need me to bandage you up?”

My heart stopped. “W-what?”

“Your arm. Do you need a new bandage?”

“Oh!” I’d almost chundered again in panic. “No, thanks. I’m going to let it breathe while I sleep.”

“Then I shall bid you good night. Or good day, I suppose.”

I waited until I’d heard Madigan draw his curtain before emerging from the bathroom, giving him plenty of time to fall asleep; I wasn’t ready to relive the experience by retelling it. Gathering up my clothes and the bloodied wig, I tried to conceal them as best I could as I dumped them into the wash basket, for the first time grateful that the laundry was my responsibility. I crawled into bed, the cut on my forehead and the hole where my tooth had been only now flaring with pain. My limbs felt heavy and my vision blurred as a wave of nausea washed over me.

It wasn’t real... It wasn’t real... It wasn’t real... I told myself over, and over, until I fell down into a deep darkness.