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

15. Fifteen

Fifteen

M y skull was splitting in two. An intense stabbing as it cracked down the middle and a metal rod plunged in deep over my left eyebrow.

My eyes snapped open and my body jerked upright with a sharp, ripping noise as my face peeled away from the pillow. My head swam and a wave of sickness flooded through me. Dried blood covered the pillow, soaked in sweat and a yellowish, foul-smelling goop. Memories of the previous night rushed back.

Shit... What have I done?

I brushed my hair away from my forehead to discover a clump of it had dried in the open wound. The pain in my head seared and blood flaked away as I tugged my hair free. I gathered up my bedding and dumped it into the wash basket with last night’s clothes. Checking Madigan was still asleep, I crept out of my corner of the caravan and into the bathroom.

The face reflected in the mirror wasn’t mine. Clammy, deathly pale, with dark shadows beneath sunken eyes. My forehead had disappeared under a reddish-brown carpet of dried blood. I washed my face and bloodied hair in the sink, taking great care to avoid the oozing lesion that was the source of the yellowish goo. I gingerly brushed my teeth, bypassing the crater left by my absent molar, now filled with a large clot. Even after brushing, my mouth felt furry and my throat tender and swollen.

I exited the bathroom, grabbed the wash basket, then snuck out of the caravan. The sun was setting, casting a red glow over the showmen’s yard. Billy and Marcus were fooling around, laughing and joking while building the campfire and setting up for breakfast.

I made a beeline to Latisha’s camper, slamming my fist on the door.

“Just coming!” Latisha opened the door, dressed in a blue and orange silk dressing gown, yawning as she scratched her head, her spiral curls dishevelled and sticking out at odd angles. She rubbed her eyes, frowning as she examined me. “Ava?” She rubbed her eyes again, her sleepy, bleary-eyed expression replaced with a frown. “I didn’t recognise you at first. What the hell happened?”

“Can I speak to you? Alone?” I asked, my voice breaking as I tried to remain composed.

“Of course.” She turned her head to address her companion. “Hetti, we need privacy. We can meet at the campfire with Luna and Aurora.”

Latisha’s familiar didn’t argue. I lowered my head as she passed, hiding my face, then stepped into the camper.

The vibrant throws and tapestries blurred into a swirling pool of colour, the fairy lights sparkling like tiny, floating stars. The incense that had once been inviting now made my stomach churn. Latisha told me to take a seat, but I had already plonked myself on one of the squishy sofas, my legs shaking so vigorously I thought they might give way.

“Can you help me with this?” I brushed my hair aside so that she could examine the deep laceration. Latisha’s mouth dropped open.

“I can. But It’s going to require something rather potent,” she said, getting a closer inspection, running her thumb over her lower lip. “It needed stitches, but it’s too late now. I can give you an ointment that will kill the infection and accelerate the healing. Should take about an hour, but you’ll have a scar, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t care. Would the ointment heal a tooth socket? What about a headache?”

“Yes, for the socket, not the headache. For that, I have good old paracetamol.”

“I’ll take anything you have.”

First, she brought me the white pills and a glass of water to knock them back, then began pulling oddly shaped bottles out of a cupboard, each containing a different coloured liquid of varying viscosity.

“This is the one,” she said, withdrawing a jar of paste that appeared similar to the one she’d given me for my feet on my first night with the coven. The only observable difference was that it was a deep-red instead of pink. She cleaned my forehead with cotton wool and warm water before applying the paste to my forehead, leaving behind a hot, tingling sensation, but almost instantaneously the pain subsided. She let me apply it inside my mouth, its bitter flavour somehow worse than the sour taste that had been gradually building.

“Stay here until the wounds have closed. How the hell did you do it?” Her eyes diverted to the wash basket. I’d arranged the laundry to hide the blood staining, but from this angle she’d see a few tell-tale droplets.

“I...” I couldn’t think of a lie, my thoughts consumed by the image of the old man’s unmoving body. My lower lip trembled. “I...” The muscles of my face contracted into a grimace.

Keep it together... Keep it together...

“I...”

I couldn’t keep it together.

I broke down into hyperventilating sobs, my face instantly soaked in hot, salty tears, snot streaming down my upper lip. Though I wiped it away on the back of my sleeve, it didn’t stop the unrelenting flow. I spluttered my story through deep, gasping breaths, my nose now blocked. Latisha listened, eyes growing glassier with each detail.

“Oh Ava...” She took the seat beside me and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into her body. “It is ok. You’re in a safe place now. I got you.”

I clung to her. She didn’t seem to care about my snotty face as I buried it into her shoulder. She rocked me, saying nothing, her cheek resting against the top of my head. Once I had calmed down enough that my nose had cleared and I could breathe in the sweet fragrance of her perfume, I pulled back and wiped my face.

“I’m sorry, Latisha.”

“Don’t apologise.” She squeezed my hand, nudging the half-drunk glass of water closer towards me. “If it’s any consolation, everyone here has a story like this. You’re not alone.”

“Even you?” I asked, taking a sip of water.

Latisha let out a short, humourless laugh. “Yes, even me. Especially me. I won’t bog you down with the details now; it’s pretty grim. But I’ve had to kill or be killed. The cost of becoming a supernatural is high.”

Though reassuring to know Latisha and the others had all experienced something similar, I was grateful she’d spared me the gritty details. I stayed with her until the wounds had closed and I was—physically—like my old self again.

“I’d suggest you stay at the showmen’s yard tonight,” she said, raising a hand as I opened my mouth to protest. “You still have just under a week to complete your first harvest. If you go out again tonight, I guarantee you’ll panic and mess it up.”

Despite the ticking clock hanging over me, I was glad for the excuse to avoid venturing out again.

“I’ll help you with your laundry duties tonight,” Latisha said.

“Don’t you have your own jobs to do?”

“That’s what familiars are for. I might have healed your head wound, but you’re likely still in shock. Come on. Let’s get set up.”

Madigan was gone by the time I got back, and though Latisha assisted me in setting up the wash bucket and washing line outside his camper, she soon left to collect everyone else’s clothes and use their facilities. We figured the coven members would have a harder time saying no to her. It was a pity, as I could have used her company.

The old man’s face kept invading my mind. His wild, crazed expression as he charged at me. The way his eyes widened for a split second as he lost his footing, and though I never saw his face again after his fall, I imagined a blank, glassy stare, like Austin’s.

It could be you next if you fail again... My airway tightened.

I kept working, focusing on scrubbing out the stubborn dirt to prevent flashbacks. When Latisha had finished her half of the laundry and asked if I wanted to join her for a lunch break, I remained where I was. Though the other coven members might offer a welcome distraction, I didn’t fancy sticking on a false smile and pretending everything was fine.

I was working on my last garment when the sound of footsteps reached me. I looked up from the wash bucket, my neck clicking as I did so, but instead of Latisha’s silhouette to greet me, it was a skinny, male figure. Randall. I groaned inwardly, taking a deep breath and readying myself for the jeers about to be hurled my way.

“Not tonight, Randall,” I said.

But the taunts never came. Instead, Randall held his face, covering his eyes, head bend down, like he had a migraine.

“Randall? Are you ok?”

He let out a moan, stumbling slightly, tripping over his own feet before propping himself up with his free hand against the side of Madigan’s caravan. His hair was limp and greasy, flopping over his face, which looked even paler than usual, glistening with sweat.

He peered at me through his fingers, and slowly raised his head, as though only now seeing me. He blinked, tilting his head as his eyes widened.

“Randall? What are you—?”

He pounced, almost too fast for me to see, landing on top of me and knocking over the wash bucket. Warm, soapy water sloshed around me, soaking my hair and clothes as he pinned me to the floor, legs on either side of my hips, one hand on my chest.

“Get off me!” The words came out as a choking wheeze, the crushing weight of his hand restricting my breath. I flailed beneath him as a wave of panic rippled through me. I raised my hands to drive him off, one on his face, the other on his chest, but it was like pushing against a brick wall.

He licked his lips as his eyes raked over my upper body before settling on my neck. I knew what he was planning. He opened his mouth and bore down as I raised an arm to protect myself. His teeth clamped on the soft flesh of my forearm. I gritted my teeth, still trying to free myself, ignoring the sharp pain of his bite. But his jaw tightened, his teeth penetrating through my skin, forcing a scream from me as something hot and wet gushed from his mouth. I thrashed harder. His teeth cut deeper.

Something crashed into him, shoving him to the floor beside me. I scrambled away, holding my bleeding arm to my chest until someone seized me from behind, yanking me upward and clasping me to their side. Billy. He wrapped several arms around me, trying to lead me away, but I dug my heels in, whipping my head back, looking for Randall.

Madigan was on top of him, a hand round his throat. He hauled Randall to his feet and slammed him into the side of the caravan. Randall squirmed but was as defenceless in the stronger vampire’s grip as I’d been in his.

My scream had drawn a crowd. Coven members shoved past each other to see what had happened. I noted Trevor’s grim expression as he put a hand on Marcus’s shoulder, whose eyes were wide with fright. Alfred tutted, shaking his head before murmuring to another of the werewolves, who nodded in response, their lips pursed in disapproval. Latisha reached us, trying to get a look at my arm, but I kept it pressed to my chest and looked past her, watching Madigan and Randall.

“What’s all the commotion?” drawled a high voice. It was Dominic. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd and surveyed the scene, smiling as though mildly amused. His dark eyes strayed to me, flicking down to my bleeding arm, and his smile widened.

Madigan threw Randall to the ground at Dominic’s feet. “I believe this belongs to you.” Though he maintained his clipped, precise accent, he spoke with a snarl, jaw clenched, eyes wild with fury, the utmost contrast from the irked expression he’d worn while rescuing me from Dominic. “We do not feed from another’s familiar within the coven.”

“She hasn’t passed her first trial yet. She isn’t an official member.”

“We do not feed from another’s familiar! Randall is still your responsibility!” Madigan jabbed a finger into Dominic’s chest.

Randall was still on the floor at his master’s feet, but kept his ravenous eyes locked on me, blood and saliva dripping from his lips. He didn’t even flinch when Dominic took hold of him by the scruff of his shirt, like someone takes a dog by the collar.

“He is suffering from blood sickness,” Dominic said with a dismissive air. “It will pass once he’s finished the transformation.”

“I know what blood sickness is, you dolt! It’s not an excuse to let your familiar run rampant!”

He snatched Dominic by the front of his shirt and yanked him close so that the pair were face to face, Dominic’s turned upward, his smile wider than ever, Madigan’s contorted with rage, one of his eyes twitching. “Keep him under control, or so help me, I will—”

“You’ll do what?” Dominic swatted Madigan’s hand aside, breaking his hold. I’d forgotten Madigan’s warning about Dominic’s hidden strength. And so, it seemed, had Madigan, who clenched his fists in a manner of someone readying themselves for a fight.

“Len.” Latisha’s voice barely registered.

“Any harm that befalls Miss Monroe shall also befall you,” Madigan said to Dominic through gritted teeth.

“Len!” Latisha shouted, and the two vampires turned their faces to her.

She nodded towards Ivan’s motorhome. So caught up by the confrontation, neither of them had noticed Ivan’s enormous frame looming in the doorway of his camper, watching the pair of them, lips curled into a smirk just visible beneath a haze of cigar smoke.

“Master Ivan.” Madigan stepped forward, uncharacteristically bold. “I must insist Dominic be held accountable for the maiming of my familiar. Randall is his responsibility and, in a fit of blood sickness, has bitten Miss Monroe.”

Ivan cocked his head with a smile that could have been mistaken for pleasantness. “Let me see.”

I still had my arm in my hand. It was hot to the touch, wet and sticky. I didn’t want to let go. Madigan held out a hand towards me, indicating for me to step forward. I looked up at Billy, who released me from his many arms and nodded.

I kept my hand clenched around my arm as I approached Ivan, and reluctantly uncovered my bite, allowing him to view it. A colossal bruise enveloped the side of my forearm, red and swollen, exhibiting a ring of deep-set, bleeding holes.

Ivan raised his eyebrows. “He certainly tried to take a good chunk out of you, didn’t he?”

I withdrew my arm, suddenly feeling sick and lightheaded.

Ivan addressed Dominic with the demeanour of a teacher reprimanding their favourite student. “You can’t let Randall bite the human familiars. As temping as it may be.”

“I’m sorry, Master Ivan.” Dominic bowed his head.

“Keep a close eye on him. It won’t be much longer until he regains some self-control. Now, be off with you.” He then raised his head to address the coven. “All of you. There’s nothing to see here anymore.”

Some of the coven members immediately set off towards their campers, though a few of them, such as Trevor and Alfred, allowed themselves a critical glance at their leader before dispersing. Randall, who appeared to be oblivious to everything going on around him, still stared at me as Dominic pulled him to his feet, dragging him back to their camper.

Ivan narrowed his eyes. “That includes you two. William McGregor. Latisha Abara.”

Billy wrinkled his brow as he gave me a parting glance, then hurried after Trevor and Marcus. Latisha glared at Ivan, and for a second, I thought she was going to disobey, but begrudgingly she, too, withdrew.

“Ava Monroe,” Ivan said, “let me see your arm.” Once again, I held it out for his inspection, but he laughed. “The other arm.” My stomach twisted as I showed him the burn he’d given me. He pursed his lips, nodding. “Oh dear, you are in a sorry state, aren’t you? Fortunately, I’ll allow you to find a healing remedy for your bite. No sense in allowing someone else to mark you.”

“Thank you, Master Ivan,” I said, and with one last self-satisfied smirk, Ivan disappeared into his camper.

“Miss Monroe.” Madigan didn’t look at me, but had his head bowed, jaw still clenched. Was he angry with me? “Get yourself inside and lock the door.” He pressed a key into my palm. “Answer to no one but me. I will get you a remedy from the witches. Do you understand?”

I nodded and did as I was bid. I sat on my bed, holding my bleeding arm close as it throbbed, yet it wasn’t the pain that had me shaking. Madigan soon returned with a jar in his hand, and for the second time that night, the red paste stitched my wounds. We watched as the holes in my arm closed. I expected to cry but didn’t. Instead, there was just a hollow feeling inside.

“Something troubles you?” Madigan’s voice wrenched me out of my thoughts.

He was still holding my arm in one of his hands, the residue of red paste on one of his fingers.

My chest felt heavy as I braced myself for my confession. “I hate that you’ve had to rescue me. Twice .”

Madigan raised his eyebrows, opening his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before he could do so.

“It’s not that I’m ungrateful. I’m just used to fighting my own battles.”

Madigan considered my words before responding. “I understand. But there is no shame in accepting help when it’s needed.”

“I don’t like needing it.”

“Everyone needs it from time to time.”

“If you say so.”

I sat back, leaning my head against the wall. My eyelids ached, and my rumpled duvet was calling to me.

Madigan squinted at me beneath a furrowed brow. “Forgive me if I seem forward, but you do not resemble yourself today.”

“Don’t I?”

“Not at all.” His frown deepened. “No quips. No arguing back.”

“Perhaps I’ve just learnt my lesson from Ivan,” I said, not meeting his eye.

“I doubt that.” He placed a hand on mine, the warmth of his touch permeating into my skin somewhat comforting. “I realise that I’ve not been the most emotionally available, but as your master, I hope you feel you can confide in me.”

I paused, scrutinising him for a hint of a lie, but his eyes were earnest. My gaze dropped to his hand on mine.

“I tried harvesting last night and... and...” The words seemed to stick in my throat, but I swallowed, bracing myself. “I killed someone.” I couldn’t look him in the face, instead speaking to our hands.

His grip tightened as he drew a long breath. “Does anyone else know?”

“I told Latisha.”

“Anyone else? Were there any witnesses?”

I shook my head.

“Good.” He cleared his throat, perhaps trying to think of some words of comfort. “I... uh... I’m glad you were not hurt.”

“I got hurt pretty bad. But Latisha patched me up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I forced myself to make eye contact. “I didn’t want you to look at me with that expression.”

“Concern?”

“No. Pity.”

Madigan narrowed his eyes, tilting his head. “I admit, I have some sympathy for your situation. But I do not pity you. Though we haven’t known each other long, I wouldn’t have picked you for a familiar if I didn’t think you had inner strength. You’ve shown great resilience in the face of adversity.”

I gave him a weak smile. “You think so?”

“I do. You still have time to try again. But you must keep going. If you can pass your trial, we can escape before the month is out. I know we can.”

“But what if I kill someone else?” My voice almost disappeared as I asked the question more frightening than the vampires.

Madigan sighed, lowering his head, before looking back at me with lips pressed into a wry smile. “Don’t hide it from me next time.”