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

18. Eighteen

Eighteen

I didn’t go to Latisha, but instead, stared into the heart of the campfire as thoughts chased themselves through my mind. The party was over. All that remained were a few discarded beer cans that had evaded clean up.

What have I done? I’m such an idiot...

I was too close to the fire. Thanks to the rips in my jeans, my exposed skin burnt sweetly. Even my face was flushed. It wasn’t painful, but blissfully hot, irritating, itching.

I’m a fucking idiot!

I grabbed a nearby beer can, crushed it in my fist, and hurled it into the fire, sending a spray of embers into the air.

The scene replayed itself inside my head. His smile. His laugh. His perfect lips on mine. And then, the coldness in his eyes. The bitterness in his voice.

‘That just confirms your naivety. Compared to me, you’re still but a child.’

He’s right though, isn’t he? Here I am, about to lose either my life or my humanity, and what’s my priority? Dating. Like a stupid child with a crush.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, my fingernails biting into my palms as another overwhelming urge to throw something took hold of me.

Greg was right about me... Too clingy, too intense, too desperate.

“Aggghhh!” I grabbed the nearest thing to me, a stone, and chucked it into the fire after the beer can.

“Blondie!”

My heart jumped up into my throat. “Billy, I didn’t hear you coming.”

“Too busy screaming, I suspect,” he said, laughing, taking a seat opposite. “Might want to sit back, though. You’re pretty close to the fire.”

I did as he advised, not in the mood for an argument.

“I was worried when you didn’t come back from Ivan’s,” he said. “How’s your first night of freedom?”

“Fine.”

“Aye, right.” He nodded slowly, eyes narrowed with scepticism.

The truth bubbled inside me, longing to burst free. I shouldn’t have tried lying in the first place. “It’s just a stupid crush. It’s nothing.”

Whatever Billy had been expecting, this wasn’t it. “I see.” He looked away, rubbing the back of his head, eyes settling on the fire. “To be blunt, matters of the heart are not my forte. Now, if you need someone to catch flies, I am your guy, but otherwise...” He shrugged, pulling a face. Despite my tetchiness, I snickered; I couldn’t imagine his fly catching abilities were often sought after. “I can find Tish if you like? She’s better at this.”

“No, please—”

But he’d already rushed off to the campers. I groaned, burying my face in my hands. I wasn’t looking for sympathy and was already regretting my confession. Billy soon returned with Latisha, who seated herself beside me, pulling me into a one-armed hug.

“Billy said you were a bit upset,” she said, giving me a squeeze. “You can tell me about it. Billy is a bit rubbish, isn’t he?”

We shared a laugh at Billy’s expense, who played up his offence with great gusto, pouting and flailing his arms, reminiscent of a teenager having a strop, and soon enough, I felt able to confide in them both.

“Latisha, during our first meeting you said you would have taken me as your familiar if you had the chance.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes narrowed as she leant forward, leaning her elbows on her knees, hands clasped together.

“Is it too late to accept that offer?”

She and Billy shared a look.

“Oh, boy...” she said with a sigh, not making eye contact as she scrunched the curls at the back of her head. “I wasn’t being entirely serious. I told you that witch’s familiars become shifters, right?”

“Shifting looks cool,” Billy said, “but you feel everything: your bones breaking and organs moving.” He wrinkled his nose. “You get used to it, but the first few times are horrific. It only takes a second to shift, but it seems like time slows down.”

He shook his head, turning his gaze from me to the floor.

“Yeah, because becoming a vampire will be sooo much better,” I said, unable to hide my irritation. “Never able to walk in sunlight. A week-long transformation. Blood sickness. Addiction. Sounds great! Sign me the fuck up.”

Latisha pressed her lips together into a wry smile. “Both are equally shit. But Len will look after—”

“I don’t think he will. We kinda had a falling out.”

“Oh, really?” Latisha raised her eyebrows.

But Billy squinted at me as the realisation hit him. “Wait,” he said, his calculating expression now replaced with a smirk. “It’s Len you have a crush on?”

“Fuck off, Billy,” I said, glaring, but that only encouraged him.

“That miserable old git with a stick up his butt?” He was now howling with laughter.

I stood, clenching my fists, adrenaline pumping through me. “Seriously, Billy, shut the fuck up.”

Billy, still sniggering, raised his hands defensively. “Calm your tits, Scrappy-Doo. I’m only messing with you.”

Latisha put a calming hand on my shoulder and guided me back down to my seat, giving Billy a filthy look that shut him up immediately.

“Ava,” she said, her voice calm but filled with a natural authority, “I understand you’re going through a tough time. But think rationally. If Ivan really wants you to become a vampire, then there’s no point fighting it. Len won’t abandon you. He just likes to keep things professional. Trust me on this.”

Professional... that’s the exact word he used....

“You’re probably better off without a relationship anyway,” Billy said. He wasn’t teasing anymore. “Aye, Len is a supernatural, unlike my Anna. But if Ivan found out that you two were an item, do you think he’d give you his blessing and you’d live happily ever after? Or do you think he’d weaponize it against you?”

I chewed my lip, looking from Billy to Latisha, before sighing and said dryly, “Don’t suppose either of you fancy challenging Ivan for leadership of the coven, do you? I’m sure it would be easy.”

“Naw, not tonight. I’ve got a wee headache,” Billy said, feigning a casual air. “Besides I’m not leadership material. What about you, Tish?”

“Sure,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Leadership worked out so well for me last time.”

“You led a coven?” I asked, dropping the joke. “When? What happened?”

“The Hallows happened. But you don’t want to hear about that,” she said stiffly.

“Yes, I do!” I said, and to my surprise, so did Billy.

“Maybe another time.”

“But—”

“ Maybe another time ,” she said, clenching her jaw. “It’s getting early. I need my bed.”

“Any chance I could sleep at yours?”

“Sure.” She got to her feet. “You coming?”

“In a bit,” I said. “Just give me ten minutes alone and I’ll be right there.”

“I’m off to bed, too,” said Billy. “See you later, Ava. Don’t let the bastards get you down.” He hurried to walk with Latisha back to the campers. “Latisha, tell me how you were a leader of a coven...”

His voice trailed off as they walked together, and though I didn’t give them a backward glance, I was sure I heard him yelp in pain, as though Latisha had thumped him.

Our talk had helped. Despite a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, I knew I had to resolve things with Madigan. Crush or no crush, I needed his help to endure the nightmare of transforming into a vampire, and then get the hell out of here.

I was so consumed by my thoughts that I didn’t notice the sound of someone approaching until they were right behind me.

A hand seized the back of my head, shoving me to the ground. Gravel scratched the side of my face as the weight of my attacker crushed me.

“If you’re going to talk about overthrowing our master, keep your voice down,” hissed a nasally voice. Randall’s.

“Get off me,” I gasped, his weight pressing down so hard I could barely draw breath. His grip was as tenacious as Dominic’s had been. Fingers traced over my neck, sending a shiver through my body.

“Remember our first fight?” His voice was light, conversational, but with a hint of mockery. “We were pretty evenly matched.”

“I’d have wiped the floor with you.”

His grip tightened, but he continued as though I’d not spoken. “But not anymore. Now you’re completely at my mercy.” His lips brushed my ear, his breath on my skin. “I could do anything to you.”

My heart stopped. I didn’t want to beg. But what he was suggesting made my stomach turn. A sour taste in my mouth. Even my bladder felt weak.

“Don’t.” I wanted it to sound commanding but came out a whimper.

To my surprise, his grip slackened, and the weight pressing me down lifted. Immediately, I scrambled away, attempting to maintain what little dignity I had. My heart pounded so violently it reverberated through every cell of my body.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Ava,” Randall said, and though his lips were still twisted into his usual smirk, he spoke sincerely. “I’m not a monster. In fact, I’m quite the opposite.”

“I’m sure,” I said, rubbing my cheek from where the gravel had scratched it.

“For real. I actually came to apologise for attacking you while suffering from blood sickness. I don’t remember much, but after Master Dominic told me, I thought I should say sorry.”

“You going to apologise for pinning me on the ground, too?” I said, curling my hands into fists. I knew I was no match for him, but I wasn’t letting my guard down.

“Don’t be so salty. Fine, I’m sorry for that, too. I was listening to your conversation with the witch and the shifter and gathered you don’t want to become a vampire. I was trying to show you it’s not all bad. The transformation was rough, but I’m so much stronger. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And probably for you, too.”

“Deep joy.”

“For real. And to show there are no hard feelings, I’ll keep what you said about overthrowing Master Ivan just between us.”

My stomach lurched. The whole situation whiffed of blackmail. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. We’re even now.” Randall folded his arms, tilting his head and looked me up and down. He was smiling, but his eyes were hungry. “But I meant what I said. I think becoming a vampire will be the best thing to happen to you. Unrivalled speed, strength, and senses. The other vampires will respect you. Even Len might change his mind , if you know what I mean.”

My face burned as his smile widened. I guess he’d heard the whole conversation.

“My advice,” he continued, “is to get your blood supply up. The cravings are”—he inhaled deeply, leering at me—“ insatiable .”

A cold bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck.

He hummed a laugh through closed lips. “I’ll leave you to think about what I’ve said. See you later, friend.”

And with one last suggestive look over my body, he left towards Dominic’s camper. I had a sudden urge to add several more layers of clothes.

I awoke shivering on the floor of Latisha’s motorhome. I’d used the largest of her knitted throws as a blanket, but it was nothing compared to the thick duvet from Madigan’s caravan. Slowly kneeling, my back made a horrible clicking noise. I stretched, tilting my neck from side to side, working out the stiffness.

Latisha and Hetti were asleep, or at least ignored me as I let myself out. The sun was setting, and as I stepped outside, my breath appeared as mist before me. It would probably be another hour until Madigan was awake. I headed over to his caravan and let myself in to get showered, dressed, and make some tea.

When he finally emerged, he spoke with forced politeness. It was like attending a society meeting.

“Are you going out tonight?” he asked.

There was no point in fighting it. He was my master; I was his familiar. This was my life now.

“Yeah. I’d better harvest blood for myself, Master Len.”

Madigan frowned slightly, as if my words had hurt. “You don’t have to call me that.”

“I think I do. Y’know, to be professional. It was your suggestion in the first place.”

“Yes, but that was before...”

“Before what?”

“Before we became friends.”

“Friends? Is that what we are?”

“Miss Monroe,” he said in a low voice, “I appreciate you are deeply troubled right now, but there is no need to take your ill mood out on me. I am trying to help you.”

“Help me?!” I leant in close, and said in a whispered shout, “If you really want to help me, get my blood from Ivan so that I don’t have to become a monster like Randall or...”

His eyes widened as he blinked at me, pained. “Or, like me?”

I instantly regretted my harsh words.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my temper dying almost as quickly as it had risen. “I didn’t mean that.”

But Madigan turned away, not looking at me, remaining silent, ignoring my ongoing apologies and excuses. He showered and dressed, and without asking me to accompany him, left the caravan.

“Damn it! You can’t keep your fucking mouth shut can you?” Mustering my strength, I kicked one of the little cupboard doors. This achieved nothing but a throbbing sensation in my big toe. The force of my kick overpowered the magnet that usually kept the door closed and it pinged open.

I rubbed my toe, seating myself at the foot of Madigan’s bed. In his rush to leave, he hadn’t turned it back into sofas. I glowered at the little cupboard, as though it had been its fault for hurting me. Once the throbbing had faded, I went to close the door when the sight of a half-empty liquor bottle inside stopped me. I couldn’t tell what it was, so squinted at the old, faded label.

“What the bloody hell is cog-nac?”

Its fragrance burnt my nostrils but did nothing to deter me. I swigged it. It scorched my throat, making me cough, tears streaming down my face as my body shuddered in involuntary spasms. The effect was immediate. A warm, tingling sensation ran through my body and I grinned.

That’s better...

My bag of harvesting equipment sat on my bed opposite me. As I stared at it, I felt as though it was staring back, taunting me.

“Just another obstacle to overcome...”

And with a sigh, I picked up my bag and headed out.

Perhaps it was my determination, or perhaps it was the alcohol, but as I made my way through the park and into town, I was surprised to find my heart wasn’t thumping against my ribs. Nor was my throat constricting with nerves.

Rather than wandering the streets, I went from pub to pub, seeking potential targets whilst having a drink at the bar. On one occasion, a guy who I recognised from my course approached me. Though we’d never spoken before, he offered to buy me a drink. Flattered, the carefree university student inside me flared into life, wanting to accept his offer. I imagined having a drink with him, going to the next pub, then back to his apartment. But then, the reality of what I needed to do reared its ugly head. My fantasy ended with me puncturing his arm with a needle and a fall down a flight of stairs during a scuffle.

No. Not him...

Instead, I thanked him for his offer and invented some excuse about getting up early in the morning.

The next nearest pub was the Black Dragon. The big, bearded guy was at the bar again. But to my disappointment, his was the only face I recognised. It would have been a stretch for the theatre society to visit the rocker’s pub twice. They were probably at Club Clique again. I’d never get in with a bag full of needles. But then again, I didn’t need to enter the club. Just find people leaving.

I necked the last of my drink and got ready to move on. By now, my lips were numb, and the cold no longer bothered me. It took a while to reach the club, giving me time to mentally prepare myself, with a little help of Dutch courage.

The smoking area at the front of the club was packed full of people, reminding me of farm animals in a pen, standing in their own filth. The usual smell of sweat and vomit that engulfed the club spilled outside, only now it was mixed with the stench of stale cigarettes. I looked for someone I could convince to leave with me. One girl leant against a wall, her face pale, occasionally spitting on the ground like she was trying not to be sick. I was about to ask if she wanted me to call a cab when I identified a familiar face.

“Greg?” I called.

He whirled around and waved when he saw me, beaming.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “You don’t smoke.”

“Ava!” he shouted over the noise. “Stay there! I need to speak to you!”

I shook myself, baffled. What did he need to talk about? He pushed his way through the crowd and up to the metal barrier that separated us.

“What are you doing in the smoking area?” I asked him again. It was so unlike him—he’d tried to get me to quit the habit throughout our entire relationship.

“I can explain that later,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand. “Are you busy? I need to have a serious chat with you.”

“No, I’m not busy. But I’d rather not shout through this .” The barrier clanged as I gave it a little shake.

He nodded in agreement. “Give me five minutes. I’ll meet you by the entrance.”

I waited, fully expecting him to bail, but to my amazement, he came stumbling out of the club to join me.

“Let’s walk,” he said, wrapping his coat around himself and heading off.

We walked for about five minutes in silence. I kept my head down, my hands in my pockets, though I noted he was having difficulty walking in a straight line, just as I was.

“So, what is this all about?” I prompted, growing impatient.

After a deep breath, Greg said, “I wondered if you would consider coming back to the society.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sorry. I can’t. Not until the end of the month.”

“Come on, Ava. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“I can’t. I need some more time. But you’re right about one thing. You hurt me. I don’t think I can forgive that.”

“I’m not asking for forgiveness.” He halted, seizing me by the arm, but I swatted his hand away, fed up with being handled by men who thought they owned me.

“Watch the threads,” I said, wiping the spot he’d grabbed, like I was brushing away dirt, but Greg ignored my comment.

“I’m asking you to return because I know the society means the world to you. I bullied you away, and that was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, snorting with mocking laughter. “Sure you are.”

“I mean it. I really do. Don’t get me wrong, I still stand by my decision to breakup. But I still care about you, even if you were clingy during the relationship.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“Come on Ava, you know you were. You called me at all hours of the night, convinced I was sleeping around.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Or the time you called every ten minutes while my sister was in labour?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Or the time you texted me saying you were going to kill yourself if I didn’t immediately come and find you?”

I swallowed. I remembered that night vividly; finding the photograph of my grandma, the comfort of a bottle of vodka, neat. The loneliness. The stupidity. It was no excuse...

“I’m twenty-one years old, Ava,” Greg said, eyes pleading with me to see things from his perspective. “It was too much, and I handled it badly, and for that I’m sorry. I never meant to drive you away from your society. I was just scared. The truth is, I was in that smoking area looking for you. It’s been eating me up inside.”

“You really want me to come back that much? It’s only a couple of weeks.”

“Yes. I think after the burglary ordeal you need your friends around you right now. And I don’t want you to isolate yourself because of me.”

I licked my lips, thinking. I’d told no one of those instances with Greg, and I knew why: shame. But then, the image of his smug smile as he sat across the table from me burned into my mind.

“How about we discuss this properly over a cuppa?” I said.