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

20. Twenty

Twenty

T he streets were deserted as Dominic marched me back to the showmen’s yard, his burning hand at the nape of my neck. His grip pinched, his long fingernails cutting into my skin. My heart hammered against my ribs so violently that I was sure it would burst out of my chest, and my throat was so tight I could only take quick, shallow breaths. Despite the winter’s frost, sweat soaked my shirt, making it stick to my back.

“Not long to go now,” Dominic’s cruel voice hissed in my ear as we entered the park, passing the hedgerow that had frequently become my hiding spot. “Not that it will be of any comfort to you, I suppose.”

I clambered over the metal gates into the yard, praying that this would be the one occasion a policeman would spot us, mistaking us for trespassers, but no such luck. Dominic climbed after me, giving me a boot to the head as he descended, sniggering to himself. The pain hardly registered. All I could focus on was how close the campfire looked, its red, ominous glow leading me to my doom.

As we drew closer, I searched for a friendly face—Billy, Latisha, or Madigan—but found no one.

“You know which one is Master Ivan’s, don’t you?” Dominic asked, gripping me by the neck again and steering me toward the largest vehicle in the row of caravans. He wrapped his knuckles on the door. The entire camper quaked as the silhouette of the giant appeared in the window.

The door swung open and Ivan’s colossal frame blocked the light streaming from inside, casting his great shadow over the pair of us, followed by a huge, foul-smelling plume of smoke. He had a tape measure draped around his neck, and had his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, the tattoo of a figure shrouded in flames visible on his forearm.

“Dominic,” he said, his voice low and soft. “That was fast. I guess she didn’t need much persuasion from Randall to go out harvesting. Bring her inside.”

I stumbled up the steps that led into his home, my legs having turned to jelly.

“Sit.” He gestured to the sofa beside the wooden coffee table, strewn with sewing patterns and a single ash tray cradling a half-smoked cigar.

I did as I was bid. There was no point in refusing.

“So, what happened?” he asked his henchman.

“It was as you suspected,” Dominic said. “She was harvesting from her friends from the university. Quite a clever idea. It might have worked if she hadn’t returned to the house that she’d fled to previously.”

“I knew Leonard Madigan was full of shit...” Ivan said, cracking his neck from side to side. “You may leave us now.”

“But Master, I was hoping—”

“I said, leave us. Round up the coven and have them meet us at the campfire. Including that worm, Leonard Madigan.”

Ivan didn’t need to raise his voice, the danger in his tone was enough. Dominic bowed his head, shoulders slumping, and turned to leave.

“Oh, one last thing.”

Dominic turned his face to his master, eyebrows raised expectantly, but Ivan’s lips were curled in disgust.

“Leave it a couple of nights before you feed again. You look dreadful.”

“Yes, Master.” Even an arse-licker like Dominic couldn’t hide his displeasure at having been dressed down, but still managed a nasty grin at me as he closed the door, flashing pointed canines.

“So, Ava Monroe,” Ivan said, “can I get you a drink?”

“Excuse me?” I must have misheard him.

“A drink.” He headed towards a cabinet and opened the double doors, revealing his stash of liquor bottles. “What would you like?”

“Uh...” I ran my fingers through my hair that I only now realised was slick with perspiration, totally perplexed. “Vodka?”

What was he up to? Poison? It was probably the best I could hope for.

He brought two tumblers, tinkling ice cubes submerged in the colourless liquid, handing one to me.

“Cheers,” he said and clinked his glass against mine before I drained it in one.

Chuckling as he watched me, he seated himself at my side, the sofa squeaking in protest at his weight as he leant forward to set down his full glass and pick up his cigar. The smell from it was already making me feel sick.

“I knew it wouldn’t be long until we had this discussion,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I knew you hadn’t passed your trial, and that you couldn’t harvest following my rules.” He chewed the end of his cigar before puffing smoke into my face. “I can instantly discern who is capable, and who isn’t. You need a certain”—he rotated his hand at the wrist as he searched for the words—“ enjoyment of the sport. I am sure you have noticed that Dominic Chase takes great pleasure from his feedings.”

“A little too much pleasure, if you ask me.” The words spilled out before I could stop them. My stomach clenched as I fixed my sights on his face for any signs of anger. His eyes flicked downward to my forearm, then back up to my face, smirking. The burn he’d given me, though healing, seemed to blaze, as though fresh.

“There is some truth to that,” Ivan said with a chortle, enjoying my discomfort. “But even the cowardly Leonard Madigan doesn’t resist the call to feed when he needs to. Had you noticed that at all during your training?”

I thought back to the occasion I’d watched Madigan harvest from the young woman by the cathedral. He didn’t look as though he enjoyed it to me. But the more I thought about it—how easily he’d drawn blood, the speed of his hands as he handled the equipment—the more I doubted. Perhaps he didn’t enjoy what he was doing, but he certainly didn’t show signs of hating it, as I did.

“It’s not your fault,” Ivan said in a tone disguised as kindness. “I wouldn’t have recruited you myself. And you achieved more than Austin Blaine. That’s something to be proud of. He was another mistake made by Leonard Madigan, who convinced me to let him live after discovering the coven. He needs to learn that humans are, mostly, identical. Unworthy of their mortal life, let alone an immortal one.”

“Humans hurt you, didn’t they.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Ivan raised a thick eyebrow at me, drawing his lips together. For a moment, I thought he was about to lose his temper, but he remained calm.

“Why would you assume that?” he asked. Just as he had spoken to Dominic, there was a danger in his tone. If I thought it would save me, I’d have dropped the subject, but I knew my fate was sealed.

“The way you speak about them. It’s the same way I spoke about my ex. There is a bitterness that no matter how hard you try, you cannot hide it. You only hold a grudge this long after being hurt.”

Ivan sniffed, his face contorting into a tight expression. “Humans have always hunted supernaturals—”

“No.” I shifted in my seat to face him properly. If these were my last moments, I wouldn’t simper and beg. I’d confront Ivan for the bully that he was. “I am not asking what humans do to supernaturals. I am asking what they did to you. ”

Ivan shifted his weight, mirroring me, and leant his face closer to mine, his tombstone-like teeth gripping his cigar.

“Ever wonder how I came to run a funfair?” he asked.

This wasn’t the response I’d expected, but curiosity got the better of me and I shook my head.

“I inherited it from my master. But that was a long time ago. He led a travelling freak show and I was a main attraction. The Giant. I’m sure that’s not surprising.

“We put on brilliant performances for the locals, charged very little, and on rare occasions, we’d harvest from patrons after they had drunk themselves into a stupor and passed out in their own vomit. After years of hard graft, sleepless nights, and abuse at the hands of our observers, my master made enough money to buy land for us to spend our winters. This land. The locals didn’t like that; the fact we freaks owned land didn’t sit right with them. One night, they attacked the campsite, raped our women, killed many of our performers. They found our leader, and with their combined strength, overpowered him, tied his limbs to the horses that pulled our caravans and ripped him apart. And it wasn’t as swift an execution as you might imagine. After three failed attempts, they resorted to cutting away some of his flesh to make it easier.”

Ivan rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck again before continuing, “I was too late to save him. The humans fled when I arrived. Still, I managed to pull the head off one. Another, I picked up and broke in half.” With his sausage-like fingers and thumb, he snapped what remained of his cigar. “Those of us who survived the mob rallied together to form a new coven under my leadership. We had to leave the yard. But times were different back then, and it was easy for me to forge some papers and take my master’s name, becoming the owner of this land. So, tell me, Ava Monroe, does that answer your question?”

I closed my gaping mouth as his story came to an abrupt halt, then reached out to the table, grabbed his drink and necked it. If he wanted to stop me, he could have, but he simply watched me, wearing an expression of slight amusement.

“Yes, that answers my question,” I said, wiping my mouth on the back of my sleeve.

“Good. Now then, we should go.” He removed the tape measure from around his neck and pulled on a jacket. “The rest of the coven will be waiting for us. I’m sure you’d like to see them again. After all, this is your last chance. The real question is the manner in which you leave us.” The smile on his face now wasn’t forced, but one of genuine pleasure. He grabbed me by the upper arm, yanked me to my feet, and pushed me towards the door. It was only a light tap but sent me flying so that I nearly fell to the floor before regaining my balance.

As we exited his motorhome, I took a deep breath of fresh air, in part because the smoke-filled camper had irritated my throat, but also because I knew I should make the most of it. I didn’t have many breaths left to enjoy.

I took in my surroundings, as though seeing them for the first time. The black trees that encompassed the yard. The sound of gravel beneath my boots. The dark-blue, starless sky, teasing the dawn.

A crowd had gathered around the campfire. I could make out the distinct groups of witches, shifters, werewolves, and vampires. Madigan’s tall silhouette was unmistakable, held on either side by Jacob and Sebastian. My stomach lurched horribly. What would they do to him?

“Why is Madigan being held like that?” I asked Ivan, but he simply laughed.

“Didn’t Dominic tell you? He fed me some cock-and-bull-story about Hallows and tried to sneak into my camper. I’m not sure what sort of game he was playing, but I’ve grown tired of his insubordination.”

My stomach dropped as my heart felt like it cracked down the middle. He did what?!

With another push, Ivan sent me hurtling forward as we approached the campfire. He didn’t hold me as Dominic had—he didn’t need to. I couldn’t outrun any of them, and if I tried, it might only inspire Ivan to make my death more drawn-out and painful. The best I could do was comply and hope for a swift end.

“Coven,” Ivan’s deep voice echoed throughout the showmen’s yard, “I’m afraid we have yet another traitor among us. Ava Monroe has been flouting our rules, endangering all of us. We all know what happens to traitors, don’t we?”

Billy looked confused and hurt, his eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. Latisha was shaking her head, rapidly blinking as though trying to suppress tears, looking from me to Ivan, and back again. I looked at Madigan last, his expression worst of all. He looked disappointed , head bowed, eyes fixed on a spot near my feet, frowning.

“Unfortunately,” Ivan continued, “on this occasion, I think it would be appropriate to punish both familiar and master.” There was a sudden intake of breath from the entire coven. “Leonard Madigan, you have disobeyed me, talked back to me, let your familiars break our rules and tonight, you tried to break into my home. After witnessing your familiar’s demise, I’ll see to it that you are suitably punished. And as for Ava Monroe”—Ivan turned to me with the same sadistic expression he’d worn while sentencing Austin—“I think the best method of execution for you will be...” He tilted his head to one side, rubbing his chin, before muttering to himself, “Burning might attract unwanted attention. Perhaps drowning? No, too quick...”

“What about flaying?” said Dominic.

Ivan laughed, shaking his head. “A favourite of mine, but not what I’m looking for.” He rubbed his chin before his eyes lit up with inspiration. “Stoning...”

My stomach flipped, my last meal creeping up my throat. I knew of stoning: buried up to the neck, unable to move, as rocks were thrown until the poor bastard—or rather, I —died.

“Allow me to do it,” Dominic said, rubbing his hands together.

Ivan chuckled low in his throat. “ Everyone will do it. Each and every member of this coven will have their turn.” He stepped forward, towards Madigan. “Starting with you .”

Madigan, whose eyes had remained on the floor, lifted his head, scowling at Ivan in a display of burning rage.

“I won’t,” he said, lips pulled back into a savage snarl.

“You will, or you’ll be joining her. Or perhaps I’ll kill you the same way the Hallows killed your former master. You remember that, don’t you?” Ivan snapped back, his own temper bleeding through his casual facade. “The crunch of his bones. The pulp of his remains.”

“You bastard!” Madigan lurched forward, still restrained, teeth bared, but Ivan just laughed, delighted at Madigan’s reaction.

“Ha! Now, now, don’t say something you’ll regret. I’ll allow your little indiscretion this time. You can dwell on it while casting the first stone that will end your familiar’s life.” Ivan turned on the spot, heading towards me, towering above.

“Wait!” Madigan shouted. “Ivan! I formally challenge you for leadership of the coven. A fight to the death.”

“Excuse me?” Ivan asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly as dumbfounded as the rest of us. “Ha! You know that would be a death sentence for you.”

“I formally challenge you,” Madigan repeated.

“You can’t do that,” Dominic said. “Master Ivan is—”

“Actually, he can.” Latisha flicked her curls, stepping forward to square up to Dominic. “A formal challenge can happen anytime, anywhere, and takes precedence over everything else.”

Ivan raised his palm, and for a moment I thought he was going to strike Latisha, but clenched his fist, cracking his knuckles.

“Master?” Dominic looked at Ivan, awaiting an answer.

Ivan looked from his most loyal henchman, to me, and then to Madigan. I could almost hear the cogs in his brain whirring. Finally, he looked up at the sky, and his lips bulged outward as he ran his tongue across his teeth.

“It is nearly dawn,” Ivan said, clenching his jaw. “Confine the scum to their caravan. The witches will take it in shifts to keep them from escaping. After nightfall, I shall take on Leonard Madigan’s formal challenge. A fight to the death, followed by the execution of his treacherous familiar.”