Chapter 1 #2
We had a particular routine. Every night we had feeding time. Our ratio of Vipera to Hosts was almost even, although I took on an extra feeding, typically. The Vipera would cook dinner for the Hosts, a new rotation of girls every night, then the Hosts would feed the Vipera.
Phoebe was the only person who could make friends wherever she went, no matter the circumstances. She was personable, agreeable, and pretty. Within the past two years, she had gathered over a dozen Vipera and Hosts to live with us.
The sleeping situation was less than perfect, as we only had four rooms, some containing several beds. We shared everything at this point. We even pooled money to save for things like food, medicine, and other necessities when we could not make them ourselves.
We were a commune. A Nest, if you will.
Our Nest was not complicated. We had three rules.
Autonomy, sustainability, utilitarianism.
A large padding of our income came from draining Vipera men of their fluids for pharmaceuticals, which covered our costs comfortably. The gifts that keep on giving.
This was the birth of our Nest. We were bonded by the cause of creating a better world, since the men were not the best at improving anything.
If we were to live the lives we sought, we must be the first to start the motion.
Aside from those who lived with us, we were able to gather nearly two thousand women to join our union, designed specifically for Hosts navigating the new landscape.
“Was the shop busy?” I asked Phoebe.
“Decently. Sickness thrives in wintertime, after all.” She put in the last batch of bread as the stew was finishing. She spooned some in a bowl for me and then rang the dinner bell.
She slid the bowl across the counter with a wooden spoon, and I stopped it with my palm. She sat beside me as women began to crowd the kitchen area in a neat queue.
“How were the extractions?”
“Typical. I need to ask John to make another hook. It’s terribly inefficient doing one at a time,” I said before taking a spoonful of stew in my mouth.
Phoebe had a habit of staring at me while I ate. I don’t know if she did so because she was living vicariously or because she liked watching someone appreciate something she made.
I cleaned my own dishes and cutlery in the sink upon finishing. It helped that everyone just cleaned up after themselves to keep the chore load to a minimum. There were much more important tasks than cleaning dishes.
A tanned, dark-haired woman came to grab a second serving.
“Rebecca?”
She reluctantly looked away from the stew.
“There is a body in the lab. If you have time tomorrow, would you mind bringing him to the woods?”
“Of course. Buried whole or scattered?” she asked as she made herself another bowl.
“Scattered, preferably, I’m sure there is an animal out there that’ll pick up the pieces.”
“I will see to it tomorrow night.” She nodded, retreating to the living room.
When I turned to Phoebe, I saw that little glint in her eyes.
It was her feeding time now.
The first Sunday of the month was Phoebe’s designated feeding time. Most Vipera typically fed once a month on a Host, or every week on anyone with standard blood.
“Do you want to feed down here or upstairs?”
“Our room.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me from the kitchen.
Vipera slept every three days on average, so the girls rotate sleep schedules. Phoebe was the odd one out; we shared the bed every night. I didn’t mind. If it were any other person, I might. She’d grown attached, and she wasn’t keen on letting me out of her sight.
Our room was no more grand than the rest. A single bed, laid in a scratchy linen with worn patches from too many washes, a shared dresser, and a writing desk. Dried herbs and wildflowers from this past summer were as dull and gray as the deteriorating sun-bleached wallpaper.
We sat side by side on the bed, settling before we started.
I popped the buttons out of their loops down my blouse, peeling one side of the collar away from my neck.
“Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?” Phoebe fussed, fidgeting with her hands.
I lifted my gaze. “It won’t take long. I will sit by the fire if I get stiff.”
She shifted in place, a vivid blush rising to her cheeks. This happened every month. I was the one who suggested this arrangement. Despite her palpable jealousy when I let others feed on me, she always became bashful when it was her turn.
She placed a timid hand on the other side of my neck as she leaned in. I could feel her breathing against my skin, hesitating again.
“Go on.” I placed my hand at the back of her head, anticipating the bite.
Shallow, shaky breaths escaped past her lips, finally pressing those fine needles past my flesh. She took a sharp breath as if the sensation was new. Then came the tingle of reluctant sucking, the blood beginning to flow.
I flinched but kept a firm hand at the back of her head to ensure she wasn’t scared away by the reflex.
It often took Phoebe a few bites to properly latch.
She was overly worried about my feelings and would only bite down halfway.
She forgot that the only relief I would get is if she bit down firmly, with both sets of fangs.
The pain was minimal due to her teeth’s lack of size, but her venom potency was overpowering.
When her second set of accessory fangs settled beneath my skin, the all-too-familiar wave of ease melted my agitation, invading the muscles and mind as it brought me somewhere warmer, somewhere peaceful.
The feeling of her teeth in me dissipated as I closed my eyes.
A soft humming of clicks escaped her, like a cricket almost. The fabric of my blouse was balled in her delicate fists.
After, she laved at the wound, her saliva clotting it shut to stop the bleeding, her face was almost as red as the blood on her lips.
Her tongue ran over her teeth to wipe away the remaining stain.
“See? Not worth a fit.” I lifted the corner of her lip with my thumb. The fangs were small, but they were fitting for her. The two sets of teeth were minuscule in comparison to some older Vipera.
“What?”
“They’re cute.”
“My teeth?”
“Yes.”
I did not think it was possible for her to become more red.
“How are the toothaches?” I pressed gently on the gums above those deadly little needles, her split tongue curling in discomfort.
“Better, though I’m running out of cannabis. About a dram left.” She pulled away from my hand.
“I can get more. I’ll ask Edith.”
Her expression soured upon the mention. She looked like I drank the last of her favorite tea without permission. I had a feeling her dislike of Edith had something to do with her being my second feeding partner. We had more Vipera than Hosts, I did not know what she would have me do otherwise.
No realistic family ever gets along completely, anyway.