Chapter 35
THE FIXER
“Do you always smell like hickory and thyme?” I purred, brushing the dark strands of hair away from the Host’s neck.
“I . . . I suppose. I-I’m usually cooking—”
I pressed my palm against her back, smoothing down each vertebrae of the spine before giving the lobe of her ear a gentle bite. Our bodies were hidden away in the dark, abandoned hallway while the others communed.
So supple, so delectable.
I could feel the heat radiate from her skin; it made it all the more stimulating. My stomach twitched, forcing me to close my eyes and hold it together just a bit longer.
Patience. Patience is a virtue.
“That tickles.” She let out a breathy laugh, her hands pressing on my chest.
“Does it?” I left kisses over her shoulder, pulling at the loose nightgown. I leaned closer, my other hand at the back of her head as she leaned against the wall of the hallway. “Are you this sensitive elsewhere? Or will you let me find out?”
“Luka!” she scolded, glancing to either side as if someone would walk in.
“Are you shy?” I whispered against her skin, lingering closer to her neck.
“Someone might see!”
“Is that a problem?” I hummed, my eyes glancing from her face and back to her neck.
I lied, she didn’t smell like hickory or thyme.
She smelled like sweat. The nervous kind that agitated my appetite.
Her skin was so warm. Her neck pulsed steadily, each bulge of the artery giving me a beautiful image of the blood pushing through, pump by pump.
Soon, the pulsing of her neck and my own heart synced.
My fangs scraped against my tongue as they pushed forward. Writhing. Wanting. Starving.
“No!” A sharp shove to my chest.
A trickle of wetness dripped down my cheek. I wiped away the blood from my eye, staring at the feeble thing. No?
“You know you’re not allowed.” She glared, a small furrow in her brow as she pretended to keep her composure.
I raised a brow, looming over her. “Here I was thinking we were really hitting it off.”
“We have strict rules here, Mr. Novikov.”
“And who are these rules for? Hm?” I leaned down slowly to meet her at eye level, leaning my elbow on the wall just above her head.
“A-Alina said you are not to be fed.”
“And what do you get from this rule? You are harming no one except yourself by letting me feed from you. Is autonomy not part of your silly rules?”
Her throat bobbed, swallowing thickly as her eyes darted around, anywhere but at me.
“Fine,” I snarled, standing straight.
She slipped from between myself and the wall faster than a wet fish. Slippery, skittish.
I leaned back, resting my head back and gently tapping my head against the wall.
I was far from starving, but damn, it was frustrating. The people in this town, Vipera or human, seem to be skeptical of new faces. They remembered them, too.
At least here, there are also fewer people to hide from, and a fast-moving river to dump the body.
The better half of the evening was spent in the communal space.
The first floor consisted of all shared rooms and shared spaces used by the entire Nest. Today we were in one of the living room lounge areas by a fire.
We called this one the green room due to the wallpaper.
The dark setting made a perfect place to destress, something cozy.
The setup was similar to the farmhouse, except three couches boxed in the mantel with a table in the middle.
I sat on one of them in the middle with a girl on either side.
Phoebe was in a similar position across from me.
We all had things to do, whether it was reading, writing, embroidering—I was reading, but it was interesting seeing what the others did in their free time, especially at quiet times like this.
“Are you going to the market tomorrow? I wanted to get a few things,” Phoebe whispered to the woman next to her, handing her a small list.
“I thought your group didn’t like to overspend,” I commented, glancing up from my book.
“It has been a rough few days. I feel like we could all use a hearty feast to raise morale.”
“You mean to raise Alina’s morale.”
“No, I mean for everyone,” she gritted.
“If you say so.” I shrugged, glancing at my book, but the huff that came from her made a smile tug at my lip.
“What is your problem anyway, hmm?” Phoebe glared. “Always questioning things. You’ve not been here for more than a week and suddenly you know better?”
“I know a devoted friend when I see one.” I smiled.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You fuss over the wrong things.”
“It is my job to do so. How else do we manage a Nest?”
“You know that isn’t what I’m speaking of.”
“Now you are just talking to talk.” She brushed me off with a gesture and returned to her embroidery.
“Do you ever do anything for yourself, Phoebe?” I snapped my book shut and rested it on my lap, reclining back against the couch. The other girls glanced up from their things before averting their gazes. “You give her everything.”
“I do not!” she raised her voice.
“Not yet.”
“You say that like it’s a sure thing.”
“Unrequited love does terrible things. I’ve seen it all before.” I tilted my head at her, watching her reaction. “Like letting their friends take everything, letting it consume them until they are thanking the other for cleaning the meat from their bones.”
There was a fire in Phoebe’s eyes, but she said nothing. Surely she must know there was some truth to what I said.
“Ah! What do I know,” I chuckled. “I’m just a simple old man who has lived too many lives.”
A creaking came from the doorway.
Both of our heads snapped in the direction of Edith, who startled at the movement.
Phoebe’s expression soured when she saw the little blonde.
“Apologies if I am interrupting.” Edith stepped into the room, looking over at Phoebe. “Would I be able to borrow some of your cannabis?”
“Why?” Phoebe continued with her embroidery, not giving her the decency to look at her while she spoke.
“I have a toothache.”
“You’re a nurse; why didn’t you grab some from the hospital?”
“Because I didn’t have a toothache while I was there,” Edith huffed, frustrated with the line of questioning. “Please?”
“No.”
Edith’s hands balled up into fists, unable to sort through her frustration and not sure how to counter Phoebe. The other girls held inconspicuous smirks as they pretended not to listen.
“Edith, come here.” I patted my leg to ask her to sit. “I’ll look at it for you. I might have something stashed somewhere.”
The others glanced up when I made my gesture, glancing between me and the timid blonde. Edith seemed just as, if not more, surprised than the others. Phoebe glared at me, her fine fingers pinching her needle extra hard.
Am I disrupting your power trip? Amusing.
Edith timidly approached and sat on my knee.
I reached up. “Open.” I cupped her face, tilting it back.
When she opened, her fangs flicked forward, but one quivered as if it was taking significant effort to bear it out. Around the gumline was a bit of inflammation, the part responsible for flexing it in the first place.
“It looks like you overextended these.” I used my thumb to lift her lip up on that side. “Is it sore?”
She nodded.
“In my room, into the washroom, I have laudanum,” I instructed. When my gaze returned to Phoebe, she had stopped what she was doing.
Edith nodded, stumbling up and brushing her skirt awkwardly. She abandoned the room like a canary set free from her cage.
I smirked at Phoebe. “What? Just being helpful.”
“Don’t undermine me.”
“You’re a soft-horn, and you know it.”
Phoebe scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Like I said before, unrequited love does terrible things. It makes the prettiest of us repulsive.” I collected my book. “Time for me to turn in. You ladies have a good night.”
I don’t know why, but it was amusing poking at Phoebe. Such a proud woman, but she was as prickly as a porcupine. Jealousy was quite the color on her; I swore if she kept this up any longer, she would turn green.
As I exited the room, my stomach pinched, and the room began to waver.
A wave of vertigo hit me faster than if I had consumed an entire jug of moonshine, like trying to navigate in a dream.
I sluggishly made my way up the stairs, down the hall, and all the way to my room at the end.
It was isolated from any of the occupied rooms. I don’t blame them, but it had some ironic sort of nostalgia to hear the laughter and chatter from far off, softly taunting me.
In the corner of the room, Edith sat in the chair, fiddling with the bottle of dark liquid.
“Did it help?” I mumbled, tossing my book onto the small table.
“I know your heart is in the right place . . .” Edith began.
An impulsive sneer was my only response.
“But you can’t insult her like that. In front of everyone,” she finished, lifting her eyes to me.
“She was being unpleasant.” I walked up to her. “How will they know that they can’t just say anything without recourse?”
“It makes my situation worse, tenfold.” She looked up at me, her brow creasing slightly.
“It can only get worse before it gets better—”
“Luka!” she snapped.
Whatever I was going to say after was caught in my throat from her abruptness.
Edith and I suffered from the same sort of isolation, though I think she had it a bit better than I did currently.
Only because she was free to feed, even if she wasn’t on friendly terms with the others.
I suspect that’s why Alina was her feeding partner.
She was standing now, haughty of posture, with a firm scowl. Even with her confident facade, I could see the vein in her temple pulse, her breathing shallow. Fear was not as shy when it waved its flag.
She was nervous. The sweat smells different when it’s from anxiety. From fear? No, from anger. Her eyes stayed on me, but my focus was more on the pulsing on her little neck, peeking from under her head covering.
The drumming of my head was louder, the pinch in my stomach nauseating. I approached her, only to be met with a hard shove.
My hand enwrapped her curly blond hair, the head covering pooling around her neck. The thrashing made my vision narrow. My own saliva collected fast enough in my mouth to choke me. Another hot drip of blood from my eye scored down my cheek.
I pried her neck to the side.
“Stop!” she shouted. “Luka!”
The sound of my name hit me, a shaky semblance of whatever was left of my civilized self. It was not enough.
I bit her. I bit her right through her scarf, my fangs long enough to pierce straight through.
She yelped and pushed and shoved.
I drank, but it just came back up. I couldn’t swallow it; it tasted purely acidic.
I shoved her away quickly as I turned toward the wall, hunching over and coughing, expelling the black blood onto the floor.
It was like my body didn’t want it to go past the esophagus in the first place.
It was worth a try. Even if it was to trick my body into thinking it wasn’t as hungry as it really was.
“Why,” she cried, yanking the scarf from her head and inspecting the black stain on it.
“I’m starving.”
“Blood sharing is—”
“I know,” I groaned, turning around to lean on the wall. “I don’t know what else to do, Edith. She’s starving me out.”
“I don’t care what you have to do,” Edith nearly hissed, something I hadn’t seen from her before. “Make amends with Alina. Barter, beg, subjugate yourself—I don’t care. If you think she will forgive you if you wait it out, don’t bother. She is not a woman of mercy.”
“I will not beg—”
“Then you can die.”
Her lip quivered, staring at the floor paces away, fidgeting with the stained scarf.
For the first time, I was able to see the fine, jagged line across her throat. A faint white that was easily missed. The mark of creation, her greatest shame.
Her bleakness took me back, like this was a prediction rather than a suggestion. I wasn’t sure if this was just from my fever or if she was being serious. The look in her eyes told me she was sincere. In my own disbelief, she shook her head at me and left.
Except when she left, I barely recognized the creature Edith had become. I was frankly unsure of whether to be proud or concerned.
Something in me twisted.
In hunger or shame, I didn’t know.