Chapter 32 – VENOM
Chapter
Thirty-Two
VENOM
The bottle of whiskey smashes into the wall and shatters into pieces. Dark liquid drips down the wall as I run my fingers through my hair and pull at the roots.
“Fuck!” I shout.
It’s been three days. Three fucking days and I haven’t been able to locate Ivy.
I’ve watched the surveillance system outside my house dozens of times, looking for any more clues.
I’ve repeatedly watched those four men hurt the two important women in my life.
I’ve listened to Ivy’s gut-wrenching screams for Evelyn so many times that when I close my eyes at night, that’s all I hear.
I’ve tried to ignore this pain I feel and push it deep down inside me where all the other dark parts of me lay shattered like that whiskey bottle. But these jagged pieces are ripping me to shreds as they try to be suppressed.
Why can’t I find her?!
My phone rings and I answer it right away. “Tell me you have something.”
“Sorry, Venom. I’ve been working overtime on this for you, but I’ve looked into all your possible enemies, and I do mean all. There’s nothing. They’re clean.”
“She couldn’t have just disappeared, Luther. You’re the best at finding people. Are your talents dwindling due to old age?”
“Look, Venom, I consider you a friend and I want to help you. I’m trying, but you gotta give me a little more information here.”
Luther Bommer is well known amongst people in my line of work.
There also happens to be an Interpol red notice out on him.
Impressive, really. Luther isn’t just skilled at finding people who don’t want to be found, but he also happens to have an incredible talent for crafting bombs and that is where his passion truly lies.
“I’ve told you everything I know.”
“And her enemies? You might not be the only one with people out there wanting to hurt you.”
“They’re dead. The couple who took her, the man who had her before, they’re dead. I took care of at least two of those deaths myself.”
“And what about the buyer she was sold to who never ended up getting her?”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t look any further into it. Those types of men would just move on to the next.”
“Maybe. But we should check every possibility. Give me a couple hours and I’ll get back to you.”
With all the enemies I have who might have wanted to do this, I never considered her enemies being a possibility.
I pace the first floor again, passing by Mya who has curled herself around the base and stem of a lamp.
The light’s reflection glimmers across her scales, making them shimmer beautifully.
I’m happy she’s at least here with me, even though I haven’t wanted to step into my greenhouse, because it has become nothing more than a reminder of Ivy.
I keep expecting to creep up on my little beast, to make her jump and watch her cheeks flush so beautifully. Or to find her admiring the plants, whispering sweet words to them as she caresses their foliage.
Every room holds memories of her.
The silence in my home was once comforting. Now the silence is so loud it physically hurts, threatening to destroy what little I have left of me.
I open a new bottle of liquor and take a long drink, slamming it back on the counter before collapsing into my recliner. Resting my head against the back, I stare at the ceiling and replay my happiest moments with Ivy, starting with the night we danced together in the middle of the road in Georgia.
I run a hand over my face and, before I realize it, sleep takes me.
A flash of red hair disappears around the corner. “Ivy?!” I quickly scramble to my feet, stumbling after her. “Ivy!”
I round the corner, entering the kitchen, but it’s empty. The sound of the greenhouse door closing sends me racing down the hall, nearly tripping over myself. I rub my weary eyes. I probably shouldn’t have drunk so much.
I throw open the door and there she is, standing with her back to me.
“Ivy? Are you okay?” She doesn’t respond or move. I step closer to her. “I thought you were gone.” Placing a hand on her cold shoulder, I turn her.
“Christ!” I stumble back, catching myself on a table of potted plants. I look at my sweet beast in horror.
Her eyes are replaced by wildflowers and blood drips from her nose.
Her mouth opens wide in a silent scream and that’s when snakes, dozens of small snakes, begin to slither out from her mouth.
But just as quickly as the snakes appear, maggots take their place, consuming her whole body as her skin turns to a shade of death, likes she’s been rotting in the earth.
“Ivy! No!” I reach for her again, but just when my hands grab her, she bursts into a dark cloud of dust—
I jolt awake in a panicked frenzy, gasping and toppling off the couch. I frantically look around the room for Ivy.
Fucking nightmares.
Bringing a hand to my throbbing head, I groan and stand. The room sways and I stumble a step then spot the shattered bottle of whiskey on the floor.
“Ev!” I stumble to the foyer. “Ev!” I know she can’t hear me but where the fuck is that woman. I turn back to the living room, spotting the blood-soaked couch.
Memories flood me, sending me to my knees.
When Evelyn’s body was taken, sent to be cremated, I was asked if I wanted the couch to be disposed of, but I declined. I’m not sure why. But looking at it now—a piece of her, a reminder—is like a knife to the gut.
“Ev,” I solemnly whisper, shaking my head in disbelief. “Fuck!” My voice echoes through the empty house, bouncing into the empty hole that’s been left inside me.
My phone dings from a text and I quickly scramble to my feet and pull it out of my pocket.
Luther
Gabriel or Nikolai sound familiar?
I rack my brain.
Nikolai.
Yes. The first man who held her captive.
The one who whipped her.
The one she killed.
Me
Nikolai. That’s the man Ivy killed.
Luther
Are you sure?
Me
What the hell are you saying? And who the fuck is Gabriel?
Luther
Nikolai is alive. And Gabriel Moore was the head of a large sex trafficking ring over in Boston with connections in multiple other cities.
He was the one helping to locate Ivy for Nikolai, his business partner, but he ended up being murdered in March last year.
I guess that put a damper on things. But Nikolai found Ivy anyway and purchased her from that couple in Virginia.
He was supposed to collect her the next day after you found her.
My heart constricts. The man who tortured Ivy has her once again.
Me
Send over his information.
Luther
He lives in New York. But he's not just a nobody. He’s Nikolai Petrova. Has connections to the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood.
Me
And? You say that as if I haven't taken out members of the Bratva before.
Luther
I’m saying, it’s not gonna be easy. He won’t be alone.
Me
Sounds like a good time to me. Now tell me, how long would it take you to deliver me some custom items that go boom?
After talking to Luther, I pull up an old friend’s number.
There’s one more person I need to talk to.
The line rings a couple times before it’s picked up.
“Hello?”
I smile, hearing her voice again. “Hello, little minx,” I purr.
“Venom? How’d you get this number?”
“Still asking silly questions?”
“You can't see me, but I’m rolling my eyes right now, just so you know. What's up?”
“I need your help, darlin’.”
“My help?” she asks with surprise.
“If you gotta include the skeleton man, fine. Probably best anyway. My—a friend of mine has been taken. I need some assistance with getting her back before it’s too late.”
“A female friend?”
“Are you jealous, little minx?”
“Just surprised.” I can practically hear her smiling on the other line. “What happened and what exactly do you need?”
Once the plans are set with the others, I get to work in my lab, creating a fresh batch of my specialty—Venom’s Kiss.
It’s a potent and lethal concoction of neurotoxin, hemotoxin and myotoxin, thanks to Black Betty and Sally.
It took years to perfect Venom’s Kiss due to the complexity of the toxins and the mix of proteins and enzymes, but it is my most venomous and favored cocktail.
The quick dose first affects the nervous system, shutting it down and halting breathing, then internal bleeding commences, and muscle tissue begins to break down, securing death.
It’s absolutely glorious.