Fangs and Fennel (The Venom Trilogy #2) Page 9

  He cleared his throat. “Oberfall has gone on . . . a sabbatical.”

  I snorted softly. A sabbatical for a werewolf? “Please, even I know better than that in my short time as a Super Duper. Does that mean you’re in charge, then?”

  Smithy gave me a trademark icy glare. “Not that it matters to you, but yes, I am, at least until he returns. And sabbaticals do happen, especially for werewolves when they are struggling—” He stopped in front of a door that said “Medic.” He pushed it open and I followed him in, sitting myself down on the only stool.

  Smithy did not finish his sentence, and I didn’t push him. What did it matter to me that Oberfluffel was struggling? Not one penny’s worth of sour candies.

  He fumbled through a cupboard and pulled out a tiny first-aid kit. Like the size of a child’s lunch box. I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  Smithy shrugged. “We don’t generally need help healing. Werewolves are tough like that.”

  I tried to open the kit and failed, wincing with every touch of the blistered and burned-through tips against the cold metal. My fingers were useless.

  “Do you mind?” I held it out to him, keeping it between my palms. He rolled his eyes, but he did take the tiny medical kit and open it up. Moving swiftly, he pulled my burned leg up to his face, which pulled me to the edge of my seat.

  I balanced precariously on the edge. If he let me go, I’d crash to the ground. “Hey!”

  “The wound is deep; I can see bone in places.”

  I swallowed hard and tried not to think about it. “Can you just put some ointment on it and wrap it?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Really, you think that’s going to help you out here? A bit of ointment and a bandage?”

  I flushed. “I don’t know, remember I’m new at this? I was thinking the ointment was magic.”

  “Nope, just Polysporin.” He held the gold-and-green tube up for me. Well, that was disappointing. Like getting a dried-out brittle cookie you thought was fresh and warm from the oven.

  “I agree, I think you need more help than a wolf can give you.”

  Smithy and I jerked at the same time, spinning toward the vampire in the doorway. Smithy tightened his hold on my calf. “Remo. You need to keep your territory clean of the cockroaches, or I’m going to assume you are one of them.”

  Remo’s face was all hard lines and tightly controlled anger. “My people are on it. You can call your dogs off.”

  Smithy did not let go of my leg, but instead pulled me even higher so I was balanced on the edge of the seat. Barely.

  “Excuse me, I’m not a weapon to be thrown at him.” I couldn’t even grip the edge of the chair with my chewed-up fingers.

  They ignored me, and the tension in the room kicked up several notches.

  Remo stepped closer and pried Smithy’s hands off my leg. “Call your dogs off, Captain. I will deal with Santos.”

  Smithy didn’t shift a single inch. For that alone I had to give him credit. “You haven’t been dealing with him at all, or he wouldn’t dare encroach this far into our territory.” They were eye to eye, toe to toe. And while I wanted to believe Remo would win, I didn’t want to be in another fight, particularly in my current state.

  And I recalled all too well that my injuries were a direct result of helping the vampire in front of me.

  “Hey. You two knock it off. I’m injured. It’s partially your fault, Remo, and yours too, Smithy. If you’d work together, you could keep Santos out.” The words burst out of me before I thought better of them, but even as I said them I knew they were true.

  Two sets of eyes swiveled to me, both icy now. I lifted my chin. I would not back down.

  Ernie burst into the room, panting. “I went you one better! I found Damara, the satyr who healed your brother . . . Whoa, there is some major testosterone going on here.” He waved a hand in front of his face. Behind him popped up Damara, her horns entering the room first. I sighed in relief.

  “Damara, thank you for coming. Ernie, you’re a doll for finding her,” I said.

  He beamed and she slipped in past the two men. She subtly bumped both of them as she passed with the curling horns on top of her head. “Both of you out, I don’t work with an audience.”

  Smithy grunted and stepped out first. Remo stayed until she bleated at him. “I said get out!”

  “This is my fault.” His shoulders tightened. “It won’t happen again.”

  He spun and slammed the door behind him.

  Damara bent over me. “Men, touchy creatures no matter what species.”

  I stared at the closed door, wondering just what Remo thought he’d do to make Santos leave me alone.

  “Well, you should know, since you have two men.” I winced. I meant, I knew that Tim and Gavin were her two satyr boyfriends, and while it was common for their species to be into the extra partner scene, I probably shouldn’t be pointing it out. “Sorry.”

  She laughed. “No, it’s true. But I have them well put in their places. They know that they only get to be a part of my life until something better comes along. So they both fight to keep our trio alive and well.”

  That was an interesting take on a relationship. Until something better comes along . . . I suppose that’s what Roger did. I hunched my shoulders, sucking into myself.

  Remo’s eyes and his words floated in front of me. “It won’t happen again.” I tasted the words, like trying to identify a new flavor in the cookie batter. Could they mean something other than what they seemed? My mind raced ahead while Damara probed at my ankle and dug into the bag at her side.

  “Remo’s going to try and stay away from me, isn’t he? To keep me safe by no longer being around me,” I said softly.

  She glanced up at me. “It’s the way of an alpha, regardless of species. He’ll try to protect you any way he can.”

  I grimaced, then sucked in a gasp as she pressed something to the open wound. The pain flared up around me, and the world went black.

  CHAPTER 7

  I snuggled deeper into my bed, breathing in the vanilla scent I’d specifically put in the wash to coat my sheets. I rolled and stretched, sunshine spilling over my face, lighting up the back of my eyelids to a lovely glow. I lifted a hand to scratch my cheek and froze as my fingertips touched my skin. Fingertips that were whole, without chunks of them missing.

  The events of the night before washed over me, sending chills through me as if I’d sat back down in the flow of the icy river. A quick inspection of my hand showed the skin completely healed, the wounds gone, and the pain too. I pulled my legs out of the sheet and breathed out a sigh of relief. My ankle was once more intact, though there was a scar around it where the loop had bit into me.

  “You were lucky.”

  I jerked around to see Damara sitting beside my bed. She yawned and pointed at my leg. “Much longer without my help, and I think you would have lost it.”

  “Lost it? You mean my foot?”

  Her eyebrows rose. “I mean your entire leg. Whatever they used was spreading up through your entire limb, not just your foot.”

  I pushed to a sitting position, cold chills rolling through me, even though I sat in a patch of sunlight. I pulled the sheets up. “Do you know what it was?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it, at least not in the Supe world. Tell me what happened.”

  “They had a snake catcher, a rod with a long noose at the end. The noose cut into me and burned like hot oil. Even after I got the noose off, it burned. Ernie led me to a river, and that washed it away.”

  “So not oil based, then.” She tapped a finger on one of her horns, her eyes thoughtful. “Plant based, probably. But I don’t know of any plant that can cause an injury like this. And nothing specific to cause an injury to a Drakaina. You are one tough cookie, you know. The fact that you healed so fast is testament to that.”

  “Thanks?”

  She laughed. “Look, I’ll see what I can find in the old texts. I’ll p
ass it on to Ernie if I get anything. But for now, try to avoid that shit at all costs.”

  “No kidding.” I swung my legs off the bed. “Damara, I owe you.”

  “No, you don’t. Whether you realize it or not, you’re making Zeus pay attention again, even if he is in hiding right now. That alone is worth helping you.” She smiled. “Keep at him, Alena. If he won’t listen to those who are on his side, maybe he’ll listen to a monster who could swallow him whole if she chose to.”

  I grimaced. “I have a feeling he’d take that an entirely different way.”

  She laughed, stood, then walked to the door. “True, but that gutter mind has always been a part of him. You healed fast, expect to be hungry. And craving whatever your body needs to restore your reserves; don’t ignore it, no matter how strange it might seem.”

  I didn’t like the sounds of that. My belly grumbled, and I clutched it with both hands.

  Damara left me alone in the room, and I quickly dressed. I heard her go out the front door, her heartbeat fading as she walked away.

  As I went downstairs, the house was eerily quiet. No Sandy, no Beth. My eyes watered at the thought of the two girls who were my friends fighting on Theseus’s side. I didn’t want to fight them, not because I was afraid, but because I didn’t want to hurt them. The Drakaina in me, I could almost feel her nod. They were tough, but I was tougher, which meant if we faced one another, they would get hurt. I didn’t want that.

  I listened for Tad’s heartbeat, but he wasn’t here either. Dahlia would be in the basement sleeping for another couple of hours.

  I stepped into the kitchen, and a sigh slid out of me. While it wasn’t a total disaster, glass from the window littered the floor, and the clean dishes from the rack were spread everywhere. Getting a broom, I swept the floor. The scent of licorice floated through the air, the same smell I’d picked up on the night before. It had to be Santos. Just like Remo, his opponent had a signature scent, one I would not be forgetting anytime soon. Licorice was one of those flavors that cloyed in the mouth when used too liberally. I had a funny feeling that Santos’s presence would be the same.

  I followed up the sweep by mopping the floor, as if I could erase everything that had happened the night before. Next came the dishes, and from there I slid into baking mode, pulling a recipe book off the shelf and laying it on the table.

  My belly rumbled as I stood in front of the fridge. “All right. Eating first.”

  I opened the door and stared at my options. There was a pack of raw chicken drumsticks I’d pulled out of the freezer to be cooked for dinner the night before, a couple jars of pickles, milk . . . my hands were reaching for the chicken before I was even cognizant of the need for meat. I grabbed the three-pound package and put it on the counter. I grabbed the jug of milk next and set it next to the chicken. Protein in two forms. I stripped the plastic off the chicken and took the cap off the milk.

  “I could deep-fry them, throw them in a batter,” I said as I pulled the first drumstick out and held it up to my mouth. The smell of raw meat normally turned my stomach. This time? Not so much. My saliva glands went wild, and I bit down on the chicken, snapping the bone in half. I didn’t chew.

  I swallowed it whole. And the next, and the next, until the package was empty. I grabbed the milk jug, almost a full two gallons, and put it to my mouth. The cold, fresh milk slid down my throat. I slammed the empty jug down and stared.

  “Holy crap,” I whispered, then looked around. I wasn’t sure if I felt bad about saying “crap,” or the unreal meal I’d just had.

  The snake in me felt like it curled up, content with the food I’d literally swallowed whole. I cleared the empty jug and chicken packaging off the counter and into the garbage, then wiped the surface down.

  I hadn’t even tasted the chicken. Maybe I would get salmonella.

  I grimaced. Even I knew that wasn’t likely.

  “God, I am a monster,” I said to the kitchen, as though the space would respond. I paced the small room, my mind racing almost as fast as my heart. There was only one way to make myself feel better. Time to bake.

  I knew Tad liked chocolate chip cookies, so I made those first, the recipe memorized. I added extra chocolate and threw in some puréed pumpkin for good measure. He wouldn’t even taste the pumpkin, but it gave the cookies a fluffy, light consistency, and it was a sneaky way of getting him to eat his vegetables. Just one of my baking secrets.

  I smiled to myself, panic and fear easing as I moved through the kitchen, my mind floating in that state of bliss only baking brought me. After the cookies, I made meringues in strawberry and lemon, scraped together a peanut butter–caramel cheesecake, and then whipped up a batch of baklava. No problem. The time passed, hours falling away in the rhythm of whipping cream, measuring ingredients, recalling recipes, and checking the oven.

  Somewhere in the midst of it all, the sound of the front door clicking open shot through the peace. I froze in the middle of pouring the honey syrup over the pan of baklava, fear slicing through the happy place I’d been in. I grabbed a rolling pin and a large pot from the stove. I gripped them tight, ready to fight. “Who’s there?”

  “Just me, sis, and you are baking, and I love you to pieces!” Tad shouted, running into the kitchen, sliding to a stop. His green eyes lit on the chocolate chip cookies, and he snatched one with each hand. “You are the best.”

  “Tad, where have you been?” I tried to soften my tone, but with everything that had happened, I’d been worried about him. What if Santos had gone after him too? Or worse, Theseus?

  He stopped midchew to talk around the mouthful of cookie. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve got my own place; I’ve had it since I was turned, you know. I’m not rooming here with my sister.”

  “Dahlia’s here,” I pointed out.

  He nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been dating like two weeks. I’d rather not move in with her that fast.”

  “Point taken.” I wiped my hands on a tea towel. “Your night was okay?’

  He grinned at me. “Probably not as good as your night. Remo take you out on the town?”

  I started to laugh, and once I started I couldn’t stop. Tears streamed from my eyes, I struggled to get enough air, and I knew my brother was staring hard at me.

  “Sis?”

  “Oh, Tad. You have no idea what a cluster of gopher poo I dealt with last night.”

  “That’s a new one,” he muttered. “Why was it bad? You and the boss have a fight?”

  The boss. Like Remo was my boss and Tad’s too.

  “He is not my boss. And he’s not yours either.” I pointed a wooden spoon at him.

  Tad grabbed another couple of cookies with one hand and a few meringues with the other. “Sure, but he’s the mob boss around here, which kinda makes him everyone’s boss when you think about it.”

  “Tad”—I rolled my eyes to stare at the ceiling—“he may be the mob boss, but he doesn’t know everything.”

  “What happened last night?”

  “I’ll wait for Dahlia. Then I only have to tell it once.” I turned back to the baklava and finished pouring the honey over it. I cut into the delicacy and popped a slice into my mouth before placing the pan on the table. At least I could taste my food again. The flaky pastry seemed to melt in my mouth, and I chewed slowly, enjoying the flavors.

  Tad looked at the number of goodies on the table, spread out like a buffet. “Sugar craving?”

  I sat down and chased the baklava with a cookie. “Maybe. Better than my other options.” I dug into the cheesecake next, and Tad sat beside me, helping himself to a slice.

  “Hey, I’ve been thinking about Dad,” he said between bites. “You know, it would make sense that he only has a little bit of Super Duper blood. Maybe he doesn’t even realize that he’s tainted. That would explain his denial.”

  I scooped my spoon through the cheesecake and eyed the bite up. “Maybe. But I don’t think so. He’d just laugh it off. Or do the blood test like
we offered. I think he knows exactly what he is.”

  Tad reached over and put his hand on mine in an uncharacteristic move. “We’ll figure it out.”

  I smiled and put my hand over his. “Yeah, I just worry . . . that when we find out, we won’t want to know. You know?”

  He bit his cookie in half and shrugged. “But neither of us will ease up until we know.”

  The word game went on a few more minutes, each of us using “know” as much as we could. A silly game from our childhood that had driven our parents batty.

  The sun dipped lower and lower. Ten minutes and Dahlia would be up. Ten minutes . . . I leaned my head on Tad’s shoulder. “Did you ever flat out ask Dad?”

  That was our little family secret. Both Tad and I had gotten the deadly Aegrus virus, forcing us to choose between dying or being turned into Super Dupers. We’d both chosen to live, despite the way supernaturals were treated in our world, and despite our ultraconservative Firstamentalist upbringing.

  The kicker was that the only people who could contract the Aegrus virus were those who weren’t fully human—not something the general populace even knew. I mean, I’d found out only after I’d been turned into a Super Duper. We knew our mom was pure human, which meant our dad was anything but normal.

  “He’s denying it.” Tad shook his head. “Says we were just lucky we could be turned instead of dying and we should leave it at that.” He shook his head, waving a cookie back and forth. “And he said it with a straight face. I thought maybe I’d get a wink or something, but nothing.”

  “In other words, we should be taking him to Vegas to play poker.” I snorted and took another bite of cheesecake, the last of the rumbles in my belly finally easing. “He’s hidden himself well for a long time. I mean, even Mom doesn’t know.” Which was so, so weird to me. How could you not know your spouse was a Super Duper? The thought was ridiculous, at least to me. Then again, I had no room to judge; I’d not known Roger was cheating on me.

  “Maybe it runs in our family, turning a blind eye.” Tad didn’t seem to see anything wrong with pointing out my faults. That’s a brother for you—to the heart of the matter regardless of how tender of a spot it is.