Venom: A Dark Retelling

by Dee Garcia

  He’s right, it’s not. After all of this, there’s no way I’ll ever forgive Peter. What love I have for him can’t eclipse such an offense. “What’s going to happen to them? Izzy and Persia I mean?”

  “I’m working on it. I may not be able to bring back Aester, but I’ll get them out of there, you have my word,” he vows, cupping my face, his thumbs wiping away what remains of the wetness clinging to my skin.

  I can’t quite define what it is that passes between us as we sit there, me in his lap, his grip warm and secure, in this room within his home that I’m meant to call my own through these final days, but my heart warms—or the pieces of it, I should say. He must feel it, too, at least something similar because I note the intent in those icy blues before he so much as inches forward.

  “Hook, don’t,” I whisper, sucking in a heap of air.

  “Why not? I’ve been fiending for another taste since I left you in the garden last night.”

  “I know but—”

  “But what?” He’s reeling me in closer, gently, ever so slowly.

  “But we can’t. It’s not fair.”

  “Not fair to who?”

  “To both of us,” I admit, lips tingling in anticipation. “I have days left with—”

  “Don’t remind me, please. I can’t bear thinking about it,” he rasps.

  My eyes snap back open at the ache of his tone, heart imploding anew at the imagery before me. “Which is exactly why we can’t have a repeat.”

  It’s better off this way.

  Peter

  “Did you think about me while they had you?” my little dove asks me as we lay in her bed, naked, post-coitial glow wrapped around us.

  She’s not so little anymore.

  The woman Wendy turned into… Jesus. She’s perfection.

  Chocolate brown waves that hang to her waist. Sky blue eyes. A dimpled smile that could kill the most restrained bastard.

  Don’t get me started on her body.

  “Every day,” I reply, hating that I have to lie to her.

  But what am I supposed to say? After I killed my mother, I got dragged to an alternate realm filled with supernatural beings and was cursed, so now I don’t age.

  Yeah, unlikely.

  I told her the truth about my mother, that she’d been murdered. My version ends with her assailants taking me with them after the deed was done.

  Locked me away so I’d never utter a word.

  “I thought about you, too, a lot. Since the case was never solved, I always wondered if you were alive out there somewhere.”

  Definitely out there alright.

  Tilting her chin toward me, I peck a kiss to her swollen, crimson lips, a smile creeping across my face as she tries to deepen it. “Now you don’t have to wonder anymore.”

  “I know and I love it.” She sighs contentedly. “I missed you, Peter. I’m so glad you’re back.”

  “Hopefully they don’t come looking for me.”

  Fear flashes through her eyes, her body curling around me like a vine. “You really think they will?”

  “They might,” I admit, swallowing at the thought. “I can’t think of not being with you, but I can’t bear the thought of them hurting you, either.”

  Wendy shakes her head, her small, warm hands finding my face. “I’m not going anywhere. You came back for me, and now that Papa’s gone, I can be yours again.”

  Mine. She’s mine, always was.

  I drag the top of my nose along hers. “As it should’ve been all this time.”

  “Precisely.” She grins.

  No one is going to come for me. That’s what I keep telling myself. They got what they wanted—to be rid of me. Why would they sacrifice another innocent soul just to cross over, to bring me back to the very place they ran me out of?

  No, they’re not coming. He’s not coming. I’ll be safe here.

  Safe with my little dove, free to be in love…

  Fingers clasping around her wrists, I allow myself to get lost in those baby blues, inhaling a deep breath. “I know this is still so surreal but—I just…”

  “You just what?” The playful yet almost knowing tone of her voice drips with hope.

  Excitement.

  “I love you,” I vow. “I never stopped loving you, Wendy.”

  Wendy’s face lights up the way it used to when we were younger. “And I, you,” she returns, inching closer.

  Setting an emotionally charged kiss to my lips.

  And I, you—the same words I used to utter to Tinks.

  Not because I didn’t mean it, because I love her in my own way, but it gets me thinking.

  Could Wendy mean it the same way?

  Not possible. She’s my dove, my everything. And I’m hers. She’s been waiting for me, hoping I was still alive.

  I was, but barely.

  Being away from her was hell. Being in that place was hell. Tinksley was my only reprieve, and even then, she wasn’t supposed to be.

  Thoughts of her flicker through my mind for a fleeting moment; how she is, what she’s doing. But they’re fleeting, because the moment Wendy shoves me onto my back and settles her on top of me once more, all I can see is her.

  What we had years ago was beautiful, pure.

  And it’s even better now.

  Perhaps it’s a good thing I was never welcome in Rosewood, that he ran me out.

  It led me back to my girl.

  ♫ Hollywood’s Bleeding - Post Malone ♫

  I’m fucking ravenous today.

  Irritable.

  Irrational as all hell.

  Didn’t make it past nine in the morning before I was beckoning Tigerlily into my office. I needed a drink, badly. Desperately almost. Anything to attempt sating this now unquenchable thirst for Tinksley.

  Attempt being the operative word.

  It doesn’t matter how much I feed, who or what I take my fill from—she’s all I want. All I can think about.

  “What is your deal today?” Tigerlily whimpers, shifting away from me yet again.

  I’m hurting her, I know I am, but I can’t fucking help it. I’m so goddamn angry with everything and everyone.

  Livid with myself.

  I never should’ve turned her. All that did was give me hope. Someone like me should know better than that.

  Hope is feeble, and life is a fickle bitch.

  “I’m sorry,” I grate, head lolling back as her essence trickles down my throat, dripping down my chin onto her shoulder.

  “Is everything okay?” she questions softly, peeking back at me.

  “I’m fine.” A lie. “I’m just...famished. I don’t know why.” Pulling a clean handkerchief from my pocket, I go about cleaning both her and myself up, wincing as I finally catch a glimpse of just how deep I sank myself. “Forgive me, please. I know you must be in pain.”

  “I’ll be fine, Captain. However, I will admit I’m worried about you. You’ve not been this rough with me in quite some time. I hope asking you to go home wasn’t what—”

  “It’s not you.” I wave her off, stalking around her to retrieve a glass from the liquor cabinet. “I know we didn’t exactly wrap up that conversation, but I promise you this isn’t about you or anything you’ve said. I’m just feeling a tad off.”

  Tigerlily doesn’t respond, regarding me with an examinating and equally disquieted eye. She remains tight-lipped as I circle back to where she stands before my desk, taking the proffered glass from my grasp.

  I repeat the same process as always: slice and drip, watching intently to ensure she consumes every drop thereafter.

  She does, quickly passing back the glass with that typical sour grimace painted on her pretty face. A quiet chuckle actually breaks free at the sight of it, drawing her lips together in a playful pout.

  “So if it’s not me then what’s wrong?” she presses.

  A part of me wants to tell her. I’ve not had anyone to vent about this with, not even Sam—who’s, evidently, caught in his own throes
with Nina and Brielle at the moment, too.

  I did warn him about that—if you remember correctly—but the boy didn’t listen. Now here we are; his world crumbling at the same time mine feels like it might as well.

  “Wouldn’t have anything to do with Tinksley, would it?”

  The Chief’s daughter takes me aback with her query and it’s obvious, what with the way my eyes nearly burst from their sockets, heart slamming against my rib cage in thundering strikes. “How did you…”

  “Know?” She shrugs. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, Captain. A man only gazes at a woman like that when he’s in love. Does she know?”

  Is that what this is? Love?

  No.

  “I don’t know that I’d say I’m in—”

  “Oh please, don’t give me that.” She snaps a hand up, all but shushing me in the process as she scoffs. “It’s clear as day in your eyes, in the longing glances and mirthful smiles when she’s near. Not to mention everything you’ve already done for her. You love her, Captain—it’s okay to admit that.”

  Is it really, though?

  Wouldn’t that be slightly asinine when she’s never been mine? Still isn’t for that matter.

  Sighing, I lean against the edge of my desk, head bowed, sights on my Oxfords. “I’ve been waiting for her for so long, coveting a woman that wasn’t mine, pretending it was all in the name of the plan.” Squeezing the bridge of my nose, I clamp my eyes shut as a sense of defeat washes over me. “Now Pan is out of the picture. You’d think it’d be easier for me to obtain her, to—”

  Tigerlily’s chuckle leaves me stumbling over my words. “You can’t simply obtain a woman, Cap. She’s not a prisoner or some mythical treasure you voyage the seas for. You want her? You have to work for her. Prove to her that you're worthy of her heart.”

  “It’s not that simple. I can’t prove much of anything when she wants me to let her go, to let her fucking die.” Even I can hear the bitterness of my tone.

  Can you blame me for it, though?

  She wants me to let her die despite my admission, despite knowing that, deep down, she feels the pull between us, too.

  Tigerlily ambles to my side and mirrors my stance. “Have you tried putting yourself in her shoes?”

  I’m almost offended she feels compelled to ask me this. “Of course I have.”

  “You sure? If you’d really allowed yourself to view it from her perspective, you’d understand why she doesn’t want to do this.”

  “I do understand it and I respect her enough that I’m not forcing her to go through with anything—she still at the very least has that choice. But I’m fucking selfish. I want her.”

  The Chief’s daughter hums in agreement, but her head moves in opposition, shaking side to side. “I don’t think you’re selfish at all. Selfish would be taking the choice from her. Yes, she’s at this point in the road because of your actions, something she didn’t consent to, but there was good intent there, Captain, and she still gets a say here. You know, you didn’t answer my question before. Does she know?”

  “The full extent? No. She has an idea, though.”

  Not that I can be fully transparent anyway. Some things are better left in the dark.

  “Then be clear. Be honest with her, tell her. The heart sings under such proclamations. You’d be surprised what could result from it.”

  The heart sings under such proclamations.

  She’s right. The truth often sets one—

  Thud.

  A loud thud at that, not too far away. Tigerlily and I exchange a glance as this sickening sense of nausea creeps outward from my spine, swallowing me whole.

  Something isn’t right.

  I’m moving, dashing to the doors and out into the hallway where I notice my father rushing from Tinksley’s room a few doors down.

  “The girl’s unconscious,” he blurts nervously.

  My heart jerks to a stop, free falling to my gut.

  No, no, no.

  Cassius jumps aside to let me by as I charge for the doorway in a one-man stampede. “I’d just passed her door when I heard the crash. There was no one else in here.”

  I don’t know what I was expecting to see after that bang, but finding Tinksley comatose on the floor—again—was not it. All the air in my lungs seems to expel at once, dropping me to my knees beside her as my entire body seems to freeze over.

  Not again.

  I can’t do this again.

  There’s not a drop of blood, at least none that I can see thankfully, but still. Seeing this woman even mildly lifeless is enough to incapacitate me.

  “Is she breathing?” Tigerlily questions at my back.

  “She is.” I nod. For how much longer, though? “Cassius, I need you to get ahold of Ward,” I throw at my father, our eyes connecting as I drag my gaze on him.

  He tips his silvered head and jets out of her room without another word, prompting Tigerlily to take his place and fall to her knees at Tinksley’s feet. “Who’s Ward?”

  “Doctor Ward.” That’s all I give her. All I can give her right now.

  Through my peripherals I catch the way she silently agrees, unsure of what to say, much less do. “Should we prop her head up while we wait?”

  “We should. You should probably run and ask one of the boys for a bag, too. We might need it.”

  Once Doctor Ward arrives, I allow him to do his thing in peace. Tigerlily remains in the room with him as an aid—in the event he needs one—but I take my leave, pacing the hallway outside her quarters instead. Cassius waits with me, posting up against the wall, arms crossed. I keep expecting him to make some sort of unsolicited commentary, but it never comes.

  Thankfully.

  Either he’s noted I’m not in the mood for his crap today, or he genuinely has nothing to say. I’d say the former, though, it’s likely a mix of the two. The looks he keeps throwing my way sure hints to it.

  Twenty minutes tick by and still no word from the good doctor.

  I was already deep in a worrisome state prior to this morning’s events, dwelling and ruminating everything Tinksley shared with me yesterday. Now? It’s infinitely worse. Conclusions, farfetched or otherwise, formulate of their own accord, bringing worst case scenarios to mind.

  Was Draegan wrong this time around?

  Is she deteriorating much faster than he predicted?

  Is she hours from leaving me forever?

  “Captain?” Doctor Ward’s voice rings out suddenly, jerking my head toward his awaiting form beneath the threshold of the doorway. “I’ve wrapped up the examination. A word, please?”

  My stomach churns at his firm, somber tone, legs carrying me forward before I can offer a reply.

  When I step inside, Tinksley sits on the bed with Tigerlily at her side, a glass of water held to her lips. Both women watch me amble behind the elder to the opposite end of the room. They don’t make a single move, don’t dare to speak a word—and neither do I.

  I couldn’t if I wanted to; my heart’s currently jammed in my throat.

  This can’t be good. It just can’t.

  If the prognosis were remotely normal, he wouldn’t need or want this much space between us. Not that Tinksley wouldn’t be able to hear us if she so desired. She may only be in transition, but that doesn’t negate the fact that, if she focuses enough, she’ll pick up on every word exchanged.

  “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Ward’s clear, seafoam-green eyes peer behind me at the two women boring into my back.

  “All of it. What’s wrong with her?”

  “Well, she’s developed an infection.”

  An infection? “How is that possible?”

  “Because she’s not fed. While your blood still remains in her system, there isn’t enough venom within what little she has consumed to heal her.”

  Fuck.

  “What type of infection is it?”

  “Open wound. The blackening of her wings is a clear sign of decay. At first gl
ance, the gashes appear scabbed as though they’re on the mend, but they’re not. Not entirely anyway. Your venom is trying to heal her, regenerating pieces of the aileron whenever it can. As I said, though—there isn’t enough which, in turn, allows bacteria to drift through the openings into the entire appendage. From what I can see without a deeper analysis, the infection is targeting not only the muscle tissue—causing her a varying range of pain—but the nerve endings as well.”

  My stomach joins my heart in the tight confines of my throat, nearly choking me in the process. Heart rate thrumming in my ears, I swallow down the stream of bile trying to force its way out of my mouth and will myself to keep it together.

  Now is not the time for me to lose it.

  “What about her markings? They’re darkening, too. What does that mean?”

  Both are aspects I’ve noticed as the days have passed. However, I didn’t give them much thought, too preoccupied with the more paramount issue at hand; namely, her choosing to pass on. I assumed it might be normal for hybrids, especially since Draegan hadn’t mentioned anything about it.

  “The markings are nothing to be concerned about,” Doctor Ward states evenly. “Simply immortality attempting to claim her body.”

  If nothing else, at least there’s that.

  “Was that the good news?”

  “Yes and no. The good news is the infection can be cleared.”

  “How?” Hope seeps through my tone. “Antibiotics?”

  “Oh no. No.” He gives a staunch shake of his head. “Medication will never make it into her bloodstream, and if it does, it’s likely she’ll have a negative reaction. To remove the infection, her wings must be extracted.”

  “I’m not following. If medication is out of the question, how do you expect to proceed with surgery?”

  “I can provide local anesthesia throughout the process, as frequently as needed. She should only need three rounds per wing.”

  “Still not following, Ward.” I cross my arms. “So you can provide a numbing agent, great, but how does that solve the problem?”

  “The infection is contained, Captain. Yes, she’ll continue degenerating the longer she doesn’t feed, but the infection hasn’t spread elsewhere.”