Venom: A Dark Retelling

by Dee Garcia

  How many times has he been here?

  “Fancy meeting you here,” Kaz quips later that night in his best British accent as he slides into our booth at a local pub and scoots all the way to my side.

  Malik, Emil, Assad, Draegan, Leandre, and Armand slip in right behind him. Sam, too, who takes the spot at the edge near the Captain.

  Hook takes a sip from his tumbler. “And Cassius?”

  “He decided to stay behind. Figured someone needed to keep an eye on things while we were gone,” Sam offers with a shrug.

  “Good thinking on his part. Not that I trust him to actually handle anything, but he isn’t needed here. Anyway, how’s Marlena?”

  “Handled,” Emil answers, reclining back with his arms behind his head.

  “Did the witches collect what belongs to them?”

  “They did, yes.”

  “I’m assuming this means we’re down a faction?” Callan presses.

  “Last time I checked, no,” Malik chimes. “The sirens were alive and well. What Persia did after we left, I’m not sure.”

  Knowing Persia, she didn’t kill them. Death would’ve been the better option for Marlena. Persia’s fury isn’t one to test.

  “Guess we’ll find out when we finally make it home,” Emil muses.

  “How long would you say?” Sam quizzes. He looks tired, worn.

  “I’m not sure considering we still need to find the boy,” Callan states.

  “Shouldn’t be too hard, Cap. Fawn and Jewel mentioned the coven was responsible for keeping an eye on Pan as he was growing up and he would spend a lot of time in Covent Garden. All we have to do is go down there and—”

  “And what? Demand a coven we aren’t familiar with to help a brood of vampires?” Kaz scoffs, prompting Sam to flash him a dubious glare.

  “I’m not above compulsion if I have to.”

  “Absolutely not.” Hook holds a hand up. “We treat them with the same respect in which we give the Six.”

  Kaz, who I’ve quickly learned always has something to say, rolls his eyes and leans back with crossed arms. “You’re losing your edge, old man. That love bug has you on some shit—no offense, T.”

  I’m not offended, only stunned to hear the word love fly free from his mouth and Hook not so much as flinch.

  “Perhaps, though, I like to think I’m simply mastering the art of restraint. There is a time and place for impulse, Kazimir, and I can assure you that right now is not it.”

  “Kaz, please—silence,” Armand advises, another statement that sends Kaz’s eyes for a spin.

  “Broody bastards.”

  “Anyway, as we were saying,” comes through Armand’s gritted teeth. “First order of business: locate Pan. What’s step two?”

  “We’ll need a few days to learn his patterns, his new schedule. When and where he awakes each morning, if he has a job he ventures to, where he eats lunch, etcetera, etcetera. Once we know the details, then we can decide when it’s best for Tinksley and I to swoop in.”

  Leandre leans across the table like an eager little puppy. “How you doing it, T?”

  I hitch a shoulder, lips puckering as that graphic reel rolls out in my mind. “I’m not sure, honestly. I’ve had a few ideas hit me, but nothing seems good enough.”

  “Can we strap a GoPro to Callan? I’ve got to see this,” Kaz snickers, arching one of my brows.

  “What’s a GoPro?”

  “It’s a camera,” Assad finally speaks. “A device that records details you can rewatch later. So if he’s wearing it while you’re...doing your thing, we can watch it after the fact.”

  Hmmm.

  “Interesting. Might just wear one myself to get an up close image of his face.”

  That would be priceless.

  “We’re getting ahead of ourselves and quite off topic,” Hook says, resuming command.

  “He’s right,” I agree. “We have plenty of time to think about that. I just need you to find him. Search high and low, all over this city. Once you’ve got him pinned, the real fun starts.”

  Nine devious grins, Hook’s included, hit me in unison as Kaz rubs his hands together.

  “Let the bloodied games begin.”

  ♫ Death of a Bachelor - Panic! At The Disco ♫

  Later that night after the brood stumbles their asses out of the pub and we go our separate ways, I decide to take Tinksley back to the Elizabeth Tower, otherwise known as Big Ben. She wanted to see it closer since earlier in the day and I had an idea up my sleeve. A private tour, if you will, one no longer allowed to the public.

  The bell tower.

  “Wow. Just...wow. Sure don’t see sights like this back home.” She gazes out at the city splayed out before her.

  “I don’t know about all that. We have some beautiful views. I’m looking at one right now.”

  Tinksley flushes and shoves at my shoulder. “Stop it. You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “Perhaps,” I shrug, “But it is what I meant.”

  “Still doesn’t compare to this. All the lights, the sounds, the places, even the people. It’s incredible.”

  “Sounds like you don’t want to leave.”

  “No, I do, and I will. I’m just awed, I guess. Give me a break, Cap. It’s my first time here,” she says, making way to shove me a second time.

  Only I dodge her blow and slither up behind her, locking my arms around her shoulders.

  “I don’t think it would matter if it was your fifth or tenth visit. The human realm will always be different, always advancing and moving forward with the current times. Aside from the few luxuries the boys and I have implemented at home over the years, Rosewood will never be this.”

  “How many times have you crossed the portal?”

  “More times than I can count. I wasn’t born over there, you know.”

  “Where? Home?” She angles her head aside to regard me.

  “Mhmm. I was born here. Well, in Scotland.”

  Tinksley’s clearly fascinated by this tidbit of information, smiling amusedly. “Don’t Scots typically have a heavy accent?”

  “That they do.” I chuckle.

  “But you don’t have one?”

  “I was only born there. My mother was from Italy and my father was from here actually. They crossed paths by chance, did some traveling about before I was born. They made a home here after the fact.”

  She pivots in my grip. “What were their names?”

  “Antonella and Cassius.”

  Her brow quirks with intrigue. “Like Cassius back home?”

  “The very one,” I deadpan, thoroughly regretting my sudden decision to willingly open this can of worms.

  Yes, I know, we would’ve had this conversation eventually, but it’s not one I enjoy unloading on a whim. Really, I just don’t enjoy retelling it all.

  Very few people know it in its entirety because of that.

  Tinksley studies me in a nearly flabbergasted state as if she’s trying to spot a resemblance between the old man and myself. Doesn’t matter how hard she searches; she won’t find one. I favor my mother. “Cassius is your father?”

  Casting my sights out to the River Thames, I tip my head. “Unfortunately.”

  “Why do you say it like that?”

  Because Cassius isn’t the elegant, well-put-together man he wants everyone to believe he is.

  Turning back to her, expression impassive as I can manage, I answer, “Because he killed my mother.”

  No one ever expects those words to come out of my mouth. No one. So it doesn’t surprise me when Tinksley’s eyes flare, shock and empathy swirling through their clear depths. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “He didn’t agree with what she’d done to me. Granted, it’s a secret she kept from him for many years, but it didn’t warrant her death.”

  “What did she do to you?”

  “She made me this.”

  “Your mom turned you?”

  “Pretty much. Mum was obsessed with all
things supernatural, above all vampires and witches. The fascination became worse once she and my father learned they were expecting me. She searched high and low, attempted summoning the power of magic herself to locate different covens who might point her in the direction of immortals.”

  “That’s strange…” she trails off, wheels in her head working a mile per minute.

  “What is?”

  “This story. It sounds so familiar. Like...like something I read in your library.”

  Ah, those old things. “That’s because you were likely reading my father’s journal.”

  The man always did enjoy recounting his days on paper, and the one she read is not the only one tucked away on those shelves.

  “His journal? Why would those be on your shelves?”

  “Because he has nowhere else to store them. Cassius may live under my roof, but he doesn’t have his own personal quarters. The bed I allotted him is down in the dungeon. Whether he makes use of it or not, I don’t know and I don’t care.” Harsh, yes, but he’s lucky I spared him, that he got to live on.

  Tinksley wants to ask more about Cassius, that much is obvious given those inquisitive brows and the soft, “Oh,” that leaves her. Those questions, however, they never come.

  “So what happened?” She leans back against the parapet. “Did your mother ever come across any vampires?”

  “She did, yes.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Essentially? She paid him a great deal of money in exchange for his blood.”

  The mention of it piques her interests more. She can probably taste the source on her tongue as we speak, can just faintly savor it. We’ll need to feed soon, a thought that excites me. Tinksley out in the wild, so to speak.

  Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I start back for her.

  “What for?” she questions.

  “To feed me daily.”

  “You grew up drinking blood?”

  “I did, but I hadn’t a clue.” It’s the truth. I never knew. Not even as I got older. “With all the illnesses flying around in that era, she was paranoid to hell and back that I’d contract something, that she’d lose me too young. So she slipped it in my food, much like I did to you that one morning. Apologies for that, by the way. That was wrong of me.” Sidling beside her, I mirror her stance.

  She shrugs me off, biting back a smile. “It was meant to be, remember? I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  Thank Christ for that. Losing Tinksley would’ve been my greatest tragedy, right up there next to my mother.

  All the more so now.

  I lose her now? No, I don’t even want to think about that.

  My stare falls to the skull dangling at her throat, fingers fiddling it gently in place.

  In turn, she reaches for me, locking a hand around my wrist. “How did you die, Callan?”

  “I became ill, very ill. Caught typhoid fever. When the infection finally claimed me, my father was devastated. Imagine his surprise when his son, his dead son, came back to life gasping for air.”

  “That had to have been shocking.”

  “It always is. Doesn’t matter how many times you see it.” Rocked the hell out of me when I watched her go through it. “Didn’t take him long to realize what happened and that, not only had my mother been slipping me blood on a daily basis, she’d made her own transition at some point, too.”

  “How did he turn then?”

  “Well, while I was lying there, disoriented and confused, they began arguing. That arguing turned into fighting. Mum was throwing shit to defend herself. He was after her, hellbent on making her pay for the secrets she’d kept behind his back. She did the only thing she knew she could do; cornered him, force-fed him her blood, and snapped his neck. An hour later, she was dead...and I was just lying there, stunned.”

  That image, that moment in time when my angel was taken from me, fills my headspace. I cringe, eyes clamping shut in an attempt to dissolve it and shake it away.

  “He killed her in front of you?” Her voice is so soft I just barely hear it above the faint breeze that trickles through.

  “Jammed the wooden leg of a stool right through her heart and sliced her head off clean with his sword.” I nearly choke on the words.

  I can still hear her screams followed by the moment it all went silent. Hear the gush of the wood being pulled free from her body, the clink of his sword as he withdrew it from its holster.

  The thud of her head tumbling to the ground.

  I shudder again, just as Tinksley takes my face in her hands, forcing our stares to collide. “Why didn’t you kill him?” Her eyes, now welled with tears, search mine frantically.

  “Because death would’ve been far too merciful. I wanted him to suffer. As an immortal he’d have to live with that decision for the rest of eternity and I had the same opportunity to live alongside him. To ensure it.” Reaching for her hands, I drop them to our sides and press my lips to her forehead. “I wasn’t a good person, Tinksley. I dragged the man around with me everywhere, on all my voyages. At first, when rage and resentment were at their highest, he was a prisoner. I kept him locked away, starved him, beat him whenever my world felt it was crumbling.”

  “How did you two end up in Rosewood?” She squeezes me. “Or better yet, how did you come to power in Rosewood?”

  I’m puzzled as to how that’s possible. I hadn't felt her wrap her arms around my middle. “Quite some time after crossing the portal. We’d been out at sea, traveling from island to island, when we came upon Rosewood. The brood and I—which only consisted of Sam, Armand, Kaz, and Malik at that point—walked into hell. Sensed it the moment we got off the ship.”

  “Let me guess, Fae?”

  “You guessed correct. The Natives, who owned the land, had no idea what to do and the Lost Boys didn’t exist back then. They had one, lone wolf. The witches weren’t kin of Sacred Six yet, either. There’s more to it, obviously, but it’s a long story, not all of which is mine to tell. I guess I was just in the right place, at the right time, had the right bartering tools.”

  “What did you barter?” Setting her chin to my chest, she glances up at me, though I’m sure she has an inkling as to what the answer might be.

  “Help and protection from the Fae. In return, I wanted the land. The Chief didn’t go for it initially. I had to wait around nearly a month for an answer, but in the end, after his young daughter was lured by those beasts, he agreed. We were the superior species; faster, stronger, smarter. The only ones with the ability to flash. The Fae might’ve been feeders as well, but they were no match for us.”

  “I can see that. Well, I’m glad he went for it and I’m glad you found Rosewood. I’d never have met you if you hadn’t.”

  She’s right. I hadn’t even thought of that until just now. Had I not learned of the portal and ventured the seas, I never would’ve met this fascinating, beautiful woman before me.

  “How old are you now anyway?”

  “Five-hundred and seven.” Old as hell, I know.

  “And when you died?”

  “I’d just turned thirty.”

  Scoffing a laugh, Tinksley shakes her head. “No wonder.”

  “No wonder, what?” My brow quirks, prompting her to wiggle a finger in my direction.

  “No wonder you look like that. You were a man.”

  Damn right.

  Grinning, I push her against the parapet, touching the tips of our noses. “I told you, baby girl, all man.”

  Our lips are so close, too, just talking allows them to brush softly, teasingly.

  “I swoon a little every time you call me that,” she confesses on a sultry breath.

  “Yeah? And how much would you swoon if I told you I’m in love with you?”

  No shame, none whatsoever. I hadn’t even meant to say it, but now that it’s out there, I can vow I mean it with every goddamn fiber of my being. I love her, I have for some time, probably longer than either one of us realize.

&n
bsp; “I might die.” A whisper, caught deep in her throat, her eyes wide.

  “Not that easy, you’re immortal now, remember? You’re stuck with this bastard right here, and perhaps one day you’ll love me too.”

  “Not one day.” She purposely brushes our lips, seeking me out. “I love you now, right here, right now.”

  “Everyday?” I question ardently.

  “For as long as you’ll have me,” she avows.

  “Then start counting on forever, Tinksley Bell, because you’re my greatest treasure and there’s not a single thing within any realm on this earth that could make me let you go.”

  ♫ Crazy In Love (Remix) - Beyoncé ♫

  A few days later…

  “Fuck,” I hiss, death gripping Tinksley’s ass as she gyrates above me. “So good, baby girl, that pussy feels so fucking good.”

  I’m seconds away from lifting a palm and swatting said ass when she flattens a firm hand on my chest, keeping me in place beneath her. “Don’t move, don’t move—I’m so close.”

  Panting, mewling, moaning whenever she hits the spot, she continues that tortuous motion of her hips, sucking my cock in deeper with each godforsaken rotation. My eyes roll to the back of my head as she goes harder, chasing the build up that’s coiling like a spring.

  How I haven’t exploded yet is beyond me. My release so close I can feel the spasms taking their hold, balls tightening, shaft throbbing whenever her walls tighten.

  Given the way she’s riding me, I’d say she’s going to climax right about—

  The ringer of that obnoxious phone blares beside us on the nightstand, dropping us both on our asses. My dick all but screams as she stills above me, eyeing the abrupt interruption.

  We both know who it is.

  With a miffed growl, I reach out for it and accept the call with a swipe of my thumb. “Tell me you have good news?”

  Sam hums, though I catch the faintest hint of snicker somewhere in there, too. Evidently, the ache of my balls is clear in my tone.

  “We found him.”

  “Excellent. Where has the little asshole been hiding?” I grit, squeezing her ass again, urging her to move.

  But the moment’s gone. Tinksley rolls her eyes at the mention of Pan and climbs off me onto the bed, collapsing in a sweaty heap.