Page 67 of Vipers and Vendettas

What I just did.

I’m shuddering a little as I tap Iron’s face, and his eyes flutter open for a moment only to close again.

‘He’ll be all right in a few minutes,’ the elderly woman croaks. She tosses me a cushion with some crocheted flowers on it. ‘Put that under his head. He’s too heavy to be moved by the likes of us.’

‘Who are you?’ I ask shakily, but she’s gone.

‘Wait,’ I say, getting up to follow her into a dark hallway.

I see the vamp’s link key still on the door and glance down at Iron. I grab it and slip it into my pocket, hating myself for thinking of leaving him here like this now, but knowing that I just found another way to escape, and I will use it.

I leave the room and spy the old woman already at the end of the corridor. She opens the last door and turns on the light to reveal a small bathroom.

‘Clean the blood off yourself, deary.’ She says with a wrinkle of her nose. ‘I don’t like the undead smell in the house. It makes the textiles stink for days, and even Febreze doesn’t touch it. I’ll be cleaning the mess up in the other room if you need me.’

I nod, going into the bathroom to do as I’m told and hoping she doesn’t ask my glitching brain for much more than that right now. I turn on the water and grab a washcloth from a small shelf on the wall. I don’t even wait for the water to warm before I drench it in soap and wash my face and neck, gargling with it, basically doing everything I can to get rid of the vampire’s blood off my person,off my tongue, short of setting myself on fire.

When I’m done, the results are far from ideal. I can still smell the blood and taste the remnants of it in my mouth. My stomach tightens, and I vomit again, this time into the toilet that’s thankfully right next to me.

I wash my mouth out again and pass a shaky hand over my eyes. I just ripped out a vampire’s throat.

I just ripped out a vampire’s heart!

I look at my hand. It looks like my hand, but I could have sworn there were a few seconds when it looked like someone else’s.Something else’s.

What’s happening to me?

What if whatever it is affects Jellybean?

I leave the bathroom, finding Iron on the floor still. The blood that was everywhere is completely gone, as if none of the past few minutes happened at all.

Maybe it didn’t. Maybe I have, like, pregnancy psychosis or something.

The old woman is standing over Iron, looking at him with a fond expression.

‘Who are you?’ I ask her again.

She glances at me. ‘Gigi.’

‘You’re Iron’s grandmother?’

‘I’m his nanna, all right,’ she nods, her eyes crinkling. She picks up the dart that I watched Iron pull out of his shoulder and sniffs it.

‘He’ll be out for a little while longer,’ she says, passing me slowly and throwing the dart in a small trash can. ‘Would you like some tea?’

I nod slowly and follow her down the stairs of what appears to be a small cottage. She sits me down at a square table with a purple tablecloth on it in a kitchen with a door that leads outside to a colorful garden in full bloom despite the time of year. The cupboards inside are painted light yellow, and there’s a stone fireplace. The floor is made of wooden boards, the same as upstairs, and there’s an oval rug on the floor by the sink that matches the yellow of the kitchen.

An earthenware mug is placed in front of me.

‘What kind of tea is that?’ I thankfully have the presence of mind to ask. ‘I’m pregnant, you see?'

She nods. 'That’s naught but chamomile, girl,’ she says, patting my hand. ‘That won’t harm the babe.’

I take a small sip, using the mug to warm my cold hands.

‘How long will Iron be unconscious?’ I ask.

She bobs her head from side to side. ‘Could be an hour, could be quarter that.’