The Eternal Avenger: Book Two

Chapter Eleven: That's the Idea

(Natasha's POV):

The group of us retreated to one of the smaller tents in order to take stock. We sat around a small card table, looking around the room.

"So how do we do this?" Darcy asked, looking at me expectantly.

"Do what, exactly?" I wanted clarification of what the younger nerd thought was going to happen.

"You're hungry. You've turned. You need blood. What's the confusion?" I was slightly taken aback by her sarcasm, but realized that – very much like Claray – I found it strangely alluring.

"I'll get a mug," Clint said, spinning around and looking for a drinking cup. Bridgit caught him by the arm, stopping him.

"She needs to know what it feels like to actually feed," she explained softly, glancing at me. I nodded my understanding, and – despite every intention – my body understood as well. I could feel all of my muscles tensing and flexing just under the surface. From the quick glance I got at the mirror near the tent entrance, my eyes were still red, but had a lingering green tinge to the outer edges. "Darcy, why don't you sit down," Bridgit pulled out a chair, gesturing for the young woman to sit. She did so. I sat down beside her. "Natasha, do you know how this works? What's about to happen?" Darcy's head snapped around.

"What's about to happen?" She asked, glancing wide-eyed between the group. Clint snickered in the corner.

"You're going to find out," he muttered, grinning widely at me. I glared at him. I thought of how best to explain.

"If my bite is like Claray's, like other vampires, it releases a kind of drug into your system." Darcy looked between me and Bridgit hesitantly.

"A drug? What kind of drug?" Bridgit sat beside her on the other side, as Clint leaned back against the seat with his arms folded.

"A good one, from what I've heard," he snickered from the corner. "It made Wanda unable to stand – or keep her eyes open." Darcy's eyes opened wide.

"Put your arm wrist up on the table," Bridgit requested, guiding the young woman's hands off of her lap and onto the table in front of us. "Natasha, you will be able to sense where the vein is naturally," Bridgit explained, turning her attention towards me. I nodded, involuntarily licking my lips in anticipation.

"Wait, is it going to hurt?" Darcy asked, looking up at me. For the first time I saw a flicker of uncertainty across her face. I shook my head, smiling slightly.

"It doesn't hurt at all," I assured her.

"How do you know?" She asked. The chick was ballsy, I'll give her that.

"Because Claray has bitten me." The answer was simple, but brought back a host of memories and the feelings associated with them. It seemed like more than just my physical senses were heightened. I squirmed slightly in my seat, reaching for Darcy's hand, which she allowed me to take. However, she pulled her hand away quickly.

"You're so cold!" She exclaimed, clutching her hand I had touched in her other one, blowing on them to warm them up. I offered a wry, apologetic smile.

"Yeah, sorry about that," I smiled, holding out my hand. She slowly lowered her arm again, resting the back of her hand in my palm. I lifted her arm, inhaling sharply. I could hear the blood in her veins. I could see it moving. I took a shaky breath. "Here goes nothing," I murmured. I looked up at Darcy for reassurance and permission, and she nodded hesitantly. Without waiting any longer, I sunk my new fangs into the soft flesh of her inner wrist, inhaling sharply at the scent and taste of fresh, human, blood. Darcy's eyes – like Wanda's – rolled back in her head, and she uttered a whimpered moan. I swallowed, still sucking gently. After a few moments, Bridgit rested a hand on my shoulder. Surprised by the sudden contact, I pulled away from Darcy's wrist, spinning around and snarling at the older vampire. Immediately recognizing what I'd done, I dropped Darcy's hand, wiping my hand across my mouth. "I'm sorry," I whispered. Bridgit smiled, squeezing my shoulder lightly.

"It happens," she smiled at me. "Like many predators, we are also protective of our...meals." She grinned at me, eyes flashing briefly red and fangs slightly extending. I couldn't help but smile back. Darcy was breathing shallowly, but her eyes were open again and she was staring at me with something that bordered on reverence.

"Wow," she said, breathily.

"Are you okay?" I asked gently. She nodded.

"On a scale of one to ten how engaged are you?" She asked, staring deeply into my eyes. I smirked.

"Twenty." She shook her head, snapping herself out of it.

"That was...that was...wow," she repeated.

"Feeling better, Nat?" Clint asked, approaching the table warily. "Or did you want the rest of us to leave the room?" I smacked his shoulder, typically a gentle gesture, but the archer went flying across the tent, landing with a thud. I was on my feet instantly, but he hoisted himself up onto his elbow and chuckled. I heard Darcy stifling a laugh, and Bridgit had turned away from us, most likely for the same reason.

"So." All eyes turned towards me. "What do we do now to get my fiancé back?"

(Claray's POV):

I woke up, fearing for a moment that my eyes were malfunctioning. Everything seemed dark. It took a few moments to realize that the room I was in was just dark instead. My arms ached, and I tried to move them, only to find them caught and bound above my head. I moved my eyes gingerly, attempting to look at my restraints. They looked like witch chains. I groaned. By the way they stung the skin around my wrists, I could only guess that they were coated in wolfsbane. This was happening entirely too often for my liking, which was preferably never. I rolled my shoulders as much as the chains allowed, attempting to stretch my muscles. As I did so, I evaluated the rest of my body. There was a horrible ache at the back of my head, close to where it joined my neck – I could only guess that's where I had been clocked. The rest of me seemed to be in relatively good shape, aside from the fact that I was chained up, in the dark, unable to shift or to escape. As I moved around as much as I was able, I heard a clicking sound of disapproval behind me.

"Now, now, sweet pea," the female voice taunted. I turned my head as much as possible, recognizing the woman I saw just before losing consciousness.

"Who the fuck are you?" I hissed, tugging at the chains.

"You're not going to get out of those, dear." She walked down the remaining stairs, approaching me slowly.

"Watch me," I snarled.

"Oh, I will. I'm going to watch you suffer – right after I deal with your witch." My eyes snapped up to hers.

"What did you do to Wanda?"

"Well, not much – yet. But she'll get hers."

"Why?" I pulled against the chains again. They were wrapped around a thick, wooden ceiling beam that looked both ancient and sturdy. I really wasn't going to get out of these – not without some help.

"Because I can, dear." She moved towards me, fingers trailing slightly across my cheek, scratching my face with a single, pointed, fingernail, drawing blood.

"You have me, now. Let her go." Her laugh echoed throughout the empty room – basement?

"Oh, honey – I don't care about you. You just got in the way." She cackled as she spun on her heel, walking back towards the cement stairs, starting up.

"Wait, what do you want?" She glanced back over her shoulder.

"Wanda is going to give me her power – and you're going to pay for the lives of the witches that you cost, my dear." I snarled, struggling harder against the chains.

"Over my dead body," I hissed. A humorless smile ghosted across her face.

"That's the idea." She opened the door at the top of the stairs and I squinted as light flooded into the room. The last thing I heard before being plunged back into darkness was another round of cackling laughter, filling the room.