Venom (Book I) ✓

Chapter Thirteen

"Red, are you alright?"

Ruby shook her head forcefully. She was not alright. For more than half of her life she had just assumed that she never had a family. She had assumed that she had been driven to her panicked dash by some strange and sudden accident.

How could she have forgotten?

"What's wrong? Is it the venom?"

Something burned behind her eyes and a scalding hand clenched around her chest. Trembling, she started forward, and Ulric let her, following closely. He watched her, eyes bright and alert for any sign of danger. She scarcely took notice of this. Her eyes were glued to the little cottage.

She recalled it now. She recalled the smell of its wood and the blue paint on the door and the shutters that hung perpetually crooked. She recalled how smoke used to curl cheerily out of the chimney and how it used to smell of burning oak and used to ring with the popping of the fire and the feeble sound of the fragile elderly woman's laughter.

By the time she had reached the front door she could already feel tears rolling down her cheeks. Ulric took notice of this as well, and he drew her away from the house.

"Red, what is it?" He prodded gently.

She gazed at him, wide-eyed through her tears. How could she explain to him this sudden flood of memories? What words could put this gut-wrenching combination of emotions into a comprehensible sentence? She knew, gazing at him helplessly, that words would never do this sudden and brutal hit justice. She shook her head in response to his question.

"Come on, I need something. What do I need to do? How do I fix this?"

Ruby reached for the house, shuffling forward so that her hand could graze the door. It inched open under her touch. If she thought that it would help her state she was grossly misled. A wave of nausea hit her at the sight of what awaited them within. She stumbled backwards and Ulric caught her hastily. Her stomach was revolting and she tore herself away from him to empty it under a nearby tree.

When she drew away from that and wiped her mouth she noted that among the bile there was blood in her vomit. It was violently scarlet, the same color as the smears inside of the little cottage she knew so well.

"Red!" Ulric shouted, turning her fast toward him. He looked like he was ready to have an aneurysm.

Regret touched her, which only made her feel worse. She looked up at him through tears with blood still staining the corners of her lips. "I know this place." She croaked, ever word painful. "I have been here. I know it very, very well."

He drew away from her, a look of surprise flickering across his face. "This? It can't be. You--I didn't think you actually were..." He muttered, turning to gaze at the little cottage, then at her with wide, horror-stricken eyes. The door still stood open just enough to reveal a long streak of scarlet across the floor. "Red, you have to believe me. I didn't know. I just thought--I mean, I knew something had happened here, but I never thought it could have been to you. I--You looked similar to her, but...Oh, Red, I'm sorry."

She drew back, turning once more to the little cottage. She suddenly needed to go inside, needed to see what she once knew, needed to see what had come of her grandmother's cozy home, the home she lost her dear granny to. The house where her own life was nearly taken from her. She started toward it, but Ulric caught her and pulled her back.

"Red, I really don't think you want to go in there. Believe me, it's bad."

She gazed down at Ulric's hand, clinging to her arm, gentle but insistent. His eyes were bright, earnest, pleading. He looked young and vulnerable and somehow familiar in a deeper way than before. Hand trembling from the shock of everything coursing through her, she reached forward. He did not flinch when she brushed away the hair at his forehead. More scars criss-crossed his skin there, a lattice of silvery white marring his otherwise tanned skin.

Somehow that confirmed it. She couldn't say how, but she knew Ulric, she had known him for a very long time. 

"Who are you?" She breathed, searching her mind frantically for his face, his voice, his touch, anything.

"I'm the same person I've been for decades. Red, I haven't changed. But, My God, have you."

She shook her head, searching, searching, now desperate for a memory still out of her grasp. "You...I don't understand."

"I couldn't expect you to. Come on Red, you need to sit down. And we need to get away from here. I never should have brought you."

"Ulric, how? What--? I need answers."

"I don't have answers." He whispered, and she believed him.

"Who does?" She asked desperately, her voice low.

"You do." He promised, lifting a palm to her cheek gently. "Just give it a little bit of time. They'll come to you."

She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of his palm on her cheek, on the vibration of his voice in the air, on the pleasantly green scent of him, on anything but the little cottage. Anything to distract her from the door cracked open, revealing a single long streak of blood that she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was hers.