STRANGULATE | Markicest

26 | THE PAINTED WOMAN

While Mark and Dark slept through the sunrise, huddled in the warmth of the grandiose bed, Ethan sat before the mirror and felt at his face.

    His brows knitted as he stared at himself, roughly swallowing at the dryness of his mouth. He reached for the tall glass of saltwater on the vanity desk and chugged it, letting the liquid course through his mouth and down his throat.

    He gave a weary sigh when the dryness remained.

    Ethan reached for his phone and opened it, his heart wrenching as he did. The lockscreen was of him and Mark—he still hadn't changed it ever since he disappeared.

    He shook his head and pushed the thought aside. Of course, he worried about Mark—wondered where he was or if he was even still alive. But Ethan knew better than to mess with High Evolveds.

    Regret simmered in his chest. And still, despite that knowledge, he gave Mark information on the Tear Stealer. If anything, it was probably his fault Mark hadn't come back.

    He sighed and unlocked the phone, pressing call on one of the names. It gave a few rings before picking up.

    "Konray," he greeted, giving a weary smile at himself in the mirror. "I, uh... I might need that guy of yours again."

    "Your venom's gone already?"

    Ethan's face went hot at that, and he scratched the back of his neck. The mere phrase made him even more aware of how dry his mouth was.

    "I-I've been really stressed lately... okay? E-especially since Mark—"

    "How badly do you need the serum?" interrupted Konray. "Sojour's out of town for two more weeks."

    "Two weeks?" breathed Ethan. He ran a hand over his mouth. "Isn't there a stock of that shit in the City? I know there's other Evolveds like m-me who have this same—"

    "Ay, shush it," said Konray. Ethan quickly obeyed, his lip quivering. Even he hated admitting what he truly was. Konray sighed, a silence passing through the phone.

"I'm sure there's knock-off vials in the streets," she said. A chair creaked through her side of the line, and Ethan could practically see her kicking her feet up on her messy desk. He swore a stack of papers fell to the ground at the mere motion. "It might mess you up, though."

Ethan stared at himself and sighed. He stood up and walked to his kitchen, bringing the glass with him.

"The first time I let this happen, I swear my tongue would've fallen out," said Ethan. "I-if I wait too long, my mouth—"

"Well, you're not gonna die," snapped Konray. "That's one thing for sure."

Ethan frowned, tucking the phone in between his shoulder and ear as he filled up the glass with water. He paced around the kitchen and grabbed a packet of salt, pouring the entire thing inside and watching the white specs fall to the bottom of the cup.

"I won't be able to breathe," he spat. "Just imagine living without saliva, Konray. You won't. Not really, anyway."

Konray sighed. "You're right... you're right."

Ethan made a sarcastic sound as he drank the water, the sound echoing in the glass and hitting against his face. He let the salty tang linger in his mouth this time, unaffected by it.

"If I could make the serum myself, I could," Ethan said, licking the salt away from his lips. "But you know how I am about having things like that in my house..."