Venom of the Viper

Dreams

She was surrounded by wheat, the honey-colored strands brushing her shoulders as she ran barefoot through the field, clutching a jug of water. It had taken ages to walk to the well, but her legs pumped against the dirt as she thought of a warm, delicious supper.

With a grin, she threw open the old oak door of the house. "I'm home father!" she raced into the main room, looking for the familiar auburn head of her father but she was surprised to find another man sitting at the kitchen table, looking out of place in his fine suit in the daisy painted room.

"Ah, this must be Vesper." the older man said with a strange look in his eyes. "Are you quite positive she isn't older than eleven? She looks at least thirteen."

Her father glanced at her. "I suppose she does look younger."

She furrowed her brows together in confusion, gently setting the water jug on the floor. "Pardon me, but who are you?"

The question was directed at the other man, but her father answered with a stern look on his face. "This is Dimitri Vandar. I'm sure you've heard of him."

She froze, her blood running cold. She did recognize the name, every girl in Tolae heard the whispers of the man in the trade city of Morth and his prized girls. It was said he would start the year with ten beautiful girls but by the winter solstice, three of them would have disappeared, never seen again.

Dead.

"No." she whispered, hardly believing her eyes as her father accepted a drawstring bag, the coins clinking together like the chime of a clock as though it knew she was running out of time.

"No!" she yelled, shaking her head at her father. "You can't make me go!"

Her father gripped her close, hugging her to him but he didn't whisper any comforting words or sad goodbyes. He only gripped her arm to keep her still as he pressed a sweet-smelling cloth to her nose.

A hand pulled back her blindfold and she bit back her scream as the man with the ruby knife drew the first tally onto her back, her whole-body pulsing with anger. She forced herself to swallow the tears as she lifted her head to meet Vandar's watchful gaze. Not even a week as one of his girls, and she had already broken one of his bullshit rules. She glared at him until he disappeared from the room in a whirl of black velvet and a sharp click of the door.

When the small door shut, leaving her in all-consuming darkness, she finally let the tears fall down her cheeks and she screamed as loud as she could, wondering if the gods could hear her from their golden palace.

The golden mural on the ceiling mocked her. She gritted her teeth as the man added another row of tallies, carving the line deep so that it would never heal. The scars already covered half her back, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing of her two broken wrists as the rope writhed against them, keeping her on the operation table.

She struggled against the rope that bound her wrists, but her attempts came to a horrifying halt as the loud bangof nine guns echoed through the chamber, nine pairs of strong, determined eyes glaring at their captor as one body hit the floor, then another, then another, until they all lay dead, scarlet painting the white tile into a portrait of her nightmares.

Her knees gave out after the last shot and she sank to the ground, her entire body frozen in shock until white-hot fury coursed through her veins. She yelled and cursed at the guards, at Carmine, at Vandar, and at the gods until her voice went hoarse.

Before she knew it, she was lying on the operation table, the steel glaring at her with streaks of blood as she numbly awaited whatever slow, torturous death she was about to receive. With her eyes closed she watched bodies fall over one by one, until Carmine stood above her, an iron in each hand as he lowered them to her face.