Poisoned in Red

21:00

            The fumes from the cottage was sufficiently noxious to send the black cats fleeing the warm heath rug on the doorstep. Now they sat in the forest with dank and ruffled fur hissing at icy rain drops. Cross supported Raven by the waist, arriving at their destination: the witch's home.

          "Hang in there, princess," he encouraged as he barged into the shelter. "Agnes!"

          The interior smelled earthy. Mounds of soot, layers of dust, and ropes of cobwebs cover every surface of their house in a sticky veil. Smoke from the strangling fire puffs into the room and swirls about the ceiling.

          "Oh my! Even if you're the king of vampires now, you can't just barge into a witch's house like this," a husky voice from the corner of the room, scolded.

          "I need your help," he disregarded her comment and importuned.

          The old lady narrowed her amber eyes at him. Her long-fingered hands raised to her hips as she tapped her shoe on the floor. The glare from her snake-like eyes could have killed a human in seconds.

          "I'm sorry."

          Raven looked up through her nausea at the sight of him submitting to the woman, who called herself a witch.

          "Don't forget that I've been here an entire millennium longer than you have, Red. And I don't think I have to remind you about—" she stopped, abruptly.

          "Agnes, we really don't have time for this."

          "Raven," she called.

          Her eyes widened from the sudden mention of her name. They flickered to Cross' as she took a small step back, subconsciously.

          "What's wrong with her?"

          "That's what we came to find out."

          "You took his memories, yeah?"

          Raven flinched.
          He nodded.

          "Then there shouldn't be a problem anymore," she declared. "I did commence preparations on The Apple, dreading for the worst case scenario but I didn't expect it to actually be needed."

          "What the hell are you talking about?" he grimaced.

          "She might have to take a bite of The Apple."

          Cross' blood eyes glimmered in disapproval. "No. Find another way."

          "It's the only way. She has the potential, Red. She's quarter human. On top of that, the royal blood flows in her."

          "The Apple?" Raven asked the witch.

          She grinned. "Come in and sit down. Let's talk it out."

          Cross' hand never left her waist as they walked into the room and took a seat on the couch. Agnes sat across from them and flicked her fingers, manipulating a dainty teapot that poured itself into two separate cups.

          "The Apple is a rare fruit that has been swathed under the sun for an entire millennium. A bite of The Apple is a lifetime gamble for mixed breeds such as yourself, who are seeking to become a pureblood," Agnes began.

          "And if it doesn't succeed?"

          "Page 28 section 1: it's a one out of ten chance of survival."

          The silence hung in the air as the wintry air that crept through an open window. In that void of sound the shallowness of their conversation was laid bare.

          "Look, it's the only way for you to become self-sufficient. Your body will stop craving human blood and solely want your beloved's from time to time."

          "Raven, I know it hurts but let's find another way," Cross interrupted, tightening his grip.

          She gazed into his desperate eyes, which reflected his hatred towards the possibility of losing her. She choked, sharply bending over as if she'd been punched in the stomach, and drops of blood spattered at her feet.

          "I'd stop that too if I were you, Red," Agnes suggested, referring to his pale arm around her waist. "Honey, your current pain level is drastically reduced because of—"

          "Agnes."

          Raven gasped, taking his hand from her hips and securing it in her palms. The skin on his arm was only the layer of dust so fine over the paper white underneath, emphasizing his veins. The witch shook her head, looking away from his discolored lips. She knew how much he loved putting up a tough front and has never seen him show an ounce of pain. A streak of blood streamed down his nose in the moment, alerting them.

          "Red," she said, handing him a paper towel.

          He tilted his head up as his brows narrowed. She held her breath, stopping herself from taking in the sweet scent, and mumbled, "I'll do it."

          "No," he hissed. "Raven, please."

          "Cross, let me do this," she pled. "I'll be alright."

          "She doesn't have much time," Agnes urged, and clicked her fingers together before a carmine apple hovered onto Raven's hand. As the ashes dance around in their airborne way the breeze takes on a fruity fragrance, one to send the mind into a heady stupor.

          "Red, she'll need to drink your blood right after she awakens," she informed.

          "I won't accept this."

          She sighed. "You came here because you ran out of options, correct? Should I take it by force?"

          He glared, knowing full well she can do that easily. Her ability to show absolute stability in her words and actions with no room for doubt, makes her the only person on the planet who is capable of evincing him rivalry. Sharp pain lanced through Raven's body and colorful spots flashed in front of her eyes. She shut them close and sucked herself into a deeper place to cope. The tears wouldn't well up, and the screams won't escape past her quivering lips. Her fangs began to show under her lowered head as she choked, "Cross, hurry."

          He stared at the fruit in sight, not knowing what was worse; drowning beneath the waves or dying from the thirst.