Venom, Part I

September 4^th, 1939

Berlin

“Guten abend Frau Gladstone, Herr Knox.” The waiter bowed low and the strawberry haired beauty, cloaked in a floor length shawl with an oversized hood, placed her delicate hand on his shoulder.

“In Englisch, bitte.” Her soft voice cooed as she slipped two reichsmark into his jacket pocket. A broad smile spread across his face.

“Good evening Ms. Gladstone, Mr. Knox. Your usual table?”

“Ja, Vilhelm, and we require privacy. Privatsphäre, verstehen?” she asked. He nodded and her hand, presented in the most delicate of silk elbow length gloves that was the very same emerald green as her large almond eyes, pat his chest lightly. “Good boy.”

Vilhelm took them to the round table in the back corner, with a red velvet booth seat and a long wrought iron pole with heavy curtains of the same shade. The woman on stage sang in her highest tone to the bouncing beat of the grand piano and brass band behind her. Her blonde curls were pinned in victory rolls away from her face and pulled the skin tightly on her high cheekbones. She snapped her fingers and shook her hips, flushing her cherry red lips against the square microphone. Layla locked eyes with her for just a moment, before sitting down at the booth.

“Drinks?” Vilhelm asked, bending forward to hear their response.

“A tall gin, bitte,” Layla said, curtly.

“Scotch,” Valerian replied, slipping out of his tailored suit jacket and folding it neatly behind him. He took the newspaper from the table, and shook it out to read. As Vilhelm started to draw the curtain he remembered to say, “On the rocks.”

The headline read in large black letters,

 “Großbritannien und Frankreich Krieg Erklären!“

(“Great Britain and France Declare War!”)

“Of course we have.” He muttered under his breath, dropping the paper back on the table. “Close to the door.” Valerian's voice spoke inside Layla's head.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the young girl with pale brown hair, who sat alone near the entrance. She searched through her mind like a file, to find her weakness.

“Ich kann nicht nach Hause gehen.”

Her husband beats her. She's looking for someone to make her feel special again. Even if just for one night...

“Is she marked?” Layla asked, as she slipped the cloak from her body. She rolled her shoulders back, cracked her neck from side to side and shook her long waves into place. The sweetheart neckline of her black silk dress slipped from the top of her arm as she brought it forward again.

“No,” he said, plain and simple. He crossed his legs, with his hands neatly placed on his knees and sighed.

“Hmm...shame.” Layla shrugged, just as Vilhelm returned with their drinks. He placed them on the table and backed away, bowing and closed the curtain behind him.

Layla took the cold glass in her hand and spun it on the table, swirling the ice.

“What do you think she'll be?” She asked and took the smallest sip of gin, trying not to let her excitement slip.

Just hours from now I'll have my Familiar. Have the bond that only death can break.

“She's bound to be cold-blooded, just like you my dear.” He smiled, took her hand in his and kissed the top ever so lightly. Layla smiled, almost giggling.

“Oh Valerian, you're too kind.”

“So, who have you picked to celebrate with us?” A toothy grin spread across his face and his pupils bled into the steel grey of his eyes for only a moment before returning to normal.

“It's a surprise.”

“You know I don't like surprises.” He grumbled.

The curtain split and the brunette with an hour-glass figure peeked around the corner. Her eyes were wild as she gaped down at the two unusually beautiful people, not sure why she was drawn to them.

“Hallo.” Her voice unsure.

Valerian looked up at her, slicked his dark hair back against his neck and slid closer to Layla, patting the empty space next to him. She sat, timid, with her hands placed neatly in her lap, and stared at the floor. Valerian stretched his arm out, his fingers within reach of her soft hair. He leaned in and said, “Hallo schön. Do you speak English?”

Her round blue eyes stared at him with the innocence of a newborn child. “Yes. A little.” She pinched her fingers to show what she meant and dropped her hand.

“What is your name?” he asked, with a voice as smooth as his shirt.

“Bathilde.”

“Bathilde. Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He took her hand and kissed the top, locking his gaze with hers. Her cheeks flushed. The skin on Valerian's neck hardened, and he clenched his jaw. Layla's hand brushed over his shoulder, taking his attention from the need.

“Aren't you going to introduce me?” Layla asked.

Valerian sat up straight, running his hands down his crisp white shirt to his stomach. “This is my good friend Layla Gladstone.” Layla nodded at Bathilde, who smirked, only glancing at her unearthly beauty for a second. “And I am Valerian Knox.”

“Are you from...England?” She struggled with the last word, not from lack of knowing the English equivalent, but from her nerves screaming at her to run; yet she was unable to move.

Layla's stomach growled, and the veil bubbled angrily inside her. The pain was excruciating. She closed her eyes, to assure Bathilde would not scream when they saturated from the hunger.

The music stopped and a chorus of clapping hands echoed inside the club. For a moment the pain subsided and Layla let out a breath of relief. She opened her eyes, fluttering them twice and smiled.

“Vilhelm, we need more drinks!” She told him with her thoughts and he reacted to her immediately.

“What do you drink, Bathilde?”

“B…brandy…bitte.”

Layla tipped the glass against her mouth and drank the entire contents of her gin, just as Vilhelm returned.

“Another round please, and two brandies.”

“Right away.” He bowed out.

The sweet smell of roses stained Layla's senses and enveloped her in an intoxicating trance. Gisela, the gorgeous blond singer that Layla had locked eyes with, was making her way over to their table.

They'd been in Berlin for a week now. Watching the war unfold before their eyes, always going to the same club under strict instructions. She'd had her eyes on the beauty for a while now, and it was their last night in the city.

Tonight, she is mine.

“Frau Gladstone, Herr Knox.” Gisela nodded as she slipped behind the curtain into the seat next to Layla. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

“It is our last night in the city,” Layla said, and placed her hand over Gisela's thigh. Goose flesh spread over her skin at the small gesture and Layla gave a toothy grin.

“I'm very sorry to hear this.” Gisela breathed and bit her lip.

Vilhelm returned with another round of drinks and Gisela took hers eagerly while Bathilde stared at the other glass as if she were forbidden to touch it. Valerian slid the drink into her hands and urged her to drink. Vilhelm smiled at Layla. She growled, low so that only she heard and let the veil run behind her eyes.

“Leave us.” She commanded and he scurried away like a rodent.

Gisela chose to blabber and query about her performance that night and it didn't take long for Layla to grow bored. She might have found her a true beauty, one she wanted to divulge in more ways than one, but not many humans kept her amused. Not anymore...not since she was human.

Layla directed Gisela's face to hers and looked into her crystal blue eyes. With ease, she took control of her mind and asked her to sit, look pretty and only talk when spoken to.

Valerian looked at Layla under heavy, judgmental eyes but the young beauty shook off her creator's stare. He might have made her what she is, but they were growing apart as of late, and Layla didn't need him.

“Layla.” Valerian growled and raised an eyebrow at her, but Layla ignored him further and worked on the button behind Gisela's neck at the halter of her red silk dress. Once unhooked the dress folded over at her stomach and her round breasts fell free. Layla pressed her mouth over the pert nipple and nibbled until Gisela groaned in her ear. “Layla!” Valerian demanded and his veil snapped Layla's attention back to her creator.

“What?”

“We cannot afford to leave another string of bodies behind us,” he said, as his hands traced over the soft skin of Bathilde's arm. Layla took away the jolt of fear in Bathilde at Valerian's words, and sighed.

“What's the fun in that?” she asked.

“This trip is not about having fun, child. This is about finding your familiar and we have to be careful during these times. War is upon us in many ways and we must return to his side as soon as possible,” Valerian said, and pushed his hands into the side of hair brown hair, striated with silver, and smoothed it back.

“We have a reason to celebrate, Valerian. Don't ruin this for me.” Layla turned back to Gisela, placing her hand on the side of her neck and kissed her plump red lips. The starlet kissed her back with heated desperation and Layla retracted with a smile, exposing the sharp ends of her canines. Gisela pushed her hand between her thighs and groaned as she began to pleasure herself. Layla could feel Bathilde's discomfort, but she chose to ignore it this time and laughed.

Valerian growled and pulled Bathilde into him, his teeth extended and ripped into the beating vein on her neck. Her eyes bulged, her mouth opened but when she tried to scream, nothing came out. He drained her in seconds and swiftly snapped her neck. The girl's body slumped next to his and he brushed her off. He was not smiling and looked far from amused as he stared down at Layla.

“Drink and be done with her.” He barked his order at her.

“No.” Layla ran her hand down the length of Gisela's body who had been too distracted with her own ecstasy to see the gruesome scene before her.

“You defy me girl. I wouldn't recommend it,” Valerian said, his teeth dropped further and the black veins of the veil bubbled over his skin.

Layla groaned and pressed Gisela's head to the side. Her long neck, as smooth as her dress, spoke to her and then the hunger broke all else. Layla let her teeth fall but when she reached for the begging flesh, she stopped. She pulled Gisela's hand away from the lace undergarment and bent. Her teeth grazed her inner thigh and when Gisela let out a groan, Layla bit. The blood rushed into her mouth and she heard every last dying thought as she filled her own need.

Gisela had been thinking of only Layla and that made her smile.

Her body collapsed and Layla came back up, wiping the blood from her mouth. Valerian didn't relax and he waited for her to kill the girl, properly.

“She is not marked,” he said and Layla giggled behind a cupped hand as if she were twelve. “Think, stupid girl.”

“I am not a child.” Layla hissed, the veil bringing out the veins in her own skin. “She'd make a wonderful Rogue, don't you think?”

“No, she wouldn't.” Valerian took Gisela's arms, just as her veins hardened and her eyes began to twitch. She was going into transition. Layla slid along the booth and Gisela woke with a start, her heart beating back to life. Her eyes were black with the veil.

“Wo bin ich? Was ist passiert?” she asked and turned to Layla. “Layla, what is happening to me?” Her stomach growled and it crippled and she doubled over in pain. Valerian's jaw clenched and his silver eyes sparkled.

“Layla.” He ground his teeth.

“Fine.” Gisela's hand searched for Layla's but she threw her fist into the girl's chest. Her fingers pushed through the skin and tore through it with ease. Gisela gasped, unable to withstand the pain. Layla pulled back, the still beating muscle crushed in her hands as she squeezed the blood from the valves. Gisela's body slipped to the ground and Layla dropped her heart as if it meant nothing to her, licking the thick life source of a once beautiful mortal.

“You always know how to ruin my fun, old man.” Her voice was as cold as ice.

In the end, none of it mattered. After almost sixty years of searching, Layla was finally going to get what she always wanted. A companion, bound by a connection no other could compare to. Her Familiar.

TO BE CONTINUED...