Chapter 27. A Bite

Jules glared at the vial in his hand. The cold glass felt as hot as fire, and the blackish-red liquid inside glinted under the warm light of the hearth, almost as if taunting him. The urge to smash it welled in his heart, but he knew better than to cave in. Whether he liked it or not, the only way to wake Cains from his slumber was to feed him lamia blood. It was the only antidote known to work against lamia venom—if anything, lamia blood was considered a cure-all for most poison. Jules was well aware of this, but bringing himself to feed lamia blood to Cains wasn't something easy to do. There was no such thing as a free lunch, and the side effects of this "cure-all" were loathsome, even more so for witches.

"What are you waiting for?" The voice resounded like thunder in the quiet room. It was soft, almost tender, but there was no mistaking the viciousness hidden underneath the gentle tone. "We were kind enough to give you some of our blood, so don't let it go to waste, will you?"

'Kind enough, huh?' Jules silently repeated, glancing at the two identical holes on Cains's neck near the Adam's apple. Threads of dried blood trailed to his collar, staining the white fabric with brownish-red spots. The witch had most likely been attacked from the front, whereas he was probably attacked from behind. When Jules rubbed the area between his neck and shoulder earlier, he'd felt tiny wounds on his right trapezius. His memory was still blurry, but he could get the gist of what happened—they had been bitten. As for the drunkard's fate, he didn't want to think about it. He didn't have the luxury to, anyway.

"For how much longer are you going to delay?"

The question stung, and bile rose in his throat. Still, Jules shifted back his attention to the vial. He didn't have much of a choice here, did he?

"Kid, we don't have all day."

"It's either you wake him up, or we start to devour him in his sleep. Your call."

The words were like a cold shower. Jules had no doubt the lamia would follow through on his threat, so he crawled closer to Cains. He rolled him on his side and brought the vial to his lips, dribbling drops of blood into his mouth. Thankfully, the slumber hadn't robbed him of his gag reflex yet. Thus, Jules got to the task at hand. He poured less than a quarter teaspoon at a time and waited for Cains to reflexively swallow the liquid before continuing. Any larger quantity risked drowning the witch, so Jules could only take it slowly.

"I thought you'd feed it to him mouth to mouth. I'm disappointed."

'…They only pull that shit in movies!' the thought crossed his mind, but Jules said nothing. He pretended not to feel the amused gaze on his back and focused his attention on Cains instead. Why was it taking so long? His heart was about to leap out of his chest when the witch's eyelids finally twitched, though the fear only abated after he heard Cains grunt something about having the headache of the century. Yeah, he could relate to that.

"Cains?" Jules tentatively asked.

"Holy cow, Jules! Don't speak! My head is about to explode."

"Trust me, your headache is the least of our problems."

"…?"

Cains forcefully peeled his eyelids open, frowning at Jules. But Jules didn't explain further and moved to the side, allowing the witch to catch a glimpse of the lamia slouched on the sofa. The demon lay on his stomach, chin propped on his crossed arms. His golden eyes flickered with greed as their eyes met, sending a shiver crawling down the witch's spine. Cains couldn't help but avert his eyes, and his gaze landed on the tail. It was too long to fit on the sofa and thus fell on the floor, curled around the couch. Oh, good Lord, it was packed with muscles.

"There's another one behind you," Jules warned.

The teenager's body seemed to jolt at those words, almost as if he had been struck by lightning. He gulped before peering over his shoulder. He then saw a scene that mirrored what he'd woken up to. What differed was that the lamia propped himself up on his elbows, his chin resting on his hands instead of his arms.

"What the actual f—"

"Good to see you awake," the lamia interrupted with a smile. "Be a good boy and keep the obscene words to yourself, will you? If you don't, you will leave us with no choice but to bite you again. Only, I'm not sure your body can handle a second shot of our venom at the moment, and I fear you'll end up brain-dead. So, how about watching your tongue a little? My brother and I have delicate ears, you see?"

Cains's face paled, drained from its color. He touched his injured neck with a trembling hand, feeling up the tiny wounds. His breathing grew labored, the air knocked out of his lungs as reality crashed in. He was whiter than a sheet by the time he noticed the empty vial in Jules's hand. No, dear Lord, no! Everything but that!

"Did you feed me lamia blood…?" Cains asked, his voice breaking mid-sentence. Silence was his answer. "Jules, did you feed me lamia blood?! Yes or no!"

"What else was I supposed to do?" Jules said in a whisper. "Or what? Would you have rather been plunged into a slumber forever or better yet, eaten in your sleep?"

"Honestly, yes!"

A wry laugh followed, sounding desperate. Jules opened his mouth, but no words came out. He had no right to say anything. Deep down, he knew Cains would have rather died than drink lamia blood, yet he hadn't been able to accept it. He couldn't bring himself to sit back and watch the lamias feast on his colleague's flesh. So, instead, he doomed Cains to a life of servitude and one devoid of witchery.

Now that lamia blood had entered Cains's body, witchcraft was a thing of the past. The side effects would start to show up in an hour or so. Once the lamia blood had finished spreading in the teenager's body and dissolving the toxin, it'd anchor itself in every fiber of his being. And then, never again could Cains wield the power of witchcraft, which took roots in a witch's blood. A witch's body was free of impurity and held a fearsome power, but it was as good as useless if corrupted. It'd still be sought after because the organs were beneficial to others, and the witch, though disabled, would still have to watch their back at every time of the day. However, they couldn't defend themself and could only flee. Witches whose bodies had been polluted lived an endless hell. That was what Jules had condemned Cains to.

"So, which one of you is the witch?"

The sudden question took Jules aback. It felt like someone rubbed salt in the wound and twisted the knife. But after the guilt abated, realization struck him. He finally understood why the lamias had thrown caution to the wind to put their hands on them. They knew a witch was among the two teen hunters sent to catch them. Not only had someone tattled about his mother's identity, but they had also told them about the presence of a young and inexperienced witch. Old witches like Greg were frightening opponents, and supernatural beings and hunters alike avoided them. Teen witches, however, were the perfect prey. Rumors had it that their flesh was even tender, tastier, and easier to digest than old witches', making them a delicacy sought after by many—no need to be a genius to know what awaited Cains.

'What a mess,' Jules thought, unsure what to do now. The only saving grace was that the lamias didn't know who his father was. Heck, Jules could count on one hand the number of people who knew the truth. It was a well-kept secret his father had brought to the grave; therefore, the lamias shouldn't know his lineage. Perhaps he could use that.

"Not answering won't save you," the lamia insisted. "We'll find out, eventually. But I fear our methods to figure it out won't please you."

"I'm the witch," Jules said, startling Cains. "What do you want?"

"Oh, are you now?"

The lamia smirked and slithered to Jules, eying the pale-faced Cains in passing. His twin stayed still on the sofa and watched as his brother gripped Jules's wrist, pulling it to his mouth. His fangs brushed against his skin as he asked, "Then you won't mind if I take a bite? Just to be sure."

"Not at all; go ahead."

"Jules…?"

Cains's voice was small, barely audible. To the pleading tone, Jules responded with a comforting smile. But his face was soon distorted by pain. The lamia had sunk his teeth deep into his flesh, down to the bones. He took a bite that left a gaping hole in Jules's forearm. Blood flowed out, dripping to his fingers and splattering onto the rug. Yet, the teenager barely glanced at the wound and instead scrutinized the lamia, watching every change in his expression. Oh my, it was a sight to behold. Jules almost couldn't help but laugh.

Shock flashed across the lamia's face as he forgot to chew, his mouth hanging agape and his eyes about to fall off their sockets. He stared at the teenager in disbelief, unable to utter a single word. Silence thus befell the room until Jules let out a self-mocking chuckle. The sorrow in his voice was striking as he grinned, "I wonder if you can ever feed on someone other than me now."

The lamia swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He brushed his fingertips against his bloody lips before laughing, "Quite frankly, I don't think I can."

Jules responded with a sneer. Even if he was only half-angel, he had a hunch his flesh was like a highly addictive drug to this sort of scavenging demon. It wasn't enough to drive the lamia crazy, but he was ready to bet his head that he had never tasted such delicious "meat" before. On that note, his flesh also carried a bountiful amount of spiritual energy. He was simply the perfect meal, delightful and nutritive. A witch's organs were less appealing than his, so maybe he could bargain for Cains's life with a bit of luck.

"With one little bite, I feel fuller than I have ever felt before," the lamia thought aloud. He gestured for his twin to stay still, then sized up Jules as if seeing him for the first time. "What on earth are you?"

"One hell of an unlucky lad, I'd say."

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Edited by Clozed!! ♥

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