Page 85 of The Cannibal

I closed my eyes, imagining John’s arm again.

Nothing stirred within me.

My patience wasn’t strong enough to try to think of anything more appetizing, so I used my tongue to push the fang from the roof of my mouth and fold it forward. The mechanics were just as simple as a tree boa’s teeth. An uncomplicated feature that needed no adaptation after all these years.

It was tricky keeping it forward, as it tried to spring back into my mouth as if it knew there was nothing appetizing waiting.

My tongue pressed hard against the root, hyperextending to make sure I could find the small opening of the tube.

The tip dragged against the fabric. My fingers pinched tight to keep the surface taut. Then finally, I pushed the tube up into my tooth, releasing my tongue to make room for the glass.

My gums stung when the cloth slipped up the shaft of the fang, rubbing against the gums and the glands behind the tooth. Pressure released from my sinuses, like a stuffy nose that finally drained. I pushed up again and the pressure was even lighter, until there was no change.

When I pulled the tube from my mouth, I almost didn’t see it.

The liquid was so clear it may as well have been water.

Even when I never expected experiments to be predictable, this was the most disappointing outcome. I placed the . . . venom next to the others, if that’s what it even was. Perhaps I didn’t make any venom yet. Lack of proper nutrition could be the cause, or my Viperic age, just like my new cycle.

A light rasp at the door. Luka poked his head in, then encroached on my laboratory anyway when he saw I was present.

“Come for a donation?” I wagged a clean tube in the air, then rolled it across the table toward him.

“If you don’t mind its lack of usefulness.” He shrugged, grabbing one of the torn cloths as he stepped next to me to inspect my progress. “Is that the control group?” He pointed to my vial.

“No,” I said, more defensively than intended.

He leaned down to look closely at the samples. “Is it water?”

“No.”

“Spit?”

“Just give your sample and go.”

Luka let out a slow whistle as he stood straight. “Who had the honor of putting you in such a mood?”

I slapped my journal open, jotting down the visual observations for the samples I had so far.

“Wait,” Luka laughed, “is that one yours?”

“Actually, I don’t need your sample.” I snatched the vial from his hand.

“How did Silas describe it?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Impotent?”

“Give me your hand and I’ll show you impotent.”

“Give it a go.” He held his hand out, as if to shake mine. His palm tipped to me, veins of his forearm prominent. Enough to at least entice my more carnal instinct, which was miraculously functional despite my best efforts to stimulate them from memory.

“It won’t work.” He smirked.

“Why not?”

“Venomous snakes have antibodies that make them immune to their own venom,” he explained. “Vipera are no different.”

“So you never feel anything?”

“You can feel it a little, but no more than if you rubbed cocaine on a wound.” He glanced down at his hand, wondering if I’d take it at all.