Page 75 of Hellbound

She tied it around her shoulder, slowing the venom’s spread into the rest of her body. Half of the champions were at a loss for what to do and hastily mirrored her actions.

However, none of their activities and ingredients would have any bearing on one another.

Next to her, Vuk was becoming red as a lobster as he sweated profusely and flipped through the book. He gathered the delicate vials from the shelves in front of him and cursed when one slipped from his slick fingers, crashing onto the table into a powdery mess.

Ksenia mentally isolated potential venoms and concentrated on formulating a base solution that most anti-venoms began with. She cracked open the book before her, but her vision alternated between narrowed and too wide, her head throbbing with pain. She felt increasingly confident of her path, but less confident of her ability to execute.

With every passing second, she became more envenomed and unable to perform basic tasks.

A delicate pipette was poised between her thumb and forefinger. A spasm of pain sent extra droplets into her beaker than she intended.

Shit.

She couldn’t afford to stop. Her coherence was diminishing rapidly.

Tremors racked her body, her fingers dusting the table with her spoonful of blue powder, completely missing the beaker. Her opposite hand gripped the table till her knuckles turned ghostly, and she willed herself to find stability.

Vuk had long passed out and was now face down on his table, his body steaming.

On her other side, a man retched the contents of his lunch onto his own feet before collapsing.

Not good. The venom’s full effects were likely taking hold.

Ksenia couldn’t keep her head straight. Losing track of her thoughts, she struggled to remember whether the final ingredient had already made it in. Or was it yet to come?

Her mouth grew paper dry as the chill set into the muscles of her diaphragm and throat, restricting her ability to breathe. Her vision wavered like heat shimmering before a furnace, the edges blurring and doubling.

Without a second thought, she poured the mixture into the stopper of a syringe and drove it toward the soft flesh of her thigh.

The needle pricked her skin, a bead of blood rising to the surface.

She stopped, sweat dotting her lip.

Her heavy eyes snapped back into sharp, almost painful focus on a pair of green eyes staring back at her, and the chaos of the room slipped away, just out of her grasp. Slowly, Bohdan raised his thumb and middle fingers. His other index finger curved, then struck the nonexistent object in sharp, rhythmic flicks. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Each movement was precise despite having nothing to strike against.

What…what was—

Her eyes widened, and she mirrored his actions. She brought the shaking syringe upright and tapped her nail against it to release the air bubbles.

A wave of vertigo crashed through her skull, and her depth perception abandoned her entirely as she struggled to position the needle over her thigh once more.

With a tremor, she drove it into her flesh with a broken moan, pushing the plunger down before crashing to the floor.

Ksenia sucked in a shaky, ragged breath. Her lungs felt like ice shards had crystallized within, and each inhale came with stabbing pain. She doubled over with a wince.

An inquisitive face with worried brown eyes peered over her. Petra’s curly braid, dressed with a gray ribbon, fell over her slim shoulders and tickled Ksenia’s nose.

A small, damp cloth was pressed against Ksenia’s forehead. Petra held it there with both hands, her tiny brow furrowed.

“You were making scary sounds,” her voice hushed.

Ksenia stifled her cough, her voice hoarse. “That was just snoring.”

Petra’s lip wobbled between a pout and a smile, still holding the cloth.

The world felt disconnected from her body, fever-dreamy. Like she was watching herself wade through syrup as she pushed herself to sit up.