The mundane part takes twenty minutes. Now comes the dangerous part.
I turn my attention to the supernatural ingredients sitting on the workstation – basilisk venom and vampire blood. These require extra care. The basilisk venom sits in a lead-lined vial which is thick and amber-colored. Even through the glass, I can feel the heat radiating from it. I use tongs to handle the container. This stuff can burn through skin in seconds.
I add the venom drop by drop, watching the solution react. It hisses and bubbles violently, and the color shifts from amber to deep crimson. The temperature spikes, and I adjust the heat,bringing it back down. Too hot, and the venom breaks down, too cool, and it won’t bond properly.
Garrett lights another cigarette. The smoke is getting thicker. I try to ignore it, but it’s getting difficult. Thanks to his nasty habit, it stinks in here.
Next comes the vampire blood. I retrieve it from the small, refrigerated unit, noting how dark it is, almost black and thicker than human blood. This has to be added at a precise temperature, or it will coagulate and ruin everything. I watch the thermometer carefully, waiting for the mixture to cool to the exact degree I need. When it hits the mark, I add the blood slowly while stirring. The mixture lightens and takes on a luminescent quality, glowing faintly in the beaker and pulsing with an inner light.
Garrett is watching me. I can feel his eyes on my back and on my hands, studying every movement I make.
Inside my head, Zeth growls low and dangerous.
“I’d love to gouge his eyes out.”
The thought sends warmth through my chest. He’s so protective he can’t stand the idea of another man looking at me. I force myself not to smile and keep working.
I bring the temperature back up gradually for the final bonding phase. The glow intensifies, then fades as the compounds fully integrate. I perform one last pH test, make a tiny adjustment, and finally remove the beaker from heat. The liquid is thick and syrupy now, and of a deep crimson color. I transfer it to a sterile container and place it in the refrigerator to chill and stabilize.
The whole process took an hour. My eyes are watering from the smoke. Garrett’s gone through at least six cigarettes, lighting each new one from the dying embers of the last. The small room is suffocating. I can barely breathe, and I know Zeth is struggling too. He doesn’t complain, but I feel his discomfort and distaste.
I check the watch they also provided while we wait for the mixture to chill. There’s nowhere to sit, so I stand near the workstation.
Garrett continues smoking and watching me. The golem and the undead guard remain at the exit, blocking any chance of escape. I use the time to observe details I’ll need for my report later: the layout of the space, the positions of the guards, the scar cutting through Garrett’s left cheek, and the way his eyes never leave me.
When enough time has passed, I retrieve the container from the refrigerator. The Crimson Haze is perfect now, thick and luminescent. I use a sterile syringe to fill six small vials, each one no bigger than a medicine bottle. I seal them carefully and line them up on the workstation, then step back and remove my gloves.
Garrett approaches and studies them. His expression shifts to disappointment.
“That’s it? Six vials? I expected more.”
“It’s a small batch but high quality. I don’t half-ass my work.” I cross my arms over my chest, taking a position of confidence. “The formula is concentrated, more potent than standard Crimson Haze. I’d rather take the time and produce a superior product than rush and make garbage. You should test it before you judge.”
Garrett raises an eyebrow, studying my face for signs of deception or nervousness. I hold his gaze. After a long moment, he gestures to the golem.
“Try it.”
The golem approaches, and there’s eagerness in the way he moves. I can tell from his body language he’s a user and desperate for a hit. Garrett hands him one of the vials, and the golem doesn’t hesitate. He uncaps it and drinks the contents inone swallow, then squeezes his eyes shut. His massive body goes rigid.
I watch, my heart pounding, hoping my formula worked the way it should.
Twenty seconds pass, and the golem’s eyes snap open. A grin spreads across his face.
“Strongest shit I’ve ever had,” he declares. “This is incredible.”
I turn to Garrett and allow myself a small, smug smile.
“Told you.”
Garrett claps his hands.
“You passed the test. Congratulations.”
But before I can respond, he snaps his fingers at both guards.
They move quickly, grab my arms and yank them behind my back. I try to pull away, but they’re too strong. The golem produces zip ties and secures my wrists, and the plastic cuts into my skin again. Honestly, when will this end? I’m not a fan of how they treat me. Of course, they pull the bag over my head, and I roll my eyes in the darkness.
I feel Zeth stir inside me, ready to pour his strength into my limbs and help me get free, but I send him a clear order.
