Cold Blooded

Was having a horde of snakes too out of the ordinary for an otherwise perfectly average woman? Beatrix often wondered this whenever she looked at the huge terrarium full of serpents. Her girlfriend had tucked it into a corner where it received all the light the snakes inside needed, but where it was also so out of the way that, despite its size, she often forgot that it was there. The only time it really caught her eye was in the morning; Beatrix was an elementary teacher, and woke up at an absurdly early time that was so instilled that she did so even on the weekend. The first thing she woke up to see was her girlfriend’s still slumbering face, and she’d lay there and admire how serene she looked in sleep. Lucie was always so tense when awake, she was never really relaxed. Beatrix would often playfully offer to give her a back rub, and come away worried over how many new knots had popped up.

Every morning, she’d take a moment to listen to Lucie’s peaceful breathing, and then she’d sit up to begin her day. And she’d catch sight of those snakes. Beatrix supposed it wasn’t too strange for a person to have a reptile for a pet, even if it was a snake, but where Lucie differed from all the rest was that she had chosen one of the most dangerous options available; a Boomslang, a breed of serpent whose venom could make a person bleed from every orifice. And she had not one but six of them to share their flat with. They curled around each other in the dirt and moss, twined around the branches of the miniature plants in their tank, and lifted their heads and long bodies to impossible heights as they inspected their confines, as if searching for a way out. They were constantly shifting ropes of green and red, of black and yellow and brown, and the scariest in Beatrix’s opinion, grey. They all had names, but they just blended together in her mind. The only one she would always remember was the grey female, Daeny (yes, named after Daenerys). She was the only one of the females able to produce fertile eggs in the tank, and though Lucie would always switch them out with fakes to avoid any baby Boomslangs slithering around, Daeny remained protective of her brood, and would stare through the glass at anyone who got too close. Since it was only ever Lucie and Beatrix in the bedroom, and all of them had been trained to recognize the former (something to do with the familiar scent of an owner, she recalled), this meant that the matriarchal serpent always looked at Beatrix as if she wanted to sink her fangs in.

Every morning she was given the same wriggling display, and she locked eyes with Daeny. She’d taken to giving the snake a small nod, as if to say, I will not touch your eggs, and you will not kill me. Not that Beatrix ever got close enough to touch the glass. All matters of maintenance and care were handled by her far braver girlfriend, and it was said girlfriend that caused Beatrix to question the existence of the serpents in their little life. As she was in love with Lucie, she would never even attempt to call her simple or ordinary, but that did not change the fact that she was, for lack of a better description, an average person. Bespeckled and brown-haired (though she dyed it that way), and from a small forgettably named village similar to East Tilbury. Lucie always assured her there was no reason to visit; it had all the same appeals as their current home (the quiet countryside being the only one), and she had no family, having been born an only child, and with parents who’d passed on in a car accident when she was eighteen.

Even her job as a farmer was run of the mill. Whilst her name wasn’t on any official forms for Tullott’s Farm, Lucie managed much of the business on top helping out with the day to day labor, in exchange for extra quid under the table. Between the quiet nights spent at home that they preferred and their modest living situation (unassuming apart from the posh security system Lucie insisted on), all that extra income went untouched. Whenever Beatrix asked why she worked so hard just for some extra padding to their savings account, her girlfriend would shrug it off and say, ‘Just in case.’

It was this lovely yet simple image of Lucie Cinira that made her choice in pets stand out so strongly to Beatrix, like a crack in a flawless stone. She thought about it every morning, before putting it to the back of her mind, and getting on with her day. She dressed, grabbed some cuppa to go, and with a quick peck to Lucie’s head, set off for the school.

Lucie huffed a sigh as she looked over the freshly tilled field, and the rows of brown that would, in a few months time, be filled with crops. Despite not having any experience or training recorded on her CV that would extend to all the new equipment or technology used in farming nowadays, to the surprise of her employers she had taken to them after only a day. Three years later, and the elderly couple that owned Tullott’s (the Tullotts) left her to her own devices whenever she came on the property, whether it be with their livestock, their crops, or the nursery that was erected at the edge of their property. They never went in there, and had no idea what flora had been cultivated behind the glass.

She wiped her palms clean on her jeans before reaching up to adjust her hat, blocking the sun’s rays from her eyes. She took another moment to admire the field, breathing in the fresh air that seemed to only exist out here in the country. Even though London was only about an hour away, it was like they were two different worlds, and East Tilbury was the one that Lucie had chosen; it was certainly more pleasurable compared to what waited for her in the city. She loosed her breath of that pure air, and began the walk back to the main house.

She liked her lunches on the Tullott’s porch, where she could eat whatever Beatrix left for her in the fridge (a cheese and onion sandwich today) and look out over the tranquil land. She could almost pretend that it was hers, not the farm, but this life. An idyllic little haven just for her and the woman she loved. Having to start from scratch had been hard, and it would take a while before anything like this would be possible for them, but Lucie would wait however long it took. For Beatrix.

Her reverie was broken when a speck of black coming down the road caught her eye. After a moment she realized that it was a car, compact, fast, and armored by the look of it. She had no actual idea who was driving it, and yet the sight of the automobile twisted her gut and shot a pang of panic through Lucie. She sprang up, the food in her hands falling away as she made for the front door and yanked open the door.

“Mrs. Tullott, just gonna pop off to the Nursery if you need me!” she called in, trying to make her voice sound more even.

“Alright luv, and stop in before you leave for the day, I’ve got a plate of biscuits for you and Beatrix.” With that Lucie raced off to the structure of opaque glass, and just made it inside before the car pulled up to the front of the house. She tucked herself into the small spot she had picked out in the Nursery exactly in case of a day like this, and pulled out her phone. She opened up the surveillance view of the cameras she had set up around the farm (that the Tullotts did not know about obviously), and saw a suspiciously familiar looking man walking up to the front door, which he rapped on three times. Mrs. Tullott poked her head out of the screen and started talking to him (the cameras didn’t have any audio, Lucie’s guy hadn’t been able to score her the good stuff), before pointing around the house at something the camera couldn’t see, but which Lucie knew was the Nursery. Just as she’d hoped.

She propped her phone up and watched the feeds of the three men walking to the Nursery, while her hands were busy grabbing the pieces she’d stowed under the floorboards, which were quickly being assembled into the shape of a gun. Lucie normally checked over all the gear she stashed (both at the farm and the flat) pretty regularly, but she hadn’t inspected this gun in a while, and really hoped that it hadn’t rusted through. Once constructed, and with her adversaries almost upon her, Lucie delicately scaled the wall of the Nursery via footholds hidden in the foliage, and perched above, waiting.

They entered, the blonde first, then the short bloke, and finally the one with the shades who had talked to Mrs. Tullott. Lucie gave them seven seconds to look around, during which she took a deep breath in. Then she leapt at them, and used her momentum to force Shades down. She rolled off him, and got off two shots at the other two (which they annoyingly dodged). Grabbing the rim of a nearby potted plant, she hurled it at Shorty, then dodged the punch thrown by Blondy. She knew their orders would be to keep her alive; what a shame that she didn’t have the same restrictions. Blondy swung his leg up in a kick which Lucie took to the side, allowing her to hold fast and pull him in close. Unbalanced, he crumpled to the ground sputtering when she aimed a fist at his throat, smashing in his windpipe.

A bit of movement in the corner of her caught her attention; Shades was getting back up. Well that wouldn’t do, so Lucie gave him her own kick, spinning in tight formation and raising her foot high to connect with his head. He went flying, and so did his sunnies into the corner of the Nursery.

A vase next to Lucie shattered, ceramic shards flying out as she spun to see Shorty with his pistol aloft. She grabbed one of the many new pottery shards he had created and hurled it at his face. When he raised his arm over his face to keep it from slashing open his eye, Lucie leaped at him, tackling him around the shoulders and bringing him to the ground with her own pistol thrust into his chest. Two quick squeezes later, and she was looking into empty eyes. A soft moan and rustling to the left and behind her indicated that Blondy was readying himself. She used Shorty as a launch pad, pushing off and pivoting so she was facing the fair-haired agent. He registered her a second later, and reached for his pistol. But not before she raised her own, and gave him a third eye.

She used the counter next to her to pull herself up, then walked over to where Shades was coming to (though the name didn’t make quite as much sense now that he was sans sunnies). Lucie kept the gun at her side as he raised his gaze to hers, at which he gave her a small smirk.

“Damn Gia, when in hell did you learn to do that? You couldn’t bloody do that the last I saw ya.”

‘Gia’ narrowed her eyes, and shoved the memory of the last time she had seen this arsehole to the back of her mind; she didn’t have time for flashbacks and regret. “I’ve been Lucie for the past four years, I’d appreciate it if you got it right.”

“I guess you’re right, ‘Gia and Beatrix, sittin’ in a tree’ just sounds awful.” Lucie felt her nostrils flare at the mention of her girlfriend, gripping the pistol’s, well, grip, like a vise. “Keep her name out of your gob.”

“Why? She’s an important part of what we’re going to discuss, especially why you need to thank me.”

“And why would I do so, you prat?”

“Well, the fact that I came here to collect you, and let someone a little softer meet with your lovely little miss.”

And at that Lucie did raise the pistol, and gave Shades a hole between his eyes; now he matched Blondy. She surveyed the Nursery, the bodies and blood, the broken parts, and the plants growing every which way; petunias, tomatoes, courgette, and the ones that she had moved in herself for experiments, hemlock, jimsonweed, belladonna. She needed to take a few promising cuttings, but everything else, especially the evidence of who had come for her, would have to burn.

“Fuck.”