Page 22 of Venom's Sting

When I’m fairly certain she’s cutting off his airway, he pulls back and looks up at her. “That’s enough hugging for one day, Maman.”

My flash of jealousy evaporates, and I can’t help but smile that he’s using the French word for mom. But then I do a double take, seeing them side-by-side I can see a slight resemblance, this woman is his actual mother. She’s so small and delicate compared to Ven. He’s easily three times her size and I can’t reconcile the fact that this endearingly sweet French woman gave birth to a big strapping biker like Ven.

Then everything starts clicking into place. Ven is short for Venom, and there’s the snake on the restaurant sign. I wonder if the family has a thing about serpents, there has got to be a story there. I don’t ask though. I wait for him to introduce us.

His mother is all doting smiles and petting his hair. “You came to see your mother today,mon petit Serp?”

“I came to get fed and I brought a friend.” Glancing at me, he says, “This my mom, Melusine.” Gesturing to me he tells his mother, “Maman, this is Amy.”

She glances at me, and her mouth falls open. “You have taken a lady friend and not told me?”

“No, Maman. She’s not my girlfriend. I’m just protecting her while we try to find her mother. We think she’s been abducted.”

The woman jerks to attention, as a multitude of expressions move across her face in rapid succession. Then she’s fawning on me too. “Oh, you poor girl. Was it them who hurt you? Your poor face looks like it hurts.”

“I’m fine, Melusine. My top priority is to find my mom,” I tell her.

“Don’t you worry. My boy will find your mother. Trust me on this,” she pats me on the shoulder and gives me a kindly smile, “And call me, Meli, everyone else does.”

She shouts at someone to bring food and drops down into the chair between us. The table is round, so Ven and I are sitting across from one another, and she’s on the outside, leaving the free chair behind the table. Ven’s mother is something else. She flips open a large white napkin and spreads it across her lap. Before I can get my head around what’s going on, a younger woman comes running out with a tray of croissants, fruit, and coffee.

I wonder for a moment if we’re eating the breakfast his mother had made for herself. The restaurant isn’t open after all. Or maybe this is what they were preparing for brunch?

Ven’s asks, “Did Barley chew up your mattress again?”

Meli gives him a slight nod as she makes her coffee. I follow suit, putting milk and sugar into mine, I notice the milk is warm and wonder if this is a French thing. His mother gestures to the carafe. “It is good, strong coffee, just like you love.”

When he starts pouring coffee into his cup, his mother uses little silver tongs to place a croissant on our plates and givesus each a small dish of fresh fruit. When it’s all done, she says, “Now, tell me everything. I do so love a mystery.”

Ven seems uncomfortable, like he’s about to tell her my life’s greatest trauma is not a mystery for her to logic her way through. But there’s something about the tone of her voice, a hardness that’s totally out of character with the rest of her personality. It alerts me that she means business, so I jump right in and give her the short version of the story, even how Ven had to save me from getting roughed up by the farmhands.

The more I tell her, the angrier she gets. I can tell she’s fuming because she stops eating and drinking her coffee.

Ven finally jumps into the conversation. “I tracked down those farmhands last night.”

“Please tell me you didn’t kill them,” I say before I think.

Both Ven and Meli turn to look at me with the same odd expression on their faces. Ven snorts a laugh. “No, but I wanted to in the worst fucking way. Rage and I gave them a little taste of what they’ve been dishing out and warned them that if I had to pay them another visit it would be castration time.”

Ven’s mother tosses him a disapproving look. “You wouldn’t!”

Ven raises his eyebrow, “I hope that scared them straight, because the thought of handing their junk makes me want to puke my spleen up.”

His mother looks at him over the rim of her cup and makes a tutting sound, before taking a sip of her coffee and murmurs, “No puking of spleens. There are much better ways to solve such problems. Permanent ways, like we have resorted to in the past.”I notice that her French accent diminishes a bit when she’s calm. It’s interesting how that works.

Just when my curiosity is on the upswing, he taps his lips for her to shut up talking about his personal business. Damn, so many secrets. I’m dying to uncover them all, but right now the priority is on finding my mom.

We’d not had much of a chance to talk since he returned, and I was curious what he had found out, “So, they didn’t say if my mom was at the farm or if my grandfather had moved her?”

“Not a word. I had a little talk with the youngest of the brothers and he claims they don’t tell him anything.”

“What brothers?” I ask.

Ven explains, “Remember how you told me that your grandfather has four farmhands that run together? The youngest one, Dan, admitted to me that they’re half-brothers. He said they’re all your grandfather’s but have different mothers. It’s the reason they don’t look a lot alike.”

“What? They’re my uncles?”

Ven nods.

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