Worse Than His Bite

Chapter 13: His return

The fang bit into his palm as he held it. A red trail of blood dripped down Phineas' hand and stained what had once been the pristine white of the tooth.

He did not flinch as it cut him, he didn't shout out in pain or drop the dang in shock. Instead he continued to hold it where it was. The sharp glint of the razor like point sinking into the soft skin of his palm. He watched with a morbid curiosity the ease in which the fang did so. Like cutting butter with a steak knife. His blood staining the pale white, dirtying it's purity with colour. What animal— what thing could possibly have a tooth like that? He didn't want to meet that creature. The thought that the two of them might be on the same island as each other, trapped together in their prison surrounded by the sea made him feel... he couldn't say for sure. Morbidly curious? Scared? Excited to find something of interest?

What kind of creature was it though? A predator, no doubt. Carnivorous most definitely, omnivores and herbivores tended to have flatter teeth, less of a need for brutal tearing.

He turned it, admiring the terrifying shine of it from every angle the light would hit. Was it strange to call such a monstrous thing beautiful? It was in perfect preservation, as sharp and thick as if it had only been in the ground for a few years. The root of the fang was cracked and broken as if torn out instead of naturally coming loose. Definitely not the ancient Celtic object the company was looking for. Did that mean he didn't have to report it? Could he keep it for himself? He wasn't sure why he wanted it but to let such a wonder go to a corporation that wouldn't care felt like such a waste.

"Phin?"

He stuffed the fang into his pocket, almost slicing his own finger off with it in his hurry.

"Is something the matter, Leo?" He acted innocent.

Leo rolled his eyes. The wind tussled his golden hair and the overcast sun — as was often the state of the sun in Scotland — cast long shadows over his face that accentuated the sharpness of his cheekbones and angular nose. That ugly patchwork coat flickered around his body, patches looked as if they threatened to fly away but held fast to the stitching. Gulls cawed above his head and swirled around in the grey sky, some brave enough to fly further out above the churning sea.

"Is something the matter." He mocked. "I took you out into town for lunch and to show the locals were not some weirdos holed up in the woods, and here you are sitting on a bench facing a kid's park. Way to prove we're not a bunch of freaks."

Phineas hadn't noticed the park in front of him. There were only two children and they weren't particularly noisy. It was a rudimentary park, bare necessities to call it so. A swing-set, a slide and monkey bars. That was all and the children seemed happy enough with that. It was near the beach as well which was probably more enjoyable in the summer. Did Scotland have summers? He had not chosen the bench for the scenery, but for the fact that Leo walked quickly and it was tiring to follow him.

"Did you want to get lunch somewhere?" Phineas asked.

"Yeah. I'm fucking starving."

Phineas punched his arm. "Don't swear, there are children nearby. What if they hear you?"

Leo groaned and walked off. He was so moody.

When Leo was some distance off, he pulled out his prized fang again. He admired it one last time, taking the time to clean it off blood. Only then did he realise the pickle he'd gotten himself into. His hand still bled. Big dark pearls welling from his hand slipping into his palm. He searched his bag and pockets for something to ease it but found nothing that could be of any use.

"You need it?" A small voice came.

A little girl, hair plated down her back and cheeks rosey with play held her hand out to him.