Chapter 3
THE POISONER
Present Day
Buffalo, New York
The darkness called me in the form of clicking.
My body is bare in a never-ending landscape.
Snap snap.
Something like the snapping of jaws, an eager hound, sounded around me in short spurts.
A snap to my left, more snapping to my right, then a nip at my heel.
I stumbled forward, but nothing was behind me.
A nip at my calf, then behind. I jolted forward, walking away from whatever it might be, just to feel it again, more forceful this time, at my heels and at the back of my shoulder.
I spun around to see a dark figure looming, dripping the same blood that stretched across the dark expanse.
A hand reached out and I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, with the wild rush of hope for freedom, only to be yanked so forcefully my chest landed on the ground. I couldn’t breathe, and the feeling of teeth clamping down on my neck robbed me of any hope.
Despite the terror, the draining feeling was replaced by a slow resurfacing of consciousness. The wet stains on the ceiling came into view in all their brown and gray glory. There were about thirty seconds of peace, a sense of relief returning before the throbbing set in.
I peeled my back from the floor, drenched in a cold sweat that made my nightgown cling and leave indentations on my skin.
The sun crept across the floor and up the wall, awakening the dust that fluttered to life as I rose to my feet.
The subtle crack of the steps on my descent to the ground floor were no interruption to the lively scene. The hum of chatter and the soft crackle of the fire tickled my ears before I caught the scent of freshly cooked porridge, coffee, and biscuits.
In the living room is where we mostly gathered, cozied up to the fireplace. Phoebe was chatting as she plucked berries from a bowl, popping them in her mouth and washing them down with unsweetened tea.
Adeline and Rebecca sat across from her on the opposite sofa, listening intently to whatever tale Phoebe was embellishing.
Adeline was picking at a pastry aimlessly as Rebecca’s arm draped across the back of the couch behind her, fiddling mindlessly with the lace of Adeline’s tea gown sleeve.
Sometimes I found myself jealous of their companionship.
The way Rebecca looked only at Adeline as they conversed.
Rebecca’s harsh brown eyes softened at the sight of her, a lingering of sorts.
Not of hunger, but in a way where Adeline’s words were hypnotic, making Rebecca unable or unwilling to focus on much else.
Mary claimed the corner, lost in focus as she embroidered pink silk fabric. The quality of the silk meant we must have done well with our endeavors recently. I admired her work ethic. It took dedication and discipline to work on your rest days.
Cordelia was next to Phoebe, nose buried in a book, though she would give an inattentive nod when Phoebe said something exceptionally agreeable or funny.
My stomach lurched, a rolling rumble reminding me of my more human needs.
“Alina!” A squeak came from the living room, followed by the soft clatter of a teacup.
I hadn’t even taken a few steps toward the kitchen before she was out of her seat and by my side.
“You’re . . . wet.” Phoebe’s smile pressed into a thin line as she gingerly held my arm. “Let me bring you breakfast.”
“Bad dream,” I mumbled, suddenly all too aware of the perspiration. “I can serve myself.”
“I’ll do it!” She pulled me along to the kitchen. The small oven hadn’t cooled down yet, acting as a second furnace to battle the chilly environment beyond the walls. “How did you sleep? I didn’t want to wake you since you rarely sleep in.”
“Like any other night.” I leaned against the table, a sullen slouch to my shoulders.
Phoebe paused mid-pour with the spoon, squinting at me. “Should I have . . . ?”
“No, no . . .”
“You smell anxious.”
“Stop doing that.”
“I’m not doing anything!” she huffed, sliding the bowl of porridge to me across the table.
The bowl hit my hand, warm to the touch. “Stop trying to scent me. I just had a nightmare, is all.”
“Fine! I was just trying to be helpful.” She plopped down on the stool and stared between me and the bowl. An awkward silence loomed between us, and by how she picked at her nails, another question was inevitable. “What was your dream about?”
I glared at her in warning, taking a bite of my food.
“I’m just curious!”
“You are nosy.”
“Yes, I am so horrible for my extraordinary empathy.” She tossed her hands up before crossing them.
“Dogs” is all I said.
Her frown twisted into a sneer of defeat, biting her cheek. After another silence, “Was it a small dog or a large—”
“Phoebe!” I laughed, gesturing as if I were about to throw my spoon at her.
The banter was promptly interrupted by the chiming of the doorbell.
I wiped my mouth with my sleeve, then my hands on my skirt. Hastily tucking my hair back into something manageable, I rushed to the door.
Peeping through the viewfinder of the door, I squinted at the early-morning visitor. There was a man, dark-haired with creeping grays around the forelock. His tired expression shifted when I opened the door, a slight smile and a softening of the eyes settling.
“You’re early.” I opened the door wider, beckoning him inside.
“I said early; I’m here early,” he grunted as he picked up his box of tools before stepping through the entryway.
“Is that John?” Phoebe shouted from the kitchen.
There was a chorus of greetings from the living room upon hearing the name.
“You can borrow him after!” I gestured for him to follow me to the second floor.
In the middle of the hallway, I reached for the rope for the attic door. A ladder unfolded as I pulled the cord. The creak of the old, dry wood invited us to the darkness above.
The attic was shallow, and I had to lean down whenever I was up there.
I could only stand with poor posture under the gable and that was it.
The space was stuffy and humble, with a simple chair and a circular window facing the front of the house.
A few clothing lines strung like a web with our laundry sulking in the torrid air.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Here.” I pointed at a spot on the ceiling, a deep stain above an overflowing bucket. “Can you patch it?”
John tilted his head, touching the wet wood. “You need to replace the roof.”
“Well, how long does that take? We can go up there now.”
“It’s covered in snow and ice; we will likely have to wait until it melts.”
“Then what do we do about the leak?”
“Get a bigger bucket.”
My head fell back, and I let out a groan.
“It’s just a small leak,” he laughed. “Just be grateful it held up this long. It’s not like you bought this place in pristine condition.”
“I know, just another thing for me to do that can’t be done yet.” I rubbed the back of my neck, tapping the bucket with my slipper.
“Patience is a virtue.” His tone was full of humor. “But not often paired well with tenacity.”
“I am patient!” I rolled my eyes. “It just never feels like I am able to rest until everything is perfect.”
“Then you may wander a lifetime unsatisfied.” He patted my shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “I’ll fix it in early spring. Should be able to replace the entirety of it if we get a week of nice weather.”
“You should show me how.” I squinted at the stain.
“It’s not safe; just let me do it.”
“No safer for you than for me.”
“I suppose,” he chuckled. “Someday you may not need me at all if I teach you all my tricks at once.”
“Oh stop it, don’t say it like that.” I turned into him and hugged, squeezing around his torso and resting my head on his shoulder. “We will always need you, Pops, even if we have to make up things for you to fix.”
“Well, I would sure hope you would. To keep my mind young, right?” His arms wrapped around my shoulders. “Don’t get all soft on me, Crow.”
A wave of relief washed over me. Like the weight and pressure of a hug was enough to make my coal of a mood into a diamond. He never broke our hugs until I did first. He was not a replacement for my father, but some days I wished he had been.