Chapter 5
THE POISONER
Present day
Buffalo, New York
“Your markings are so unique. I once shot a piebald fawn up north. If you ever find yourself in the city, I can show you the bust. I had it articulated.” The man grinned, puffing a fat cigar.
“How sweet of you to think of your prize when you see me.” I smoothed my fingers over his lapel. “What other things have you collected? I am so curious to know. You must be a very skilled hunter.”
I couldn’t bring myself to listen. I feared I would gag.
His mouth was moving, but I could not make out a single word.
I was eyeing the gold of his cuffs as his thick hand clutched his cigar.
His teeth were jagged and crooked, but his fangs were the same.
Somehow, even with the gift of looking youthful, this man got the short end of the stick genetically, years added from how poorly he took care of himself.
He was old, older than he put on. I could tell by the fangs.
They were thick and long, and there were compliments sprinkled throughout his speech that did not read as compliments anymore, at least not in the current year. A typical hog.
Clammy hands smoothed over the fabric of my dress, too thin of a barrier for my liking.
The dress was red—it always got their appetite going.
Blue was also a popular color, but more eye-catching than palatable.
This dress had a low, square neckline and stayed close to my figure until it draped past the slope of my hips.
Then it dragged down into a subtle train.
The shine of the fabric reflected an expensive sheen, even in light as dim as a candle.
I forgot what well-made fabric felt like until nights like these, as we had left most of our material belongings behind when we moved here.
One of the girls in our nest, Cordelia, was a dressmaker, though. She had fitted me with this one for hunting purposes.
There were about three known establishments in Buffalo.
They were like something between Nests and Dens, which was ideal if you did not have any family connections, as many had come here for a new life.
The downside was that they were creating classes of their own, and there weren’t many places to go for the civilized corrupted or Vipera without wealth.
These new American Nest-Den hybrids were like exclusive clubs, so we called them Guilds.
They blended well, as there were many clubs in this city for a variety of things, and it was all the rage.
Explorers Clubs, unionized organizations, and other things to pass the time.
The Guilds had dress codes, and some required entrance payment or monthly dues for Vipera.
They were not especially picky with Hosts, but they did favor the finer-looking women.
Payment went directly from the patron to the Host, so the Guild made their money from entry fees and substances.
My hunting ground was the Northern Guild, the least sophisticated of the three that were up and coming in the area. The girls and I were allowed to come free of charge, but surely these buffoons paid a handsome price just to get in through the door.
I wish I could say it was difficult, luring these creatures to their death, but it was easier than doing so to a regular man. These animals lunged at the sight of a plunging neckline and a pretty face. Simple creatures, simple vices.
This particular patron had been poking his nose around my Nest for some time. He often stalked outside the apothecary, the hospital, or our house. A detective. My fears had come true, but if dealt with swiftly, he wouldn’t get far with his investigation.
“Maybe—” I cut his blundering short, “you should show me your collection, rather than tell me?”
“We’re not supposed to—”
“What? Are you on the job?” I stared at the beads of sweat pearling at his temples.
He swallowed thickly and answered with a nervous laugh.
“Do you always listen to what other men tell you to do?”
He shifted in his seat, puffing his chest at the insinuation that he listened to anyone but himself.
Like I said, easy.
He stood, his sweaty hands fumbling with the buttons of his jacket before extending one out to me.
I smiled, possibly too wide, as I could feel my lips pull taut. We were almost done; this one would be the last for tonight.
“Let us use the other door.” I led him in the opposite direction, to the side entrance.
“We will have to go out front for the carriage—” he said as we stepped into the alleyway.
“No need; why don’t we wait here?” I held him closer by his coat collar.
The apples of his cheeks grew red; his eyes were glassy. I wouldn’t be surprised if when I opened him up, there was a surplus of fat around his heart and liver from overconsuming more than his fill of humans, even by Vipera standards.
Clang!
A metal rod clashed with the back of his head. He collapsed like a piece of cinder.
“What took you so long?”
“I went to the other alley first!” Edith clutched a crowbar. She was dressed in fitted men’s clothes, black from head to toe, even her head covering. We had a strict uniform for when we hunted, the dark clothing hiding us better in the night and obscuring our features.
“Is Horse out front?” I wiped my palms on the dress.
“Yes, at the end of the alleyway.”
It was quite a chore getting him up the stairs to the lab.
It was more of a workout than usual, so Rebecca and Adeline rushed downstairs to help.
When we all made it to the second floor, we rested before we had to process the four naked men slumped against the walls, bound with their arms behind them and their ankles together.
I changed out of my dress and into our uniform—fitted men’s trousers with a shirt.
Everything was tucked neatly. The pants were tucked into boots, the shirt was tucked into the trousers, and my hair was in a neat pleat held back by a wool scarf.
All black, of course. There was no use wearing any other color if you planned on making a mess.
“Did they give you much trouble?” I asked as I reentered the room.
“No trouble, they actually walked themselves up the stairs,” Rebecca laughed.
“So gullible. We told them they could have us both at once; it worked all three times.” Adeline shook her head.
“What are we doing with them tonight?” Phoebe asked, tapping her foot impatiently as she glanced between us and the unconscious Vipera.
“Tonight is venom; others will come later if any of you get tired.” I grabbed a wooden wedge block and my axe, placing them on the center table. “You are free to leave now, Phoebe, if you are going to get squeamish.”
“I-I’m not!” She crossed her arms. “I’ll be perfectly fine spectating.”
“If you say so.” I picked up my satchel, pouring the contents onto the table. There were a few glass bottles that rolled across the table, as well as a roll of gauze, needles, miscellaneous blades, and then a spare tourniquet.
Along the walls were containers organized by trinket. A stiff hat case of Vipera teeth, as they made great buttons, beads, and clasps when carved. A trunk of spectacles, to be resold or used for scraps. A chest of flasks, keys, belt buckles, yet to be melted down or separated by metal for John.
“Do we start extracting now?” Rebecca inspected the bottles.
“No, we must do one thing first. I’ve tweaked the procedure.” I picked up the wooden wedge block and the axe. “Rebecca, come here,” I instructed.
Rebecca was a butcher’s daughter, and her arms were strong. She had almost the equivalent of a farmer’s strength from the years she spent helping her father, which was useful for our hunting nights.
Tonight, I was trying something new in the name of efficiency.
“Hold his head back, by his hair, at the top preferably, so your hands are not in the way.” I turned my attention to the first man in line.
Rebecca lifted the first man’s head, his mouth drooping lazily as he was unconscious.
“Right there,” I praised, taking the wedge-shaped block and placing it in his mouth, making him open his jaw wider to hold it. He started to wake up, his eyes darting wildly around. “Keep his head still.” I backed up slightly.
I flipped the axe in my hands, the blunt side facing forward.
He let out a squeal, looking up at Rebecca pleadingly.
“Don’t look at her,” I demanded. “Look at me.”
With one swing, the blunt end of my axe smacked the wide end of the block, wedging the man’s mouth open and detaching his jaw with a crack.
He drooled as he screamed, sobbing when we removed the block.
On to the next one.
Crack!
The next one.
Crack!
Then we stood before our detective. His head wobbled in a daze, seemingly unaware of the suffering of his peers. His own snoring woke him, finally.
“Good morning,” I purred, crouching down in front of him, my axe balanced across my knees. “How pleasant of you to join us.”
“What . . . is this?” He groaned, feeling the pain from Edith’s blow to the back of his head, no doubt.
“Retribution.” I was unable to hide my grin as I watched him come to consciousness.
“You . . . You’re the . . . he warned us about you,” he gasped in pain.
I raised my brow at him, my smile falling before glancing at Rebecca.
She only lifted a shoulder, just as unsure of his words as I was.
“And what, pray tell, are they warning you about?”
“A black widow . . .” he breathed, his concussion making it hard for him to keep his eyes on me or his head lifted. “A poisoner.”
I grabbed his jaw, nails digging into his cheeks when I yanked it up.
“Speak clearly,” I demanded.
“Your experiments . . .” He panted like he was overheating. “Your victims are strictly Vipera.”
“Subjects,” I corrected.
“I told you we shouldn’t have dumped the bodies in the river last week,” Phoebe hissed from behind me. “Burning is the only way.”