Chapter 30
THE POISONER
“What is this?” I had to strain my neck to witness the grand tenement building in front of me, five stories at least. He had made me walk all the way down near the park for this.
It was a tall, stable brick building. Sturdy and more utilitarian than aesthetic. Even if it were unsightly, though, it seemed solid . . . safe.
The town around us was dark and overwhelmingly uneasy. Towns were not meant to be seen so still. It was a place people should be, that life should be. It was an evolutionary trait to dread such a place, so out of character and time. Like a silent forest at the sun’s peak.
“Come.” He nudged me with a gesture, unlocking the front door at the top of the steps, though he had to jolt it with his shoulder to unstick the stubborn door.
The building was a bit run-down and in need of cleaning.
A long, skinny hallway led from the front door to the large foyer, with rooms lining the first floor.
A grand staircase was poised in the middle, leading up to the other floors.
The wood of the stairs in the middle were scratched and worn from use.
There was a deeper color in the middle, as if a carpet runner had protected it for many years.
Along the sides were doors to flats, some missing their numbers.
It smelled like mildew and dust, though I am sure the nippy air was hiding other scents that had yet to be discovered.
Even though it lacked beauty, you could trust the floorboards were thick and sturdy, the walls decently insulated and dry, the bricks tight, and the roof reliable.
“What did you want to show me?” I turned to Silas, who stood in the entryway of the hall, inspecting the disrepair.
“You asked what I wanted from you.” He returned his eyes to mine. “I know you think I want to ruin you, but I think we could be . . . What was it you said all those years ago? We could be mutually beneficial?”
“How does this benefit me?”
He glanced around us, holding his arms out and gesturing in the air. “Have you not outgrown the rooms you share with over a dozen women?”
“I asked you what you wanted from me.”
“I am telling you.” He closed the gap between us. “Did you not ask me to take care of your Nest as one of your terms?”
“I only just added the term.” I blinked at him, looking to my side to stare at the building before glancing up at him.
“I don’t need a fortune teller to anticipate what you would ask of me,” he laughed. “I acquired it as soon as I learned you kept . . . company.”
“Are you telling me you bought me property?”
“Do you like it?”
“I might.”
“Then yes, I did.” He grinned.
“Why would you do that?”
“Well, you can’t do your work in that shack anymore.”
“You are not making a joke out of me when you say that?”
“No, I mean it.” He nodded. “I told you I would support your endeavors.”
I turned from him, following the dirty tile pattern on the floor until I got to the stairs, touching the banister. “It is mine?” I glanced back at him as if to check to be sure.
“Yours.” He chuckled, approaching and taking my hand to lead me up the stairs. “I can buy another if you hate it, but I thought of you when I saw this.”
“Now that must be a joke.”
“Not intended! You’ll see why.” He gestured for me to follow.
We ascended the staircases, one after the other, until we got to the top-floor flat. Upon entry, it was no more than an empty room. The woodwork was nice and the windows were large, but what caught my eye was on the other side of the large main room.
Light poured into the space, more than the others.
The room opened up to a glass observatory, a simple square of glass with a curved top.
The front corner held a semicircular glass pattern that reminded me of a rising sun.
One of the window panels was left open, and some crusted leaves were left in the corner with a broom.
No matter how dirty it was, I could imagine setting up a couch and rug, plants littering the space. I imagine the morning light would be beautiful from up here, and in the afternoon, unobstructed views of the sunset from above the park.
Silas was already staring by the time I looked back at him. He lurked in the shadows, only approaching when I acknowledged him, as if he was giving room for my imagination to breathe.
While his eyes always represented something dangerous, they always managed to be so gentle when they dared to look my way.
“You did this for me?”
They drew me in like a crow to something shiny, abandoning my resolve for the overwhelming need to possess. His leather-clad hand cupped my face. “Who else would I do it for?”
I searched his face for anything, any reason to run from him, but he was not lying. He was a simple creature to read; there was nothing in his tone or words indicating he was not entirely serious.
“Every day I spent without you those years ago was a day wasted. But the days that came after realizing that you were not coming back were the loneliest in my lifetime.”
“Silas.” His name came out like a plea before he silenced me with his lips, embracing me tighter than he had ever before, enough to leave bruises with his fingertips in his desperate grip.
“Do not leave me again, please.”
“I need to think.” I swallowed.
“You do enough of that.” He rested his forehead against mine. “Do what feels right, not what you think is right.”
“That sounds like a dangerous path.”
“What is life if you cannot find something you love, and let it kill you?”
I shuddered at his words, tempted to pull away, but for some reason, I didn’t. “I’m cold.”
“Let me keep you warm,” he whispered, holding me tight in our embrace.
“You are the coldest man I know. How will you manage that?”
His eyes darted past me.
I glanced behind us, and propped against the wall was an obviously new bottle of champagne. I suppose the room was cold enough to store a bottle.
“I don’t drink anymore.” My gaze returned to him.
“Yes, you do,” he laughed. “You just don’t drink in public anymore.”
I rolled my eyes, but the gesture was enough to fluster me. The entire situation was enough to throw me off.
There we were. No furniture, no decor, not even proper champagne glasses. Just him and me.
We sipped the bottle empty on the floor, by the company of a single used candle left behind from the previous owner.
It was one of those instances where you forgot who you were, or who you were posturing to be in the outside world.
The only version of yourself that existed was in the room, developing along with the night hours.
We talked for so long that the flame ran out of wax to melt, but we didn’t need it anyway since the sun was beginning to peek through the frosted windows, and our time was marked by an empty bottle.