Chapter 38
THE CREATURE
The delicate scraping of porcelain among small chimes of cutlery greeted us upon arrival. I trusted the recommendation of Edith, who had given me an address and nothing more. It was a gamble, but I’m thankful I trusted her.
The grand, open room was full of fine dining and even finer guests. Pristine velvet, imported patterns, high thread counts—and that was only speaking of the furnishings. The people were dripping in pearls, emeralds, plated gold, and galvanizing colors.
None compared to the piece on my arm, just her hand could command the attention of a crowd without added finery.
I watched as Alina’s pupils dilated and constricted, flicking from detail to detail, ever calculating.
As if this were some sort of trick, a playful illusion I had concocted to spite her.
Her eyes were so bright, even in such dim lighting.
She wore something nicer for our date underneath her cloak, a good sign, though it was still mourning attire.
That meant there was at least some possibility she would be killing me tonight. I would try my luck anyway.
An attendant swept her cloak and muff away, as if they had just dusted something off.
I took her hand politely before leading her off to a table along the edge of the room, nestled beside a wall with a small lamp placed in the middle.
Above us, most of the ceiling was made of glass, a dome proudly protruding in the middle, like a conservatory.
She looked less impressed than I expected. The twitch of her brow, the unchanging expression, the hesitancy to touch anything other than her own skirts. Something was on her mind.
“Have you abandoned your typical courting routine of breaking into my rooms or a light attempt at stalking?” she said plainly, and just the inflection made me laugh.
I pulled out her chair behind her, speaking beside her ear. “I’m adaptable.”
She sat without a retort.
I took my seat across from her, though her energy was quite trite. The tension in the air was like solid tallow.
She took her time adjusting, smoothing down her skirts. Her dress was slimming, a double-textured black vertical stripe, alternating deep velvet and satin. She plucked gently at each fingertip of her gloves. She caught my stare, and she removed them slower.
Cheeky.
“Are you hungry?” I asked her.
“Are you?”
I took a deep breath, laughing off the riposte.
The waiting staff brought the drinks I had ordered ahead. A sweet orange blossom tea and a whiskey neat were placed before us.
“Why are we here?” She rested the gloves across her lap, eyeing the drinks.
I picked up the glass of whiskey, taking a leisurely sip and shrugging as if I hadn’t meticulously planned the evening. “You wanted me to treat you like an equal.”
“So you take me for dinner to entertain you?”
“No, so I may entertain you.” I leaned back in my seat, watching her closely.
She wasn’t fidgeting, wasn’t chewing her lip, or picking at her nails. She was at her sharpest. Though it saddened me to see that she needed to be this sober. At the very least, it would at least make our conversation easier.
“You told me you wanted to be equals.” I gestured loosely to the scene around us.
“I wanted to show you that the reason you are here isn’t because I wish to have the upper hand.
” I paused, but she didn’t look around; she was here for answers.
Possibly sick of the pleasantries. “I want us to be partners,” I said.
“In what way?”
“Our Nests will eventually join.”
“No.”
“It’s already happening; it’s what they want.”
“What they want and what is good for them are entirely different things.”
“I’m coming to you as a business partner. We both have something the other needs.” I pulled out a cigarette and let it hang loose on my lips as I dug for the lighter. “Even if we are both unwilling to admit that, we are at a loss if we remain separate.”
“Does that mean you are willing to devote yourself to my cause? To me?”
“Depends on your definition.”
She didn’t answer immediately; she just stared at her tea. She pulled the saucer close with her delicate fingers, smoothing over the gold glaze detailing. “I learned a thing or two about devotion in these past two years,” her voice was steady, like the gentle plucking of an alto piano scale.
I pulled the first fresh breath of smoke through my lungs, reluctant to release it, letting it sear in my throat.
“You have to rob yourself of things you want for a bigger purpose. Temporary pleasures are cheap wicks.” She picked up the silver steak knife. “They won’t keep you warm through the night.” Her eyes snapped up at me, piercing me as the knife slipped across her palm.
I flinched and sat up straighter, watching the blood pool into her tea, a gentle stream that slowly came to a drip. With her bloodied hand, she pushed the tea across the table, swapping it with my whiskey.
I looked to her for an explanation but was met with a smirk as she sipped my drink. “Aren’t you thirsty, Mr. Forbes?”
I reached forward and snatched her bloodied hand. She flinched at the movement, everything down to each finger of hers tensing. The blood of her palm dripped down my wrist and arm under my suit jacket.
“Absolutely parched.” I squeezed her hand gently, but even the slight pressure must have stung on her palm.
I lowered my lips to her hand, kissing her knuckle before wrapping it in a handkerchief, refusing to acknowledge the pulsing veins of her hand in mine, the sweet scent of her mixed with the herbal remedy in fine porcelain, even the smears on my hand, I did not dare taste.
“I’ve had some time to practice many things you’ll find, if you care to get to know me. ”
“Who is this stranger?” she replied with a smile, seemingly pleased with the interaction.
I pushed the tea back toward her, blood on my hands but not a lick of it on my lips, “My name is Silas Forbes.” I held out my red-stained hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Her eyes skated across the table, her posture straightening, proud and tall. “Alina Lis,” she replied, grasping my hand in a firm shake. “I look forward to doing business with you, Mr. Forbes.”