Chapter 40
THE FIXER
The communion should feel good. Gathering with loved ones, the celebration of thoughtfulness, or even just to get drunk on someone else’s dime.
For me, it was invasive. Like a mirage from long ago, tempting desires never acted upon.
As if I touched anything in the scene before me, the illusion would crumble before my eyes.
A real tree, with real gifts under it. Real people who may actually, truly care for one another. All strangers to me, almost as strange as the concept to me.
Holidays were never my favorite, no matter the tradition. For those privileged enough, it was a time of joy. For others, it is a reminder of what was absent, or what god didn’t bother to give them.
Celebrations in the orphanage were sterile, bleak. Once upon a few centuries, this was all I dreamed about. And it was only dreams that would feel real.
Here I was, a trespasser in yet another unfamiliar home, with someone else’s family.
Yet, in my lap, a firm grip on a gift. For me, which was a more surprising detail than the former. My knuckles were white, a pulsing grip of disbelief.
I sat alone for a while, I do not know how long I contemplated for.
Edith had gotten up to give something to another. Which made it dawn on me that I wasn’t part of their little white elephant swap to begin with. She did that on her own.
How pitiful.
It wasn’t hard to slip away from the celebration. It was exciting and shiny, enough to where I could leave without the party missing a beat.
The vibrance of the party made the hallway and, subsequently, any other room in the building dark and cold. That could also be due to the worn floors, wallpaper peeling in some places with suspicious stains, or the fact that only half the gas lamps worked on a good day.
With even Silas distracted, I was sure I’d enjoy a moment of peace.
His room was undone and unused. I didn’t see how he deserved an entire room while I was forced to take a couch. I wasn’t even offered blankets.
The corner of the room, the one with the desk, was the only proof that the room wasn’t completely abandoned. The papers and reports I had seen before—hell, I helped him with his numbers.
I sat tiredly in the old creaky chair, picking up the small photograph clipped to one of the folders. It amazed me that at the drop of a dime, so much wealth could be spent on the runaway idea of a woman. He didn’t hide his ambitions or motivations. He was honest in action if not in declaration.
Among the papers were a small stack of telegrams, telegrams that I bound myself to keep organized. Then, a single telegram beside it. New.
I sat up and placed my finger on the corner, dragging it across the papers.
I didn’t remember this one.
You have until midsummer. See you very soon.
—Leviathan
I checked the back of the note, as if there would be more. As if hoping it was a cruel joke. Why hadn’t he told me?
I placed the note carefully back where I found it before my hand went as numb as my mind. If I moved with any less caution, I might become sick.
Midsummer. It was too soon.
I loosened my tie, releasing a few buttons of my shirt. Everything was too hot, uncomfortable. Yet the moisture on the back of my neck was cold, clammy.
My stomach roiled; I nearly doubled over. I gripped the edge of the desk, placing my forehead on the surface, eyes clenched.
A wretched noise in my gut, then my throat. My head was on fire; I swore the pain sloshed around inside like liquid, the steam steadily increasing in pressure the more it stewed.
No, this was no good, and I couldn’t blame the stress for it at all.
I needed to make her see the reason. I needed to feed again. I couldn’t live on rats forever; they barely lasted an hour.
I would apologize. Yes, that was the first solution. Would she accept? I had no way of knowing. Alina was unpredictable, much like her lover. If I put my ego aside, put myself in debt, it could be tempting enough.
Now I only needed the energy; something I didn’t have. I was running on booze and less than positive thoughts.
“Luka?” Edith’s voice.
“Leave.”
“I came to see—”
“Go. Please.” I retched, the last word almost coming out as a gag.
I was pulled up by my hair, my back smacking against the back of the chair.
“Edith—”
Her dainty fingers clutched my face, her nails digging into my cheeks to open my mouth. I grabbed her by her bodice, shoving her. She didn’t let up, she planted herself in my lap, her other hand held a flask.
Something hot and thick washed over my tongue, and her hand released my face, only to slap it over my mouth, trapping the liquid there.
I was about to bite her hand before I recognized the metallic taste tingling in the back of my throat, my teeth aching in relief.
She raised a finger as she held the flask, bringing her bloodied finger to her mouth in a silencing gesture.
I nabbed the flask, practically pouring it down my throat, there was no need to swallow.
When it ran out, I found myself grasping with both hands as if I could squeeze just a few more drops.
At this point, sustenance was sustenance.
I couldn’t afford to be picky, even if the blood tasted a bit acidic.
Edith pulled the empty canister from me.
“Why,” I demanded between recovery breaths.
“You’re starving. You can’t do this much longer.” She twisted the cap of the flask securely.
“If she finds out—”
“You didn’t break any rules.”
I stared at her, my grip on the arms of the chair tight. Not that I couldn’t move them, but as the pain in my head dulled, I was becoming more aware of what was happening.
“I got it from the hospital, from a patient,” she said quickly, filling in the questions in the air.
“It doesn’t matter where you got it, she will assume it’s from—”
“You are my only friend,” she interrupted, settling in my lap and sighing, unable to look me in the eye yet. “I’ll be damned if you starve.”
I nodded hesitantly, glancing over her shoulder to check the door.
The way she looked at me was with a different kind of hunger. A craving, no less, but for something deeper. It wasn’t something I could give her. Edith leaned in, and my hand snatched her arm firmly.
She nearly startled. The pause was succinct, as if to contemplate her actions before she ultimately decided to ignore it.
That is when she kissed me.
Her soft hand touched the side of my face, the one numb from the scar. I barely felt it. Her lips trembled, vulnerable, asking me to open for her. Her eyes fluttered closed, holding me so tight despite my resistance.
I stared, wide-eyed, lips unopened.
She looked up at me, her eyes shifted from my good eye to my blind one, searching for even a dim flicker of interest. Surely, she would have given up on trying to read me by now.
Edith’s lip trembled, her fingers traced my scar from my cheek down to my lip, her last plea.
I took her hand, removing it from my face.
“You should go back.” I swallowed. “Please.”
“Don’t you feel it?” She was breathless, manic. “The pull?”
“You need to leave,” I said, slower this time, no longer a suggestion.
Her nose flared, her lips pressing into a thin line. I could smell the tears before they started. She stood from my lap, pulling her arm from me as she backed away.
I couldn’t decide if it was worse for her or myself.
She wiped her face with her sleeve before leaving, slamming the door behind her.
I sat, petrified, at the desk. I finally let go of the arm of the chair, having to flex my hand to recover from the tension.
I needed to fix this. I couldn’t let it get that bad again, and I certainly couldn’t rely on Edith.
I needed to talk to Alina.