chapter thirteen
THE POISONER
O ne by one, I plucked the single stems of lily of the valley that trailed through the home.
The delicate stalks held fragile white bell-shaped flowers in neat pearls along its length.
It would be counterproductive to play along with my Creature’s sick games, but he knew I would not waste perfectly good blooms.
When I awoke that morning, the trail started at my bedside and ran through the hallways, down the stairs, and finally ended in the kitchen.
The light filling the room from the window illuminated small specs of dust that stirred upon my arrival. The light swept across the floor and the table, where a pile of a mysterious fibers was placed.
It did not seem to be anything much. From afar, it looked to be a pile of wool discarded on the table.
As I approached, the wool texture slowly morphed into fine hair, spun into flowers and leaves that were fashioned into a wreath.
Some areas of the hair were tinted red in messy blotches that did not seem intentional, but were residual from the mess required to gather the materials.
Placed in the middle of the wreath was a rat. It was splayed out on its back, a neat Y cut into its abdomen with the skin peeled back—no head. Everything inside was where it was supposed to be, except the heart was pinned above where its head should have been.
There was no need for a note. I knew that it was from my favorite pest.
I wish I could compliment him on his creativity, but alas, this would be one I could give to the birds.
I carefully picked up the wreath of hair. The fine strands still clung onto the oils of their past owners’ scalps. I could feel it on my hands. I plucked the rat heart and put it back inside the carcass, caressing the little body carefully before heading out the back door.
All was quiet at dawn, though a chorus of croaks erupted once I stepped out into the backyard.
The only things from him that I kept were flowers.
The rest I gave to my raven friends, who had taken up permanent residence in my garden.
I tossed the carcass out in the grass, and the fowl enthusiastically hopped toward their meal.
Over by the greenhouse, I hung the wreath on the bird feeder, hoping the other nest makers could make use of it better than I could.
He was being wasteful at this point. Every time he left a gift, I tried to find a way to reuse it if possible.
Though it was harder to do so with body parts.
The only safe place for them was buried under the flower beds to be eaten by the grubs.
I was just thankful it was not something messier, as I did not have a maid on my books. Not that I could ask someone to tidy up human limbs.
“And did he make his intentions clear?” Phoebe prodded, leaning against her knees pulled up to her chest as she sat beside me on the couch.
We were settled in front of the fireplace. Crystal glasses of sweet booze kept us company.
“No, though I wouldn’t have minded if he did.” I blushed, taking a shy sip from my cup.
“I love it when this happens! I should be a matchmaker. It is like everyone finds a lover at my parties.” She giggled. “Will I get to see both of you soon?”
“I am unsure. He promised he would send me some papers. I am hoping he leaves a calling card in the parcel as well.” I shrugged, finishing off my glass before holding it out to Phoebe.
“This is so exciting! We can pair up and go to the museum, a fair, or maybe a live show?” she rattled off, lifting the decanter and pouring me some more.
“Sounds like a good time.” I smiled. “What about you? Anyone new?”
“Same old. I fear I may never find someone as interesting as you or I, and I won’t settle for someone boring.” She paused before a nymph-like grin appeared. “Though that won’t stop me from taste testing.”
“You would run them dry with your parties—wallets and wine cellars.”
“Is that not what a husband is for?”
“Touché.” I shrugged.
I pulled the blanket over our shoulders, sliding closer so we could fit comfortably underneath.
“Have you been smoking?” Phoebe asked.
I shook my head. “On occasion, but not recently. I don’t prefer the taste.”
“Huh.” She picked up my braid and brought it to her nose. Then she leaned into my neck and inhaled, scrunching her nose. “It smells like smoke.”
“Odd.” I raised my brow, lifting my hair to my nose as well. “Wash day was two days ago. It could be from walking outside.”
“I thought so. I never took you for the type to pick up smoking. Though I can imagine you drinking things you shouldn’t.” She laughed.
“Right.” My lips tugged into a brief smile as I stared at the plait pinched between my fingers.
“How about we wash now? I can help—let us go!” she slurred, kicking her legs off the couch and dragging me to my feet.
“That’s unnecessary! I’ll do it tomorrow!”
“It’ll be like old times!”
“We were five! I don’t think we will fit in the tub now.”
Her grip did not ease up on me, pulling me the rest of the way to the bathroom.
One thing I missed were our sleepovers. Phoebe and I did not keep anyone else as close as we were, as we were glued to each other’s sides most days.
I wondered what she did while I was away.
I was half expecting her to make more friends other than just myself.
In a way, I was relieved that we could pick up where we left off so seamlessly.
“Looks like you made out like a bandit at the market today,” she commented, placing her drink down as she picked at the upside-down bundle of lilies drying on the door.
“There was a special price. I couldn’t say no,” I lied, then turned to the porcelain basin.
I wobbled over to turn on the water, but the water sloshed oddly, indicating something was in the basin.
Rats. Two—no, three—dozen rat carcasses were piled at the bottom of the tub. They were all opened up like the one before. The water pushed them against each other as they rolled and bobbed like a morbid cranberry bog.
I gagged and held my hand over my mouth.
“Do you need me to hold your hair?”
“No! No, Phoebe,” I rushed out. “Just…can you run and get me some ginger?”
“Are you sure I—” She stepped toward me.
“No! Quick! Please go grab it!” I shouted.
She scrambled out the door, off on her mission for a spice I did not have.
As I leaned over the tub, my hands gripped the edge in anger. That was enough. He could subject me to whatever game he wanted to play, but I would not allow him to traumatize my dear Phoebe. She was a gentle soul, and I would not allow him to be so careless. At least the ravens would be happy.
I unlatched the window above the tub. It opened to the backyard. It was more convenient to let the birds in than throw the mice out.
Instead of ravens, there was a more unfavorable Creature standing in the middle of the garden.
He was silent. All he did was smirk with his hands shoved in his pockets.
My tongue clicked against my teeth in disgust as I turned away from the window.
I locked the bathroom door on my way out. It was tomorrow’s mess for me to worry about.
“I’m feeling better now!” I shouted for Phoebe, running down the stairs quickly and going to the back door to check the locks.
When I peeked out the window, no figures were waiting outside.