chapter eighteen
THE POISONER
“ I overslept. No, Phoebe, please calm down. I just drank too much. I wasn’t feeling well. I promise everything’s fine!” I pleaded with her, clutching the telephone tight as I leaned against the wall.
“Don’t lie to me! I called and called until I realized you weren’t even home!” she cried. “I was going to file a police report when I didn’t hear from you!”
“Phoebe, it’s all right. I’m telling you I am fine. I was visiting someone, it took entirely too long. Then yesterday I went to see my father. I just lost track of time.”
She took a shaky breath, but took no relief when I mentioned I had company. The tension hung between us even through the phone.
“You can come over if you’d like? I could use some advice on something,” I offered.
“Advice? On what?” Her interest was piqued.
“I…um.” I paused for a minute. “I ran out of clothes to wear.”
“I will be there in thirty.” She wasted no time, hanging up the phone with a click. It did not take much to convince Phoebe to visit, especially if clothing was involved.
I leaned my head against the wall next to the phone, letting out a long, exasperated sigh. Today would be long. I could feel it.
Most of the morning was spent scrubbing my skin, not just because of how disgusting I felt but because the poisoned scotch from that night had formed a pink rash that appeared the next day.
I slipped on the lightest, least itchy dress I could find, one of Phoebe’s silk tea dresses that she’d left behind at some point.
The soft texture soothed my irritated skin.
It was like a friction burn over the front of my body.
My plan did not just fail, it blew back in my face faster than poorly packed gunpowder. He didn’t have to do much, as the humiliation was all due to my lack of foresight. He found me too quickly. He must have watched me climb inside his house, possibly watching me poison his decanter as well.
How amateur.
He was livid when he told me to leave. It made me smile, knowing I was at least a nuisance to him. He might have caught me, but I won. I was still alive .
My smile faltered as I realized he would probably be coming for me soon.
He certainly seemed determined previously in the cemetery.
Why he did not end me there was my only question.
It was possible that he would not be so playful when he returned.
It was a good thing Phoebe was coming over.
I should suggest that she stay the night.
The ringing of the doorbell made me flinch.
That was quick. I swore she just hung up!
I swung the door open to see a tall figure holding a few stacks of books and a satchel.
My sweet Viktor, how terrible your timing is.
“I thought it was best to deliver directly, as they are loans, but then I couldn’t decide which ones, so I brought them all. Bound and loose-leaf.” Viktor peered shyly over the rim of his thin glasses. “I’m sorry—I should have telephoned you, but I regrettably did not grab your calling card.”
“No! No, it’s perfectly fine. Please come in,” I said quickly, glancing behind him for any more unexpected visitors. Thankfully, none.
“It is bigger on the inside,” he commented, balancing the books in his arms and looking up at the circular window above the staircase.
“It is not mine,” I said, locking the door behind him. “I’m just occupying a friend’s spare.”
“You are friends with people who have spare homes? Like extra carriage wheels lying around?” he teased.
“I know, it all sounds quite frivolous when I say it like that.” I scratched at the irritated skin of my palms. “Let me take some of those off your hands. Come.” I slid some of the books into my arms, beckoning him toward the living room.
The living room walls were lined with bookshelves, and a rolling ladder rested in the corner so that I could reach the top shelves.
“On the tea table, if you would,” I instructed, sitting down with the books as I inspected the spines for their titles and volume numbers.
“I assume that the books don’t belong to your friend either?”
“No, this is my collection. Most of it passed down from my father,” I said, not taking my eyes off the papers until he sat next to me on the love seat.
He reached into his satchel, pulling out three unbound papers a few inches thick.
I gleamed when he handed them to me. Carefully, I read through the titles. All of which were writings in current botany journals detailing new flora, guides, and other chemistry involving natural toxins. The only gift that could come close to this would be three dozen oranges.
“Will these be fine?” he asked, looking over to see which one I was flipping through.
“These are perfect .” My excitement radiated, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, squeezing him in a tight hug. “Thank you, Viktor.”
His hands hesitated, reaching out and hovering above my waist, before he allowed them to wrap around me and return the gesture.
The front door lock clicked, the door flinging open.
“So I have a few options, but I couldn’t find many colors that you wouldn’t gag upon seeing—” The fluttery redhead let herself in with the spare key, glancing over at us from the foyer and peering into the living room. “Oh—am I interrupting?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at me.
“No—No, Phoebe.” I blushed and let go of Viktor, smoothing my skirt before rising from my seat. “This is Viktor! The one I met at the botanical gardens?—”
“Yes, of course! I wouldn’t assume that it was any other Viktor.” Phoebe laughed and reached out her hand. “Phoebe Aston, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
He stood to meet her, and he made Phoebe look even shorter when he stood above her, taking her hand and shaking it. “Pleasure is all mine—if you ever are looking for locations for events, I have a few connections among the museum curators if you’re interested!”
“Of course I am! Here—take my calling card.” She shuffled around in her clutch before handing over a blush-pink card with her name and number.
He nodded and took the card, slipping it into his jacket pocket before lightly patting it. “I will ring you with anything I find.”
Phoebe peered past him to look at me, raising her brow. “You must be desperately low on clothing options if you wore white for once.”
“I can leave you two be—it seems like a very important matter.” Viktor rubbed the back of his head.
“No! Stay!” I smiled. “The more the merrier! I’ve had such a long few days.
It’s nice to have company,” I said, though I wouldn’t admit that it was because I was afraid.
I needed witnesses. My Creature only bothered me when I was alone, rarely showing up with others present.
He could be here already, waiting for them to leave.
“I burned the coffee. I hope you like it black,” I slurred, wobbling over to Viktor as I set the cup on the table.
Clothing was scattered across the chairs, the couch backings, and in a disheveled pile on the floor as a result of all three of us deciding to drink and critique Phoebe’s curation.
“You made it exactly how I like it! I prefer it more burned actually!” Viktor’s accent thickened when he was drunk. He guided the cup’s rim to his mouth, drinking the coffee with ease. He smacked his lips mockingly. “Delicious! Don’t worry, it adds more flavor.”
Viktor had convinced us to drink vodka rather than dark liquor tonight. He was fairing just fine, but Phoebe and I were pink in the cheeks, giggling like schoolgirls as we aimlessly picked through clothes.
I laughed at him as I walked over to Phoebe, who held up another dress.
“What about this one?”
“Viktor, is blue a yes or no?” I asked, turning toward him as I held the dress up to my body.
“Any color would look just fine.” He sighed, leaning back as he reclined on the love seat, though his legs were too long and hung off the arm.
“That’s not true,” Phoebe scolded. “Nobody looks good in orange.”
I rolled my eyes and handed the dress back to her.
When I turned, the darkness of the foyer was ever imposing. It was endless, expanding on forever if I did not let my eyes adjust.
That was when I saw him—that unmistakable outline of a body by the kitchen window across the hall. I was right about him not interacting when people were over, but now that I knew he was here, I could not let anyone leave.
I was still angry with my Creature.
“Let me see that one.” I pointed lazily at a red dress.
“Red? Are you sure?” Phoebe mumbled.
“Why not? I’m feeling a little adventurous,” I joked. “Viktor?”
Upon hearing his name, he sat up like a puppy, standing at attention.
Viktor watched curiously, that same wonder in his gaze, like how he’d looked at the plants in the garden. He was holding me in the same regard. It was a new feeling, knowing that two men were looking at me like that, though I was sure I would be getting grief about it later from one in particular.
Phoebe held the red dress against my skin, trying to see how it would look before deciding if she should let me try it on.
“What do you think of red?” I asked Viktor.
He kept his eyes on mine, not even bothering to look at the dress. “Nothing could compare,” he said simply.
“You didn’t look.”
“I don’t have to.” He grinned.
“Cheeky.” I flicked a brow at him and glanced behind me, the familiar specter displaced from the spot he was before. A victorious smile spread as I turned back to Viktor and Phoebe. “You both should stay here tonight. I fear I have developed a habit of injury when I’m inebriated.”
“It is amusing that you thought I wasn’t going to stay with or without your permission.” Phoebe laughed, gathering my previous dress and handing it to me.
“Shall I let you two go, then?” Viktor asked.
“No, you’ll sleep here too. Besides, who else will carry me up all those stairs? Surely not Phoebe,” I joked.
“I’m afraid that would be improper, but I know that Phoebe is stronger than she looks. I am sure she could do it easily.” He laughed, standing from the couch and stretching. “I will see myself out—but I will telephone you in the morning to see how the hangover is faring.”
I did not remember him leaving, but I remembered Phoebe closing the door behind him. Then the two of us stumbled up to the third floor to my bedroom.
I rolled onto the bed in my dizzy state.
Phoebe tugged the sheets away and crawled in with me.
“So?” Phoebe hummed, rolling onto her stomach beside me in bed. “Keeping that one around?”
“Maybe.” I rolled my eyes at her. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“What makes you hesitate?”
I shrugged. “It wouldn’t be fair. My attention is split.”
Her grin faltered. “Who?”
“Nobody.”
“Who is it, Alina?”
“No one.”
“I surely hope that it is not a certain S name.”
“It might be. What is it to you?” I lifted my head and turned over to face her on my side.
Her delicate brows knit together. “I don’t want to see you hurt is all,” she said as she touched my cheek gently, running her finger over my dark lashes before trailing over to the lighter ones.
“You have nothing to fuss about. I can handle any man that throws himself my way.”
She smiled briefly before hugging me close, resting her head on my chest.
I paused, looking down at the redhead. It must be the emotions running high from the liquor. I hugged her back and rested my chin on her head.
My sweet Phoebe, you worry for me too much.
I could not sleep. My rash had begun to burn with every friction between the bedsheets. It was upsetting that I could not simply take off my skin and wash it like a soiled dress.
The only relief I could think of was to draw a bath again.
The water was like heaven. I sank lower until the suds were up to my chin. The way it lapped at my wounds and caressed me. Who needed comfort from another when you could just soak alone in the bath? The buzz in my head was pounding. I should have drunk more water in my pursuit of spirits.
My head rested against the side of the tub. I clutched the edge and leaned my head against my arms, hiding my face as if to ground myself. Lying on my side, I curled up against the rim of the basin. The remaining light from my candle strained my eyes despite it being but a small glimmer.
I must have dozed off, floating in and out of sleep as my nauseous state threatened to make me lurch every now and then.
A hand gathered my hair away from my face. I made another gagging sound and groaned. Phoebe must have heard me.
“I am fine… Go back to sleep. I am fine, just…” I curled my knees closer again, trying to breathe deeply as I kept my eyes closed.
Deep breath. You’re not going to get sick. You’re fine , I chanted to myself.
Calming fingers brushed through my hair, dragging gently along my scalp as my hair was gathered back and laid over the edge of the basin, out of the water in case I did get sick.
“Please go. I don’t need you getting sick as well if my afternoon drink makes a reappearance.
No more vodka for us,” I whimpered, my forehead still against the cool surface of the tub.
“Hmm…that’s nice,” I whispered. Relaxing at the touch, I leaned into the palm that caressed my scalp.
Having my hair played with was one of my favorite feelings.
Then the tingling on my scalp stopped, and my hair was set back down.
The sound of retreating footsteps was followed by the deafening scent of smoke and metal. It hit my senses like a crop on a horse’s hindquarters.
My eyes snapped open, and no one was there, but the smell remained.
I slowly turned. The water in the basin was a thick, opaque crimson.
Hesitantly, I lifted my gaze. A girl was slumped over the opposite end of the tub.
Her sticky hair clung to the side of her lowered face and stuck to the side of the tub as she hung loosely over the rim, her arms extended down into the water.
Between her arms, a wet piece of paper was stuck to the porcelain, right below her bleeding neck.
The ink was blotched and runny from the dampness, expanding in the paper fibers like veins.
Red does look good on you.
—S
I swallowed hard, unable to focus on anything else aside from the words bleeding together on the pulp of the paper before they became illegible blobs.
An eerie chittering sound echoed through the house, calling out for me in the darkness, though it was rhetorical, not expecting me to answer the call.