chapter twenty-four
THE POISONER
T his was a bad idea.
My chest was tight, threatening to crush my ribs as the hour neared.
The clock only served to heighten my anxiety instead of ease it. Each time I checked, it was like less time had passed than before. The timepiece hand crept sluggishly toward that number three, slower than cold molasses.
Was it a mistake to make a deal with a demon like him? He was unnatural, a menace. It would be absurd to expect him to act decently enough to hold a deal. My word wasn’t much stronger than his, as he had already spat it back in my face, literally .
As of now, I believed it was safe because I had something physical to offer him. I thought the proposal went well, considering he could have cut me down right then and there in his home.
Rosiness burned in my cheeks and ears as I remembered our exchange, our less than formal “handshake” to seal the deal. I rubbed my face in an attempt to make the color retreat.
My lip had endured abuse from chewing it all morning, remembering the ghost of him there.
No, not him. Never him. Don’t let your mind wander like that.
A cringe clamped down on my body as the bell chimed.
“You’re late.” I slammed a drawer shut as I brushed away my previous thoughts.
Silas stopped at the door, checking the timepiece on his wrist. “It’s exactly three.”
“On time is late.” I could not help but grin.
“What have you done with my disagreeable Alina? If I didn’t know any better, I would say there was a spark of excitement upon my arrival!” He spoke with a sarcastic tinge. “Perhaps tomorrow I shall also believe in God!”
“Humorous as usual. Lock the door and flip the sign. There is much to do,” I directed.
“I am also going to have your undivided attention? Oh, I must be truly special.” He flicked the lock and carefully turned the wooden sign, marking the start of our first physical .
“That’s new.” He frowned, staring at the blood transfusion apparatus that stood erect on the workbench.
“It is, but that is for later.”
“I thought dinner was on you?”
“ Later ,” I repeated, gathering some other tools before we began. “Take off your coat and roll up your sleeves.”
“Straight to business, efficient as ever.” He shed his coat and laid it neatly across a vacant bench.
“Feel free to get comfortable. You can stand or sit.” I grabbed a stethoscope and my workbook.
Silas opted to lean against the table, his arms crossed in front of him as he watched. He appeared calm, but an edge about him waned on the side of caution as he observed the many tools that must have been alien to him.
I set the buds of the stethoscope in my ear.
I gestured for him to uncross his arms, and he reluctantly did so, his hands gripping the edge of the table he was leaning against. I placed the stethoscope against the cotton shirt, painfully aware of how it clung to his torso.
His heart was just as quick as last time, impossibly fast. I counted as I watched the timepiece ticking on my wrist. He averaged two hundred and thirty beats per minute based on fifteen seconds.
Plucking the buds from my ears, I jotted down the number.
“How am I doing so far?” He leaned over to see what I was writing.
“Horribly. You should be dead with these numbers,” I said plainly, “but we already knew that.”
“Fair.” He shrugged.
We circulated through all the typical physical tests—blood pressure, reflexes—and we ended by checking his mouth, which I was most interested in.
“Open.” I held up a glass probe.
“What would that be for?” He eyed my stick.
“To poke around,” I huffed. “Just open.”
He sighed and obeyed.
I flattened the glass rod against his tongue, pushing down so I could see inside.
His tongue twitched, and the two independently moving pieces of the split end curled in discomfort. It was amazing how it went unnoticed until he made them move apart from one another. No one would suspect this peculiarity unless they were looking hard.
I grabbed his jaw and tipped it up, looking at the roof of his mouth.
The light from the small window allowed me to properly see it now.
His fangs were folded neatly against the roof of his mouth, though I could see the muscles at the base that allowed them to flex forward.
I could also see something like holes in the roof of his mouth along the edges.
“What are these?” I poked them with the rod.
He physically flinched, not something I expected to be sensitive. He pushed my hand away.
“It’s for scents.” He grimaced.
“Like a Jacobson’s organ?”
He looked at me blankly, lifting a shoulder up in ignorance.
I quickly moved back to my cabinet, shuffling through the many jars and vials. I picked one from the back and moved to the other side of the room.
Silas glared at me, frustrated at my lack of explanation, as he stared at the corner I stood in.
“Tell me what you smell and when you catch the scent,” I instructed, popping the cork off the jar. “Now?”
“No,” he said.
I took two more steps forward. “Now?”
“No.”
I began a steady approach. “Tell me when, and I will stop.”
He was silent.
I moved closer and closer until my knees knocked against his. I lifted the jar up to him. “Nothing at all?”
“Almonds. I could smell it six paces ago.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I wanted you closer.” He smirked, tilting his head down at me. “Are we done yet?”
“Are you trying to flatter me into ending early?”
“Very likely observation.”
“One more thing, then you can have your reward.” I picked up a glass vial with cloth stretched over the opening.
His eyes narrowed at it before flicking back to me. “What is that for?”
“Venom. You have at least one set of fangs that contains it, correct?”
“Possibly,” he said prudently.
“I promise we are almost done for today,” I pleaded with him.
He grumbled before opening his mouth again, flicking his fangs forward for me. They were trembling, hoping to sink themselves into something. It was like they had a mind of their own.
I leaned in close, and our chests brushed against each other. I lifted the vial to the shorter, outermost set of canines. As the snakelike tooth sank into the cloth, venom sprayed spontaneously before slowing to a steady drip. The liquid had a golden tint, like watered-down amber.
Every muscle in his body felt taut, but I did not have to feel it to see how they strained during the process.
His eyes were closed now, and he seemed slightly flustered. Was it uncomfortable? Was his mouth that sensitive?
When I finished, I reached for a cork to plug the vial.
“There, easy.” I grabbed the tourniquet.
“Yeah, for you,” he growled, running his tongue along his teeth before tucking them back away.
It brought me joy, granting him some discomfort. It was only fair.
Silas’s demeanor was bleary, burned-out. Maybe this was karma for depriving me of sleep for weeks. His gaze was glued to the wall like he was second-guessing his decision.
I took my place next to him at the edge of the table. Two glass containers capable of holding five hundred milliliters of fluid were placed neatly beside the apparatus.
“Give me your arm.” I snapped my fingers and held my hand out.
He rolled up his sleeve a little higher, offering his thick arm to me. His lean forearm exposed several veins, so it would not be hard for me to find one.
The tourniquet tightened around his bicep, pushing on his veins to get them to bulge out a little more. I held his arm closer to inspect them.
Viktor made it look so simple, but I would not let it intimidate me.
Silas watched my movements cautiously, but he had no choice but to trust me. On second thought, if he did not trust me, he could snap if I poked him the wrong way with the needle. It did not stop him from doing that to those girls in the river.
The long, curved needle lined up with a vein at the crook of his arm, pressing into the skin. As I squeezed the pump, the liquid came out black . Unsure if it was just the lighting or if it was actually black, I studied it as it sluggishly crawled up to the glass cylinder.
“It worked.” I bit my lip in excitement.
“Have you not done this before?” He lifted his eyes in brief horror. “You are using me as a test rat?”
“I thought I was very clear about that when I said I was going to study you,” I said sweetly. “Besides, he only taught me how to do it last night.”
“ He? ” His eyes narrowed.
“Yes, he . Viktor. My lab partner.” I poked my finger into his chest. “If you kill him, then you go back on our deal. I need his help. Promise that you will not murder him.”
He grumbled something under his breath.
“I want to hear you say it, Silas.” I kept my eyes on him.
He averted his gaze.
“Silas!” I put pressure on the needle.
“Fine!” he hissed. “I won’t.”
“You won’t what ?”
“I won’t kill him.”
“Or maim?”
“I won’t maim or kill him.”
“I’m glad we are in agreement.” I let a pleasant smile grace my features, which only infuriated him.
As shown previously, I put pressure on the puncture before pulling it out.
I took the apparatus and emptied it into the glass jar. I began to write on it with a black wax pencil.
“What are you doing?” he asked, removing the tourniquet from his arm.
I turned the glass toward him.
“Creature” Sample #1 was scribbled on the glass.
“You would not want to mix them up, would you?” I grabbed a rag and wiped the puncture on his arm, guiding his free hand to hold the gauze. “Now, just let me clean this, and I can do it on myself?—”
“Don’t put that thing near you.” He grabbed my wrist. “I can do just fine without it.”
“Don’t be hasty.” I glared. “I do not trust you to take the same amount.”
He eyed the jar of his blood, then back at me. “I can measure out just fine in my head.”
“That’s precisely why I don’t trust you to do it,” I snapped while trying to twist my wrist from him.