Chapter Twenty-One
Hyacinth
Austin stepped away to change clothes and shower.
Hyacinth felt like she might scratch through her skin if she stayed in that bed alone, even with Snuffles—her guardian protector—so she opted to go investigate a snack.
Especially since Austin said he’d meet her down there and they could talk about Sabine.
Sabine. The woman in red. The one who haunts me.
She wanted to scream, truth be told. Unhinge her jaw and let the sound echo off all the walls till she dislodged all the places Sabine violated.
She wanted to skin herself and form a new layer that wasn’t scratched up by her touch.
But, in leu of being able to do that—or being allowed—she opted to pick up her bunny and tiptoe down the stairs in the dark.
She held a candelabra up in one hand, Snuffles squished to her chest in the other, and took the stairs one step at a time.
Her chemise did nothing to keep her protected, but she couldn’t be bothered to put more on.
Doing so would mean remaining in that room where Sabine could appear in the mirror at any moment.
No, thank you, I am very upset at her right now.
Each step groaned, an eerie creaking sound bouncing off the walls with every step.
The candles danced over her head as she held the metal contraption aloft.
Its amber light was a soft orb around her face, carving through the ink.
She barely made it to the bottom before she felt the zap of cold run up her foot into her bones.
It started aching at the ankles, then her knees as she wandered through the dark house to the kitchen.
Her toes scraped across the hallway carpet, and it wasn’t enough friction to warm her skin.
This doesn’t feel familiar. In her mind, she waded through a fog riddled graveyard the way the air brushed across her skin and not a hallway.
It felt like she wasn’t inside the manor.
But when she stepped too close to the walls, she found the same familiar black and ash grey striped wallpaper.
She found the same elegantly molded archways.
And when she entered the kitchen, the chandelier hissed to life with a few candles.
It was the kitchen. Yet she still felt like a dream.
She set the rabbit down on the table, releasing Snuffles from her grasp.
Something scurried past her on the left and she whirled around. The candles crackled, dancing erratically as she jerked them around. Whatever it was, it burrowed its way into the abyss of the pantry.
“I’ve had enough ghosts for today,” she grumbled, stomping to the round-bellied fridge instead. “I came for a snack.”
Snuffles agreed as the pair stood in front of the fridge. Hyacinth cracked open the door with a hard grunt. Peering around all the shelves only to find her bunny nudged at the bottom drawer. Hyacinth grabbed the handle for it and tugged, and oogled the paper wrapped meat.
“Perfect,” she exhaled, ruffling Snuffles’ head.
She snatched one for herself. Before she could close it, he jumped inside the drawer.
Ripping open a packet of steak with his paws, the hungry beast nibbled on the bleeding meat.
Hyacinth looked down to the bundle in her hand, then to the woodland creature, his eyes blazing red.
“Well…you can have it, but you’ve got to have table manners, at least. I know not to leave these doors open so…
just let me get you a plate. She chucked her meat onto the counter, intent on running it over the flame just enough to broil the outside like she’d seen Dahlia do.
Hyacinth intended to eat it raw…just less raw than Snuffles.
Hyacinth grabbed a large dish, plucked the steak out of the drawer with her bunny in tow, and set them on the table. Snuffles did not stop munching, unperturbed in his feast. Hyacinth closed the fridge door and every few moments, glanced over her shoulder. He’s really eating raw steak?
“You would know your diet better than me, I guess.” She shrugged to herself. In the two days they’d had him, he’d hardly touched the hay or other vegetables. Snuffles is just a meat-eating bunny.
She took a candle off the candelabra and used it to ignite the flame in the stove.
The wood within caught easily and the top began warming up.
She took her time finding a pan then adding butter.
Dahlia said good steak took butter, salt, and spite.
Hyacinth wasn’t sure where to find the third thing on the spice rack, so she’d have to accept two out of the three.
By the time the tops and sides were brown in the skillet, Snuffles had cleared his plate. Not even a drop of blood was left behind. She sat at the table, watching him lick his chops, and nodded. “Good table manners.”
“Whose got good table manners—is that steak?” Austin’s cheerful chortle made her panic. Because I’m not supposed to be having tough food
“Yes, and please don’t tell me I can’t have it!
” Hyacinth blurted out, immediately picking up her dripping, crusty steak with a bloody center.
Austin melted out of the shadows in the house, eyebrows up on top of his head.
Hyacinth immediately bit into it out of desperation to finally eat something.
Anything! The second her teeth carved through it, a moan curled up her throat. Her eyes rolled back as she chewed.
“I wouldn’t dare,” he teased. “That smells good, actually.”
“You want me to make you one?” she asked after clearing the blood drippings from her throat.
“No, no, I’m okay. Sometimes I like the smell of food but do not want any.
I definitely eat some every time Dahlia cooks because she loves to cook, and I think it makes her happy to feed people.
And sometimes I just crave weird things I can’t have.
” He babbled nonchalantly as he plucked the cleaned plate from Snuffles.
“What’d you have, little man? A heaping of lettuce? Bell peppers?”
“Raw steak!” Hyacinth blurted out. “What were you saying about weird things you can’t have?”
“Wait—steak? Bunnies can’t have steak!” Austin whipped around at the sink.
“He licked his plate clean, so he clearly liked it.” Hyacinth motioned at the plate, then at the wrappings she’d left on the counter.
Austin stood, blinking and confused, staring at the massive imprint on the butcher’s paper.
Then he glanced at her like she might have an answer.
Hyacinth cleared her throat from the massive bite she took.
“And I think bunnies would know better than me what they like to eat.”
Austin grimaced but then nodded subtly. “That’s fair.”
“He’s a meat-eating bunny,” Hyacinth spoke through her fingers that she used to cover up her dripping lips.
She chewed faster and tore through the steak.
Swallowing the chunk before it was truly ready to go down, but she needed to ask.
She’d fight with herself over the weird feeling in her throat later.
“You were saying about weird things you can’t have? ”
“Oh! Yeah, but I don’t think it’s an undead thing. I just…you know…sometimes crave sinking my tusks into a whiskey barrel.”
Hyacinth straightened in her seat, furrowing her brows. They stared at each other, neither speaking, neither blinking, until Snuffles leapt off the table. Following the bunny into the shadows of the pantry with her eyes, Hyacinth finally found the words to say, “But you can’t eat whiskey barrels.”
“You shouldn’t eat whiskey barrels,” he corrected with a forefinger jabbed into the air. With a wince, he continued, “I’ve proved you can if you want to bad enough.”
“How’d it taste?”
“Not as good as I hoped,” he sighed. Austin turned to dunk the plate into the sink while Hyacinth finished up the last few bites of her steak.
Is that why sometimes I crave things? Things I shouldn’t even though I want it desperately?
She picked up her plate and brought it to Austin.
He washed it without being asked. Simply lifting it out of her hands, he then dunked it into the steamy, sudsy water.
Hyacinth watched in fascination at how easy he made it look.
How easy he makes everything look. Seamless. He’s a people-people. A whole person, in control of himself.
“Where do you think it comes from?” she asked, drying her mouth on one of the kitchen towels that dangled from in front of the stove. Hyacinth blew out the pilot light, the kitchen dimming gradually as the flames died out.
“Lord Rosemont says they’re called intrusive thoughts.” Austin twisted slightly to spare her an awkward smile. “Like sometimes people look at a cliff and imagine jumping off.”
“And what do you think it is?” She cocked her head.
His tone suggested he didn’t agree. Austin sucked on his teeth, drying his hands off on a different towel.
Finally elbowing off the faucet in the kitchen, he turned to face her completely.
He put his back against the counter, and she was able to enjoy just how BIG he was.
“I think there’s always something left from the previous people.
You can’t inhabit a body for a whole lifetime and not leave a mark.
The older the person, I think the bigger the mark.
Like, my hand!” He brandished the fresh hand that was a minty color.
It was significantly darker than the rest of his body but steadily leeching the color from the flesh.
“After sewing it in, I suddenly really wanted to play piano. I don’t know how to do that. ”
“Huh,” Hyacinth hummed, taking his hand in hers.
She inspected it from wrist to tip. Inventorying every crack, crevasse, and line in them, she couldn’t find any evidence of piano playing.
Is that even something I know what to look for?
Hyacinth figured she’d find something obvious about the fingers other than they were lovely and thick.
“Why is it losing color?” she murmured.