THE POISONER
Bees bumped into each other as they swapped flowers. They built their coats and stuffed their socks with pollen. The rooftop must have been like a sweet buffet for such lovely little creatures.
Among the buzz, chiming of glasses and humble chatter filled the immediate vicinity. Listening closer, there was a bustling of hooves, wheels, and feet below.
The street wasn’t as busy, but in an hour or two, by noon, it would be full. Occasionally, a sharp chiming of hammer on stone from the construction zone, blocked by wood planks and tarps.
Carriages were able to line up in front of the apartments next door, filling the rooms with guests and their trunks.
“Now that I think about it, I’m willing to try,” Silas said beside me.
He finished the last of his champagne and swiped another as the staff walked by.
“Try?”
“Jumping,” he said, “it could be high enough.”
“Silas.”
“Count of three and we can avoid the socializing altogether?” he suggested.
“You can’t avoid your father like that.”
“Watch me.”
“I won’t.” I pinched his arm. “Get those impulsive words out before you become reactive.”
He took a deep and somber inhale, his eyes closing as he breathed in through the nose, then released tensely in the form of a whistle through his mouth.
“We will be fine as long as we are calm, poised, and level.” I even said it with a smile, so he would believe at least a little bit of it.
“You don’t know him.” He looked off stubbornly, taking down the next flute of champagne.
“I don’t need to know him personally,” I scoffed. “I’ve known men like him all my life.”
He rolled his eyes at me.
“They create wounds just to stick their fingers in and squirm them around, because it’s fun and they have nothing better to do or it makes them feel superior.” I squeezed his arm, tilting my head to force my gaze to meet his. “Don’t give him the opportunity.”
He took an even deeper breath, closing his eyes. He was either meditating or about to expel breakfast along with the champagne.
The wind pulled a hair out of place, tickling his nose as his eyelids twitched, screwing them shut to force some sort of tranquility over his mind.
I combed my fingers through his hair to fix it, cupping his face to bring him back down to earth.
“Silas,” I whispered, my other hand placed on his chest.
His eyes opened slightly, his head leaning into my palm.
“Have you been meditating?” I asked.
“Luka’s instructions,” he mumbled. “I’m working on it.”
“Restraint does look good on you.”
He raised a brow. “I thought you loved my wild charm?” he said sarcastically.
“We will see how long you make it last,” I winked.
“God, you’re just—”
I tapped his face to snap him out of it. “Don’t get soft now.”
“Yes, dear.”
“God, you get more handsome by the decade.” A voice as bubbly and light as rosé.
I thought my eyes were deceiving me.
A beautiful blonde, like an angel, approached. She was like a gentle coastal breeze on sea campion petals. Her eyes were a cool turquoise, the dress matched perfectly. Beside her was another just like her, identical. Except the other wore a deeper blue, and her expression was less animated.
The first one kissed Silas’s cheek, and he wrapped his arms around her waist tightly. His smile was relieved, so bright.
When she let go, he reached out to me, his hand resting on my back.
“Isabella, Irene—this is my wife.” My wife.
“A pleasure.” I held out my hand.
“Oh, no need for that,” she laughed, voice smooth and mature, and she graciously squeezed me into a hug. “We’re family now, after all.”
I looked to Silas while she squeezed.
The other one, Irene, did take my hand to shake once Isabella let go.
“Don’t worry, I’m not much of a hugger either.” She was stern, but playful all the same.
“These are my sisters,” Silas told me. “Isabella is the eldest daughter, Irene is the second.”
“Only by two minutes.” Irene shrugged.
“We share the same mother,” Silas continued.
“May she rest in peace.” Isabella signed the cross. “But that woman really did make the prettiest of the siblings.”
“Isabella.” Irene nudged her.
“It’s true.” Isabella quirked a brow.
I was beginning to see that all his siblings shared the same haughtiness.
They all looked so refined. That same angelic air with wicked tongues and wit.
Somehow I was becoming more aware of how I looked to these outsiders.
I did not look like them or act like them.
I was not raised to know the intricacies of their world, their customs, or the leisure their generations of wealth afforded them.
“It’s so nice to see you picked someone so unique,” Isabella commented, her hand already in my face to touch my eyebrow. “What an interesting thing you are. What is your breeding?”
Silas pushed her hand away. I spotted a tenseness in his smile. “Don’t be rude.”
“I just want to know all about her.” She looked almost offended as she turned back to me. “Your accent doesn’t sound entirely English.”
“My parents came from Poland, but I was raised in England,” I told her.
“Oh, a Slav!”
“Jesus Christ, Isabella, can you have some tact?” he scolded her.
“I can say it! I love Slavs. I married one, remember?” she snapped at him, as if he was the one to know better. “You are so lovely. I hope you feel welcome so far. I am only a telegraph away. I’ll leave my card on the tray downstairs.”
“Did you say hello to Phoebe yet?” Silas changed the subject.
“Who?” she mumbled.
“The new one,” Irene said.
“Which one is that?” Isabella scratched behind her ear.
“The strawberry-blonde in pink,” Silas said. “Aston.”
“Aston?” Irene looked perplexed. “I don’t remember father introducing any Dam named Aston.”
“In all fairness, he’s had too many,” Isabella bickered.
“The one in pink, go greet her. She is excited to meet you.” Silas shooed them. The mention of their own importance seemed to do the trick.
I was holding back a smile.
“What is it?” he grumbled.
I shook my head and lifted a shoulder.
“Say it.”
“They’re lovely.” I grinned. “That’s all.”
“I envy you,” he sighed.
“Pardon?”
“No siblings, no father.”
I smacked his arm.
“I don’t think I’ll last the day,” he groaned. “Perhaps you can poison me and the entire visit will fly by as fast as an osprey.”
“Keep it together, you are doing just fine.”
“I will, but you’ll hear about it later.”
“So be it.” I squeezed his arm as it looped in mine, watching the rooftop fill with guests.
Even when I knew of his family dynamic, it still took me by surprise to see it in the flesh.
I knew he had sisters other than Phoebe, but seeing them made me think there was more to learn about him.
One door opened, three more appeared, and you never knew what would be behind them unless you picked the lock and forced it open yourself.
I didn’t blame him; we didn’t have much time to discuss things such as family trees or childhood melancholia.
As a naturally curious person, a sneaking itch of jealousy bloomed knowing that there was more to discover about him.
That there were people who have known him for far longer than I have been alive.
But that instinct in me only drove me to excitement, knowing I had, quite literally, all the time in the world to piece him together.
The smells of florals and cooked meat were making me equally hungry and nauseous. The guests gathered within the rooms to lounge before the dinner service began. With a week’s worth of preparation, I was anticipating quite a meal to remember.
Staff fluttered around with trays of small bites. At the bar, they had bloodwine and an absinthe fountain, preparing the French way, Phoebe claimed. They refused to turn on any gas lamps, candlelight only. It was my preference, but it was also to appeal to the older Vipera who shared my taste.
Across the room I spotted Luka. I lifted a champagne flute at him before he was distracted by some movement of the guests. Sidney stood beside him, a couple words exchanged before they both laughed.
Silas was doing better than I expected. Much like when I’d observed him secretly in the past, he was entirely different than he was with me.
He was sharp, direct, and rather cordial.
I suppose he saved some of his worst behavior only for me.
Or it is because he was a degenerate with me that he is able to be socially tameable otherwise.
“Such a lonely girl,” Mr. Astor’s voice pestered my ear. “No one to keep you company tonight?”
“I suppose I have esteemed guests such as yourself to encroach upon my moment of silence.” My smile was entirely too tense, it ached in my cheeks.
“A short interruption, I promise.” He dug through his inner jacket pocket.
Mr. Astor produced a small box, an old velvet that was worn on the sides. He placed it in my hand, closing my fingers over it with his other. “It would be rude of me not to offer an engagement gift.”
“You’re too generous,” I said, straight-faced. “We don’t expect such a gesture.”
“I insist.” He smiled, a flash of gold from the tip of his fang. “It’s the least I can do, even when we find ourselves in such tense situations. Family is still family.”
“Of course.” I stared at his hand, still clasping mine. “I will offer my thanks from the both of us.”
“I’m so glad to hear.” He patted the back of my hand to make sure it was well in my grasp, then retreated without another word.
The way he stopped talking was the first cause for suspicion.
The metallic sound of the dinner gong formally announced the meal. It resonated through the bottom floor, pulling everyone’s ear to the dining room.
Yet I couldn’t pull myself from the small box in my hand.
“There you are.” Silas turned the corner, his hand resting on my back. “What is that?”
“A gift, I believe.” I ran my fingers along the scuffed edges. Most of the felt had been rubbed off, revealing the original wood.
I pulled it open, the hinges a bit too tight and worn.
A ring.
It was a gold band, no gemstones, but there were intricate knotted patterns carved into the outer band.
Silas was still, his eyes entirely locked onto the piece of jewelry.