42
THE POISONER
As if the fates themselves knew of my discovery—I was requested as an audience.
But not with whom I was expecting.
They let me change from my stained gown. They only let human maids dress me. Among them was my little friend Amelia.
She helped me into the corset, making sure the rows of laces were tightened and tucked accordingly. They pulled out a crimson walking suit, something practical but still with nice gatherings. I would be going somewhere outside the bounds of the home, surely.
“Do you know where I’m going?” I asked Amelia. The other maids shot glances to her in between their work collecting the old clothes and changing the linens.
“There’s a carriage outside,” she said simply, putting the skirt over my head and fastening the buttons around my waist.
“Who called for it?”
“We don’t know,” she sighed, holding the bodice up for my hands to go through, then fastening it in the back. “We were only given a short list of instructions.”
“Even the attire?”
“Yes.”
Now I had my suspicions. I waited for the other maids to leave before turning, grabbing Amelia’s shoulder gently. “What is the talk of the house?”
She looked frightened when I turned, her mouth opening, but she was pondering my question. “That you’re a cannibal?”
“Aside from that.” I gestured for her to hurry and go on.
“Uhm,” she swallowed, shaking her head as she combed her mind, “there is a lot of mixed opinions.”
“What of the other staff?”
“They don’t care much.”
I leaned back, surprised at the very least at the admission. “Not at all?”
“A little bothered they had to clear an icebox for a body, but working for Vipera households is always unpredictable. Some of them eat human meat, others only require the collection of blood, much like this one. The job has a gruesome nature, we know this.”
“Oh.” I straightened my back.
“You are quite a topic of discussion, but it only means you’re less of a threat than the rest. To the Hosts and humans, at least.” She shrugged.
“What do you hear from the Vipera?”
“Not as neutral of a stance.”
“As expected,” I mumbled.
“You have some loyalists, I see it in their lack of comments. But it’s unwise to say so at the moment. I wouldn’t count on them.” She held her hand out for my arm.
She tied a black ribbon around it.
“What is this?” I mumbled.
“With reactive Nest members, they must signify with a black or red band,” she mumbled, “for informed decisions of Hosts, but I guess this one is for everyone around you.”
I watched her little fingers tie the neat bow, the tails slightly curled as they dangled.
“Thank you,” I said, “for seeing me as I am.”
“You are frightening,” she said sternly, “but you are not cruel like the rest.”
“Keep your eyes and ears alert, something is coming,” I told her. “You’ll know it.”
She searched my face. As if it wasn’t treason enough to be having this conversation. But I trusted her, and neither of us trusted the powers at play.
“Talk to Luka” was all I said before the door opened again, multiple men in suits coming to collect me, since I was to be free of my chains today. How comical that they required five of them to transport me.
Even the roughness of their hands on me proved that they were nothing but scared little mice with something to prove.
It must be disjointing to spend your entire life believing you are a predator above all, just for a new apex to show you what it is to be afraid.
My very existence must strip them of that security, their privilege.
They surrounded me as they corralled me down the stairs and out the front door. I could barely see past them. Though there was only one person I looked for, and he likely didn’t want to see my face.
He will, soon.
It wasn’t very long in the carriage before I realized where this mystery meeting was taking place.
I counted the doorways, the lamps, even the blocks we passed before we pulled up in front of a recognizable iron gate.
We stopped in front of a park, three men escorting me to the final destination.
The botanical gardens.
The breeze on my skin disappeared as they led me inside the giant greenhouse, the humidity weighing on the skin enough to wish for the wind again.
The only sound was the dribbling of water from the fountains. In the middle there was a cleared space, right in front of the long, manufactured ponds.
In this space, a small table, two chairs, and a blond enjoying the peace.
Levi Astor looked my way, a genial smile on his face as he stood.
The escort shoved me between my shoulders to approach, of which I would have done without the brutishness.
“My dear, you are radiant.” Levi smiled, his arm out to me as he leaned in to greet with la bise. “Did you eat yet?” he asked innocently.
“Haven’t had the appetite.”
“Ah, no matter, we have tea.” He settled back down in his seat, holding his palm out toward the other.
The entire botanical gardens were empty. Being as it was a public location, it must have cost a fortune to reserve the whole place for something like high tea.
“You’re in quite a good mood for a man whose child has just passed.” I took my seat across from him.
“Eaten,” he corrected, pointing his tiny cocktail fork at me before using it to loosen a chilled oyster from the shell.
The table had a tiered platform, each level full of ice, with little cups of sauces at the top.
The oysters arranged around the larger levels.
Based on the metallic scent, I suspected one of those cups was Host blood.
I suppose oysters were raw meat, of sorts.
I didn’t think to consider Vipera could taste the meat of the sea, as well.
In the middle of one of the oyster trays was caviar, a mother-of-pearl spoon ready for serving.
We were separated by dainty plates, silverware, and a tea set for two. All so meticulously arranged, you would think this was for romancing rather than confrontation. It upset my stomach thinking that there was an equal chance of the former and latter.
“I always knew there was something special about you.” He shook his head with a smile, placing the empty shell on a separate plate. “Jacek was nothing short of brilliant. Your mother? Beautiful. You truly had no choice but to be an absolute marvel.”
I did not accept the compliment.
Small crickets and possibly the last cicada of the season hummed somewhere within the brush. I stared at the pond, watching the pitcher plants slowly close here and there. I recognized we were in the carnivorous section again. He truly knew how to pick the venue with the worst memories.
An assistant came to pour the tea for us, the pale liquid swirling among specks of loose leaves within the cup.
“Help yourself.” He gestured.
There was no hiding the twitch of my eye. “Why am I here?”
“As opposed to executed?” He looked pitifully at me, like I was some child who needed things spelled out for her. “You would think the first words out of that pretty mouth would have been thank you.”
He was wasting his bait; I wasn’t biting.
Levi wiped his hands and laid the napkin neatly on his lap. He leaned back in his chair, one leg over the other as he settled for, what I assumed, would be the meat of the conversation rather than the garnish.
“I can make this trial swing whichever way I want,” he said plainly. “I could tell them, easily, a list of reasons why it may be beneficial to execute you, my disgrace of a son, and all your little loyalists.”
He paused to stir his tea, as if he was going to drink it, but ultimately lost interest in favor of hearing himself talk more.
“Not very often do we have such powerful people all in one place. Old, indestructible, completely overpowering the weakest of the litters if we wanted to,” he said, starting a tangent, smiling at the thought.
“The trial will end and everyone will be right there for the picking. Spoils of the job, I suppose.”
He kept looking to check if any of his words had moved me in the slightest. Little did he know, I was no stranger to men talking from their arses, and I was undeniably bored with the speech already.
“Is that why there was arsenic in Phoebe’s stomach?” I asked.
“It’s a hard one to dose.” His brows furrowed. “A bit too gradual.”
I could feel the sweltering heat rise to my face. He was bold for allowing any sharp cutlery at the table. Confidence, hubris, or a terribly enticing dare.
“You’re not the only one who can play with poisons.” He tipped his head back as he ate another oyster, placing the empty shell on the plate. “Though it was much more subtle than what you did to my Nest, wasn’t it?”
“Why?” My voice strained.
“For what it’s worth, I wanted her dead, not eaten.” He looked at me as if he was insulted with the result. “It was meant to frame you, but the plan outperformed,” he said excitedly.
I could only stare, which made him more elated.
Without breaking eye contact, he snapped his fingers. The escort presented something on a platter.
It was a small document, physically. Multiple papers clipped neatly together. The typeface all puny except for the execution line bearing a rather large X beside it.
The second largest lettering was the title.
brEEDING CONTRACT
“As easily as I could sway them to destroy you,” he began, “I could also make a case to preserve you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t, my simple creature,” he said so fondly.
I stared down at the papers. Just when I thought he couldn’t bother me, he somehow found a way.
“My dear, there has never been anyone like you.” He reached across the table in some attempt at being personable. “A Vipera who can only feed on other Vipera; a Cannibal. Never in my lifetime—which has been quite long—have I seen it.”
Not even if I had a stronger stomach could I meet his gaze. To settle myself, I forced my eyes to a Venus trap along the edge of the footpath, counting the bright red mouths.
“You have the ring I gifted you, correct?”
I finally looked back at him. He was so sure of himself, so comfortable in his position. I glanced down at my cup, the bits of tea had settled at the bottom. I didn’t have to be a tea reader to see the glittering metallic shimmer.
This had been the plan from the beginning.
Phoebe was always his lamb.
The blood of his daughter, sacrificed for a new Madonna.
“Wear it to trial if you accept the proposal,” he instructed.
“Say I do,” I suggested. “What will you do with the rest?”
“Everyone lives happily, of course!” He looked at me as if my insinuation was asinine. “You and your friends will be well taken care of.”
“What of Silas?”
His carefully adorned mask nearly cracked at the mention. It was like I’d physically hit him. His smile was more tense, so was the dimple in his jaw as he spoke. “That depends on his compliance, which, as you may know about my son . . . isn’t his strong suit.”
“If he complies?”
“Then there is no reason why he shouldn’t live.” He couldn’t hide his obvious distaste. “He won’t have the same privileges as you. I’ve learned my lesson there.”
“Privileges?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, getting excited again, “access to the world’s oldest wealth. You couldn’t possibly imagine it! It’s impossible to spend in ten lifetimes, never mind just one.”
He was right, I couldn’t imagine such a horde.
Admittedly, a vision flashed before my eyes.
It wasn’t glittering in gold, but it was wealth.
A public library that was so well-padded that you could hold the world’s knowledge at the tips of your fingers, free of cost. I saw streets empty because no one had to go without a roof.
I saw development, scholarships, medical advancement, technological leaps and bounds.
I saw my father hunched over papers while we shared a space with five other families. I saw how money could free people—all people—within a system that is dead set on bleeding them dry.
“I would have access to it all?” I asked, my eyes flicking to him.
“To mine as well as the others.” He grinned.
My face fell. “Others?”
He pointed to the tiny contract.
I flipped the page; it was the same thing in French. Then Spanish, Russian, German—it kept going.
“Per country,” he said.
“So you’ll bitch me out like a dog?” I scoffed.
“No, dear,” he laughed. “Like a whore.”
He said the former like some sort of joke before he became serious.
“You would be the most powerful woman in the world. The mother of beasts. You could give life to a new apex race of Vipera.”
Suddenly I was thankful my stomach was empty. Blood tingled as it left my limbs. The numbness wasn’t just cold, it punctured through the bone and solidified. The disgust was so rotten, so heinous, that my mind wasn’t able to process how everything led to this moment.
My choices were, in essence, to give my life one way or another.
“Think about it, you have a couple days, at least,” he said gently, then his energy perked up when he eyed the server, beckoning him forward. “I brought your favorite.”
The server presented a bottle with no label, then poured.
The blackness dribbled into the glass, the notes became stronger with the agitation.
Raw, day-old blood.
It smelled of peonies, bitter almond, and baked sugar.