47
THE POISONER
Two Months Later.
Manhattan, New York City.
The walls were closing in.
I thought this would be easier, but I fear it may be the scariest thing I’ve ever done.
I leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths.
“I don’t do well with criers,” the thick accent came from beside me.
Luka wore nice tailoring rather than his typical style. He bothered to shave and trim those curls, now that they nearly touched his shoulders. A white bloom of wolfsbane was pinned to his lapel.
“You are terrible at this.” I stared up at the ceiling before glaring at him.
He rolled his eyes. “Every time I’ve come to check on you today, you’re crying.”
“Could you just offer your congratulations and go join the rest?”
“I came to offer condolences,” he said sarcastically, “but I wanted to wish you luck and say goodbye.”
“You’re leaving?”
“For a time.” He shrugged. “A recruitment trip, is all.”
“But you will return?”
“Careful, you sound hopeful.”
“Just like keeping track of my pawns,” I assured him. I took his hand, squeezing it.
He glanced down, rubbing his thumb over my knuckle. “You did all right, Dorogaya.”
“You were awful, every step of the way,” I said fondly. I leaned in, kissing his cheek. But we couldn’t help it. He wrapped his arms around me tightly. I squeezed him around the neck. “Safe travels, until we meet again.”
“That sounds like a threat when you say it,” he mumbled into my shoulder.
“Ready?” John’s throat cleared.
He pulled his bow tie, fussing with his hair as he mumbled his grievances. He pretended nothing was fitting right, but it was perfectly tailored. He looked so handsome when he wasn’t adhering to a strict blue-collar uniform. It was only for today, at least.
We stood in the grand foyer, the entire home smelled of the strongest florals. I was quite happy with them, as most would be atypical for a wedding. The main flower was the white Aconitum, also known as queen of poison.
Luka let go and retreated, back to join the others.
If you listened closely, you could hear the anxious mumbling of the intimate crowd.
I helped John with his tie, tucking and pulling it tight.
There was a glassy sheen over his eyes, even though he was trying to appear strong.
“I don’t know, maybe Luka should do it,” he mumbled, with his chin tipped up, trying to urge the tears back into his head.
“It’s customary for it to be the father,” I laughed, taking his arm in mine. I turned him to the mirror in the hallway.
He stood tall, tailored, and strong.
My dress was crimson, a pearl demi parure in my ears and on my neck. The veil had yet to be pulled over my face for ease of fixing myself if I cried again. The silk of the dress looked nearly liquid as it moved, sweeping and gathering ornately around my body until it spilled into a train behind me.
“Are you ready?” I squeezed his arm.
“No,” he admitted, “but I can be.”
“That’s it, Pops.” I smiled, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “I wouldn’t have chosen anyone else for the honor,” I said, pecking his cheek.
“We should make our way to the parlor before my face gets any wetter,” he grumbled.
I tipped my head to his as we began the walk. We stood outside the doors, waiting for the music to reach a particular trill as all quieted down.
John adjusted the red veil over my face, a coronet of wolfsbane and pearl pins keeping it in place.
Amelia handed me the bouquet, a dazzling collection of white larkspur, lily of the valley, hemlock, and calla lilies.
The doors cracked open, and the music swelled in our ears.
The yearning of a violin welcomed us among turning heads. The morning light laid a halo over the middle of the floor. Luka stood in the center with Silas to his side.
John walked me down the middle of the seats, eyes following as I crossed the floor. Soon I was stopped before the Fixer, John’s hand replaced by Silas’s.
The red veil filtered the light in my view, everything painted a lovely vermillion.
Bright blue eyes met mine, a twitch in the corner of his lips the moment he saw me through lowered lashes.
There were three rings on my hand this day.
One for my first friend, one for my first love, and one once belonging to our mothers.
Luka held a chalice between us, his mouth moving as he recited a homily.
I was handed the chalice first.
“This is now bone of my bones . . .” Silas lifted the veil from my face.
Our reflections danced in the chalice, filled with both of our blood. I took the first drink.
“ . . . and flesh of my flesh,” I recited, passing the cup to him.
“She shall be called ‘woman,’ for she was taken out of man . . .” Silas continued, taking his communion.
“ . . . he shall be called ‘man,’ for he was gifted life by woman,” I finished, as our hands joined together again.
“May you bear fruits from the flesh and an eternal love that is timeless,” Luka said, stepping back.
Silas’s fingers brushed against my face before fully holding my cheeks. The light shone down on us giving him such an angelic halo, I could be swayed to forget my Creature’s nature. Our nature.
I lifted on my toes, he smiled before his lips met mine.
Suddenly, petals littered the air, dancing over our faces as we kissed. Shrouded in a veil of pollen that glittered in the light.
“My formidable Creature,” I breathed against his lips.
“My venomous wife.” He smirked back.
I closed my eyes as our lips met again, and again, until Luka had to pull us apart and nudge us down the aisle.
The new connecting wing was beautiful, convenient, and built on a rather strong foundation.
An arched door opened into the connection, allowing guests movement to and from the main home and into the apartments. We would be adding more recruits soon, Hosts and Vipera alike. Hopefully Luka returned with promising protégés.
“It shouldn’t be a problem for now, but it’s something we may want to make adjustments to, if you plan to do flooring,” John said, as we stepped from the spectacular hallway down to the basement.
The room’s ceiling was low enough that I could touch it.
John walked me over to the middle of the floor.
His shoe tapped the faintest hairline crack in the concrete. You could mistake it for a loose string.
“Tile over it.” I shrugged. “We won’t be using the basement for anything practical. Storage, at most.”
John wrote something down on a small pad of paper. “Will do.”
As we ascended the stairs, I looked back at the floor.
A dark, lonely room. No furniture, no equipment, and no one could tell it encased the worst evils of this world.
We made it to the top of the stairs, I locked the door and handed the key to John. “No copies of this one,” I instructed.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with great humor, then pulled me into a hug. “Safe travels, Crow. May the wind take you far.”
“I’ll be back in no time,” I laughed. “Make sure it doesn’t fall apart in our absence.”
As I reentered the grand foyer, my trunks were stacked as footmen brought them out to the carriage one by one.
I lifted the sleeve to my walking suit to check the time, which we had plenty of before we had to catch the boat. It would be a long trip, but worth it.
A blue walking suit turned the corner. Mary stopped when she caught my gaze, then relaxed when she saw it was only me.
I walked up to her, my hands clasped in front of me as I looked down at the brunette.
“Finally making your way back to Buffalo?” I tipped my head.
“I’ve overstayed to begin with.” She pulled her white gloves tight, the rim of her hat hiding her eyes.
“You’re always welcome back,” I said gently. “There will always be a room for you.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyes were reluctant to meet mine.
“Why not?”
“I just figured—”
“I understand,” I said, “but let bygones be bygones. You have important work to do, anyway. Those girls need you back at home.”
She nodded, shrugging her shoulders before letting them relax. “Thank you.”
“I will see you again.” I brought her into a hug. She tensed before her arms wrapped around me to return it.
“I’m sorry.”
“Hush,” I teased her. “Take care of my horse.”
“I will.” It earned a small smile from her before she picked up her trunk, stepping out into the quickly cooling air.
“Alina!” Silas called from out the door. He was already in a rig, waving me over.
“The luggage!” I pointed to the pile.
“Leave it!” He slid over in his seat, patting the spot beside him.
I stared at the pile and then back at him, eventually giving in and abandoning it on my way out.
I tripped over a cobblestone.
“Please do better at guiding me.” I pulled at his hands, covering my eyes as he walked me forward.
His hands fell from my face, my vision taking several hard blinks to focus.
Two men were installing lettering on a small storefront.
LIS & CO. PHARMACEUTICALS
I pushed out a breath of air, turning to him in disbelief.
“You hate it?” He pouted.
There was no hiding my smile, even when I grabbed his face to kiss him, our teeth clicking together because I just simply couldn’t hide my excitement.
“It’ll be waiting for you, cleaned and primed, when we get back.” He wrapped his arms around my neck as I hugged his waist.
“It’s perfect.” I glanced back at it over my shoulder.
“Are your bags packed?” He kissed my head.
“In a neat pile by the door.” I tipped my head up. “And yours?”
“A single trunk is more than enough for me,” he mumbled.
“Did you hear from the other Nests?”
“Spend-thrifting away,” he laughed.
“So we are ready, then?”
“Only if you are.”
“Let us go.” I tugged at his jacket and moved back toward the rig. “We have a boat to catch.”
The moss-ridden trees moaned as they crossed each other above. The stone pathway wove through a city of statues and pedestals. Small candles dotted the ground before the graves, much like fireflies surfacing from spring foliage.
I dusted the leaves from the ground, placing a bundle of peonies and violets upon the grave.
The travel to Warsaw was long, but worth the trouble. I wouldn’t let her rest by a family who did not care for her.
Phoebe Aston-Lis
1867–1892
Katarzyna Lis
1841–1867
Silas placed a hand on my back as we bowed our heads before the stones.
“She’ll be in good company,” I said softly.
“Do we know if your mother’s body is actually down there?” he asked.
“I’d hope so.” I scraped my shoe against the stone pathway. “I have all the time in the world to find out where, if not here.”
He nodded somberly in response.
“Do you think she forgives me?” I asked him.
“I couldn’t say,” he admitted, “but under the circumstances, I think she would understand.”
“Why do the worst people survive?”
“I will try not to take that as an insult.” He cleared his throat, patting my back.
“Even I can’t help but feel it should have been me.” I stared at the petals that escaped the blooms, rolling over the grass. “I don’t know why I’m here.”
“Because by nature, something wanted us here, to feel for the things we have done.” He pulled out a cigarette. “Hell isn’t real because we make it for ourselves. Our ends were made with us in mind, but sometimes there are things worse than dying, like letting our sins haunt us for good.”
“How do you live with it?” I looked up at him.
A drop of water landed on my cheek, more dotting the gray pathway.
He lifted his shoulder before it fell, flicking the wheel of his lighter. “I don’t.”
“Are you sure you can bear with me for—”
“An eternity is enough.”
The rain dampened his cigarette, he let it hang on his lip in defeat.
“What if I don’t even want to bear with myself for that long?” I was hesitant to ask the question at all. “What if I don’t want to do this forever?”
He stepped out in front of me. As he hovered, the leather scent of his gloves tickled my nose as he held my face.
“Then when you want to go, I will go with you. But I will not let you go alone from this world. Ever.” His eyes flicked between mine, his jaw tense.
“I swear my last breath will be your name.”
“Silas.” His name was barely audible, mouthing the word as if it would make the wish come true.
Just his touch brought me such ease, as if lifting a great, deep pain.
“Twenty-seven or two thousand and seven, I will love you in all those days, all those minutes in between until the last second. That will be the last moment that the world is anything more than a piece of earth, it will become my paradise lost.”
The rain was sparse at first, then a tremble against our faces. Our clothing soaked, the wool of our jackets beading the water before repelling.
His hands fell to my waist, then he held my hand, a gentle sway as the rumble of the oncoming tempest bellowed.
Suddenly, I could close my eyes and see it so clearly.
Back on an especially bitter London night. The loneliest man and the loneliest woman, dancing under the quiet moon, nothing but the stars and barren rosebushes to bear witness to their budding beginning.
Only the two of them could have determined where they were, where they had been, and where they will be.
There comes a time when two people are so dire that they bring out the worst, but also the best in each other, all at the very same time.
A love as steadfast as arsenic, a pair as deadly as so.
Dreadfully, indisputably, made for each other.
THE END