Page 147 of The Cannibal

THE POISONER

When returned to the home, I was conveniently allowed to roam the entire floor instead of the confines of my room. No one was allowed on the upper floors but myself and the security detail who kept me. No shackles, as a sign of goodwill.

My task seemed to be invisibility, to not burden anyone while they prepared their duties for the Appraisal.

The parlor had quickly become a favorite place of leisure. Giant houseplants like fig trees and palms, ferns tucked in corners under crystal cloches, hand-painted vases that could fit an entire body or two under the dirt.

I lay on one of the lounge chairs, the cushions gentle on my neck as I stared up at the clouds through the giant oval window in the ceiling, then made my own as I watched the cigarette smoke dance above.

“Would you like coffee and pastries before we take them away?” Amelia asked above me. I shook my head, taking another inhale of tobacco. “You’ve also been requested in the gallery.”

“Gallery?”

“The large room to the left when you come through the front. Both doors on either side of the receiving room’s fireplace open to it.” She stopped speaking when she realized I wasn’t sure. “Would you like me to escort you?”

“Yes.” I handed her my cigarette. “I thought it was being used for another purpose this week.”

“Sometimes we clear it out and use it as a ballroom.” She quickly put the ash out on a used plate. “It’s multipurpose, not often used every day. We just finished putting the furniture back.”

“So we have to house and entertain them too, while they put us on trial?” I shook my head. “Diplomacy is as irritating as it is expensive.”

“Grateful it’s not on my dime, I couldn’t imagine,” she mumbled, gesturing me to follow her.

“Am I allowed down there?” I glanced at the men standing in each corner.

She smiled politely. “Yes.”

We ventured through the halls then down to the ground floor. It was always quite an entrance coming down the wide staircase into the grand foyer.

The maid stopped before the fireplace guarding the gallery, doors closed as always. She gestured toward the door.

“I suppose you’re not coming with me?”

“I don’t think it would be wise, it wasn’t requested.” She nodded politely, leaving me to my business.

I touched the doorknob, unable to bring myself to fully grasp it.

There’s only one more person I could think of who would want to see me.

Could it be that our last encounter had put him off me completely? It was fair for him to be angry, but he knew I had little say in my role here, or the nature of my new body.

There was an urgent matter we needed to discuss anyway.

I shouldn’t assume the worst. This could be a simple request for time, to sit down and truly talk. Though Silas was not a man of words, especially those of reflection, so I wasn’t optimistic.

In turn, I could ignore this request altogether and go back to sleep. But my curiosity was getting the best of me and there was only one way to end the mystery.

I opened the door to grand ceilings, no windows, but art served as more than enough scenery. The art pieces were large, a masterful collection. Somehow they found a way to fill every blank wall space with some kind of scene. Most contained antiquated depictions of monsters and myths, then some were portraits.

Much like the parlors, furniture filled the room in different pockets and styles, except most were positioned to observe the art, as well as whoever may wander the gallery.

In the middle of the room were two sofas, a chaise, and two armchairs gathered squarely around an antique rug, possibly of South Asian design. All the furnishings, now that I looked at them, seemed as old as some of the paintings. A purely eclectic showcase to make the room feel like it was more of a showroom than a place to gather. I suppose his home in London was the same. A man so desperate for memories that he collects them.

Within the center gathering, the back of a blond head.

He looked quite small in a room so grand. Just a man and his things. Will I be one to add to the collection one day? I wondered. Will I be a prisoner or a lover in his home after this?

His head turned slightly when I stepped in.