Page 160 of The Cannibal

46

THE POISONER

Most guests were setting off, packing their carriages, and leaving us with congratulatory goodbyes. Our narrow street was flocked with harbor-bound carriages. The only ones who remained were the representatives, most of their staff leaving ahead of them and would await their arrivals after.

Mr. Astor requested something lavish. On the rooftop with more flowers, something proper, he’d said to the staff. He acted as if our Nest was his, and what was mine was ours.

The contracts were signed, their account managers back home were telegraphed that small advances were to be transferred to a new account, a joint one with mine and Levi’s names on it.

I was to be addressed as part of the Astor household, and whatever household I resided in thereafter, but always to return to him.

A broodmare paid for in blood and gold.

The banquet table was meticulously furnished on the rooftop garden. Florals of wolfbane, larkspur, and lilacs made up deadly arrangements of pale blues and violets. The silverware was polished so thoroughly they were practically mirrors, reflecting any light it could as it waited to be plated.

The trays uncovered to reveal steak, thinly sliced. The pink myoglobin dripped across the silver, giving a rosy-colored film to my reflection.

“No, not for her,” one of the staff scolded the other, taking it away as soon as it was uncovered.

“Don’t worry, I saved something else for you,” Levi assured me, before a glass of black wine was placed in front of me. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to waste it.”

I stared into it, not willing to even breathe around it if it meant it would invoke a memory of her. It was blasphemous, wrong, to think of her now. Reduced to a glass. To food. As I once was.

Levi took up one end of the table. The Russian representative, Ilya, was to my right, one of Luka’s acquaintances, as I understood. We shared a glance. At the very least, he looked a bit stung by the callous gesture before he continued to eat.

They were feeling generous, a bit cocky. I could tell, because they invited Elijah to the meal as well, despite his less than enthusiastic presence.

Such light conversations seemed so morbid in such a situation. But I supposed it was only that way to me; this was a great deal for everyone else.

As my eyes skimmed along the illustrious table, there was only a single thing present that I wanted.

Opposite his father, Silas was positioned at the other end of the table.

Two men of the same blood in unmovable positions.

Those cold dead eyes did not leave his father. The plate in front of him would sooner catch flies before he tore his gaze from him. Yet his breathing was calm, even. Waiting.

“I’m so grateful that Alina was so receptive to the idea. That’s the trick, working with what you have.” Levi took my hand, the grip tight to pull me from looking at Silas too long.

“Should we call the species something new?” the Italian Sire suggested.

“Vipera astora.” The German Sire pointed his fork before slicing back into the steak.

“After me?” Levi pretended to be flattered.

“It is your design, after all.” The sickly words could give them cavities with the way they were sweetening him up.

“What do you think?” Levi turned to me.

I didn’t answer.

“Come now, you like these things, don’t you?” He pressed. His expression smug enough to know I shouldn’t answer honestly or plainly.

“She will learn to be grateful,” one of the others said, though I did not recognize him or remember which country he was serving for.

They were all just men to me.

“Is she always like this?” Levi called across the table to Silas. “I thought she came fully trained?”