Page 35 of The Cannibal

“Fine,” I sighed.

Luka let me go to punch the air in triumph, already walking toward the Guild.

We queued to wait our turn. Luka stood behind me, tipping his hat down as we approached the doorman.

There was a wall of a man guarding the door. His arms were thick as they crossed his chest. The lack of hair on his shiny head was made up for in the most pristine handlebar mustache I had ever laid eyes on.

“F-for two.” My words were unsure.

The doorman raised his bushy brow.

“Oh.” I shifted, clumsily flicking one fang forward to smile. I wasn’t sure if I had smiled wide enough for him to see, so I tried bigger, but my tooth stung and it snapped right back into my mouth. “Apologies⁠—”

The man just waved us in hastily. More people had piled up behind us.

“You’re brilliant.” Luka wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we entered, shaking me in a fit of excitement.

“You’re just hungry.”

“Yes, indeed I am.” He grinned so wide, his canines were hard to hide. We both went up the stairs to the next floor. “Now, for you, my dear hatchling, you get to have a proper feeding.”

I glanced around, distracted by the sudden intricacies of my surroundings.

The walls were a deep red, every doorframe and wall lined with wooden trim details. A giant stone fireplace was placed warmly in a parlor overlooking the street. There were refreshments on the opposite end, and full staff. Dozens of dark leather chairs and eclectic furniture to sit on, a good environment for conversation.

Men and women mingled, but the women outnumbered them entirely.

“It will be good for you to be away from people you know. Takes a bit of familiarity out of it. It’s a sensitive transition, I understand,” he assured me, then slapped me on the behind toward the parlor. “Now go talk to someone.”

“Excuse me—” I sneered, but he was already gone.

Of course he was gone.

The inside was expensive beyond what I could say is sensible, as if wealth and exploitation could be considered sensible at all. Despite my disdain for the people who made this place, I was overwhelmed by the sense of awe for animals I couldn’t even name without the plaques. The fear of touching anything breakable plagued my mind more than the urge to touch the specimens. Every empty space on the walls was filled with busts; in each corner, a large taxidermied animal rather than the typical decorative plants. In the middle, a juvenile albino giraffe. A polar bear and a grizzly posed on two legs on either side of the fireplace.

A man in fine tailoring worked the bar, repurposed from a church or castle based on the carvings. Interestingly enough, I could smell whatever he was mixing from where I stood.

“Are you all right, miss?” The bartender tossed the cocktail shaker, the clamoring of cool ice within like an instrument.

“Overwhelmed,” I said politely.

“Let me know if I can be of service,” he said, pouring two drinks.

I leaned against the bar, not knowing how to word it.

He glanced at me, waiting for the request.

I lowered my voice. “How do I . . . I’m not sure how this works.”

He smiled kindly despite my ignorance. He leaned over the bar to point at the parlor. “Go in there, take a seat. Pay attention to the shoes”—he then placed a cold, short glass in my hand—“and drink this. It makes it easier.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, as he packed the cocktails on a plate and buzzed away as fast as a bee.

With my new literal handful of courage, I approached the parlor area.

As soon as I crossed into the threshold, the ringing began in my ears again.

Fine animals, finer people.