Page 37 of The Cannibal

If I had the ears of a fox, they may have perked straight to the sky. Even with the surprise of the mention, it gave me a bit of ease.

“Why not?” I dug my grave further, and happily so.

“Some say their formation is problematic,” she explained. “If you are approached by them to join, be wary.”

“I’ve never heard anything of the sort,” I said, “but if you could tell me more?”

“Some of these Nests—the Jewel in King’s, the Eagle Crest in Queens, and the one that shares this building, North Star—they all have been here since the city was small. Growing with their communities, building their neighborhoods’ infrastructures, and becoming what they are today.”

She leaned in, like she was telling me some tall tale, the folk and legends of the city itself.

“Then Chimera was formed, not even two years prior. Suddenly there is a new building on Fifth, men in black propositioning for Host work, and an unaccounted amount of money poured into it.” She was getting a bit red in the cheeks as she worked herself up. “The Sire is Silas Forbes, heir of Leviathan.”

“Leviathan?” I leaned back.

The staff brought that gin I nearly forgot about, just in time to hear the story.

“A man older than the dirt that stirs beneath the foundation of the city, and of cities much older than this,” she said carefully. “Some say he is dead, some say he is the first of our species, and some do not believe he is real at all. But his legend is padded in unimaginable wealth and power, which is scarier than believing a single man exists.”

“So Leviathan is an ancestor?” I asked. “Apologies, I’m not familiar.”

She nodded. “There is no knowing what rumors are true, but there is talk of nothing but evil behind their charade.”

“Well, what is their charade, exactly?”

She scoffed before taking another sip from her glass. “They proposition promising such community and belonging, it’s too good to be completely true. They say all the members are selected on skill instead of bloodline, which is what most Nests here do.”

“Of course, it seems like they are trying to reinvent the wheel a year too late.”

“Exactly,” she put emphasis on the word, “the running theory is they are just building to sell off and disperse.”

“How so?”

“Based on their criteria, I reckon they’re priming their Nest as top pickings for the highest bidder. Word is out that they’re going for an Appraisal. But they risk bringing unwanted attention to the others in doing this.”

“That’s to become an official Nest, is it not?”

She shook her head with a smirk. “That’s what they say, but I am going to bet my week’s wages they are only doing it for breeding contracts. The Nest will dissolve and everyone will spread across the globe to the other established Nests, never to be seen again.”

The idea was nearly as hard to swallow as the gin that caught in my throat.

Breeding contracts.

“Are those . . . normal? The . . . contracts?” I looked for Luka in the room again, but the bastard was nowhere to be found.

“Between established Nests, yes. Most Appraisals are negotiable. It has been a hundred years since a new Nest was inducted. Most settle for placements in the other Nests,” she explained. “But that’s the thing, they are so isolated and inbred that they must trade to keep bloodlines strong.”

“It sounds more complicated than it has to be,” I admitted. “But what if they do it?”

“Do what?”

“If Chimera is inducted.”

“Then you may take my head, because it won’t happen,” she joked, then turned to me to twist her finger playfully in my necklace. “I take it you don’t belong to a Nest.”

“No,” I lied, “I’m not against it if someone invited me.”

“I could give you a proper introduction,” she offered, her fingers dancing up my collar and to my earrings. Pump. Pump.