Page 42 of The Cannibal

“Her room was locked,” he interrupted, lazily sitting in a decorative chair in the corner. As if the light couldn’t get any brighter, it reflected like gold off his hair.

“As instructed by you.” I wiped the last bit of blood from my nose before tossing the handkerchief. I sat down beside him, surveying the mess of a room.

“I couldn’t find Phoebe. She has the keys still?” he mumbled.

“Yes, we can find her later and you can see Alina.” I kept my demeanor as neutral as I could while battling the growing annoyance.

“Locked from the outside in case she wakes?” he clarified.

“Yes. So she will still be there when you come back,” I assured him.

His slumped form didn’t allow me to see his face. He had been such a mess these last six months. It wasn’t unbelievable that watching Alina die caused him some distress, but I had a feeling it had more to do with his venom being the thing that turned her. Guilt can cripple even the strongest of men.

“Phoebe will let us know if she wakes.” I patted his arm. “You know these measures are for her safety from others, right? This isn’t to torture you.”

His head lifted up then down.

“Great, now change into something else. We feast tonight to celebrate our homecoming. You will feed, and you will perk up. Do you hear me?”

Another nod, less enthusiastic this time.

“Meet me downstairs in an hour.” I stood from my seat, already nearing the door. “I will drag you downstairs if you aren’t punctual.”

He threw the empty bottle at the door, the glass shattering beside me.

“I’m glad we have an understanding!” I chimed, closing the door behind me.

My smile fell, my motivation to keep myself personable quickly faltering with every friction the day offered.

I passed the rooms, even the one I woke in this morning. Every day felt like a different room, never my own, not until moments like now, when all I wished for was to be alone, just briefly. But this morning I would hide away in my room for a few moments of peace.

It was dark, no windows. A bed for one, a small desk in the corner with a stool that didn’t quite match. The sheets hadn’t been peeled back since I’d returned; it looked like the maids skipped it the entire time I was away.

I sat by the desk, very few belongings displayed. There were some dull pencils, one wasn’t sharpened at all. Papers piled, a couple spare notebooks stacked to the side. Then a box . . . a Christmas gift never used.

The pen inside only resurfaced soured memories. Every time I had the motivation to draw, it died the moment I saw the box. Her name decorated the tag.

To Luka,

From Edith

My lip curled in disgust, no matter how I tried to suppress it. All I could do was look away. The rest of the room was bare, not even a carpet. My trunk sat in the corner waiting to be unpacked.

I reached for the flask in my pocket. The lack of light was kinder to my eye, but the pain persisted. With a quick unscrewing of the cap, I dumped the remaining liquid in my mouth. It was a mixture, I just put anything I could inside. Even with strong concentrates of cocaine and laudanum, my tolerance was too high.

The curse of having low venom concentration also meant a lower pain tolerance. Maybe I could remove my eye myself if someone brought me iodine and a mirror.

My back slouched until my face landed in my palms. The throbbing didn’t stop, and neither did my worries.

If what I suspected was true, Alina didn’t have much time left before she suffered permanent damage to her brain. The issue is that this seemed to be an involuntary inability to feed; her body was rejecting it. If her body rejected the turn, she would be dead. Simple as that.

She took much longer than expected to turn, for a Host, at least. A typical person would take a day to turn, a day without feeding to go feral and corrupted. A Host could take up to a month to turn, the same amount of time without feeding before it caused permanent brain damage. But six months? Never had I heard of it. Her timeline was unsure, but it was her sixth day awake and I was somewhat confident she had until the end of the month to sustain herself. Plenty of time, even if we had to resort to force feeding.

But never had I seen a body reject food after turning and waking successfully. Nothing about the situation sat right.

On top of her presence being a distraction for Silas, her illness would positively send him into a state of no return. I couldn’t pull off this trial without his head on firm. The entire ordeal hinged on his image and behavior. Just a little longer and it would all be done with.

But I was beginning to doubt the integrity of the threads by which our fate hung.