Page 49 of The Cannibal

“Move.”

I was in no mood to fight with anyone else, as my bruises were still aching even if I no longer suffered from internal bleeding from Silas’s fit this morning.

“Did you promote me just so you can disregard every single safety measure I put in place?” Sidney crossed his arms.

“Yes.” I went to grab the door.

Sidney grabbed my wrist, his catlike eyes sharp as he stared me down.

“Let us ask the ladies then, shall we?” I smiled. “I’m so glad you’re taking this role seriously, though.” I pulled on the door, the parlor smelling mostly of tea and pollen from the fresh florals.

It was always comedic seeing them together. A raven and a flamingo.

Phoebe’s face turned to me almost immediately, while Alina wasn’t even bothered by the intrusion. Clearly Phoebe wasn’t done with her playtime. When Alina did grace me with an acknowledgment, she took it right back before looking at Phoebe.

“May I speak with you?” I stared at Alina, no matter how she may avoid looking at me.

“Say it here,” Phoebe piped, weaving a needle through a small embroidery hoop.

“Please,” I insisted, and only then did Alina reciprocate at least some eye contact.

“You don’t have to.” Phoebe leaned over to pinch Alina in the chair beside her. “Should have kept him outside, he looks and smells like wet dog⁠—”

“And you smell like the last cunt you ate,” I mumbled.

Phoebe leaned forward to spit on my shoe.

I raised my hand on instinct.

She bared her little fangs, and I returned the favor, black beginning to cloud her bright green eyes.

“Fine!” Alina shouted. “Fine, fine, fine! Both of you are hurting my head.” She huffed as she got up, tossing her book onto the sofa as she made for the door.

I tilted my head at Phoebe, throwing her my best smile as I turned to follow Alina out. I looked to Sid, tilting my head in the direction of the stairwell to stand watch.

Alina chewed at her lip as she watched Sidney go to the end of the hall.

“Don’t look so nervous.” I leaned my shoulder against the wall.

“You were cruel for that.” Her icy eyes could cut, even when they were very clearly exhausted.

“I know.” I shrugged, crossing my arms. “But I’m guessing you didn’t tell her about your little illness, did you?”

Her lack of eye contact was my answer. She would be a horrid gambler.

“You need to eat, as soon as you can.” I leaned forward to make sure she heard me.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” She blew air from her nose like an agitated bull. Even then her eyes were becoming glassy, her wits at their end between hunger and other growing pains. Empathy wasn’t a strong suit of mine, but even this was making me pity her position.

Her breathing became deeper, then she gave a half yawn. But the breathing didn’t stop, like she was having trouble catching her breath with every heave of her breasts. Even her skin looked feverish, and not the stylish kind. A flush to her cheeks, her neck, her chest—even more noticeable because of her pallidity.

Perhaps I went too long without speaking, because she covered her face.

“Come now, don’t do that.” I grabbed her wrists, tugging to no avail. “Alina, I don’t have time to comfort you, if you cry I swear—” I switched my methods to gripping her head, then with one sharp shake, her hands fell.

I leaned down, her nails digging into my arms as her eyes squeezed shut, unable to keep the tears from escaping.

“Alina.”