Page 56 of The Cannibal

Another one popped in my mouth, the same flavor as before, with a satisfying chewy texture. I didn’t think Phoebe could smile wider, but she did. It was like she used cooking as an extension to herself. She had a hard time expressing affection through words, it was always through parties, gifts, or food. It made sense for a socialite to log everyone’s favorite personal tastes for gifting reasons, but for her, it was deeper than just standard pleasantries.

“What are we going to do when we get home,” I asked mid-chew, “with Silas?”

It was brief, but I saw. Her smile faltered for just a fraction of a second when I said his name. She only offered a shrug and a diversion of her attention to a tart pastry.

“Is this going to complicate the Appraisal?”

“I don’t believe it will, but we never really know until we are sitting with our necks on the block.” Her comment was rather grim despite the light tone, as if discussing the dinner options. “Silas’s unwellness will either help us or hurt us—we won’t know until it’s time. We hoped we could keep him relatively levelheaded until representatives started arriving . . .”

“Representatives?”

Phoebe blew air from her nose when I interrupted; a sharp glare from her made my mouth snap shut.

“From the Nests.”

“Oh.” I chewed. “What was it we were attending tonight?”

“A dinner with the organizations here in the city.”

“Right.”

“We were hoping to tell him you were suddenly awake closer to the gathering. That way he would be in good spirits with good news, and help the morale through the trial,” she continued with the conversation.

“It was a good plan.”

“Was,” she emphasized. “Now we just have to hope he doesn’t act out.”

“Can I help in any way?”

Phoebe snorted when she let out a laugh. “Well, there are many things, but for now we will settle for forcing yourself to a social visit tonight.”

“You’re punishing me?” I let my head slope back in defeat.

“This is your formal introduction to society. It isn’t anything large, if it makes you feel better. An intimate gathering between the Nests and Guilds of New York City. Just a few notable players.” She plucked a candy from my jar and popped it into her mouth. “You handle small gatherings perfectly well. Silas, on the other hand, does not. Forcing him to be personable is like pulling fingernails.”

“I wonder why,” I mumbled sarcastically.

“If you’re there, he won’t do anything stupid.”

“How do you know that?” I scoffed.

“I don’t. But we are practicing wishful thinking here.”

“We?” I raised a brow.

She gave me a sour look.

“You and Luka have become quite friendly,” I commented. “I don’t remember you being close.”

“We aren’t,” she said sternly, “but we have mutual interests. Someone needs to push back against the men or else nothing will work right. A woman’s touch is all any organization needs.”

“Is that so?” I slowly chewed my candy. “Pulling the strings from afar?”

She smiled. “They never know where to look. Problem solving on a social level is neither of their fortes.”

“Cheers to that.” I looked out across the park.

I could sit here forever. The perfect temperature, the perfect day, frozen in time. I should have brought a camera to capture it. One thing I was starting to realize is that moments like this will become fleeting. As I grow older and older with not a wrinkle on my face to show for it, my memory will eat away these small moments and replace them with things much more stressful, much more demanding in resourceful information. Perhaps I will forget everything except the things that haunt me.