Page 60 of The Cannibal

He didn’t spare even a wandering eye for me. I couldn’t say the same for our dinner host on the other side. Some of those looks were nervous, others skeptical. Even Phoebe snuck glances at her brother, then me, to check in as the soup was served.

It was a semi-clear soup, slightly heartier-looking due to the dark color. Within were pieces of offal, some root vegetables. Czernina. Duck blood soup. My father made this for me once or twice when I was under the weather. He didn’t have the patience for soup most days.

When I glanced down the table at our host, Pierce tipped his head at me.

I took a spoonful, but was unsure if it was worth the risk of swallowing. The smells were already overwhelming.

To my surprise, much like the candy, the broth did not upset me. But there was a distinct taste of blood. Perhaps I was only able to stomach it if it was cooked. I could taste the meat, the blood, some herbs but not all. The vegetables seemed to be for absorption of the broth and texture, if anything. I doubted it would meet the nutrition needs of my body, but at least it curbed the hunger.

“We heard you were more of a humanist; we supplemented with duck,” Pierce said, his eyes boring into Silas.

His cold eyes glanced up. He hadn’t even touched his spoon. Now that I noticed it, he didn’t touch anything. Not even the wine.

Chatter died down slightly but still continued. I suppose the entertainment for the night was whether or not the two could get on each other’s nerves.

I picked up the wineglass, the sting of blood pinching my sinuses as I held it by my nose. The tension of the table wouldn’t be good for any type of diplomacy if he didn’t even try.

My foot slid forward, my shoe touching his.

Silas’s eyes snapped to me briefly before returning to task. “What a good Host you are.”

Phoebe flinched at the words.

“Alina, darling, I’m curious.” Pierce suddenly turned his attention to me.

I took a stale swallow of wine in preparation before I acknowledged it, which didn’t upset my stomach like I thought it would. Just a slight pinch.

Interestingly enough, it was the first time Silas had turned his full attention to me since he’d learned of my waking.

“Curiosity keeps things interesting,” I replied, now ignoring the glares from my dear Creature.

“I’ve heard so many things about you.” Pierce grinned, a slight cut to his words but not intended for me. “If you don’t mind my boldness, I think I speak for us all when I say my interest comes from a place of amazement. But I must know if the rumors are true.”

“You’ll have to be specific, I can’t keep track of them anymore.” I tried for a light joke, which did earn some smiles in between soup tasting.

“Oh, what a delight.” Pierce grasped his hands as he looked to the sky in thought. “Is it true that you somehow were responsible for . . . como se dice . . . unionizing? Yes. Unionizing the Hosts in Buffalo?”

“It was a natural initiative. I can’t take too much credit for anyone outside my own endeavors,” I answered, drinking a little more of my wine as we conversed.

“Goodness, I have so many questions,” he laughed, before spotting Luka. He pointed and turned again to me. “What happened to your footman?”

Luka’s posture straightened, his expression hardening beyond recognition. I suppose they didn’t know who he was, not really. He was always a snake in the grass, known by reputation and never by face. But they wouldn’t know he was the Fixer himself.

“An experiment,” I said carefully, not breaking eye contact with Luka. I caught a short upturn in the corner of his lip.

“Is that what the Buffalo incident was?” Pierce asked. Incident?

Before I could ask for clarification he had already moved on. That is when I realized these were not questions at all. He was throwing mercury, taking a temperature.

“Maiming your help, killing a Sire with a single scratch upstate, and then helping to liquefy the most powerful Nest in London.” His words were inflammatory, yet his tone was utterly giddy. “I’m surprised you can walk around freely, if I am allowed to be so open about my thoughts.”

“No surprise,” I replied. “I’m good at what I do.”

When I looked to Silas, his energy had changed, and not for the better. His eyes were locked on Pierce, his fingers loosely touching the dinner knife. Ready. Waiting for one more word.

I finished my wine, placing the cup behind his hand.

“Excuse me, where is the lavatory?” I asked Pierce.