Page 64 of The Cannibal

“The truth is, if you don’t mind me speaking of business matters before dessert.” She paused for any objections, then after a light sigh and a regretful curve of her brows—“we may already be dead, whether you support us in our Appraisal or not. But I’m sure there are still double-depth graves available to you if you make your arrangements in a timely manner. Though I must warn, you may need triple depth if you have any siblings, children—adopted or blood—and maybe extra space for any pets or mistresses for good measure.”

“This doesn’t inspire much confidence in your proposed alliance,” Elijah argued. “Why involve ourselves at all if we can avoid bloodshed over problems that are not our own.”

“Because if we lose, they won’t stop at our Nest. It’s silly to assume they won’t come for you,” she laughed. “We respect you, as we are all here just trying to survive. If they want you gone after deciding our Nest’s existence is a threat, there will be nothing you could possibly do to stop them from wiping you from this earth, the records—and they will take everything.”

“Are you not the Leviathan’s blood?” Mr. Soros was steady, but there was no hiding the tremor in his hands.

“New York and its establishments, Nest or otherwise, are very few, but the only reason we are on their map is because we dared to be different. They are worried about eugenics, while we are focused on evolution. When bloodline is no longer a barrier, it puts their own influence and gatekeeping into question.” Her voice was full of passion, something I wasn’t sure she had for anything other than parties and dresses.

“Why should we bother getting involved at all?” Soros pressed.

“Because if you support us in our Appraisal, it’s not just for us. It’s for this city. If we win, we do not intend on dispersing, which would allow us to extend protections over the territory.”

“So you come here, to a city where you do not belong, pour your dirty money into an establishment to position yourself in a way that has taken real New York establishments years to achieve, and think you can just assert yourself as the people who will save this city?” Elijah scoffed. “How will we know you are any different? You’re tied to them in blood and title, and we are just supposed to trust you?”

Pierce placed a hand on his shoulder, but it was slapped away as Elijah raised his hands.

“What exactly is at stake here?” Pierce’s expression hardened with every minute that passed. I suppose he was finally tired of moronic games.

“Everything,” she said, in such a way that was morbidly honest, pitying even. “If we lose, it will determine your survival, as well as the future for Vipera civilization in New York, and in turn, these United States. My father didn’t involve himself before because he wasn’t threatened. Now, he is. That should be enough proof that our goals are within reach.”

“So there’s nothing to be done?” another guest muttered.

“The old Nests follow very few rules, but they are as old as the traditions we keep and the blood in our veins.” Phoebe set her cutlery down. “The Appraisal is the only thing in my father’s way. He needs to pretend there is a due process to keep people in line.”

“How do we know you won’t join them if you are successful in your trial?” Elijah pushed, every muscle in his face tense, a deep fear so bravely on display. “That is one of the options, is it not? How do we trust you won’t just let them into our city, right through the front door if they ask nicely?”

“If killing every generation of our own familial Nest doesn’t convince you of our dedication to ending this poisonous cycle, then I sincerely do not know what will,” she said, not even a waver of an inflection, an exaggerated movement, nothing.

“No Guilds, no Den ownership,” Pierce said. “Leave it to the people who built New York, who have bled over this community. If it is all that you say, and this is some philanthropic venture for you and those who don’t align with your noble blood, then this should be an easy term for you to swallow.”

Phoebe smiled, choosing not to acknowledge his last choice of euphemism. I knew she could see me in the corner of her eye. I shook my head slowly.

“Support our appeal and it’s a deal.”

Fuck.

She had no business accepting such a large term without consulting Silas, much less when he wasn’t even in the room to counter. While I didn’t think he thought about sustainability from a monetary standpoint, he also never liked being told what to do. Chimera was a money hole through and through, with no one knowing when Silas would run out of funds. Deep breaths, or you’ll bleed through your eye again, I told myself.

“We will consider it,” Pierce spoke for the rest of the group, raising his cup of bloodwine, “but for now, cheers to the future.”

Phoebe looked at me finally. She knew what she did was wrong. I could see it in her eyes; the adrenaline must have worn off.

With my hand open and palm facing the floor, I gestured for her to remain steady.

I would fix it later with Silas.

“Just in time for a toast!” Pierce returned to his merry ways.

“Apologies, I’ve been a bit lightheaded today.” Alina returned to the scene without Silas, which left the most sour feeling about the entire night.

Her skin was oddly more vibrant, a bit flushed, with a victorious smirk across her lips.

Phoebe raised a brow to high heavens, the loudest silent question to which even I wanted the answer.

Alina only took a cheeky bit of food. I could see their shoes touching under the table, a girlish conversation quite literally below the surface.

Oddly, it put me at ease knowing there wasn’t anything else dire to deal with.