Page 88 of The Cannibal

Phoebe was shaking, her hand bracing her temple. She stared down at the floor, chewing her lip.

“It was my fault.”

“Oh? You think?” She laughed, but not out of lightheartedness.

“I had to think quickly. I fixed⁠—”

“Can you manage to not make a scene while you do this quick thinking?” she nearly spat. “You’re a clever woman, but you have no perceptual consciousness.”

“I was helping.”

“You’re always helping!” she exclaimed, gesturing around her. “Helping, helping, helping! Yet the best thing you could do is to stay still for once while we deal with everything else.”

“It was my venom,” I admitted, but her words settled on me a bit slower than I thought, and I lost the motivation to explain myself.

“You said that.” She stared at me, chewing at her nailbeds. “What about your venom?”

I nodded. “Paralytic.”

She looked at me as if the hydra had sprouted from my decapitated head.

“I didn’t know.” I swallowed thickly, rubbing my arm. “How could I have?”

“Oh, Alina.” Phoebe’s voice softened.

“I shouldn’t have woken up.” My lip trembled. “It seems I am only built to suffer, if not to cause suffering from the mere desire to eat.”

“Come here,” she sighed, hugging me close. Her grip was tight, angry, but that didn’t overshadow her empathy for me, it seemed. “Who knows?”

“Luka.”

“That’s all?”

“And you.”

“We will say he had a heart complication,” she said, quick to dismiss my mistakes.

“Is that such a good idea?” I leaned back to look at her. “Do you think it’s worth hiding?”

“Not hiding, just not telling.” She rubbed my arm in reassurance. “How you feed is none of anyone’s business, and live feeding isn’t the only way to do it. Our only focus should be getting you to eat at all.”

“So we will lie about what happened to John.”

She nodded.

“I think John has a right to know.”

“You can tell him then, but there is no telling how many people may turn their back on you when they realize you’ve harmed one of our own, even by accident,” she said bitterly. Her eyes were intense, demanding of attention. “He may forgive you, but others will not be so kind. They will look for the next reason to run you out.”

“A lot of that lately.”

“Your finest pardon?”

“Lies,” I said pointedly. “I suppose we all are cursed to repeat the systems that we so crave to destroy.”

“You have no ground to stand on without the people who try to help you,” she warned, “for your own sake, please tread carefully. But I cannot help you if you won’t let me.”

Her face was tense, so strained with concern that even in her angriest moments, she couldn’t hide the way she felt.