“As many as you can make. Telephone me when you finish. I will send someone to pick them up.” I pulled a calling card from my pocket, handing it to her as I passed.
Ideas rushed to my head every minute after my new discovery. Alina’s deadly nature allowed me some creative freedom now that I knew my toy would not easily break.
I noticedAlina’s mornings started more or less the same every day. She had a strict routine.
First, she met for breakfast, though she didn’t eat much despite the frivolous locations. I assume that she did so for her counterpart, Phoebe Aston. Social circles were small, though their connection surprised me.
Anyway, they always started with breakfast.
Every single morningalmostwithout fail. I threw a wrench in that well-oiled machine the minute she hit her head on those steps.
Iwas glad I did not just eat her then or else I would have been upset with myself for wasting the opportunity for more games.
While Alina was surely bright, she had the worst case of fixation I had ever seen. The minute she opened a book, it was like she disappeared—only a shell of a person. I nearly bumped into her several times. When passing her at the market, I even let her run into my shoulder. She said sorry and did not stop walking.
I will repeat myself: she saidsorryand did not evenlookin my direction.
Those cold eyes never left the ink on those pages. The only effort she exhausted, aside from reading, was to bite into an apple after she muttered her apology. It was quite annoying actually. I wanted to shove her off the bridge, but she might be more upset about the book getting wet than by the sight of me.
Most of her day was spent in the shop, making God knows what behind the scenes. I was never interested in the sciences, though I was sure it was all very impressive—as there was a lot of expensive-looking equipment in the back room. They were not new by any means, but looked complicated enough to know that they were not cheap. She was a professional despite the hand-me-down tools.
I could usually watch her from the back room as customers kept her busy in the front. She thought her door latch was faulty, but it was just me keeping the door cracked so I could observe comfortably from her beloved workspace. I was always there. Even when she came to the back to grab extra supplies, I was watching from behind the door.
Once again, it was the worst situational awareness I had ever seen. She was so absorbed in her work that she did not think anyone could get to her, so confident in her abilities that she lost that instinctual fear of what lurked in the dark. She was cocky.
What she did after work was usually up in the air, but typically she always ended up at home before eight thirty in the evening.
Today, she made a house call. It only confirmed my suspicions about her being the Poisoner, since her house call was to the brothel at the docks.
I kept a healthy distance as I followed her dark figure, slipping to the back of the tavern. She was talking with a woman. The light from inside the tavern illuminated the unkept blond strands of the mistress as they spoke.
Alina handed her a small pouch filled with different-sized vials—she was resourceful in using old perfume bottles. I could only imagine what horrors those dainty flasks held within them. It seemed she was targeting men she found distasteful, which was understandable, knowing how many men of my kind were suddenly falling ill with aches and pains. Though they thought it was a coordinated effort to harm the Nest, which was amusing considering that she had done this entirely by accident and without her knowledge.
Like every night before, she went home after her business was finished. Every step of her routine served a purpose, no room for leisure or pleasure. Even at home, she studied papers or brought her own experiments. The only pleasure she allowed herself seemed to be in booze or baths—of which she had a nasty habit of falling asleep inside of. I did not blame her for doing so. Her routine exhausted even the spectators.
I sat on the stool next to the bath, watching her head lean against the porcelain of her tub. Her damp hair stood out as it stuck to the stark white surface.
No, I did not watch her undress.
I waited for her to submerge herself actually.
It was not the right time to see her like that. I wanted to waitfor the perfect time, to see her squirm like a mouse with its tail under my boot.
I was here to observe, much like the first night I watched her sleep. It amazed me how often she put herself in danger, including her interactions with me.
My elbow rested on my knee, propping my chin in my palm. I flipped the barber’s blade she’d left on my seat open and closed, fidgeting as I was lost in thought. The peaceful expression on her face made it almost hard to believe she was capable of being a menace.
I wanted to leave her be, but I worried she would drown before I got to do the honors myself. All of my effort would be wasted.
I stood up and walked over to the end of the tub, looking down at the hair draped over the lip of the basin. The stitches on her head held the jagged edges of the wound together. It was slightly raised, still irritated from our fun before. I parted her hair gingerly, careful not to disturb the sleeping snake. It was a larger wound than expected, nearly making me wince at the sight of it.
Humans were so obnoxiouslydelicate.
7
THE POISONER
It had been a week since that night, but I remember it like it was yesterday.
