Or at least I thought it could be yesterday. Had it been a week or two? A day or a few? I tried not to bother myself with any sort of counting while I recovered from my concussion. Trying to measure out dosages was hard enough, never mind keeping track of days.
I wished I could say that it did not shake me, that I was strong and fearless of whatever life brought me. In all honesty, it made me question my capabilities. I had never been so intimate with death in my lifetime, and I did not intend on that kind of proximity again.
The light from the big circular window shone in my eyes that dreadful morning. My hair was matted to the side of my face when I awoke, covered in old blood. The wood of the stairs was now permanently marked with a crimson stain, despite how many times I scrubbed it. That mark on the floor was the only indication that anything had happened that night. Otherwise,there were no signs of break-in or commotion. Even the vase I threw was neatly placed back on the table, a set of red poppies placed aptly inside. A cheeky reminder that I was alive only because he allowed it.
The only reason the police were not informed was because I knew that the man could not have survived very long afterward. The venom would have killed him in a day. There was no cure for snake venom. Not one that was easily accessible at least.
As far as Phoebe knew, I got drunk and fell, which was not entirely implausible. If she knew what happened, I would never get another moment to myself for as long as I lived. She had been checking on me daily, coming to my place for our morning routine to ensure I was resting.
Phoebe had developed the habit of overstaying her welcome. She joined me for every activity, even coming to the apothecary and pretending to be interested in plants to make me feel better. It was amusing, but it made it difficult to consult with my special clients while she was around. Today, she was a specific brand of nervous chatter.
“I think Edith got an invite to the masquerade party. I guess they let anyone in these days,” she babbled, trying to fill her boredom with gossip.
“Oh, yeah? Who’s that?” I asked vacantly, prompting her to find something to talk about while I took inventory of the shelves. Notes were taken on what was low in stock as I climbed up the wall ladder, step-by-step, until I was at the highest shelf.
Phoebe ranted about the happenings, love triangles, and other side stories she had not gotten out of her system yet.
“I am having an event in a few days. Just something small and intimate in the botanical gardens! It’s right up your alley with all your... plantthings,” she said awkwardly, and gestured to the wall in front of her, not really knowing how to add to the topic. Sheshifted in place as she observed the bottles on the walls, picking at her nail beds.
“You don’t have to stay with me. I promise I am well.” I threw her a reassured smile.
“How do I know you won’t fall off that ladder? Or in the back room with all those dangerous instruments? Or?—”
“Phoebe, I’m fine.” I leaned down toward her on the ladder and offered my pinky out. “I promise.”
She gave me a distraught look before she gave in, hooking her pinkie around mine. “Please just call me if you feel even a little cold. All right?” she pleaded.
Nodding, I squeezed our pinkies together before letting go.
She left me hesitantly as my next client arrived. I picked up a glass from the top shelf and leaned down to hand it to her, rattling off the vital usage information before returning my focus to the stock. The end of my pencil was pinched between my teeth as I wondered whether I should use different-size bottles for more variance in quantities.
The moment the bell went off by the door, the air in the shop weighed heavily on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood erect, and my still-healing head wound throbbed once again.
No. Impossible.
As the thoughts crossed my mind, thatincessantclicking cut through the air, the vibration tickling my eardrums.
“Do you by chance have anything for snake venom?” a cool voice asked.
I stared at the shelf. My mind immediately went over every possibility of how he could have survived. Each conclusion had a probability of near zero.
“You know, when a snake bites, it is usually because it gave you a fair warning to run.” I smiled sweetly, looking down over my shoulder from my place up on the ladder.
I realized that this was the first time I’d gotten an objective look at my attacker.
The blond figure innocently tilted his head up at me, but it did not take a saint to see that the man was dripping in sin. Those same gray eyes peered back at me in what could have possibly been adoration.
God help me and whatever this man was thinking.
I wouldn’t lie. He was beyond what I expected. Simply calling him handsome would not do him justice. Every fiber of this man was fashioned to tempt, designed for predation. His sharp jawline and muscular physique were like something only the masters could carve from their imagination rather than coming from reality. His hair was neat and swept to the side, paired with his finely tailored attire. I was almost jealous of the clothing clinging to his body, though I was most jealous of that scarf around his neck—which I would love to replace with my hands.
He approached the shelves, trailing a finger carefully over the countless bottles and studying the little labels, then leisurely leaning down to look at a lower shelf.
How arrogant, the way he was so comfortable in a place he did not belong. Typical of a man.
“Do you know why the mongoose almostalwayswins against the snake?” he asked, not bothering to look back up at me as he crept closer. “The snake believes her bite is the most reliable way to kill, as she hasn’t been given a reason to believe otherwise.” He placed a hand on the side of my ladder when he finally made it to my side. “The only problem is that the snake could never anticipate that the mongoose has a resistance to herunforgivingbite, and has developed a taste for his rival’s flesh.” He tilted his head, turning his gaze up to me.
“Don’t be silly. You are a man, not a mongoose,” I sneered.
