“Sounds like a good time.” I smiled. “What about you? Anyone new?”
“Same old. I fear I may never find someone as interesting as you or I, and I won’t settle for someone boring.” She paused before a nymph-like grin appeared. “Though that won’t stop me from taste testing.”
“You would run them dry with your parties—wallets and wine cellars.”
“Is that not what a husband is for?”
“Touché.” I shrugged.
I pulled the blanket over our shoulders, sliding closer so we could fit comfortablyunderneath.
“Have you been smoking?” Phoebe asked.
I shook my head. “On occasion, but not recently. I don’t prefer the taste.”
“Huh.” She picked up my braid and brought it to her nose. Then she leaned into my neck and inhaled, scrunching her nose. “It smells like smoke.”
“Odd.” I raised my brow, lifting my hair to my nose as well. “Wash day was two days ago. It could be from walking outside.”
“I thought so. I never took you for the type to pick up smoking. Though I can imagine you drinking things you shouldn’t.” She laughed.
“Right.” My lips tugged into a brief smile as I stared at the plait pinched between my fingers.
“How about we wash now? I can help—let us go!” she slurred, kicking her legs off the couch and dragging me to my feet.
“That’s unnecessary! I’ll do it tomorrow!”
“It’ll be like old times!”
“We were five! I don’t think we will fit in the tub now.”
Her grip did not ease up on me, pulling me the rest of the way to the bathroom. One thing I missed were our sleepovers. Phoebe and I did not keep anyone else as close as we were, as we were glued to each other’s sides most days. I wondered what she did while I was away. I was half expecting her to make more friends other than just myself. In a way, I was relieved that we could pick up where we left off so seamlessly.
“Looks like you made out like a bandit at the market today,” she commented, placing her drink down as she picked at the upside-down bundle of lilies drying on the door.
“There was a special price. I couldn’t say no,” I lied, then turned to the porcelain basin.
I wobbled over to turn on the water, but the water sloshed oddly, indicating something was in the basin.
Rats.Two—no, three—dozen rat carcasses were piled at the bottom of the tub. They were all opened up like the one before. The water pushed them against each other as they rolled and bobbed like a morbid cranberry bog.
I gagged and held my hand over my mouth.
“Do you need me to hold your hair?”
“No! No, Phoebe,” I rushed out. “Just... can you run and get me some ginger?”
“Are you sure I—” She stepped toward me.
“No! Quick! Please go grab it!” I shouted.
She scrambled out the door, off on her mission for a spice I did not have.
As I leaned over the tub, my hands gripped the edge in anger. That was enough. He could subject me to whatever game he wanted to play, but I would not allow him to traumatize my dear Phoebe. She was a gentle soul, and I would not allow him to be so careless. At least the ravens would be happy.
I unlatched the window above the tub. It opened to the backyard. It was more convenient to let the birds in than throw the mice out.
Instead of ravens, there was a more unfavorable Creature standing in the middle of the garden.
