“Imay need some tools.”
22
THE POISONER
Aloud bang at the front door rattled through the house, bringing my consciousness abruptly back to earth. My groggy eyes peeled open, my vision struggling to clear.
“Who in God’s name is even up this early?” I grumbled, kicking away my sheets and draping a robe around myself.
The sun had barely risen and fog clung to the windows as I descended to the foyer. By the time I grabbed hold of the cold metal doorknob, something was sticky under my feet. My face twisted in disgust at the consistency, and I stared down at the floor.
A pool of crimson slowly leaked from under the door. The red color crept up my nightgown and robe as it was absorbed into the fibers. The bile rose in my throat before it retreated after I took several deep breaths.
It took quite a bit of effort to pry the door open. For some reason, it was heavier than usual.
Peering out, my eyes landed on a body. A thick metal spikewas stuck through the head and pinned it to the wood of the door.
The body belonged to a short woman with frizzy blond hair, maybe around thirty years old. Her pale eyes were decorated with a familiar green pigment.
My hand slapped over my mouth, and I shut the door. When I heaved my body weight against the door, my knees betrayed me and I slid into a crouched position.
I could not breathe. I would not breathe.
My chest was going to crush itself under the force of my asphyxiation. I told her not to bother with the poison if it was just going to end up like this!
The realization hit me like a hangover at dawn. While my tinctures had taken many lives, I had never actually seen the bodies that lay in the aftermath. Not often did I stick around to make sure my poisons worked, because there was no reason to doubt them in the first place. My work was secondhand most of the time, my poison floating around with whoever paid for it. Maybe that was my mistake, but it did not matter now. The only time I saw a corpse of my own making was an accident, and it was not nearly this gratuitous.
The police tookforty-five minutes to show up, at least thirty minutes too slow for my taste.
The police would not have been my first call, but I had no choice due to such a public display. If I tried to hide it, I would be lighting a fire underneath myself. Why would Silas break his pattern just to put me in the spotlight like this? He would surely find a knife in his chest the next time I saw him.
The morning was spent on endless questions by detectives and providing identifying information about who the body belonged to. No one would have identified her if not for me. The cautious exchanges of glances from the coroner’s team made me feel uneasy, like they knew this was my fault. Their accusing eyes scrutinized me as I answered.
You’re being paranoid. Deep breath, deep breath.
I had to talk Phoebe off a metaphorical cliff when I explained the situation. She was so shaken that she would not let me take my own cab, insisting on sending her own. It would probably be outside the shop in an hour or two. I was to spend the next week at her place, just as a precaution.
Why would he put something like that on my doorstep? Did he want me to be in the spotlight? Or was it because I was not paying enough attention to him? It would not be a surprise if this was his childish response.
An innocent woman was murdered because Ifailedher, painting a target on my back with her blood.
Phoebe’s place was no less grim than my town house or the shop. The day was hollow and dull as the hours crept away from me. They say time is a thief, but I say time, he is an escapologist. No matter how hard you tried to hold on to it, no matter how hard you tried to tether yourself, it would always slip right through your fingers.
My friend forced oranges and other pleasantries onto me to make me forget, but nothing could make me swallow the sour taste of my guilt. Despite what my friend might think, no amount of tart sweets could fill the void. A thick fog followed me that I could not wake up from. All I could see was the blood pooling under my feet. Scrubbing myself could not wipe away the shameful tar that stuck to my insides.
The sun rose and fell like any other day, and I returned to mycreature habits of cuddling up with a cold glass of whatever was available. The warm embrace of liquor was the only thing that could settle my nerves.
The sharp trill of Phoebe’s telephone made my head pound. I leaned against the arm of the chair, massaging my temples, as Phoebe scurried to answer the phone.
“Did you find—” She paused as a voice spoke on the other end. “Why would I tell you that? She is— No—” Phoebe huffed and turned toward me, holding the phone to her chest. “Alina, it’s for you.”
My brows pinched as I rose from my chair, holding the glass close as I approached. I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?” I mumbled.
“Thatexcited to hear my voice?” Silas laughed through the scratchy earpiece.
“Piss off.” I hiccupped, my shoulders slumping forward as I turned my back to Phoebe. I could feel her eyeing me, even as she retreated to the living room to grant me some privacy. I knew my dearest friend well enough to know that she would be eavesdropping.
“Pleasant as ever,” he remarked. “Why aren’t you at your home? Hiding away, are we?”
