“They said that’s all we will need to know. He’s the founder of some sort.”
“It is a start, I suppose.”
“What is your plan?”
“I mean to pay them a visit. I hope it can be solved in a civil manner.”
I laughed at her, coughing slightly as smoke caught in my lungs. “That is quite hopeful, no? What if they aren’t the friendly type?”
“I will take you or Silas with me.” She shrugged. “These brutes can’t keep discarding their mistakes for the rest of us to deal with.”
“From your description of the corrupted, it sounds like they are freshly turned, too.”
“How do you know?”
“Usually, the corrupted can mostly get a hold of themselves after their first feeding, but if they go more than a day without feeding, the body begins to eat itself in desperation. The strain on the body makes for a quick decline. The brain is the first to go due to the deprivation. You can’t come back from brain damage, unfortunately.”
There was a pause, and a serious expression on her face. A question was brewing.
“Do the Hosts go crazy like that after turning?” she spoke slowly.
“It is worse.”
“How?”
“Growing pains. Hosts have to sprout their fangs, and their bodies go through a lot. Half do not survive the turn. Then half of those who successfully turned beg for death before they can adjust. Some do not have kind friends, and they must end it themselves. The pain was more intense than anything you could ever know.”
She was quiet upon hearing the new information. I did not wish to shock her or tell her these things because I thought it would scare her; I told her because it was important. If she was going to be involved in this world, I would hope she had a proper perspective.
“Do you know this from experience?”
“I was a Host, yes.”
“Do you remember what it was like? The pain?”
“Clear as day. Like my flesh wanted to rip itself from my bones. We are abominations.” I clipped the cigar and stuck it in the pocket of my coat.
She contemplated the answers. I almost wondered where the curiosity came from—until I remembered it was Alina and her thirst for information would always be insatiable.
“I have to go soon,” she said after some time.
“Heading to town?” I glanced up at the sun, watching a few flurries of snow shine as they passed through the trees.
“The mortuary,” she mumbled.
“I’ll follow.” I looked back down at her. “Get a pulse on any rumors in town.”
She eyed me carefully with some residual hesitance to cooperate.
“If you don’t mind giving me a ride, that is,” I added.
She nodded, looking back at the targets, a pause to carefully consider the words she was about to utter, “That’s a goodplan.”
44
THE POISONER
“You read Oscar Wilde?” Henry flipped through a small booklet. “I’m surprised. I would have thought you’d read nonfiction.”
