2
THE FIXER
Two Years Earlier
The Nest, United Kingdom
That was the last time I played with my food. I should have killed her while she was caught between my jaws.
The flesh of my face scorched like I rested my head on a live woodfire. I could still smell the skin burning. When I touched it, the skin had become textured from the peeling, the burn spreading like a dry-season fire. Even with my mouth closed, I could feel my canine tooth left exposed as the skin tightened. My left eye would not stop filling with blood; it was coming out in tears. The poison was eating through my skin, my nerves. At least now it was slowing.
All I could do was hold a cold cloth to my face and hope I began to heal soon.
I was lucky Alina was inexperienced at her craft, just tinging the surface. Otherwise, I would have lost the left side of my face, down to the bone.
“Settle everyone!” The elder Vipera chittered at the end of the banquet table, holding up a glass that chimed with a pure soundas the delicate knife tapped against it. One thing about the trueborn Vipera was that they didn’t let interruptions dampen their masquerade as nobility.
Silas was outside of the room, leaning against the edge of the staircase just past the archway. Any normal Vipera would have been decapitated for such a childish transgression as before. Since his father was the Sire, the Nest had collectively chosen to let him decide what to do about his estranged son. His arrival wouldn’t be long now.
Two red lines stroked boldly along his cheek where my fangs dragged during the fight, a less impressive mark than the one left on me. He was already healing in the few hours the mark had been present. Mine, however, still burned.
Nevertheless, I was seated at a table with food.
He was not.
I tipped a blood-filled glass at him before my attention went back to the arrangement before us.
Prime porterhouse, well marbled and a perfect char. Cooked with only olive oil and salt, as God intended for a cut of that quality.
Ossobuco, with the bone standing proud in the spread. Rosemary, parsley, bay leaf, orange zest, and saffron, all tied together by the warmth of a dry white wine reduction, paired with fresh ground black pepper.
Lastly, my favorite, the offal. Deviled kidneys and sautéed tongue cooked in fat and browned to perfection in a Dutch oven.
There were certain advantages to living in a Nest, especially one as affluent as this one. My favorite part being the meals made from recipes tailored exactly to a Vipera’s taste, or else it would all be such a waste. I would say I missed the other side of a tongue’s palette, but I truly couldn’t remember. The only nostalgic hint would be found in a Host’s blood. Though meat, liquor, and the occasional sour or burnt item would do.
“Let us raise a glass for Elanor,” the man said with a solemn drawl, eyes falling over the feast. “She retired last week at thirty-five. A fruitful twelve years of service. Luckily for us, she makes a wonderful wine, as well as a meal.”
There was a soft chatter of approval and solemn nodding heads as if they weren’t giddy the week before they retired her.
I raised my glass along with everyone else and took one last look at Silas.
A few of the staff stood in the corners behind and beside him to make sure there wouldn’t be any other disruptions, blocking him from participation.
Except, instead of the pout I expected, he had the most wicked and conniving smile I could imagine. He tipped his head at me, amused at my own expression of confusion.
Silas reclined casually against the banister and reached into his pocket, pulling forth a silver cigarette case. He met eyes with me again, as if to ask,“Are you paying attention?”
When he reached in, it was not a cigarette pinched between his fingers.
It was one long, empty glass vial.
Quickly, I plunged my hand inside my suit jacket pocket. All four vials I confiscated from his sister weregone. Had he swiped them during our brawl? How many had he used? Where were they now?
The crashing of glass and the sound of gurgling discomfort, not dissimilar to drowning, jolted my attention.
The Vipera to both sides of me flailed, one hitting me with their elbow and the other clawing at my arm. When I looked at the woman across from me, her eyes overflowed with blood, the tears more harrowing than a saint’s statue, choking on the poisoned blood and coughing in my face.
I stumbled out of my chair as the bodies around me in the overcrowded room crashed into me, into each other, grasping at what they could in their desperate need to breathe. Though breathing wasn’t going to be an option based on how their skin was flaking away the more they clawed at it.
