Phoebe let out a deep sigh. “Venom.”
My gaze parted from Alina to look at Phoebe. “What did you say?”
She crossed her arms, scowling at me. “I said venom. Vipera venom.”
“And you knew?” I rose slowly, the pressure of my anger threatening to reach the surface as it boiled over.
“Yes, but not until it was too late. I fear I enabled her,” Phoebe spoke more quietly than before. “Come, let her sleep.”
I nodded, stealing one last glance at Alina before I followed my sister out of the room.
When we descended, the talking stopped almost instantly by the time I made it to the bottom floor. The walk from the stairs to the front door was short, but the silence made it even longer. It was hard to tell if it was unwelcoming or just somber.
We went out to the front porch where Phoebe sat on a bench, patting the spot beside her.
I took a seat and stared out into the night. We had a view of the dirt road and the wooded area on the other side. The house was on a slight hill, so we could see the sky and the way the road wound down and disappeared into the darkness.
“I suspect she had been doing it since before she was kidnapped.” Phoebe clutched her wool shawl tighter around her shoulders. “She did not get much better after we left London.”
“You said you enabled her.” I glared at her.
“She was in pain.” Phoebe shot just as deadly a look back.
“What did you do?”
“I fed on her, and some days when she suffered, I bit her without feeding.” She chewed at her lip as she fiddled with her necklace. “I stopped when it became a weekly, daily, then twice daily occurrence. I was worried for her, and I knew her physical wounds would heal. I did not anticipate she would need pain management for any mental scars.”
I crossed my arms. I expected her to be angry, traumatized possibly, but I did not realize how much pain she would be in after.
“I think she has been stealing venom from the batches we collected.”
“What makes you suspect that?”
“We are always missing a liter. She claims it is because the solution is concentrated and loses mass, but I know that isn’t true. I count the inventory as we take it.”
“How long does a liter last her?”
“I suspect until the next month when we do it all over again,” she mumbled, “but it is worse than you think. She modifies it, adds things to it, concentrates it. I fear she will kill herself with it.”
We sat in silence for a minute, then many. The fact that this was because of anything I had done made me want to disappearin shame, which was not something I was used to. She didn’t deserve that.
“You should not have added those terms,” Phoebe spoke up. “Forcing her hand is the last thing you want to do.”
“Forcing her hand is my favorite thing to do.” I tried to make light of the conversation.
“Silas.” Her expression was grim. “You don’t know what has become of her.”
“What has she become, then?”
“A reaper.”
“You are dramatic.”
“She won’t admit it, but she likes it. Killing them.” Phoebe diverted her attention to her hands. “She has changed. She’s erratic... sleepwalking... She disappears physically and mentally so often, she may as well be a ghost.”
“I am jealous that you have such experience with her,” I laughed, but I knew she was serious. I only got a taste of it when I made my proposal, but Phoebe had successfully piqued my interest regarding Alina’s new habits.
“Silas.” Phoebe paused, the toe of her slipper scratching at the worn wood while she sat, “What... what did you mean back there?”
