John had lost his wife three years before Phoebe and I arrived, and he spent his Christmases alone, he had said. We invited him to our own Christmas celebration, since we were all people with no one else to spend the happier days with, aside from our untraditional family. I remember the first time he came, he brought molasses cookies that he used to make for his wife. The next year, we made them together as a Nest with him.
“Come by, the girls would love to see you, as always. Phoebe has been playing with some recipes that I am sure she would love to trade with you.” I squeezed his shoulder.
“Of course.” He smiled, then snapped himself into his usual chipper mood. “Ah! Hit the road before it storms later. I will not hold you pigeons up any longer!”
“I will see you next week, Pops.” We retreated through the opening between the tall door shutters, the wind biting my cheeks as it leached the heat from them as if it were merely borrowed.
“Pops?”
“Yes.”
Silas raised a brow in confusion.
“If you thought that you were safe knowing my father was dead and there was no one to bless your horrid idea of an engagement, you thought wrong. John is the man who would beat you with an iron if he knew our history.”
“So he is the one who would bless it?” he teased. “Shall I run back and ask his permission?”
“You should be seekingmypermission, but it seems that is not good enough for you.”
“God, woman,whatis in this bag?” He adjusted the weight of the strap on his shoulder.
“A hatchet, carving knives, some butcher’s saws, and the like.” I shrugged. “Bone really wears them down. I like to keep them maintained.”
“Where to now?”
“Mortuary,” I answered simply as we rounded a corner.
The block we turned onto was more exposed to the sun. I could almost feel a slight prickling on my face as it itched for warmth.
“Who died?”
“I do not know yet.”
Upon approaching the morgue, I opened the door to quickly duck inside.
Bodies were already on tables, and the sink was full from the morning’s work. Bags of rubbish were sitting in the corner, ready to be taken out.
“Henry!” I called, heading directly down the hallway and into the last room on the right.
The small overhead window allowed some light since there were no windows along the typical spots on the wall for privacy reasons.
Henry was already preparing the morning’s cadaver. He must have been so engrossed that he did not hear me call. When he caught me out of the corner of his eye, his stern expression softened, then it hardened once more when he saw Silas.
“You didn’t tell me you would be bringing a visitor,” Henry moped.
“I didn’t know I was going to have one either. He joined me on my errands,” I offered the explanation, though Henry waved dismissively at me. Now that they were both in the same room, Henry was like a shorter, skinnier version of Silas in terms of looks, apart from those dark eyes. They were polar opposites in personality.
“Apologies for intruding. Silas Forbes, nice to meet your acquaintance.” Silas held out a gloved hand.
Henry glanced at Silas’s hand, as his own were elbow deep in the cadaver. In a thinly veiled attempt to not be rude, he raised a brow at Silas.
“Right,” Silas mumbled, his hand retreating, seemingly annoyed that he had made an effort to be cordial at all.
Henry always made himself look busy when he was flustered. I suppose he was threatened since I suspect Henry had a small favorability for me.
“What came in this morning?” I stepped beside the shorter blond man. “I heard there were two bodies.”
“Animal attack is my best hypothesis.” He shrugged.
