“Yes,” I said honestly. “I think tonight will be long.”
A few more filed into the parlor area. Some filled in the seats of the couch, some sat on cushions on the floor by the fire.
“We should stay together tonight,” Rebecca, standing by the arm of the sofa, suggested.
“Should we sleep in shifts?” one seated on the sofa asked.
“I’ll stay awake,” I said.
“So will I,” Mary decided, looking at the others. “Anyone else?”
Rebecca raised her hand, and a couple more hands as well.
I glanced over my shoulder. Phoebe was leaning against the wall, looming in the shadows. A red flickering of her eyes gave her away. Not that she was hiding, but she seemed to have retreated in thought.
“We can trade off sleeping,” I said.
Phoebe’s eyes flicked to me in the dark.
It isn’t easy to distract yourself during a crisis. Most aren’t very good at it. It’s a tricky thing to master. But there is one thing that is nearly foolproof.
Food.
To my surprise, Phoebe said my suggestion would be wasteful. Though Phoebe never had to learn how to make simple pleasures out of nothing.
Two pots on the stove, one with foraged berries for the Hosts, and the other for the Vipera. It wouldn’t be easy to mix up.
I hadn’t had Kissel in a long time. Averylong time. It was like a jelly, a cheap treat of berries and potato flour. Two ingredients that were plentiful for Alina’s Nest. Though I was curious about the berries used for the Vipera.
“What are you using?” Mary spoke from beside me.
She was staring into the pot as I steadily cooked down the berries.
“Blackberry for the Hosts, rosehip for Vipera.”
“May I help?”
“Of course, just stir them both steadily,” I instructed, stepping aside to hand it over.
She took the spoons, a bit stiff and awkward as she stirred.
I mixed some warmed water and the potato flour. “Just keep stirring,” I said, slowly pouring the mixture into the pots.
“Do you think Alina found where they’re coming from?” she asked, scraping the sides of the pots as she stirred.
“She could have,” I said truthfully.
“Would you lie to us even if you knew she wasn’t going to?”
The question made me pause, and I thought on it for a minute. “Would you blame me if I did?”
She shook her head solemnly, “If we go to New York City with you and... Mr. Forbes,” she began, shifting the pots off the hot burners, “don’t lie to us.”
“I understand.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” She looked up at me. There was a stark tension in her brow, a determined spark. “My sister is dead because we were left in the dark about how real this threat was. I don’t blame them entirely. I understand keeping calm. But promise me that you won’t lie. That you will let us know if we can prepare better, be stronger.”
“Where is this coming from?”
