“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you have a house full of Hosts, and you should be worried. You’re lucky it was your horse. Someone is turning people en masse, and I don’t think they are being picky. Do you really want that fate for your girls?”
Phoebe was silent, picking at her nails.
“Where’s Edith?” I glanced up, first at the three in front of me, then at the crowd. “Has anyone seen Edith? Is she home yet?”
“She hasn’t returned from her shift,” one of the girls from the parlor piped up timidly.
I clicked my tongue against my teeth and retreated toward the parlor, stepping past the crowd before stopping at the telephoneplaced neatly on a small table. I wanted to be wrong, but my gut was telling me otherwise.
I picked up the receiver and called for the hospital. My foot tapped anxiously as I waited for a reply. A receptionist piped up at the other end.
“Put Edith on the phone, it’s an emergency,” I said quickly, glancing over my shoulder.
The phone crackled and rustled before her voice spoke. “Hello?—”
“You need to come home.”
“I’m working?—”
“Edith,” I warned. “Your shift ended two hours ago; why are you at the hospital?”
“I am just taking your advice.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said,don’t let other people get in the way of the greatness you want to achieve.”
“Why are you at the hospital, Edith?” I repeated.
“Living is suffering, Mr. Novikov.”
“Edith, what did you do?”
“They’ll wake soon; I have to go.”
“Who?” I shouted into the phone.
The phone line blurred. She hung up.
“Phoebe!” I shouted. Already whipping my coat off the hanger by the front door. “We have to get to the hospital. Immediately.”
55
THE POISONER
We left by early morning, headed back for town, attempting to make the trip in a day. The sun was beginning to set earlier, painting the snow from hues of purple and blue all the way to the warm shades of mandarin.
Much of the noise of nature was muted by the snowy insolation. You would think it made the journey feel long, isolated. Luckily, there was no time lost in decent company.
I flinched at the teeth in my wrist. “No more, you greedy thing.”
Silas furrowed his brows and removed his teeth from the skin, licking over the wound. “Greed would be telling you I plan on being drunk on you every day.”
“A waxing poetic,” I mumbled, the other hand holding the reins.
Silas flashed a grin before lifting my hand, kissing each finger before slipping my glove back on, the warmth invading the appendages aching from the bitter air.
