In the near distance, the head sat upright, staring blankly in our direction. The jaw was slouched, tipping the head to the right as the empty eyes stared through us.
One thing I could never understand is how something could go from feeling the entire spectrum of human behavior, only to be stripped of it entirely. The worst thing I could imagine, next to death, would be becoming the thing you hated the most. Often people fantasize about losing themselves, to not have to take control of their lives. But I could imagine no pain worse than the emptiness that must come from becoming a shell of your former self.
The flat above the shop was not strictly for deconstructing subjects. Most of my time in my lab was used for many other miscellaneous tasks, such as distilling venom, concentrating poison, or just making tallow candles.
Today, I was to process the blood I had extracted a few nights ago. The process was simpler than making an extract out of plants, though I did that as well. It was safer to use Vipera blood as poison since it was untraceable, and it did not take much to kill a human with it. When I diluted it, it turned almost a violet color when the black was dispersed. The other half of the volume was kept for research.
The blood was marketed as a pest control, for which purpose it worked remarkably well, though many had been known to use it for nasty things such as unfavorable husbands and other such men.
While it was rewarding to give relief to those in terrible situations, I was delighted with my new branch of study.
From the Vipera saliva, blood, and venom, I was able to offset more pain than just ridding the world of the creatures of man. The saliva was strictly a healing agent, but we had not yet found the best way to extract it in the quantity that we needed. Venom was our best painkiller, but it was riskier to use and had more side effects, and yet it was slightly easier to collect than spit.
Blood was plentiful. It was the only easy part of the process.
During my research, I found that if the solution was composed of less than five milliliters of venom, it would not turn the subject if they happened to die. While the risks of turning were heavy, the remedies had worked on most pains from arthritis, womanly aches, and even harsher injuries, rendering something as severe as an amputation into a light throb. As much as I hated the gimmicks of peddlers, this was truly a miracle elixir.
Unfortunately for myself, my time with this chemical inside and outside my body was forming a tolerance. I had begunconcentrating it further for my own personal uses, but I would advise against such things if I were to prescribe to another. While I understood this was a problem, it was one for another time. It was the only thing that relieved me of my existential existence on this earth, in this town, in this very shop.
I did not understand the feelings myself most days, as I had no reason to be in such a depressed state. I had a family now, friends, and love that could thaw even the coldest of hearts. So why did mine feel like a stone forgotten under a late-winter’s sleet?
“Are you ready?” a voice called from downstairs.Phoebe.
“Finishing now!” I shouted, tucking the used needles into the drawer in the workbench. I cuffed my sleeves down my arm before taking a long, deep breath to collect myself.
Outside the shop, Edith and Phoebe sat next to one another in the front of the wagon as they waited.
The weight of the wagon shifted as I stepped up into the back, taking a seat behind them.
Some things never changed. There were certain traditions that were held most sacred. For Phoebe and me, it was our morning strolls. Only recently did she allow guests on our little promenades. Edith was usually in attendance, but that was only because it was important to include her. She was a flighty thing, not the best at making friends, which I could relate to with a heavy heart.
The park we frequented was a quiet one. There were many trails for walking. Benches were scattered along the water for viewing pleasure, or if you preferred to walk, there were stone bridges to look over the water and feed the ducklings in spring.
There were more limited activity options in winter, as there were no ducks, no color, no flowers to enjoy. I wanted to like winter, but it was all too sad for me. Despite my morbid attire, I enjoyed the color and sounds of nature. There were no plants to steal cuttings from and no birds to sing to me when morningcame around. I still had my crows, who were darlings when it came to cleaning up messes.
Phoebe needed these walks more than I did. It was some attempt to maintain whatever remained of normalcy from our past. Many days, I could see that she missed her life from before. The days when there was a reason to keep up appearances and take advantage of the finer things in life. She somehow still found a way to keep up her fashionable tastes, even on a budget. Today she wore a wool skirt and matching overcoat. It was dyed a deep magenta with white rabbit trim. She had a matching fur hand muff, as well.
Edith wore a green walking suit with a matching cape. The fur trim was a natural brown around her sleeves and neck. She did not wear a head covering today, but she usually chose to wear her golden curls up with a hat that matched the trim of her coat.
Two sets of green eyes stared at me as if waiting for me to respond.
“Did you ask me something?” I took a drag of my cigarette from the long, thin holder.
“I asked if we could plan a white elephant swap for Christmas. It would really mean a lot to the girls,” Phoebe said.
“I don’t see why not.” I shrugged.
“You seemed lost in thought before,” Edith said from my right side.
“I think many things, at many times. I thought that was what walks were for.”
“You spend more time in your head than you do with theliving.” Phoebe hooked on to my left arm.
I held the cigarette holder to my lips again, breathing deep before letting it all go again. The weather made me want to sleep rather than walk. Though with how warm I was getting under my dress, I think I could manage to sleep in a snowdrift.
“When are you going to tell the others about our pest problem?” Phoebe raised a fine brow.
“After the holidays,” I answered.
