Page 111 of The Cannibal

“Five? Glasses? Bottles?”

“A lady never discusses her diet,” she quipped, then stared at her brother. “You should have some too, settle your nerves.”

“Nerves?” He raised his brow. “I wouldn’t quite pin that as the emotion of choice.”

“If you say so,” she huffed, “but I’m stealing her. Find something else to do.”

He patted my arm to tell me to let go, giving me a playful brow raise before Phoebe dragged me away.

“Tonight is a night of celebration for how far we’ve come,” she giggled, placing a glass in my hand.

It was a clear Pontarlier glass with a Scheele green liquor in the reservoir.

“Absinthe?” I mumbled.

“As the French say, À la tienne!” She chimed her glass to mine and drank.

I took a sip, the flavor mostly preserved from the limited sense of taste. I suppose most liquors’ flavor was from strong poisons, so there was no surprise it was included in the Vipera tongue.

Phoebe tipped her head into mine as she wrapped an arm around me.

We watched as our household buzzed to different foods, the candle flames dancing as they moved to and fro. Not even the chandelier was lit tonight. Just the collection of candles on the tables and the enormous mantel. Some took nooks by the street windows, others leaned on walls or pulled out lounging seats. Soon the entire home would have to be firing on all pistons between staff, lighting, presentation, and maintenance. But for now, it was only us. One more night of peace.

“The pearls are nice.” Phoebe touched the ones on my neck, rolling them between her fingers.

“It’s new to me.” I shrugged. “Not that I would have dared look at something so costly.”

“As much as I disagree with a lot of my brother’s attitudes, he does have taste.”

“Expensive taste, not sure how fashionable it truly is.”

“Expensive will always be fashionable,” she joked.

“What do you think of that?” I tipped my head across the room.

Luka looked monstrous next to Mary. She was speaking to him, fast and pointed. Her hands were gesturing as she spoke. You would have thought she may have been scolding him, if it weren’t for brief curls of the edges of her lips.

He didn’t speak back, just listened with a tilted head and hands behind his back.

“Strange times, strange friends,” Phoebe said, “though they seem to get closer every time the Buffalo girls visit.”

“Rebecca, what do you think?” Phoebe said over her shoulder.

Rebecca tipped her head, not bothering to push herself off the wall as she drank the blood in her cup. Her eyes only stayed on Mary and Luka for a moment before she shook her head. “None of our business.”

“The point of socializing is at least entertaining the conversation,” Phoebe huffed.

“There’s more noteworthy conversations than simple gossip.” Rebecca’s eye twitched as she finished off what remained in her cup. “I have one for you, Alina.”

My throat was already dry before the swallow, but somehow the way she said my name made it a harder gulp.

“What do you think about self-determination of the city Nests?” Rebecca did abandon her comfort spot by the wall to step into our little gossip circle. The metallic tinge on her breath mixed with a distinctly fermented quality indicated bloodwine was the sponsor of this conversation, which meant there was a high chance it wouldn’t fare well for one of us. “Or even the self-determination of the individuals of a Nest?”

It seemed as though it was an easy question, but still interrogative. Combative, even.

“We,” I said, gesturing to Phoebe, “had discussed with the other city establishments that we believed in their right to be their own establishments, even if we are successful with our treaties with the other Nests.”

“So you’re fine if they decide to partner with, say, antagonistic Nests to gain more favor in trade or resources?” She raised a brow.