Page 123 of The Cannibal

“I do.”

“Of course you do,” the words were smooth like smoke, “but I don’t mind.”

Each step was just another terrible, awful mistake. He watched me steadily, not even a blink as I made my way around the table.

He leaned against the table as he turned, not letting his back face me while I approached.

Levi’s shirt was stained. You could see the pattern of where his vest and coat were when Silas beat him. He ran his tongue over the gap in the teeth, anticipating the next step.

I gestured to the stool behind him to take a seat.

He still did not take his eyes off me.

It was almost as sickening as touching me again.

“Open,” I said, pulling one of the cabinet drawers for tongs and cotton pads.

A couple vials rolled and rang against the metal forceps when they hit each other. My old blood poison moved sluggishly within the glasses. They were right there in front of me. I could end this here.

“You won’t need those,” Levi said.

My skin ran cold.

I stared at him.

He raised a brow at my forceps. “Teeth are slippery things.”

I hadn’t realized how tight my grip on the tongs were until I let them go, slowly pushing the drawer back into place.

The milk was room temperature at this point. My fingers dipped into the liquid, scratching around for the tooth before I felt the prick of the tip. When I pulled it out, it was heavier than I thought. The gold tip covered about a third of the fang. With my nail, I picked at the edge of the casing, slipping it off. The tooth was nearly black at the tip, the gold possibly the only reason it was usable, at least fourteen karats for durability.

Levi held his hand out expectantly.

I dropped the gold in his palm.

“Open,” I said again.

“Not even a bit of cannabis for the procedure?” he replied cheekily. “A dentist usually provides pain relief.”

“I am a poisoner, not a dentist.”

“I prefer salvia,” he continued to talk, “also called the holy herb. Fantastic plant.”

“Would you prefer I reinsert your tooth before the root dries, or would you rather keep talking?”

The deepest, most dramatic sigh came from the man. I hated that I saw Silas’s relation so transparently. He really was the spitting image of him, facial hair aside.

He opened his mouth, his other fang flexing forward.

Carefully, I pressed my thumb to his upper lip. The missing spot waiting for the return of the tooth. He was unique to the others. In Silas, the only difference was the primary and secondary fangs, the tongue only counted as a major difference if he stuck it straight out. When the fangs were withdrawn, he looked like anyone else.

Levi’s front teeth were typical, but that’s where it ended.

Everything hidden within his mouth was sharp, jagged. His mouth was filled with hound’s teeth. I pressed the root of the fang into the gums, having to hold it there for a good minute before it stuck back in.

I glanced at his eyes; his pupils widened when I met his gaze.

The man was as baleful as the things described in old texts. Strange men whose only goal was a wicked, evil agenda known solely to them and the depraved souls they dragged down with them.