Page 131 of The Cannibal

“What was it,” I pressed on, “the research?”

“Just an experiment.” He kept it vague. “There is still much to learn about ourselves, our capabilities and our limitations.”

“Is that it?”

“I suppose he was high on discovering something new, or the chance to create something in the process. To breathe life into invention is a beautiful thing,” he reminisced almost dreamlike as he described it. It even made him smile. “Enough about me—how are you? Sleeping well? A good diet, I trust?”

“I am well.”

“Do you still need companions in order to sleep?” he teased.

“I have my own room.”

“You and Alina used to have so many sleepaway visits. I really did spoil you. The benefits of being the youngest.” He reached over to pinch my cheek, but I dodged the grab.

His smile faltered but returned as quickly as it fell. “You used to bite in your sleep. Do you still do that?”

“I’m not a child,” I snapped.

His eyes narrowed, tipping his head at me. “I suppose so. You even got married.” He was having a hard time keeping the sneer away. “Alin Lis? I didn’t know Alina had another sibling.”

“Hyphenated,” I corrected.

It didn’t seem to make a difference. But the second mention was enough to tell me he was bothered. He had a special fascination with changing the last name, another thing from this family to remove, even if it was my mother’s.

We finished our drinks in silence, his eyes more calculated now. I suppose that’s how he always was when people weren’t looking.

With such a rough first part of the day, I did the only thing I knew would make me feel better. I went to see Alina.

While our last encounter left me extremely uneasy and thoroughly unwell—Silas informed me she was awake. Never had one of her sleepwalking fits been like this before. My fear aside, I felt somewhat responsible that she wandered off the roof. I could have shaken her awake, or even bitten her if it meant snapping her out of her somnambulance.

Between my father and my current home life, I was always out of breath. Literally and metaphorically. I ribbed my knuckles anxiously, picking at the fork punctures that refused to fade.

Sidney stood tall between the French doors, arms clasped in front as he stood guard. I approached slowly, clutching my small basket.

“Still asleep?”

Sidney nodded regrettably, then eyed the basket.

I pulled out a piece of sour blood candy. The more I made them, the more uniform they became. I placed it in his open palm before he popped it into his mouth.

“They’re getting better.” He chewed. “Good texture and taste.”

“I’m glad you think so.” I grinned. “I thought she’d like some for when she woke.”

“I’m sure she will,” he assured me, opening the door for me to slip past.

My breath was already shallow, but just the sight of her made me lose my breath completely. Perhaps there was caffeine in my tea. I may faint if my pace was at the lightest jog.

Alina’s chest rose and fell. The black hair draped over the pillows and her chest was so stark against the cream color of the room.

She was in such a deep rest that she didn’t stir when I arrived, and neither when I moved to her bedside and the chair scraped against the floor when I pulled it forward.

I set the basket on her nightstand, leaning back in the chair as I watched her.

Alina was just as hard to talk to when she was asleep as when she was awake. Just the intensity of her looks intimidated most. Her mind too frightened people. She knew a lot of things, eclectic things that most people don’t think about on a daily basis. God forbid someone treated her as if she were a novice. She had a hatred for repeating herself and of questions she deemed painfully simple-minded.

Her chest rose, the rattling still present even as it fell. Of course she would have a hard time; nothing is simple or easy when it comes to Alina. She was far too complex for that. Even if things were handed to her on a silver platter, she would find a way to make retrieval difficult. That included any sort of assistance, even when in dire need.