Page 5 of The Cannibal

Along the path, she pulled me aside to an ice cream cart.

“I don’t really have the appetite for sweets right now,” I mumbled, watching her hold the glass cone up to my lips.

“It’s best you get this part over with early,” she sighed, a crease in her brow. “Let’s call this an experiment.”

I took it from her hand, dragging my tongue along the white cream. The raw skin of my tongue quivered at the cool sensation, but then a repulsive souring. The swallow was reluctant, but polite, as I handed it back to her.

It was like consuming a medicinal chalk, enough to make your tongue curl and your throat close.

Phoebe took the cone and flicked the cream into a bush, returning the cone to the attendant before we were back on the path.

“How was it?”

“Horrid.” I spat into the grass, covering my mouth as if to prevent something more from coming up. “I thought New York was known for food.”

“It is.” She hummed. “You just can’t taste it.”

“Will all food taste like that?”

“Yes, unless it is bitter, sour, burnt, or meat,” she listed off, like a giddy child reciting the rules of a game. At least she was in a lighter mood, “Oh, or alcoholic.”

There was a period of silence between us, lighter than the last. Just enjoying the serenity of the day, the warm weather and the plentiful flowers. As much as it was hard to get out of bed, she was right about an outing being a sufficient distraction.

“This is really happening,” I whispered.

“I know you have a lot of questions.” She stopped me, taking hold of my hand.

I looked down at them, our gloves a bright white against their surroundings. A glowing intertwining of silk.

“I don’t want you to feel as if things are being hidden from you,” she said quietly, squeezing my fingers between hers. Her eyes met mine, an earnestness in every inflection. “It is a lot to explain, but time is something we have now.”

“My body may be delicate, but my mind is not,” I said stubbornly.

“You have much to learn, and I am ready to teach.” A spritish grin peeled across her face, a small, excited squeal before she pulled me along. “I can’t wait to tell you all the delicious tricks. Much mischief to be had!”

“Phoebe?” I dug down on my heel, pulling her back. “Where is Silas?”

The minute his name left my lips, her shoulders tensed. I caught a twitch of her fine brow, a quirk in her jaw that subsided once she covered it with a smile. “He’s away. Tending to important matters, but will be returning soon, luckily.” The last word was pulled taut, fighting to be perceived as anything except what it was—resentful.

“And that will be . . . ?” I let the sentence trail. “Can I telephone him?”

She shook her head. “He’s on a ship.” She cupped my hand in hers. “Let’s just surprise him when he arrives.”

“What about Luka?”

Every exhale from her was more violent than the last. “He is busy with whatever Silas has brought him to do.”

“What—” My words were cut short by a steadfast pain in my stomach. I nearly doubled over right there in the path.

“Alina.” Phoebe quickly looped her arm in mine, smiling at a pedestrian as she held me up.

“By God, does the pain ever go away?” I gasped, clutching my abdomen as I corrected my posture.

“You haven’t eaten.” Her voice wavered.

My vision began to pulse, dark spots encroaching on the edges. The colors were bright again, the pain in my temple straining with every blink. All at once, everything was too loud or too bright. A babe cried in a pram passing by, thunder trembled in my ear.

It took all my strength to breathe evenly. The world was slowing down, like a long-lost memory.