Page 7 of The Cannibal

“Looking a bit pale there, Crow.”

In the corner of the seated area, John began to stand, a tired grin on his face as he brushed down the wrinkles of his shirt.

I didn’t let another thought cross before I flung my arms around his neck, squeezing tighter.

“Whoa there, remember you have that Vipera strength now. My neck certainly does not.” He chuckled, arms wrapping around and rubbing my back. “It’s good to have you back.”

A sniffle escaped as I wiped my eye, not willing to let him see when I pulled away to laugh. “Still feels like I never left.” I choked back the bite at my throat, watching as everyone settled back under the glass. A gentle breeze carried the scent of climbing roses and honeysuckle.

I sat between Phoebe and John. The chiming of teaware began again, flower petals from the canopy swept over the ivory dishes. Some pecked at finger sandwiches and scones; others settled for bitter tea.

“Drink.” Phoebe poured me a cup, sliding the saucer toward me. “It will settle your stomach until tonight.”

“Tonight?” I mumbled, twisting the cup so the handle aligned with my dominant hand. “Another one of your outings?”

“No,” she said with a smile, “we are celebrating.”

I sampled the tea carefully. Miraculously, the first pinch of flavor since waking. The bitterness was there, it registered on my tongue, but the undertones and other notes of the tea were more present, things I don’t think I would be tasting on a normal palate. Something earthy, perfume-like. Perhaps I was more sensitive to the underlying chemicals?

“You know how I feel about parties,” I mumbled. “I may go back to sleep.”

“You’ve had six months to sleep.” She rolled her eyes. “Besides, not a party. A dinner.”

“Oh?” I mumbled, taking another long sip, adjusting to my new palate.

“It’s your first meal! We have to make it special.”

“Why? Guilty conscience?” I joked, but Phoebe’s face fell.

Instant regret settled in my stomach. “I’m sorry, I was trying to be light.”

The redheaded sprite took a deep breath, shoulders relaxing. “I know.”

“John.” I turned to my other side.

I caught him mid-bite, placing his sandwich back down as he chewed.

“What came of the Buffalo apartments? Not everyone is here.”

He rested his hand on my shoulder and squeezed, the wrinkles by his eyes creasing as he offered a gentle smile. “Mary stayed behind, so did at least half of the household. They have lives there already, it was understandable.”

“She stayed?” I shook my head. “Are you sure⁠—”

“She didn’t want to leave Addie behind,” he said abruptly.

It was hard to swallow. I hung my head.

“She’s stepped up, forming into quite a good leader, just like you,” he assured me. “She can handle it. She is handling it.”

“Right, of course.” I took a deep breath. “And what of Edith?”

John gave me an odd look. The chatter around us went dim.

Phoebe squeezed my hand. “Oh, you poor thing, I didn’t tell you, did I?” Her voice pitched, the way it does when she lies.

I slowly turned to her. Instead of some smug look, those green eyes were sharp, warning. The others looked somber, pitiful, like I was learning about her passing for the first time.

“Tell me what?” My jaw was beginning to ache from tension, not just from the laborious revival.