“We don’t need to discuss it again,” he says. His voice comes down hard, like the period at the end of a sentence. “I am not going to harm you, not like that. So. Do you want to practice?”
“No,” I say shakily. “Can you take me to my cell?”
He watches me for a moment before nodding, jaw tight again. We walk in silence, and he leaves me in my room without another word.
Sebastianand his inner circle surround the stone table in the courtyard once more. Like last time, I sit to his left, ignoring the six pairs of watchful eyes. Oskar likes me, I think, but he’s the only one. Beatrice scowls whenever I look at her, and Theo visibly flinches, like he’s worried I’ll hold him captive again.
The other three are ambivalent, shooting me occasional glances, but mostly studying the artifacts on the table. I’m doing my bestnotto look at said artifacts. There’s a bushel of grain, tied with thick twine. An abnormally large feather. A clear vase, filled with a cloudy liquid. A small pile of miscellaneous teeth, yellowed but not decayed. Those are all fine.
It’s the rest that make my stomach turn.
I was never great with biology, but I’m pretty sure there’s a liver and an oversized heart near the opposite end of the table. Even those are better than the dead rat and a human ear. It’s covered in soft hair, like maybe it’s the ear of a caveman.
One can hope. It feels better, for some reason, that the ear is centuries old and not fresh like the organs are. Those still have blood collecting beneath them, like they were harvested this morning.
“Sorry I’m late,” Cora calls, stealing my attention from Milas’s macabre collection. He keeps looking between the items and his handwritten list, as if only now verifying he has everything he needs.
“This stuff stinks,” Beatrice says. She flicks the human ear, and it rolls into the misshapen teeth. I’ve decided they’re from multiple animals. Some sharp and long, others short and blunt.
“Careful,” Milas chastises. He delicately returns the earto its original spot. “You have no idea how hard that was to get.”
“I’d be happy to get you another one,” Beatrice says, flashing him a broad smile.
“I’m sure you would,” he says. He rolls the sleeve of his dark button-up, revealing a nasty scar. It’s coated in yellow-green pus and goes from wrist to elbow.
“Hells,” Oskar mutters.
“Maybethat’swhat stinks.” Beatrice leans away.
“You should have mentioned,” Cora says. She rolls her eyes as she takes the seat on my other side. “I would have brought an ointment. You’re going to die if you let that fester.”
I’m looking between the ear and Sebastian’s inner circle, trying but failing to understand. Just when I decide it doesn’t matter, Oskar speaks from the opposite head of the table.
“It’s werewolf,” he says, nodding toward the detached ear. “Taken mid-transition.”
“Jesus,” I say. Looking to Milas, I add, “You’re lucky it didn’t kill you.”
“She was a bitch,” he says with a shrug. He glances at Beatrice, a taunting smirk pulling at his mouth. “You would have gotten along, actually.”
“All right. Enough,” Sebastian says. He has a thick stack of paper in front of him, and he’s spent the last ten minutes studying them, rather than paying us attention.
I haven’t forgotten he’s here though. I’ve been disgustingly attuned to his every movement. When he turns a page. When he reads something under his breath. When he shifts on our shared bench.
I’ve pushed all my energy into watching his inner circle, but my attention keeps snagging on him. The way he smells,moves, breathes. I’ve realized out here, they’re different. All of them.
They’rebreathing, first of all. There’s a flush to their skin. They’re shivering in their coats.
They’re human, I think. Out here, exposed in the sun, I think they’re more human than I am.
“Cora,” Sebastian says, nodding toward her. “Tell us where we’re at.”
She doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, she leans across the stone table, taking a moment to inspect each of Milas’s collected ingredients. Once she’s done, she uses Milas’s jacket to wipe the blood from her palm. His nostrils flare, but he otherwise doesn’t react.
“This looks adequate,” she says. “Between this, my own collection, and Grace here, I think we’re ready.”
“You’re sure?” Sebastian asks. “We might only have one chance.”
His voice is a smooth blanket over my racing heart.
