Page 54 of From the Shadows

I busy myself at the espresso machine, and when the tension shifts indicating the man’s presence, I offer him a drink as well.

“Absolutely not. I had my soy matcha latte already.” As if a simple no, thank you is too pedestrian for him. “What do you need help grasping?”

I suppress a full-body shudder at his word choice and steel my spine. The sooner I start, the quicker I can get away from him.

“I was looking into anticoagulants. Harvesting the substances as well as delivery and how the differing parameters may impact human tissue, both liquid and fibrous.”

“Fibrous?”

I tilt my head from side to side and clarify, “Muscular.”

“Mm. I see. And what are the results you’re looking for?”

“Increased liquidity that later congeals. Muscle fiber deteriorating to gelatinous goo.” I pause taking in the visible change in his demeanor. “I know certain types of venom can do that, but the dosing has me questioning the source. And I couldn’t find anything detailed on similar-acting pharmaceuticals.”

His face lights up, and he rubs his hands together, both equally macabre. “One of my favorite subjects and, truly, the impetus of my pivot toward holistic over pharmaceutical. The world was a better place when the village healers held the magic of remedies in their hands. Bee venom was used to treat gout and rheumatism. Herbal treatments provided by apothecaries, bloodletting… all of it was the epitome of modern medicine. If they had our technology available to them, to extract and purify the various venoms and substances they felt were toxic, to administer it scientifically and precisely, the current medical field would look entirely different.”

He drones on and on, basking in the sound of his own voice, not realizing or caring that he’s lost me, until…

“…rare specimen to add to my collection, but the courier didn’t deliver. Now I have to find a replacement, which won’t be a simple task, and recoup the financial loss. Not an easy undertaking there, either. My liaison was unable to secure the funds for the initial transaction, so I had to front the money. Not my usual method of handling situations such as this. I’ve found that the intermediary is much more eager to complete the transaction if they have skin in the game, you know? Deliver on time, merchandise in good order—care of a different caliber, if you will.”

“So you were cheated?” I want to kick myself for encouraging further conversation. He’s not given me a whole lot of anything, and I have better things to do. I would rather have high tea with a gaze of rabid racoons while smothered in honey and bacon grease than spend any more time with Hibou.

“Robbed, in bits then bounds. But I think I’ve worked out a way to recover my losses while simultaneously punishing the tramp who wronged me.”

Jesus, this guy. I should have known better. This was a waste of time I can never get back.

“Oh… uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything important.” Winnie stops in the threshold with an empty glass in her hand.

“Not important,” I offer, noting the way Hibou bristles before he fixates all of his attention on Winnie.

“What can I help you with, Winifred?”

Her hand drops from its place, splayed protectively across her nonexistent baby bump, as though to direct focus elsewhere.

“Nothing, thank you. I was just going to refill my water glass.” Her smile is tight as she takes a step backward. “I can get it later.” Another step.

Hibou rises from his chair, swiftly like he’s on a mission. “Absolutely not. You need to stay hydrated, keep that baby healthy so she grows as beautiful as her mother.”

From anyone else, it would be a compliment, but when I mentioned the ick-factor to Eddie, I may have undersold it.

Hibou stalks toward Winnie as he presses, “When am I going to get you on my table? Give you a thorough examination and check on that precious little one. Listen to her heart beating, see the muscle flutter…” He reaches out to place his palm low on her belly, displeasure raining down on him when she turns away from him.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” she states simply. Firmly.

Winnie grew up in this town and is no stranger to watching men take what they want from women. Touching them. Manipulating them. Using them. And she bore witness to the aftermath with Truie and her trauma. Allowing a man to touch her without permission is off the table with Winnie. Always has been, even before Christophe laid his claim and made her his. The only person who violated that became a project of mine and fattened my cash stash.

“You need to be examined.” Hibou’s eyes narrow, and his lips pinch. “I’m the house doctor. I’m on staff.”

As he falls deeper into his tantrum, I stand and cross the room making sure to put myself between the nut job and the pregnant woman. The protocol for losing your job around here is a stark one. The decision, final. And making the boss’ woman uncomfortable seems like a big step in that direction. It’s a bold choice and one that, again, tends to add someone to my to-do list.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me,” Hibou seethes, only realizing the line he crossed when Winnie turns down the hall toward Christophe’s office. “I’m looking out for you. It’s my job, I’ve taken an oath…”

His voice fades. Whether because he’s realized bullying a patient isn’t part of that oath or because his survival instinct has finally kicked in, I don’t really care. Winnie and I are out of his presence, and that’s the primary concern.

I stop at the threshold of the office as Christophe pulls Winnie to his arms. While they’re positioned in front of the gilded mirror, the atmosphere is distinctly different than the last time I stood here. Passion is replaced by protectiveness.

“You want me to clear the room, honeybee? Or do my men need the intel?” He frames her face between his palms, his eyes scanning and marking her distress.