Thanks to me accidentally killing Haruspex in France, Silas and I have reached a dead end in our pursuit of Sathariel. Silas spends every waking minute obsessing over how to find him, while I have found alternate ways of occupying my time. I’ve been spending my days in my greenhouse working on my latest concoction. I began working on this particular cocktail a year ago, and after months of painstaking effort, I am finally on the brink of perfecting it. There are an infinite amount of uses for most plants in the world. Even the most deadly ones can be used to create life-changing medicines. The trick is to find the balance. Killing someone isn’t hard, but mastering the use of poison is truly an art form. With my combined degrees in biology – with a strong focus on botany – and chemistry, not only am I capable of controlling how people die, but the rate at which they die and in some cases I can even dictate the symptoms. Biochemistry is like a scientific orchestra, and I am the conduc

I smile as Silas saunters around to the driver’s side of the car, opening my door and extending his hand to me. I see behaving like a gentleman on our first date was not part of his performance. With an impressed smile, I place my freshly manicured hand in his and step out of the car. I take a moment to drink in the delectable sight of him, committing every bulge and dip of his perfect body to memory as I do almost every time I look at him now. Silas is the first man I’ve ever known to wear a corseted vest, and now that I have seen it, all other attire pales in comparison. I never thought a fully clothed man could be so erotic, but it’s the greatest discovery of my lifetime. Now that I mention it, I realise all our sexual encounters so far have been clothed, and I’m not complaining. There’s something so carnal about craving someone so much you have to have them then and there that not even the confines of clothes can stop you. Between me, myself, and I, I’m getting hot just thinking

Our meals are full of banter and stories that in any other establishment would have nearby patrons turning white in fear and disgust while calling the authorities. It’s strange having a partner in crime, but it’s nice having someone who isn’t family that I can confide in regarding all the gory details of my life, one who won’t be repulsed or demand I be committed. We’re both in the middle of our mains when I notice a familiar face exit the backroom. Suddenly picking Ambrosia feels like a colossally bad idea. What the fuck is Castor doing here? “Something wrong?” Silas asks with concern. Of course, he noticed a shift in my mood. Maybe Castor won’t notice me. “Not exactly…” I answer evasively. It was stupid to hope Castor wouldn’t notice me. His hazel eyes zero in on me from across the room, lighting up as soon as he sees me. He immediately walks over and as he reaches me, he bends down, placing a kiss on my cheek. “It’s so good to see you, Dasha. I didn’t realise you were still in

I walk out, shutting the door behind me as he continues to scream like an escaped mental patient. I make my way to the car, get in and start driving, my fists clutching the steering wheel so hard I feel like it’s about to snap under my palms. For the first time in my life I feel sick to my stomach and as angry as I am, there’s a sadness underneath for something lost. I don’t trust many people, but I trusted Castor. I trusted him with my life, as do my father and mother. We were never romantic, but that didn’t mean I didn’t see him as a friend. For twenty-three years he was a confidant and in my early years he was my protector, and now it feels like a lie. To see him turn so quickly, all because he saw me having a meal with another man is… it’s fucking insane. I will wear the blame for crossing the line from platonic friends to something sexual. I took that step, and I have no one to blame but myself for that, but I’m ashamed I never saw this coming. I’m observant in every other aspec

Lamps are knocked over, sofa cushions are strewn about and torn-up clothes are scattered about like the debris left behind after a tornado. Silas steps in front of me, his expression now looking like an attack dog seeking a target. He places the groceries down, walks over and picks up a few tattered pieces of clothing to examine them. “These are all mine,” he remarks. I look at him in surprise. I begin to wander around, checking every place in my apartment where I keep a weapon stashed, to find them all untouched. Silas follows the trail of tattered clothes to his room while I make my way to mine, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach. As I walk to my bedroom, I notice the whiteboard where I had organised all our research on Sathariel, has been knocked over with the papers tossed around without a care. I enter my room and immediately feel bile travelling up my throat. My bedroom looks even worse than the rest of my apartment. My bedsheets have been torn to shreds, my clothes thro