Chapter 39: The Devil’s Deep
WINTER TERM - February 1st (Continued)
The oysters came first, quickly followed up by the chowder adorned with a sprig of parsley, served in a floral bouillon cup. Then, drinks - for Aries, a hot toddy thick with honey, for me, red wine, a little sweeter than I’d have liked, but I wasn’t complaining.
Aries dug into the chowder first. “You have to try this, Zeph.”
It was a heavy cream soup with shellfish. I absolutely did not need to try it. Aries licked the corner of his mouth. He’d been hungry, sure, he was always hungry, but I think too he also just loved food.
I was probably a shit boyfriend for just realizing this now. We never went out to eat. And it was cute how excited he got over it. He searched the bowl for something cockle-shaped, triumphant when he found it, and reached across the table to force his spoon into my mouth. It was eye roll worthy, but sweet.
Or it was until my lips burned. I reared back at the sudden unexpected rash of pain. It was saltwater, cream, and blood. An ocean on fire. I tore away from Aries and quickly spat what I could into the linen napkin across my lap.
“There’s something wrong with that soup, Aries.”
Aries cocked his head. He tried another spoonful of it. Same spoon. He let it linger against his tongue. “Tastes fine to me.”
There was still blood in my mouth. I tried to chase it down with wine, only to find I liked those combined flavors even less.
“Is it laced with something? What’s in it?” I was leaning forward, meant to grab the bouillon cup, but before I could I’d set my hand on the table for balance, only to brush my hand against the tines of a dinner fork. The pain erupted all over again. The wolf in my head howled. This time, not my lips. My hand. Fuck.
I crashed against the back of my chair, knocked the table with my knee. Everything jumped, only Aries’s hot toddy splashed a little.
“Oh, the silverware, Zeph. I didn’t even think.”