Page 55 of Unbroken
No good could come from agreeing with her request. Except Sebastian’s life hung in the balance.
“If you’re wrong, and she kills Sebastian, I will be your enemy forever,” he managed to say, despite all the old instincts to appease her, to never speak too harshly for fear of what she might do.
Grandfather would have been hurt. But she merely gave him an assessing look. “Of course, my darling. I would never expect you to make such an agreement otherwise.”
“So what do you want?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” She took a step closer. “So, do we have a deal?”
“…Yes.”
As when Mrs. Norris had fed from him, Sebastian found himself swept away into the chaos of Victoria’s memories the moment her proboscis slipped into a vein.
A collage of images and impressions: drawing, honing her craft, illustrations becoming better and better. Rulkowski smiling with pleasure as she handed over the latest painting of one of his orchids.
Being drawn into the society’s circle. Sitting in on meetings, though she’d never been a voting member, oh no, never that.
So many important people, rich people, all of them wanting her paintings. Her father was a fisherman, her mother a seamstress, yet here she was now, sitting in lavish rooms, drinking wines said to be among the best in the world, though she couldn’t tell the difference between them.
Painting portraits, and yes, the paints and canvases cost so much, but it would all be worth it in the end. Important people would see her work; money was just around the corner. Soon, soon, she’d be able to pay her rent without flinching, be able to move into a boarding house where she didn’t have to put a chair beneath the broken doorknob to keep drunken men out.
Soon.
The Midwinter Flower Show. It was important to them, therefore important to her.
Looking upon the tree for the first time—both revolting and fascinating, and her hands itched to draw it. Fuller’s strange gentleness, murmuring to the thing while he made a small cut in its bark and drew off the sap.
She hadn’t been able to afford to travel to Boston for the show, but they returned with photographs and stories of their triumph. Recognition, fame, and of course the monetary prizes for their sap-treated flowers, as though any of them needed more in the bank.
Still, she was so excited when they invited her to celebrate with them. Fuller insisted on including the tree—he’d installed a tap to draw off more sap, and spoke to it lovingly all evening. It caressed him with its branches in turn, though how much it could understand or comprehend Victoria didn’t know.
Fine wine, scotch, brandy, all flowing like water. Soon she didn’t even feel the cold March night through her thin, worn coat.
Siewert was the one to ruin everything. He bragged endlessly of his machines, from those in his factories to the automobile he drove everywhere, no matter how short the distance.
“If it does the plants such good,” he said, slurring his words as he gestured toward the sap collection bucket, “what would it do for us?”
“It would cure disease,” Mrs. Tubbs announced, as though utterly certain of it.
“Sharpen our minds!”
“Make us stronger!”
“Immortality,” Victoria blurted, like a fool. Because it seemed so possible that night, surrounded by people whose lives went so much more easily than hers, her belly warmed by alcohol.
All their eyes went to her when she spoke. “Drink it,” Penelope Tubbs ordered. “Drink it and find out.”
The others joined in. “Drink it!” “Come on, Victoria, don’t be a wet blanket.” “Drink!”
How could she say no, with all of them looking at her so expectantly?
The collection bucket was too light—it should have been a thousand pounds, dragged down her arms, warned her of the weight of her decision. But as it was, she lifted it easily and drank.
The sap tasted like dirt and flowers and rain and rot. A rush of well-being went through her, even as she gagged the last of it down. It was working—her sight was sharper even in the darkness, she was filled with energy, she was strong enough to crush the tin bucket between her hands.
Then she began to change.
The others fled screaming. Frightened by their reactions, horrified by the terrible mutations taking over her body, she ran as well.
