Lavina was less theatrical, except for her dress, which was a production of its own, black lace ruffles and far more low-cut than most would find appropriate for a funeral. The tops of her breasts jiggled each time she moved, catching men’s eyes all around. Her face was pale from powder, yet the skin of her chest and the tops of her breasts were golden brown and looked like the leather skulls of Siamese twins fighting for air.
Not a tear was shed by Lavina for her daughter while in the public eye. In fact, it was the public that cried. Other than James, Nigel, Alistair, and Westie, there was not a dry eye to be found.
All the sniffling, breathing, whimpers—the sounds of mourning—filled Westie’s ears. No one had cried for Westie’s family. No one had cried for the little girl who’d lost her arm.
Her head throbbed, whether with guilt or annoyance she didn’t know. What she did know was that she needed to leave before some mystery emotion spilled out of her in a public scene. She pulled the mourning lily the church had pinned to her bodice from her dress and stepped on it, twisting the toe of her boot until the white flower turned brown. No one noticed as she walked away.
Thirty-One
The bright smells of autumn faded the moment Westie stepped into the Tight Ship. The barkeep saw her and immediately reached for the bottle of Brave Maker.
“I’ll have a sarsaparilla,” she said.
He looked at her as though her marbles had fallen onto the floor, his hand hovering over the bottle of whiskey.
“Is my hearing going?” he said.
“Don’t give me sass, Heck. Not today,” she said, dejected.
“Suit yourself.” He poured her drink into a metal cup.
She sat at the bar. As she looked around, she noticed there were no creatures in the saloon except for a troll passed out on the floor.
“Where’s everyone at?” she asked.
“Seems to be a bug going around,” Heck said. His skin had a green tint to it. He didn’t look too good himself.
She took small sips to draw out her time. There was to be a potluck after the service. Westie had no intention of going.
When someone sat down beside her, she didn’t think anything of it until she heard the voice. Her back went as straight as if she’d been skewered.
“Red-eye,” Lavina said to the barkeep.
“That’s an awful strong drink for a proper lady,” Heck said.
“Pour me one too, bar-dog. Make it a double,” said Hubbard, his eyes still red and swollen from crying. He’d taken a seat on the other side of Westie while she’d been distracted by Lavina. Westie’s gaze darted around the mirror behind the bar, looking for escape routes.
“Believe me,” Lavina said, “I can handle it on a day like this one.”
The barkeep poured Lavina’s drink and slid it down the bar, where Lavina caught it before it bumped Westie’s cup.
“You left early,” she said to Westie.
Westie let go of her cup to find she’d dented the metal with her machine. She was suddenly in the mood for something stronger. “Didn’t think anyone was aware.”
“I’m very much aware of you, Westie.”
The way Lavina said it, like she knew all of Westie’s secrets, made her skin itch.
Hubbard made burping and hiccuping sounds beside her but didn’t speak. He could’ve sat next to his wife, but they chose to box her in. Westie flexed her metal fingers, not sure who she should be more worried about.
Lavina gazed around the room, letting the silence between them simmer until it felt good and awkward before wrinkling her nose and saying, “It’s nice to come in here without creatures around. I don’t know how you can stomach sitting and drinking with all those filthy animals.”
Westie thought about Costin. He’d risked everything to hide the evidence of her thievery and her possible link as a witness to Olive’s death. Though Westie was guilty of prejudice herself when it came to creatures, it made her mad to hear it from Lavina.
Westie turned and looked Lavina straight in her flat brown eyes. “They’re not filthy animals. They have the right to be on this earth just like the rest of us. They lived on this land for thousands of years, minding their own business, not hurting anyone. It belonged to them and the natives. Most folks never even knew they existed. Settlers saw an opportunity and took everything, killing anything or anyone that got in their way. Finally the creatures got sick of it and fought back.”
Lavina took a sip of her whiskey and nodded slowly. “Yes, the creature war. But do you really think those beings are civilized?”
Westie wanted to hurl her drink at the woman. Civilized. Lavina didn’t know the meaning of the word. Civilized people didn’t hole up in cabins, preying on unsuspecting families in need.