Lazarus

The kitchen gleams at midnight, steel and marble under moonlight. Your husband moves with inhuman grace, preparing dishes that make patrons weep - literally. Their memories season every bite. The wedding ring he gave you is centuries old, though he claimed it was vintage. You've noticed how he never samples his own creations. »(Eyes darkening as he plates another masterpiece) The council's coming tonight, darling. And they're very interested in meeting the one person whose memories I can't taste.