Number One straightened and pulled out his phone, his movements calm and businesslike as he dialed. "We need cleanup at the docks. Four bodies for disposal."
He paused, listening to whatever response came through.
"No, there is no need for investigation. The matter has been handled."
Another pause.
"Understood."
He ended the call and looked down at Mattie and Dimitri with an expression that might have been concern or might have been simple calculation.
"You need a doctor to fix your hand."
24
DIMITRI
They had only taken a few steps away from the carnage when Mattie's legs buckled.
Dimitri caught her before she hit the ground, his immortal reflexes kicking in without conscious thought. One moment she was walking beside him, pale and trembling but upright, and the next she was a dead weight in his arms, her eyes rolled back, her body limp.
"Mattie!" He shifted his grip, cradling her against his chest, careful of her injured hand. "Sweetheart, can you hear me?"
No response. She was unconscious, her lips parted, her breathing shallow, and her face ashen. The pain of her ruined hand and the shock of the violence and terror of the attack had all caught up to her at once.
He looked down at her injured hand, the fingers swollen and misshapen, and the sight made his stomach clench with a mixture of rage and guilt. This was his fault. He'd convinced her to come to the harbor with him.
He'd promised her she would be safe.
When he lifted his gaze, he found all eight of Dave watching him with identical questioning expressions.
It was disconcerting in a way that was hard to articulate. The Eight didn't look alike. Some were taller, some shorter. Some were lean and wiry, while others carried more bulk. Their skin tones ranged from fair to dark, and their features varied in ways that made them easily distinguishable. But they wore the same expression, which made them look more alike than different. Their singular consciousness was peering out from eight different windows, and the windows themselves were starting to warp under the pressure of that unified gaze.
Dimitri had noticed before the way the Eight had become more similar over time. When he'd first started treating them, their individual features had been more distinct, their mannerisms more varied. Now, months into the treatment protocol, they moved the same way, stood the same way, and manifested the same facial expressions even though their faces were structurally different.
It made him think about the relationship between mind and body, about how the inner workings of consciousness might influence facial appearance over time. The expressions a person made most often eventually carved themselves into their face, creating lines and contours that reflected their inner state, but that should have been true only for humans because immortal bodies were frozen in time. And yet, the shared mind of these eight bodies seemed to affect their physical appearance.
Perhaps it was just his perception of them?
It was fascinating from a scientific perspective, but a little unsettling from a personal one, especially when those identical expressions were directed at him.
"What?" he asked.
"You are no longer human," Number One stated with conviction that left no room for argument.
The words hung in the air, not as an accusation but as a statement that demanded explanation.
Dimitri remained silent.
"How did that happen?" Number One continued. "You were human when we first met you, and now you are not. You're stronger, faster, and your rate of healing is not human either. Did you find a way to turn regular humans into immortals?"
Dimitri chuckled. "If I could do that, I would be a very rich man." He glanced around, aware of the attention their procession was drawing. Workers and guards alike were watching them pass by, but no one dared to say anything.
Dave had just killed four immortals, and no one wanted to step in his path and be next.
"We'll talk when we get to the lab." Dimitri shifted Mattie in his arms, trying to find a position that wouldn't jostle her injured hand. "Right now, all I can think about is getting Mattie help. Can you call the doctor and have him meet us at the lab? Mattie needs medical attention that neither Doctor Petrov nor I know how to provide. Her fingers need to be set properly, and she needs strong painkillers."
"Yes. Of course." Number One pulled out his phone, then paused. "Some things do not occur to me naturally. I didn't consider the fact that she is human and doesn't heal on her own. Then again, even an immortal would need someone whoknows what they are doing to set their bones so they don't fuse incorrectly. When that happens, they need to be broken again."
