That, in turn, hadn't occurred to Dimitri. He hadn't known that about immortals. Even though he wasn't a medical doctor and fixing broken bones was not part of his arsenal of expertise, he should have known that.
He was a chemist and a biologist.
He and Petrov hadn't been as diligent as they should have been in their treatment of Dave. They'd followed Navuh's directives and hadn't bothered with proper protocols.
In a way, they hadn't treated the Eight as people. They had treated them more like lab animals.
As Number One placed the call, explaining what was needed to the person on the other end of the line, Dimitri reflected on how bizarre the situation was. The Eight were the most dangerous beings on this island, feared and detested by humans and immortals alike. They had just killed four men without breaking a sweat or batting an eyelid, had ripped out hearts from their chest cavities to make sure they wouldn't resurrect, and yet Dimitri trusted them to help Mattie and to keep his secret.
That odd sense of friendship must have been born out of gratitude for saving his and Mattie's lives because it made no sense to trust the Eight. Dave was a weapon, their collective consciousness operating more like a computer network than eight biological people with feelings, wants, and needs.
But maybe that was exactly why Dimitri could trust the Eight. The lack of feelings made Dave logical. The combined consciousness didn't have the capacity for petty betrayal, or jealousy, or spite, or the simple reveling in the pain of othersbecause of some sadistic urges. Dave calculated and made assessments of threat and benefit. And somehow, in that cold calculation, Dave had decided that Dimitri and Mattie were worth protecting.
"The doctor will meet us at the lab," Number One reported after ending the call.
"Thank you."
"No thanks are necessary. You are valuable. She is valuable to you. Therefore, she is valuable to the enhancement project."
The Eight started walking, and Dimitri followed them with Mattie cradled carefully in his arms, staying close to their protective escort.
No one approached them. No one even made eye contact. The workers and guards who had gathered to observe the aftermath of the fight scattered before them, crossing the street to the other side or ducking into doorways.
Walking through a crowd that shrank from them in terror should have bothered Dimitri, and being surrounded by beings who had just committed brutal murder should have made him at least uncomfortable. But Mattie was unconscious in his arms, her fingers were shattered, and the men who had done this to her were dead, their hearts torn from their chests, their threat permanently neutralized.
He couldn't bring himself to question any of it. All he felt was immense gratitude because if not for Dave, things could have ended much worse.
When they finally reached the lab building, an older human male was waiting by the entrance. He carried a worn leathermedical bag and had the weathered look of someone who had seen too much and stopped being surprised by any of it.
"You must be Dimitri," the doctor said, his eyes flicking from him to the unconscious woman in his arms. "I see that she passed out from the pain."
"Her fingers were crushed by a brute who stomped on her hand on purpose." Dimitri's jaw tightened at the memory. "I'm glad she fainted."
The doctor nodded. "Let's get her inside. I'll need a clean surface to work on and good lighting."
Dimitri moved toward the door, then stopped. He needed to free one hand to enter the code, but he was afraid of shifting Mattie's weight to one arm and causing her pain. He also didn't want to give the code to Dave or the doctor. During the day, when he and Petrov were in the lab, the door was unlocked, but perhaps they should start locking it now.
The reinforced lab door had been designed to hold in enhanced immortals, which meant that it was impenetrable.
He was still debating what to do when Petrov’s rumpled form appeared behind the glass, and a moment later the door swung open.
Petrov regarded the scene in front of him with confusion, then alarm, and then horror as he saw Mattie's mangled hand and the blood covering Dimitri's clothes.
"Boje moi," Petrov breathed. "What happened? Are you injured? Is she?—"
"She's alive." Dimitri pushed past him into the lab. "We need to take care of her hand first. I'll explain everything later."
"But—"
"Later, Konstantin," Dimitri said sharply. "She needs help."
Petrov stepped back, his questions dying on his lips.
Dimitri headed for the stairs, with the doctor close behind him. The Eight remained in the lab's main room with Petrov.
The hallway outside their room was just as they'd left it that morning, which felt like a lifetime ago. The dresser stood against the wall, its damaged finish waiting for the restoration work that Mattie had been so excited to begin.
Dimitri's heart squeezed at the sight.
