We keep walking, our steps aligning naturally. I stop marking time as we pass dormant flower beds and a trickling fountain, the garden thinning until only the greenhouse comes into view, the greenery inside unseen behind fogged windows.
Lix slows as we reach it, turning his head toward me. “I like hearing what’s on your mind, Em.”
I fasten his hand as he reaches the greenhouse door and pulls it open. I step inside with him.
Warm, humid air presses outward, heavy with the scent of soil and growing green. My glasses fog along the edges, and I tilt my head slightly to adjust as my vision compensates.
At the far end of the greenhouse, Darius stands over one of the long metal worktables.
He’s positioned squarely with his back to us, and his attention directed downward. In his hands is a compact medical containment unit with a transparent casing.
Inside it, suspended in a clear stabilizing fluid, a human heart contracts.
Blood drips from the table’s edge.
Another follows, darker, thicker.
My attention pulls away from Darius to follow the source.
A body lies across the table he’s blocking.
One arm hangs over the side, fingers slack and unmoving.
Blood streaks the metal surface beneath the torso.
My stomach tightens in twisted knots.
I take in the scent next. Roses from the surrounding blooms, dense in the warmth. Beneath that, familiar in a way that makes my throat constrict before I can stop it.
Idris.
A sound slips past my lips.
Lix moves in front of me. His stance widens, body angled betweenme and Darius in a reflexive barrier.
Darius looks up, glancing at us, with a shaky gaze.
Then he stares at the table, his shoulders rising with his ragged breath. At the table’s edge, I spot sharp surgical tools, a ripped-open first aid kit, and an empty bottle of whiskey.
When Darius slowly turns his head to land his eyes on me, Lix sprints for a step before I snatch him.
“No, it’s dangerous! Slow down!” I utter without thought, mirroring words I heard earlier, out of sheer fear that’s taken over my instincts.
Darius blinks, eyes going black, as he adjusts his grip on the containment unit, securing it against his body.
He takes an empty pot and throws it at the greenhouse window.
Glass bursts, letting the cold rush in, and just as swiftly, Darius runs through the opening, taking the device with him.
I cross the distance to the table at a run, Lix right beside me.
My hands come down hard on Idris’ bare chest, slick with blood, pressing where volume has been lost.
The incision is closed. Sutures hold the skin together in clean lines, precise despite the violence that led to them.
I press harder, trying to remember how long it takes for someone without a heart to live. I try to lie to myself, not wanting to admit that it would’ve only been mere seconds.
But the resistance beneath my palms doesn’t match normal human anatomy.
