Talon winces. But that’s the full extent of his disagreement. After a moment his lips press together and his eyes drift somewhere else, somewhere past the walls of this room. He’s imagining it.
I can’t say it’s a bad notion myself. I’m a doctor. I save lives. What better way than at the source. Not the symptom. The cause.
I lean back against the counter and cross my arms. “So tell me, Cassian. Justice and grief aside, why keep doing it? Why not stop at the man who killed your sister?”
His eyes flicker.
“The sight,” he says.
“What about it?”
“Grim Reapers appear when someone dies. They come when the soul leaves the body. Pull something out. Take it somewhere. Then they vanish.” He pauses. “The only moment I can see them is when someone is actively dying.”
“So you force them to appear,” I say.
Cassian nods. “Every killer I track leads to a Reaper. Every Reaper I see gives me another piece of the pattern. If I understand the pattern, maybe I can understand the system.”
“And fix it,” I say.
His jaw tightens. “Someone has to.”
Talon rubs his face. “I cannot believe I’m actually considering this shit. It sounds fucking insane.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But insanity is one of those pesky sicknesses that never quite leave you once they appear.”
I walk to the counter. Open the drawer beneath the utensils and pull out the booklet I’ve been thinking about ever since I heard what needs to be done.
Talon whistles. “What is that?”
I ignore him. Open the booklet and turn it so both of them can see the page.
“A clinic?” Cassian asks.
I tap the page.
“This clinic is run by two of my colleagues. Private funding. Private equipment. Access to supplies a normal hospital would never let you use unsupervised.”
Cassian’s attention sharpens. “Meaning?”
“It’s the only place I know where I can induce cardiac arrest without triggering institutional alarms, digital logs, or administrative questions.”
Talon raises a brow. “Wait, wait, wait. You want to kill me in your buddies’ medical den? Without them knowing? What if they show up?”
“They won’t. They don’t work nights unless they have test subjects brought in, and those are always scheduled. All I need is access to that schedule.”
Cassian tilts his head. “What exactly do you mean by test subjects?”
“Volunteers for research trials.”
“I see.”
“The clinic closes around eight,” I continue. “Most staff leave by seven-thirty. Nights should be empty unless a research subject is booked.”
Cassian narrows his eyes. “Should be?”
“I’ll need to verify. But they run clinical trials not yet approved by national boards. There’s flexibility.”
“Whatever you say, doc,” Talon says. “I kind of figured we’d do the whole resuscitation thing somewhere shady anyway.”
