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I stared at him. “What does that mean?”
“It takes what it needs. The rest is collected.”
“Collected how?”
He was quiet. His expression made my stomach turn before he said anything. “You’ve seen it.”
I shook my head.
“On the beach.”
For a second there was nothing. Then fragments began sliding into place. The water. Aurora waiting for us when we came out. Her hands on my face. A cloth against my throat, my wrists. There you are.
I looked at Damian. “The cloths.”
He nodded once. The room tipped beneath me.
“No.”
“What comes through while it’s feeding collects at the surface. Mostly where the blood runs close. The throat, the wrists.”
I swallowed and tasted metal. “They put the cloths in the bowl.”
“Yes.”
“And then what?”
“The bowl goes inside.”
“Inside where?”
“The kitchen. They vacuum seal it and freeze it.”
A new thought moved at the edge of my mind. Not a memory this time. My wall at home. Five pages of copy taped above my desk.
Véla. Radiance restored. Vitalis. Cellular renewal. Stillwater Clinics. Proprietary infusions. Referral only. Six companies. One ingredient nobody would name.
I stopped breathing.
Damian saw it happen. “Marlowe—”
“No.”
I caught the table with my palm. “No. No, that’s not—”
He didn’t try to finish it for me.
“The products,” I said.
His face told me before his mouth did.
“They bottle it.”
For a moment I could hear nothing except the blood in my ears.
“Véla.”
“Yes.”
