Page 41 of Monsters and Mocha

A medical cot, similar to the ones they used at the hospital, was parked next to her, with a white sheet half slipping off a corpse that looked like it had been cobbled together from the pieces of several different bodies. The sutures that connected all the pieces were neat and even, as though whoever had done such a horrific and nightmarish deed had taken great care and pride in their work.

But it was the face of the body next to her that did Darby in. She leaned to the side, retching onto the floor and sobbing at the sightless eyes of William, the soldier that they had unexpectedly lost a week before.

“Please don’t. I just cleaned the floors this morning.”

The shock of the familiar voice stopped her tears at once. Slowly, with wide eyes and short, shuddering breaths, Darby turned to the door.

Dr. Fransten stood just inside, wearing a long, white lab coat that bore the faint whispers of bloodstains on the cuffs and spattered on the lapels. Wide goggles rested on the top of his head, unused for the moment, while he carefully shut and padlocked the door behind him. He turned back to her, pulling on a pair of surgical gloves. “I see you’ve become reacquainted with young Will.”

“What have you done?” Her mind was reeling, trying and failing to reconcile the mentor that she knew and respected with the obviously crazed man before her.

He came around to the side of the cot, throwing the sheet to the floor and pushing it with his boot to mop up her mess. Darby quickly turned away, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to block the grotesque sight from embedding itself into her brain.

“Doesn’t it ever bother you, Shelton? That we have such power over death and yet none at all over life?” Fransten’s voice was calm and thoughtful, as if he were asking her a question about her schedule for the day, and not as though he were standing over a quilted corpse.

“We’re doctors; we save lives.” Darby’s voice wavered.

But he obviously didn’t try to save Will.

“That is merely sustaining life that has already been given.” Fransten’s voice was close, and Darby opened her eyes. He was standing over her, looking down at her with a strange, unfamiliar light in his gaze that sent shivers down her spine. “I’m talking about the ability to bring life to something lifeless; to animate that which is stagnant.”

She shook her head slowly. “Only Deus can do that.”

“Until you came along.” He leaned down, invading her personal space. “How did you do it, Shelton?”

“I–I didn’t. I can’t.”

He slammed a fist down beside her head, causing her to flinch. “I saw what you did to that captain! Don’t lie to me!”

Frightened tears started leaking out of her eyes. “I’m not! Fitz was never dead.”

He ignored her, turning and slowly walking to his wall of tools. “I have spent my lifetime in this profession, giving years of my service to a science that contents itself with always repairing, never creating. My questions and theories as a young man were met with criticism and warnings; no one was bold enough to question how far the sciences could go.” He picked up a heavy cleaver, running a thumb along one edge as he spoke. “Until you, that is.” Seemingly satisfied, he picked up a second, smaller knife and turned back to her.

Darby bit back a sob as she struggled with the restraints on her wrists.

“I knew from the moment I first saw you on the Academy campus that you would be the one who changed it all. Such bright ideas! Such a single-minded focus on perfecting the art of medicine! I knew, if I could only get you frustrated enough, that you would push through barriers simply because you knew you could.”

She froze.

“Oh, yes. I knew.” Fransten returned to her side. “I knew how stifling you felt it was to be relegated to filing reports. I knew how badly you burned for the chance to be able to prove yourself. I knew how much it pained you to feel that your talents and knowledge were being wasted day in and day out. And I knew,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “that when Captain Monstrego was carried in, his death would be the stimulus that started it all.”

“But he didn’t die,” she whimpered.

“Because of you! How did you do it, Shelton? I know you kept notes; I saw glimpses of them that day you brought me to see your captain. But when I went back for them later, they were gone.”

Thank Deus for Raven.

“That was you? You were the one who attacked me?”

“An unexpected development, but one I soon saw the wisdom of. My original plan had been to find your notes and present my findings to the Guilds of Medicine and Inventors, but I realized when I couldn’t find them that you would only continue to be an obstacle. You had served your purpose, and it was time for me to move on.”

The blood in Darby’s veins turned to ice.

“The cyanide was, admittedly, a decision made in a poor emotional state. A poisoning is too public and unexpected; your death needed to be a convincing tragedy—a young, brilliant mind taken from the world too soon, whose passion for life inspired my greatest work.”

“The explosion at the hospital?”

He shook his head sadly. “An unfortunate cost of scientific breakthrough. I needed your death to be convincing.”