Page 124 of Interion

I moved closer to the woman, studying her face. It was destroyed and disfigured; the skin on the right half was burned, and the eye had swollen beyond recognition. Still, the left half, which wasn’t as badly affected, seemed familiar. The slanted eyes, flat nose, and prominent cheekbones were distinctive features of Vinturian women, and I’d always found them all strikingly similar to one another. However, with half her head in ruins, it was hard to say whether I actually knew her or if it was just my imagination.

I looked for her name on the display, and in red letters it read “Yamamoto.” That didn’t help at all—when it came to Vinturian names, only the surname was shared publicly. The first name was reserved for those closest to them.

The girl was already intubated, and her heartbeat was slow. They’d placed a compress on her head, but the fabric was soaked with blood, dripping down through her long hair.

“Has the hospital already requested authorization from the gorgon matriarch of Vinturis to cut her hair?” I asked, studying the black locks. Among gorgons, hair was a symbol of power and hierarchy. The longer the hair, the higher one’s rank—and only matriarchs could cut their girls’ hair, usually as punishment. This gorgon’s hair was so long it reached her hip, which meant she was someone important to her race.

“We were told she doesn’t need authorization.”

I nodded, with no time to wonder why she didn’t need authorization when all gorgons from the five clans were required to have one. As the nurse draped the surgical gown over her body, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was—but what really caught my attention was the necklace fastened around her neck. My sinil necklace. The nurse reached to remove the jewelry, and I stepped closer.

“No!” I cried out, alarmed, and he startled. “Don’t remove the necklace under any circumstances. Leave it there.”

That was it—the necklace was the only thing keeping the girl alive. Zion must have given it to her because she was the most severely wounded of all the soldiers. I looked around; every nurse was staring at me expectantly, holding their breath, waiting for an order. I studied the shattered girl once more. I had promised Zion that any patient they gave me would stay alive.

I would keep my promise.

“Shave all the hair, anesthetize the patient, and prep the surgical table,” I ordered, leaving the room as the team rushed to get everything ready. I headed to the scrub room, stripped off my street clothes and pulled on surgical scrubs, washed my hands up to my elbows, and applied the antibacterial solution. Then I stepped into the sterilization chamber, and within a minute, the sterilizing vapor enveloped me completely. When I returned to the surgical room, Nayra was already waiting with gloves and a sterile gown.

As I approached the girl, something like pure determination surged through my veins.

I had studied for this, fought for this, and dedicated every minute of my time to learning how to do it. I would save that girl.

Δ

Three hours had passed, and I was still standing over the patient. I had removed all the shattered bone fragments, and when I breached the cerebral membranes, the coagulated blood oozed out like red gelatin. Now I was staring at the damaged gray matter, riddled with ruptured and swollen arteries. The moment they were exposed, they began leaking again—and this was when I needed someone to help me stanch the bleeding while I reconstructed the tissues. If it had been any other, less complex part of the body, I could have done it alone, but this was a brain, and even my full attention wasn’t enough. There were a zillion nerve endings, and I couldn’t afford to lose focus on a single one.

“Nayra, is any elmedic available yet?” I asked, fighting to stay calm as I held back the blood with my own power.

She looked at me apprehensively and left the room. When the door opened, I saw a crowd of people gathered in front of the glass window, watching me. Nayra returned with a dejected look.

“No, doctor. All the elmedics are still in surgery.”

The worry in her voice told me she understood what was happening. I was in trouble. There was no way to handle this part without another doctor to hold back the blood with magic, and it would be insane to try doing both at once—I could reconstruct the wrong parts and connect incompatible systems, leaving the patient with permanent damage for the rest of her life, or she might not survive at all.

While I deliberated, the heartbeats slowed and the suction device gulped down large amounts of blood. It was useless to try regenerating the brain under these conditions.

“Start a blood transfusion,” I told the nurses as I worked on a particularly damaged area. They looked at me with concern.

“There are no O negative blood bags left. Lorenzo and Selene used the last ones—the human doctors exhausted the stock,” the nurse said.

The human doctors were skilled, but they couldn’t contain bleeding with magic, so they went through multiple bags during complex surgeries.

“Then send someone to find donors immediately,” I ordered. “By the end of this surgery, I’m going to need at least one bag of O negative—more would be better, because she’s a gorgon. The more blood, the better the regeneration.”

A novice nurse rushed out the door, and I kept my eyes on the brain. Think, Kyller. Think! You need to find a way. I tried to split my attention—one hand working to stop the bleeding, the other to repair—but obviously it didn’t work; the blood kept flowing too fast. I paused to concentrate as sweat beaded on my skin, forming droplets at my temples.

I scanned all the damage to the patient’s head, and without meaning to, my gaze landed on the necklace on her chest. It glowed against the surgical lights, its yellow stone catching the light and drawing my attention. I touched the sinil—it was empty, drained of energy. Then I filled it once more with my gift and prayed it would only be used to stop the bleeding. I released the metal and watched the blood flow decrease considerably. I heard sighs throughout the room, including my own, and after the initial relief, I set about repairing every inch of that brain.

“Not today, Lady Death,” I whispered to the universe. “Definitely not today!”

Chapter 31

Hours passed as I continued reconnecting the affected parts. The door kept opening and closing, the murmuring outside growing louder each time, but I tuned out the world and just kept rebuilding.

A millimeter here, another there, and arteries that fed thousands of neurons responsible for speech, writing, and reading were slowly being reconstructed. I felt the hours slipping through my fingers, but the patient remained stable, and I would take as long as necessary to restore everything. I spent considerable time regenerating the center that controlled involuntary functions like breathing and heartbeat. I reconnected a group of veins that collected blood from the areas governing balance and movement. The truth was, I held an entire universe in my hands, and I was bravely trying to recreate its constellations. I worked like this until my legs went numb, and when my arms stopped responding, I forced them to continue.

When I finally finished the brain reconstruction, my legs were so sore it was a miracle I could still stand. I admired my work for a few seconds, but nothing guaranteed it would function properly. It all looked like an incredibly complex system of wires, and my fear was that turning it on would cause a short circuit. I needed a test.