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I lower the camera. “So why do you still talk to him?”
“What was one of the first things I said to you about Kieran?” He opens the glass bottle and smells it.
“You didn’t say anything, you stalked me.”
“Be serious, Marisa.”
“Fine. You said there are things, out of our understanding, tended by the hands of Kieran.”
He nods in approval. Then says, “why would a scientist need to collect bodies like this?” Christian points to the cylinders.
He’s asking me questions like a detective would with a protege. “He uses them for what—experiments?” They’re just bodies. What could Kieran Lazarus possibly need from mangled corpses? Are they truly the souls of the already dead? Somehow it seems the least ridiculous thing about this place.
“Think about it, Marisa.” He nudges me playfully as I snap a picture of a familiar thigh tattooed with a wolf.
“Look here—” I point out the tattoo.
Christian just nods grimly. “Come on, there’s more here. This is just storage.” His emphasis on storage makes me pause. Is the Lazarus career embroiled in some sort of organ harvesting?
“Let me get this straight. He’s harvesting something here, by the looks of the thick liquid pooling at the top of the chambers, it’s blood.”
“Good job, detective. Now, think of the chambers, the blood and the creatures. Think of the strangeness of it all. Do you think this is normal?” Christian asks.
“Maybe it is and we’re both just discovering sick little slices of this world?” I shrug, not understanding what he is alluding to.
He lowers his gaze and sighs. “I guess Arik was right. Everyone has to experience it themselves.”
Setting aside the camera, I survey the meticulous lab benches and cabinets. A sick feeling pools in my stomach. “Uh…Christian.” I point to the station where the tapes were a few days ago.
It’s all wiped clean.
“They’re gone,” I whisper in disbelief. “Do you think he knows?” A spiral of thoughts begins. What if he knows I’ve been sneaking out with Christian? What if he knows I suspect him?
You’re a terrible double agent.
Christian dives into investigative mode and joins me in scanning the lab, coming to the same conclusion I had. “He’s taken them.”
“Fuck. I should have taken them when I had the chance.” I run a hand through my hair and wrack my brain for next steps. Kieran had likely taken them back to the house. I have access to the house. This is just another pivot in the plan.
Christian doesn’t seem too bothered.
“Why don’t you seem annoyed?” I ask.
“I’m thinking.” He leans against the table and crosses his arms against his chest. The action highlights the flex of taut muscles and I avert my gaze.
Misty’s signature whine pulls our attention to the chamber’s entrance.
“What do you remember of the tapes?” Christian asks.
“They were old and labeled by names. Some of them had numbers. I was barely able to get through some of them.” Frustration coils tight in my chest. My fingers itch with the need to punch a surface. Why did I just leave them there? Or is this world playing tricks on us?
“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “We have photographs. And if he removed them, that means they mattered. Knowing Kieran, he wouldn’t have destroyed them.” Christian covers my restless hands with his, stilling them.
“What now?” I ask. “Will you be able to use these photographs for whatever investigation you’re doing?”
“No,” he answers. “Not yet. We need to find the origin—where they’re coming from, how they’re being transported.” He stops mid-sentence and turns sharply to the chamber’s entrance, goes still for a moment, then turns back. Something has shifted in his face. “If this is another place—beyond time, another dimension—then we follow his movements. Closely. Every step.”
The cylinders bubble behind us, gurgling loudly in evenly spaced intervals. How will we save these people? Are they truly dead?
