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Chapter Text

It was a long, cold night. The snow was falling in thick flakes, covering the whole of London.

For the last couple of months nobody knew how long Autumn would last. Winter waited until mid-December to finally arrive, but since then, it has been snowing ceaselessly.

Dr. Jonathan Reid slowly wiped the blood down from his blade. As he glanced back, he could see the pink dots, like tiny beacons that followed him. He took a step then another; it didn't matter, the freshly fallen snow will cover them, like it covered everything.

As soon as he reached Pembroke, he felt the weight reappearing on his shoulders, that cold grip in his stomach didn't come from the cold, it couldn't have.

He walked past the always opened gates; on the way he glanced up on the dark hospital building. For weeks - and as he thought about it, it was becoming months - the place had been his new and only home. A place, a home, that he did not choose for himself, rather it was a must.

Night after night he found himself thinking about the day when he arrived back in London. The pain, the darkness, and the hunger that followed him everywhere. His life ended, yet it continued – he became a living paradox.

And even after he sent the Red Queen back to her dream, most of his questions remained unanswered. Myrdin hasn't showed himself for the last couple of weeks. He was left alone in the darkness, again.

He walked past his colleagues, glancing at Thomas Elwood, who was talking to Miss Howcroft. For a second Jonathan wondered, how long they would stay together. The last few weeks shed light on both of their pasts. Two lost souls, just like most of his patients, just like himself.

Well, he didn't have business with them, he just made sure that both of them were in good health under the circumstances. Thomas was a grown-up man. And Jonathan was too tired to worry about everything. Hopefully the mistress of darkness was satisfied with the man.

Jonathan hurried up the stairs and headed for his room, glancing at his colleague's door out of habit, it was ajar. He took a step towards Edgar's office, then stopped.

The events of the past few weeks were still vivid in his mind, and he was certain that, like the war, the battles in the city would stay with him for years, if not decades.

Exhaustion came out of nowhere and clung to him, a bitter taste accompanying the fatigue. He just wanted to be a doctor, but instead, life cursed him with having to clean up after everyone else as a vampire. He just wanted to heal and help the people, not become a monster and fight through the nights. Blood Queen, pandemic, Skals, Guard of Priwen.

He took a deep breath and walked to Dr. Edgar Swansea's door and opened it before his thoughts could drift any further.

"Jonathan, it's so nice to see you again! How are you, my dear?" Edgar glanced up, like always, he was sitting behind his desks. Since he turned the man into his progeny, he became more than happy. Maybe even too happy, for Jonathan's taste.

"Good evening, Edgar. How are the people?"

"Fine, fine. They feel like the epidemic will come to an end soon, although Strickland and Ackroyd still argue over everything like an old married couple. And I don't mean to brag, but I managed to experiment with a new formula, thanks to the Vulkod blood you gave me, for which I can't be grateful enough!" He raised a vial from a closed drawer of his desk.

As Jonathan looked at it, he felt repulsion from the substance rising deep within him, and a small, proud smile appeared on Edgar face as their eyes met. "You feel it too, didn't you? Holy water. Just a drop, synthesized. I was thinking that from what you said, it could be deadly if injected into an opponent at the right moment."

"Are you certain?"

"I'm almost sure." Edgar coughed like he was still a human, "I was hoping you'd get a chance to try it out on the field and report back. I'd try it on myself, but even fanaticism has its limits. I'm sure I've had enough of the holy water in a confined space."

Jonathan managed to smile but it didn't last long. "That's good, I think. Thank you." Seeing Edgar there, relaxing, he couldn't help but somehow made his anger smoulder up.

"However, I can tell you're tired. Maybe you should stay one or two nights indoors."

The Ekon slowly clenched his fist. Like he could rest, when he knew people out there could be in danger. Danger that was his progeny's fault.

"But enough about me and my supernatural-researches." The vial slipped back into the drawer. "How are you feeling? How was the hunt? Do you manage to save another poor soul?"

"Don't call it that." The Ekon snapped, he didn't raise his voice, but still those words felt like a hammer striking down between them.

Silence filled the office. Unspoken words weighted on both of them.

Edgar didn't dare to speak up, not until his maker did.

And Jonathan felt his progeny's feelings, only for a second, but he recognized them, that they weren't his own - hell he even saw Edgar flinching.

For a long moment he closed his eyes and let the tension ease, let his anger quiet down a bit. When he speak his voice was steady. "The night was fine, if that's what you really wish to know. I only had to deal with three Skals on the way. Hopefully, Whitechapel will be safer from now on." It was too steady; he hated to hear the edge in his own voice.

Edgar glanced up at him from his paperwork, his fingers slowly played with the edge of a paper in front of him. "That's --, that's good. Good job. Maybe next time I can go with you. Honestly, I didn't have the chance to try my vampire powers yet, and the hospital is getting safer and more stable every day!" He forced a smile. "What do you say? You and me, like partners, both Ekons. Making sure people are safe."

"We are not the same.”

Edgar frowned. "I beg your pardon? Maybe I'm your progeny, but --"

"You and me." Jonathan didn't even try to hide his anger this time. "We are not the same. I'm trying to save as many people as I can, from your mistake!" He couldn't not see those poor souls on the streets - so many people have died and so many more were still in danger.

Edgar folded down the edge of the paper and swallowed dryly, still trying to smile, "I --, yes, I know. I'm sorry."

The Ekon let out a tired, bitter laugh. "For the love of God, stop lying. You're not sorry! I can see it in your eyes, Edgar!"

And finally, that fake smile disappeared, Edgar knew this conversation will happen eventually, he felt it over the weeks – the anger, the confusion, the guilt. "I'm sorry, that the experiment got out of my hand, but you're right, I'm not sorry that I tried do something."

"Your ignorance killed so many people. You even betrayed Elisabeth! She trusted you, but you used her as a lab rat!"

"And you think I'm not aware of all that? You think I don't want to make the wrongs right?" Edgar stood up, his shoulders trembling, as he tried to get a hold of his emotions. "But Lady Ashbury left, and she did it without a word! My mistakes had consequences but you cannot put the whole blame on me!"

Jonathan's face tensed.

"And it's not like you would let me forget my mistakes! I don't know what you want from me, Jonathan!" Edgar stepped away from his desk, he had to hold back his body from shaking.

They stood in front of each other, eyes staring into each other.

"To actually look like you regret your actions! So that you don't enjoy it this much that I changed you!"

The room started to become smaller, the air heavier with each word.

"Oh please, you knew how much I wanted to this! To be turned, so I could learn and explore! I'm sorry if you regretted to save me!"

"Maybe I did!"

Silence fell on them, again. And both of them took a step back.

Jonathan stared at his progeny, those words rolled down on his tongue like bitter poison, they born from his anger, from his frustration. And he regretted them as soon as his ears caught on what his mouth has said. "I --" he felt an echo of pain in his soul.

"I'm glad you were finally completely honest. With both of us." Edgar answered and felt shame rising when his voice cracked. He only spoke again when his voice became steady, his gaze focused on the papers on this desk. "Now, if you would excuse me, I have other things tend to."

"Edgar, I didn't mean it that. I just --"

His friend couldn't stop a small dark laugh escaping his lips. "Now who is the one who's lying? I can tell you had a long night; I don't want to detain you any longer. Have a pleasant night, Jonathan."

"Edgar, wait --" The Ekon watched his friend's back as Edgar walked to the farthest bookshelf. He wanted to say something, but the damage was already done. And nothing he would try to do could fix it. When his progeny refused to face him, or even acknowledge him - he left, not saying another word, and hurried to his own office.

He felt sick and angry - and his anger and exhaustion took over him. He didn't mean it. As much as the reality horrified him, he knew that Edgar was not a bad man. He could be foolish, reckless and too proud, but he would not knowingly harm others. And yet, he was just too stubborn, an attribute that both of them shared. Jonathan wasn't able to apologize, because, a tiny part of him still felt like he was speaking the truth, or at least part of it.

Collapsing into his bed, he buried his face into his hands.

Outside, the dawn light had painted the landscape red. The fallen snow rested high in his window. As days gone by, it seemed that the Spanish flu was slowly being controlled and perhaps eventually suppressed.

McCullum, although he was no longer a Priwen, kept an eye on them, and so did the Priwens on him, there was an agreement between them - Jonathan knew about that but he didn't dare to aske for the details. He and McCullum, for his own knowledge, became something like friends. The young Ekon was less hostile, but still sarcastic and sceptic - however, as far as Jonathan could have tell, he needed someone with that much scepticism.

The number of Skals had noticeably decreased. Those whom Old Bridget have managed to connect it, were safe, and had disappeared into the depths of the old canals. Only Sean knew the way to them.

Everything around him had changed slowly, but Jonathan felt himself stuck in place. At night he saw Mary before him, digging herself out of the grave in which he buried her again and again. Other times, in his mind, McCullum had triumphed over him; these dreams did not shake him because he was dead, and died by the Priwen's hand - it was precisely the fact that he had awakened from them peacefully, that made him uncomfortable.

Very rarely did Edgar appear in his dreams, sometimes as a human, tied to a chair, dying. Other times, standing over a person, covered in blood. Sometimes the hospital was on fire, or just waiting for him to find his friend.

And sometimes he had end it all with his own hands, on that first night when he was turned - waking up from these dreams were the hardest.

During and after the war, he was tormented by nightmares; of comrades he couldn’t save, of enemies whose eyes he caught before taking their lives. He hoped that it would get easier with time, but even then, the hope was vain.

The worst, however, were the dreams in which he woke up at home. Mary knocked on her bedroom door, telling her it was time to get up. And their mother was waiting for them downstairs, to have breakfast together, or just to discuss the gossip she had heard about the neighbours, sometimes Mary liked to chat about her friends too.

Jonathan felt the cold tremble running through his body. He wanted to sleep, without dreams.

Outside, the morning was breaking, the snow on the roofs seemed almost blindingly white, the city was bathed in a stark brilliance. He could hear the muffled sounds of life coming to wake beyond the closed windows.

But he only felt the fatigue that accompanied him every morning as the Sun rose. It didn't matter that it was hidden behind the clouds, the sunrise always had the same effect on him.

He let his head sink deep into the pillow and inhaled the characteristic disinfectant smell of the hospital. Weakly, he kicked off his shoes and pulled his coat over himself like a blanket. He would soon have to wash it and fold it; he had had it on since the adventures. It was a gift from Edgar, from the beginning of their acquaintance.

His heart slowly grew heavy. He will have to talk to him as soon as he woke up and cleared his head.

He will talk to his progeny - that was his last thought before the dream took him away.

Chapter Text

Edgar tapped his pen slowly on his desk. With his other hand, he wrinkled the corner of the paper in front of him as he read through the writing over and over again. He tried to think in a cool and logical way although he didn’t have much success.

The Brotherhood didn’t take his change well; they welcomed the fact that the pandemic seemed to be receding and that he had come up with some new, previously unknown information about the Skals. However, they saw his transformation as an unspoken weakness. Perhaps they thought that he had thrown himself at Jonathan voluntarily. As if they themselves had managed to done anything to quell the pandemic.

He wasn’t proud of the reason why he didn’t tell them everything about the Disaster and his involvement. He was afraid that they would not only exclude him, but also send someone after him. After all, even though they were explorers and scientists, they all had serious acquaintances in political circles and financial backgrounds. Moreover, he had promised Jonathan that he would keep it quiet.

His fingers tensed, the tip of the pen digging into the table, making a small hole.

"Oh, for the love of --" Edgar shut his eyes to close everything out of his mind, when he failed, he just pulled out the pen and tried to ignore the hole in his desk. And the pen became useless, it bent and ink spilled out from its tip, so it ended up in the trashcan among several crumpled sheets of paper.

He was tired, and he needed to sleep. But he couldn't. Thinking about it, he hadn't slept since he became a vampire.

At first, the excitement wouldn't let him. The first couple of days, he tested the effects of the Sun and his regeneration. He tested to what extent and how much he could tolerate UV radiation, and then measured his time of regeneration. He wasn't proud of it, but he took a syringe of blood from one his patients when he felt that their regeneration was slowing down.

The nurses and doctors might have been surprised at first, but when he told them he was experimenting with a cure for the Spanish flu, some nodded in understanding, while others, like Ackroyd, looked at him with the same sideways glance as ever. The latter didn't really bother him; everyone had their own business and they were still in the middle of a pandemic, even if it was slowing down. He really was looking for a cure truth to be told, only for himself and those like him.

He took another silent moment, just stared in front of him as he tried to gather his tangled thoughts.

"We're not the same, eh?" He stood up from his chair and walked to the window behind his desk, which now had blackout blinds. Another little thing that surprised his colleagues.

It was really winter now outside. The patients who got forced outside into tents before had to be accommodated into the building somehow. Knowing that the pandemic was slowing down, hopefully it will be easier in the future. They kept distance between the patients and tried to disinfect everything. At least thanks to Jonathan and the Guard of Priwen, the hospital now had access to more chemicals and tools than before.

More than three months had passed since his mistake.

Behind the blinds, another icy London dawn has risen.

There was a firm knock on his door.

He sighed softly to himself, then straightened his clothes, turning back. Even if the Brotherhood and Jonathan didn't need him, the hospital still needed a leader. As he spoke up, he tried not to listen to his heart pounding in worry.

"Come on in, it's open."

To her greatest surprise, Nurse Dorothy Crane entered. She was now carrying a worn black coat in her hand, a brown scarf around her neck.

"Nurse Crane? What do I owe the pleasure? I thought Whitechapel was so busy these days that you wouldn't even have time for us." He had no right to use this tone, but the fatigue and that thorn in his soul made every word bitter. He couldn't even maintain the fake smile he always wore.

"Good morning, Dr. Swansea. I came specifically because of Whitechapel." The woman walked straight inside and took a seat in front of his desk.

Edgar followed her with his eyes, he could clearly see the blood pulsing in her without stopping. The urge to satisfy his hunger grew stronger inside him.

"Dr. Swansea?"

Edgar swallowed back the answer, instead he shook his head and sat down. He gripped the armrest of his chair with his left hand. "I'm listening, nurse."

"It doesn't surprise me that you know about what happened in Whitechapel. Dr. Reid, no matter how good of a doctor he is, you still took him under your wing, even the blind man could see that."

"Traveling in all this snow, just so you could have a personal chat? That doesn't sound right."

Nurse Crane shot Edgar a hostile look, which he withstood effortlessly. If he had wanted to, he could have easily taken anything from the woman, even her own will. The thought made him cling to the armrest even tighter.

"I need help, doctor. Your - the hospital's help. Our patients need shelter. A place more protected from the freezing temperatures. Until now, I thought the building where I took care of them was adequate, but the place was attacked a few days ago. Many were injured, the room was trashed, and I lost more than one patient." There was genuine concern in the woman's voice, she slowly rubbed her hands together.

Edgar noticed for the first time how cracked the skin on her hand was from the disinfectant and the cold. He noticed small cuts here and there, but most of them had disappeared under the woman's clothes.

An attack? Jonathan hadn't returned home four days ago, only the next evening.

"How many patients would we be talking about?"

"We definitely need to put at least eight into a safer and cleaner environment. They survived the attack, but they received a serious shock."

"And how do you think we can get them from there to here?" He glanced over his shoulder towards the window.

"Milton could help, and so could I. We could help the patients one by one, the place where I treated them is not far on foot, or even by boat. I can get some help who could transport them here."

Edgar leaned back in his chair. The woman had already come to him with a well-thought-out plan, she had probably gone over what she would say more than once in her mind. She must have had this possibility forming in her mind for a long time.

"Do you know anything about these patients? Their identities?"

"I know they are all unfortunate people in trouble who have had no one to rely on but me." The answer was at least as sharp as her gaze. "Dr. Swansea, I am aware that you have already bent quite a few rules to your own advantage, and you have also employed Dr. Reid in the hospital without any proper procedure."

"I see no reason why you would want to involve Dr. Reid in your own business, nurse."

"No? You'd be surprised at the gossip you hear about your dear doctor in Whitechapel. Some say he appears out of nowhere from darkness, and as well as healing, he doesn't shy away from fighting. Your colleagues would certainly not look kindly on the fact that the unfamiliar doctor you have taken under your wings has been stalking around for some unknown reason at night. Another suspicious stranger you invited to the hospital, at least he is better than the previous one."

This woman was a real piece of work.

"I'll take it as that by that you mean Lady Ashbury." A small lump appeared in his stomach, just speaking her name was enough to set a nervous pang in his soul. They still don't know where that lady went after disappearing.

"That woman." She almost growled. "She walked around the patients like some innocent saint. She held the hands of the dying, but I tell you, doctor, something was hidden behind those eyes. Something sinister."

"I understand, Nurse Crane." And he did, better than this woman could ever believe. "Give me 24 hours to think about it, okay? I'll discuss the proposition with my colleagues. Extra patients mean extra work and obligations after all, and the hospital is officially not accepting new patients due to the overcrowding."

"24 hours? But we could get attacked again!"

"I know you're worried about your patients. But you have to understand. If I were to make a decision like this alone, it would undermine the trust of the staff here. The epidemic is hard on everyone."

"Yes, I can tell." She glared at him.

Edgar sighed slightly to himself for the first time today, then forced a smile.

"24 hours. I'll be back here tomorrow at this time to tell you the decision and discuss the details." He leaned back against his desk, still smiling. Over the years, he had learned that a friendly but fake smile was a great weapon in a civil conversation. For the other kinds, there was the cross and his pistol, both hidden in his desk drawer.

The thought stung him.

The cross. Not that he could ever use it anymore. Old habits die hard.

"24 hours." She repeated, then stood up with thin lips. "But so be it. It's the best I can do for now. I hope nothing happens in those 24 hours."

"Let's both trust in that." Edgar stood up too, and escorted her to the door with as much friendly kindness as he could muster. "Have a good trip back to Whitechapel, and see you later, Nurse Crane."

"See you later, Dr. Swansea."

The Ekon exhaled slowly as she hurried out. He closed the door to his office and leaned his forehead against it.

He hadn't been sure he would be able to sleep before. But now even the slim hope was gone. He had a lot to do, not just to deal with the Brotherhood. Now he had to talk to his colleagues, and somehow persuade them to accept the few more unfortunate souls into their little sanctuary.

At least there would be something to distract him from the burden that had weighed in his soul, something that wanted to remind him every moment of what his only friend had told him. And sometimes his own voice joined in.

Maybe he should have had let me die.

"Let's not dwell on it." He repeated it to himself for the hundredth time, but like the first time, he still didn't believe his own words. He made a mistake, and he had to accept the punishment. And somehow, he will make this mistake right. Somehow.

He opened the door and started walking.

The day had been eventful, at least he had not been bored. He had spoken to Strickland first, hoping that he would be the most understanding of his colleagues. At first the doctor had been reluctant to be a messenger, but as Jonathan had joined in the conversation - Edgar knew he would have to bring him in to make it easier for him - the young doctor had to realise that the hospital and its staff were now in charge of helping anyone who was sick in this area of London.

Next came Tippet, who had just been lucid enough to talk. Fortunately, it didn't take long to convince him either, although Edgar had felt Nurse Branagan's gaze on him the whole time.

Dr Ackroyd proved to be a more difficult case. The ever-sceptical man was downright hostile to him, which was to say that Edgar had found him in his usual mood. They had been arguing about rights and duties and responsibilities for at least an hour when Fiddick showed up. Edgar knew that the man's injured arm was waiting to be operated on, and that Strickland and Ackroyd had not been able to get to a solution yet.

So, Edgar did what he could. He entrusted the operation to Ackroyd and prayed to himself that the man was right. He didn't want to lose a patient, but if this one the only way to make the man consider the bigger picture…

The bitter guilt gnawed at him again. He wondered for a second what Jonathan would think of him right now. But that tiny voice was there to answer - probably nothing good. Hell, he even hated him, it wasn't even a secret anymore.

Edgar said goodbye to Ackroyd, who only tilted his head as a response. He arranged with Nurse Hawkins to be his Ackroyd’s assistant on Mr. Fiddick's operation, and asked him to talk to Mr. Hooks regarding new patients later that afternoon. The woman stared at him incredulously, but then nodded without question.

Even though it was only around 4 p.m., darkness already began to descend on the city. Edgar walked slowly into his office. He felt like he needed some time to breathe. At least to think about what to say to Milton.

Since he had become an Ekon, he had been recording almost every day what had happened not only to him, but also to those around him.

He reached for the doorknob as he walked to his office door, only to notice that it was ajar. He clearly remembered that he had locked it. He always locked it behind him.

Raising his gaze, he called upon his vampire abilities. The world became a smoking shadow, and he peered through the door and the walls.

He could clearly make out the figure standing at his desk.

"Come in, and close the door behind you."

A shiver ran down Edgar's spine.

"And don't you dare to run."

His hand trembled, every part of his body wanted to flee and never look back. But he couldn't, so after opening the door he stepped inside.

"Long time no see, Edgar." She was leaning against his table, her red blood eyes scanning the man fiercely.

"Lady Ashbury." Edgar felt his stomach clench with fear, the darkness freezing his body, and he could tell from the satisfaction on the woman's face that he sensed it too.

Red eyes, why did she have red eyes?

"What do I owe this visit?” He glanced toward Jonathan's room from the corner of his eye.

"He's still sleeping. I want to talk to you alone, Edgar. Jonathan doesn't need to know about me or about this meeting." The Ekon pushed herself away from the table and motioned towards the chair. She wore a thick dark coat made out of cloth; her hands covered in gloves. "Sit."

His legs felt weak, but he followed the order.

As silence settled over the room, fear only grew stronger in him. He had a feeling that he would come face to face with the lady one day, but he didn't think it would be in this hospital, and this soon.

"How-, how did you get in here?"

"Oh please, Edgar. You let me in yourself. I hope you didn’t think I would reveal every way I can go in and out of your little hospital, did you?" the woman asked, her voice suffused with venomous anger. "Let's get to the point." She stopped, standing on the other side of the table, and waited until Edgar sat down on the other side. "When were you going to tell me that you were using my blood for your little experiments? That this whole epidemic started because you couldn't handle your vampire-mania?"

"I --" his words trailed off. The woman before him did not come to talk. The answers, his own answers, were already there in her mind, and she was just waiting to act on them. Truth to be told, Edgar himself did not know what to say anyway. Except for one thing.

He looked up into her eyes. "I am sorry I betrayed your trust, my lady." He said, honestly.

Lady Ashbury's face twitched. The anger turned for a moment into bitter disappointment, but the wound that fed her rage was too deep. "Shut up. I don't want to hear your lies, Edgar. Every word you say is part of some twisted experiment." She spit the last word. "You let me be here so you could observe me, record my behaviour, and then take a sample of my blood, as if I were some kind of animal!" She wanted to scream. Both of them knew it. The only reason she held back her voice, was Jonathan, who slept two doors away.

"I didn't --"

"What did I just say?"

"I'm sorry. Please, continue."

Lady Ashbury's mouth twitched again. She continued to speak, raising her chin.

"I don't know why you took Jonathan in, perhaps in the heat of sudden excitement, or perhaps you saw him as another subject to study. Or perhaps," she looked at the man with a bitter smile. "You expected him to change you. And as lucky as you are, that's exactly what happened."

Edgar wanted to protest, to argue, but there was no point. It wouldn’t change her mind.

"I saw you, every time you looked at him, you know. Care, and admiration."

The man's hands trembled.

"Tell me, Edgar." Lady Ashbury stepped away from the table and walked right up to him. "Did the Guard of Priwen really do this to you? Or were you just playing around until you were half-dead, expecting this all along? That dear Dr. Reid would show up and save you? Was it all a plan of yours?"

"No, it wasn't." He squeezed it out between his teeth.

"What's that?" She loomed over him.

"I said, it wasn't." Their eyes met. "I'm sorry about what happened. I know I made a mistake, but I just wanted to find a cure. And you didn't tell me about the disease hiding inside you, I could have never giv--" The slap hit him in the face with such force that he fell out of his chair. His glasses landed a good few feet away.

"I don't want to hear those lies again. Enough of this pathetic charade! How much longer are you going to keep it up?!"

The Ekon felt the darkness spreading behind his guest, he felt it in every part of his body that something had changed around her. His body froze, but he still found his voice. "Then why?" Turning his head to the side, he looked up into the woman's eyes, in which he could read honest hatred.

Lady Ashbury was still standing by her table, the darkness around her feet almost outlined, as if it had thickened into long branches and stretched out to join the shadows around the room, growing into the walls like roots.

"Jonathan thinks that by getting rid of the Disease and sending the Red Queen back to dream, the epidemic has ended and the streets were cleansed. But I know he's wrong, he hasn't done a thorough enough cleaning."

The branches ran down the woman's arm and wrapped around her hand, a wide arm appeared around her palm.

"It's not over yet." His palm opened and a long, blood-red thorn began to grow from it.

Edgar turned and started to back away, but Lady Ashbury followed with calm steps, the tip of the thorn pointed straight at him.

"While you are here, this city cannot breathe freely."

"Lady Ashbury, please, listen to me --"

"I watched you, you know? You, and sometimes Jonathan. While you sat here experimenting on yourself, he was out fighting the feral skals, the remaining Vulkods, and escaping the Guard of Priwen. More than once, I saw him hiding wounded, trying to escape without causing serious harm to others. And I saw you, time to time, acting like nothing had happened!"

"I didn't --"

"It's all your fault! Without you, people would be still alive; the epidemic wouldn't have been this catastrophic! I trusted you." The tip of the thorn stopped right above Edgar's heart. "I thought you wanted to help."

"I wanted, I swear. I didn't know --"

He fell silent as the blood-red thorn dug into his skin and stuck in his sternum. For a moment, he felt something move around under his skin, right where the thorn had pierced it.

All around them, he could see the dark branches, stretching silently and covering the room around them. Deep within them, some thread-like veins writhed.

"You should have known better than just sit here. You've become an Ekon, and you're playing the human. You have people's blood on your hands, and you're playing the victim. You're pretending to be a friend, a colleague, that you care about what happens to others. And yet, we both know that you're only using those you can get your dirty hands on. You don't deserve to be an Ekon, and you don't deserve to live. You've wasted enough time, enough lifes."

Edgar looked up at her blankly.

"And that's exactly why you're coming with me and we're going to end this once and for all. You mean danger, not just to you, but to me."

The thorn throbbed, but before it could break through his bone, it slowly retracted, Lady Ashbury closed her palm with a grimace. "Let's go, Jonathan will wake up soon." The branches pulled back, melting into the shadows, as if they were never there.

But Edgard did not move. "Not yet."

"What?"

"I can't go yet. I still have a few things to take care of." Edgar slowly rose to his feet and picked up his cracked glasses.

"Do you really think you have a say in this, Edgar?"

He slowly shook his head. "No, but I can't leave the hospital, at least not without instructions." He glanced down at the cracked lenses in the slightly bent frame. "I will go with you, my lady, but I need some time until dawn."

She looked him over, her eyes narrowing. "If you're planning something --"

"No, nothing. You made it pretty obvious that you are stronger than me. I know I can't run away."

Now it was her turn to glance towards Jonathan's office.

"I won't involve him either," he answered the unspoken question. "He won't know anything, I promise."

"As if your promises mean anything anymore," Ashbury watched her for a moment, then nodded. "Then be it, you'll get time, just for the hospital and the patients. We'll meet again tomorrow, Edgar."

"Yes, my lady."

The Ekon opened the door, glancing back at him one more time before vanishing into black smoke.

For minutes after that Edgar sat slumped against the wall in complete silent. His shoulders trembled; his fingers clung into his own shirt. He couldn't hold back the faint sob escaping his lips.