"Hold still, or I'll carve the kidney out through your ribs," the man growled, his boot pinning my shoulder to the grime-streaked floor.
I didn't even have time to curse. One second I was stitching up a drunkard in my makeshift clinic, and the next, the door had splintered open. Now, a heavy combat boot was crushing my clavicle and a jagged piece of cold steel was hovering an inch from my throat.
"Who the hell are you?" I spat, twisting my head to look at the brute. He was a mountain of a man, wearing armor that cost more than my entire neighborhood.
"The question is, who do you think you are?" Another voice cut through the room. Smooth. Arrogant. The kind of voice that expected the world to stop spinning when it spoke.
I shifted my gaze. A man stood in the doorway, framed by the flickering torchlight of the slums. He was pale—deathly pale—with eyes that looked like they'd seen the bottom of a grave. He wore high-collared black silk that screamed nobility, but he was leaning heavily on a cane made of dark, polished bone.
"Get off him," the noble commanded.
The brute shifted his weight, releasing my shoulder with a grunt. I scrambled up, wiping blood from my lip. "You can't just break into a clinic and start threatening people. This is a place of healing, you arrogant prick."
The noble didn't even flinch. He stepped closer, the bone cane clicking against the stone. "Healing? I've seen your 'healing.' You're a rogue doctor. Exiled from the Academy for practicing forbidden bone-weaving. You're a ghost, Kael. A disgraced little rat hiding in the gutters."
I froze. "How do you know that name?"
"I know everything that's worth knowing," he said, stopping just inches from me. He was taller than me, and he smelled like expensive incense and something metallic. Something like old blood. "My name is Julian. And you're coming with me."
"Not a chance," I said, stepping back. "I don't do house calls for spoiled heirs with god complexes."
Julian's expression didn't change, but his hand tightened on the cane. Suddenly, he gasped. A sharp, guttural sound. He lurched forward, his body seizing. The brute moved to catch him, but Julian shoved him away with a violent force.
Then it happened.
It started as a low hum, like a thousand bees vibrating inside a jar. I felt it in my own teeth. The air in the room grew heavy, thick with a static charge that made the hair on my arms stand up.
"Shut up," Julian hissed, clutching his chest. "Shut the hell up!"
"Who are you talking to?" I asked, my doctor's instinct overriding my fear. I stepped forward, reaching for his wrist. "You're having a seizure. Sit down."
"Get away!" he roared, but as he did, the hum turned into a scream.
It wasn't one voice. It was hundreds. A flood of distorted, overlapping shrieks tore through the room, though no one else was speaking. It was a sonic wave of pure agony that knocked the wind out of me. I saw Julian's skin ripple. Underneath the pale surface of his forearm, something shifted. Something hard. Ivory-white.
Bone.
His bones were growing outward, pushing against the skin like a tuning fork trying to break through a wall. The screaming intensified, vibrating through the floorboards. I could see the echoes of the dead—faint, ghostly outlines of people who had died in this very room, drawn to him like moths to a flame.
"The Bone-Plague," I whispered. "You're a carrier."
Julian collapsed to one knee, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The screams were so loud now I could barely hear my own thoughts. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "Fix it," he choked out. "Fix it or I'll have your head on a spike by dawn."
I didn't hesitate. I couldn't. Not because I liked him, but because the resonance was fascinating. I lunged forward, grabbing his wrist. The moment my skin touched his, the screams dampened. Not gone, but muffled, as if I'd thrown a blanket over a fire.
"What did you do?" Julian gasped, his voice trembling.
"I can dampen the frequency," I said, my fingers pressing into the hard ridge beneath his skin. "But I can't stop it. Not here. Not with a rusty needle and a prayer."
"Then take me to where you can," he snarled, though he didn't pull his arm away. His skin was ice-cold, but where we touched, I felt a strange, electric heat. It was a pull—a violent, magnetic attraction between his curse and my craft.
"I don't work for free," I replied, staring into those haunted eyes. "And I definitely don't work for people who break my doors."
Julian let out a dry, hacking laugh that turned into a cough. "You'll work for me because I own your debt, Doctor. Your sister's medical bills in the Northern Ward? The ones you've been dodging for three years? I bought them this morning. Every single coin."
I felt the blood drain from my face. "What?"
"You're not a doctor anymore, Kael. You're an asset," Julian said, his voice returning to that cold, dominant edge. He stood up slowly, the bone cane clicking again. "You will treat me. You will find a way to silence these voices. And in return, I might decide not to send your sister to a debtor's prison."
He leaned in, his face so close I could feel the chill radiating off him. His eyes searched mine, looking for a crack, a weakness. "Do we have a deal, or do I let the brute here start with your fingers?"
I looked at the mountain of a man behind him, then back at Julian. I hated him. I hated everything he represented. But I couldn't let my sister suffer.
"Fine," I spat. "But I want a full lab. Proper anesthesia. And I want a written contract."
"You'll get what I give you," Julian replied. He turned to the brute. "Pack his tools. All of them. If he tries to run, break his legs."
As the brute began tossing my surgical kits into a leather bag, Julian paused. He looked at me, a flicker of something—pain? hunger?—crossing his features.
"One more thing," Julian whispered. "Don't try to be a hero. I don't need a savior. I need a butcher."
He turned to leave, but as he stepped toward the door, a sudden, violent spasm racked his spine. He arched his back, a sickening crack echoing through the room.
I rushed to him, grabbing his shoulder to steady him. As I pressed my hand against the vertebrae of his neck, the muffled screams of the Bone-Plague suddenly snapped into a single, clear voice.
It wasn't a scream. It was a whisper. A girl's voice.
"Kael..." the voice sighed, vibrating directly into my palm through Julian's bone. "Kael, help me..."
I ripped my hand away as if I'd been burned. My heart hammered against my ribs. That voice. I'd know that voice anywhere.
"Who was that?" I demanded, my voice shaking. "What did you just hear?"
Julian straightened up, his eyes narrowing. He didn't look pained anymore. He looked curious. "Hear what?"
"The voice!" I yelled. "It said my name!"
Julian stepped closer, his presence suddenly suffocating. He reached out, his cold fingers gripping my chin, forcing me to look up at him. The power dynamic shifted in a heartbeat; he wasn't just a patient anymore, he was a predator who had just found a new scent.
"You heard something?" he murmured, his thumb brushing my lower lip. "Tell me exactly what it said, Kael. Every. Single. Word."