Chapter 9 · The Corpse Says His Name

The monitor beeped again.

The corpse's eyes were open. Fully open. Looking straight at Lucien.

"Get her out." Lucien's voice went flat. Not the controlled CEO tone. Something colder.

I didn't move. The man on the table was pale, veins showing dark under papery skin, but his chest rose and fell now. Shallow. Wrong. Like a machine remembering how.

"Lucien Ash." The corpse's voice scraped out, dry as old leather. "Still cleaning up your messes."

Lucien stepped between me and the table. His shoulders went rigid. "Evelyn. Leave."

"No." I stayed put. My wrist still burned where I'd grabbed him earlier, where that red mark flared and pulled him back from whatever edge he'd been on. "He knows you. He knows something."

"He knows nothing useful." Lucien didn't turn around. "He's a bottom-feeder who got greedy."

The man on the table laughed. It turned into a wet cough. "Greedy. That's rich coming from you."

I moved sideways, trying to see around Lucien. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed. One flickered. The whole room smelled like disinfectant and something underneath it, something sweet and rotten.

"Who is he?" I asked.

Lucien's jaw tightened. "No one."

"Castor Vey." The corpse—Castor—smiled.