Come Tumbling Down (Wayward Children #5)(22)

A pair of large metal tables occupied the bulk of the floorspace, positioned equidistant from all three of the fireplaces. Leather straps made it absolutely clear that the purpose of those tables was, perhaps, not always pleasant. Several complicated if archaic-looking machines had been rolled up close to them, their thick black cords winding back to a system of portable generators and one large crank, for the occasions when variable power was needed.

Jack stood next to the larger table, hands resting against the metal and nails digging at the surface of the table like she thought she could wound it. The smear of blood on her left cheek seemed almost innocuous, after that.

“Bring him to me,” she said, voice very soft.

So they did. They carried the body of Jack’s mentor, cool and stiff with rigor, over to her. They hoisted him onto the table and stepped back, waiting to see what Jack would do.

Jack reached for the leather straps. “Alexis, bring me the dialysis array. Christopher, help me secure him.”

“Do they not say ‘please’ in mad science land?” asked Christopher, even as he did what she’d asked.

“Not as a rule.” Jack shook her head, pulling the first strap across Dr. Bleak’s massive chest. “When a scientist speaks, it behooves the ordinary soul to listen. We rarely speak without cause.”

“I thought dialysis was a modern thing, not a mad science thing,” said Sumi. “You’re mixing your genres.”

Jack glanced up. “I come from the same world you do,” she said. “I didn’t forget the medical wonders of my youth simply because I chose a world where lightning is the panacea and thunder is the very voice of God. I’m not the only one to have made the transition, either. Much of what our birth world can do, the Moors can do, simply in a more dramatic and often more permanent fashion. Dialysis will let me keep Dr. Bleak’s blood oxygenated and prevent further tissue damage.”

“You’re not keeping anything,” said Christopher uncomfortably. “His blood isn’t oxygenated anymore. It’s dead. He’s dead.”

“Must I be surrounded by fools and cowards at every turn?” Jack glared. “I’ve told you before, here, science is always the question, and the answer is always and eternally ‘yes.’ I’ll suction the blood from his veins, re-inflate them with saline, and replace his blood, fully oxygenated, before capping the stump of his neck and beginning circulation. Yes, he’s dead. Many people have been dead. Two of the people in this room have been—”

“Three,” said Sumi with apparent disinterest, munching a tomato as if it were an apple and looking thoughtfully at the stuffed infant plesiosaur dangling from the ceiling.

Jack stopped. “I’m sorry?”

“Three of the people in this room have been dead. You’re wearing Jill like a Sunday gown, and she was dead before you brought her here and brought her back, so three.” Sumi shrugged. “It’s something we all have in common, except for Christopher, and he loves a dead girl, so I guess he has it too, just sideways.”

“Yes.” Jack’s hands dug at the edge of the table again, a look of brief, intense nausea on her face. “Three. As you say. It changes nothing. I’ll restore his circulation and preserve his tissues. Resurrection is easier when decay hasn’t had too much time to set in. The healing process is long enough without adding necrosis to the list of complications.”

Alexis returned from the far side of the windmill, pulling a large machine with one hand and a pair of joined cannisters with the other. “Ready,” she said.

“Excellent.” Jack turned to the others. “Your services are not currently required. Upstairs on the third floor, you’ll find a room with a brown door. That’s storage. Dr. Bleak and I moved the wardrobe up there when I began requiring my own workspace here. I suggest you go up and find yourselves something to wear, to make you slightly less conspicuous when we head to the priory. A band of hired heroes is tedious but mundane. Adventurers come from nearby protectorates to march on the castle all the time. A band of heroes from another world, however—that’s certain to draw attention.”

Sumi calmly tipped her remaining tomatoes onto an open patch of counter and made for the stairs. Christopher followed her. She had a good instinct for when it was time to get out, and more, Jack was reaching for a tray of knives, scalpels, and what looked suspiciously like a bone saw. Making a quick exit seemed like the better part of valor.

The stairs were narrow but sturdy. Christopher saw something dangling from a rafter, and decided not to tell Sumi about the windmill’s apparently sizeable bat population. It would just be one more complication, and they had plenty of those already.

He glanced down only once before following Sumi into the room Jack had indicated. She and Alexis were moving around the body of Dr. Bleak, tightening straps, inserting tubes, silent and comfortable in their work. He watched them for a moment. Then he turned, and stepped through the door, closing it firmly behind him.

The room was small, made smaller by the wardrobes and chests along the walls. They were made of sturdy cedar, and there was no dust, no cobwebs, even though both would have suited the overall aesthetic of the Moors. Christopher ran a finger over a piece of decorative molding, smiling when it came up clean.

“I guess having Jack as an apprentice is sort of like having a live-in housekeeper who sometimes gets pissed and throws stuff,” he said.