CHAPTER 37
Melissa had not lied about the knife's sharpness.
After poking around through the apartment for a few hours (and finding out about "history" of Britain—a female Prime Minister? Absolutely absurd), Skinner reluctantly tried to cut through the steel cuff. It was exactly as difficult a process as he had thought it would be. He had to be very careful, as it easily cut through the steel cuff. He flicked a piece away, felt his wrist for skin or blood, flicked another piece away…and eventually, he felt blood. He hadn't even felt it cut his skin, and hoped fervently that it wasn't a serious cut as he set to work on the opposite side of the cuff. Eventually the damn thing dropped off, and Skinner returned to the wound that was now on top of his wrist. It didn't feel deep, but it was bleeding. Skinner grabbed a towel from Melissa's counter and sopped it up. It slowly grew damp with the invisible blood. He knew that some had run off onto the floor, but he didn't want to play hide-and-seek with his blood, and decided to clean it off when it was visible.
His mind suddenly returned to those glasses. He'd heard of recent events…well, as of 1899 at least…leading up to the actual seeing of heat. Military stuff, for the most part. Was that what the construction men with a those glasses were doing? Skinner glanced out the window. Although the sky was the deep dark of very early morning, the city was lit up and the through traffic of pedestrians and cars hadn't slowed down a bit. A group of men with the bright orange "construction" uniforms lingered on the street, one man redirecting the cars, which had by now slowed to a crawl.
Melissa had told him not to leave, but no one could see him now…except, perhaps, for the construction men. Maybe they had the magical glasses. Skinner knew, though, that he wanted a pair. They were right outside the building—and if fate so placed them there, then who was Skinner to say no? He left the door unlocked and walked down the stairs to the street. He scanned the men who worked under the street lamp, and found one with the glasses who was slightly off to the side.
"Excuse me sir," Skinner said, approaching the man.
"Hang on a second," he said to Skinner. "You've got three pipes on your right!" he shouted to a man, who was working in a pit. The man in the pit gave a nod, and the man with the glasses turned to Skinner. "Alright, now what—oh my god, what happened to your wrist?" The man grabbed Skinner's hand and held it aloft. "You're going to need to see a doc or something…" The man dropped Skinner's hand and removed his glasses. He glanced left, then right, confused that Skinner had disappeared so suddenly. Skinner grabbed the glasses from the man's bewildered hands and ran. "Hey!" the man shouted, giving chase to the glasses, which seemed to float and were apparently steeling themselves.
Skinner ducked around a corner and thrust the glasses into a trash bin. Skinner pressed himself against a wall. He noticed that several drops of blood, which ran down his arm, had turned visible. The construction man didn't notice the magical floating blood, and ran past. Somewhat light-headed, Skinner wiped the blood off with his other hand, and then wiped it off on the wall best he could. He returned to Melissa's apartment with his prize, drawing only a few curious stares for the floating glasses. Before he could start up the stairs, Melissa caught him on her way down. She grabbed the glasses out of the air. "Where are you bleeding?" she hissed. "You're getting it all over the damn place."
She led him back up to her room. Skinner noticed several stray drops of blood along the path, presumably marking the way he'd gone down. As they entered the kitchen, which was pretty well covered in the stuff, Melissa quickly glanced at the glasses he had stolen and put them on herself. She made a slight sound of surprise as she glanced at the wound. "Why on earth did you leave this apartment with a wound this bad?" she demanded. She went over to a cupboard and started opening doors, looking for something.
"'ad no bloody idea 'ow bad it was," Skinner said. "Still don.' I wanted one of those glasses, though."
"Look," Melissa said, handing Skinner the glasses. He put them on. Everything immediately took a red tint, and Skinner looked down at his hand. He could see himself. A swatch of skin seemed to have been removed, and it still gently pumped out blood.
"Aren' you goin' to lecture me for taking the glasses?" Skinner asked, knowing that Mina, in his time, would not have tolerated it.
"No," Melissa said. "They're government insured. Besides, I can use the help they offer in patching you up."
Skinner glanced over his body from the chair he was in. He hadn't seen himself so fully since that one time he had stood naked in front of a mirror, coated head to toe in greasepaint because he'd finally gotten so sick of being invisible, thinking he had finally lost it but gratified to finally be able to see himself.. But that had been before the accident. Skinner looked at his burn wounds with some dismay.
"What blood type are you?" Melissa asked as she lay a bandage over the wound, then wrapped it tightly.
"Blood type?"
"A...B…O…positive or negative?"
"I 'ave no idea what you're talkin' about. 'Ow can you 'ave negative blood?"
"Alright, you're getting some 'O.'"
"All—alrigh.'"
Melissa pulled out two vials of blood from her refrigerator, downed one cold, and heated up the other. The transfusion was quick and surprisingly painless, and Skinner began to feel a little more awake.
"I'm going to have to send you back now," she said. "The League was probably about to start with their plan, and it probably involved you."
"Well you would probably be a bit more helpful then I would," Skinner said, fully appreciating the irony that, although the metal cuff was off, his medical bandages would give away his presence just as much.
"I was somewhat out of mind when I visited the League the first time," Melissa said, "but one thing I told you was true. It's dangerous to meddle in the past. I have done so too much already. You're probably going to end up with both belts, so I only ask that you be careful with them. Don't use them if you can avoid it."
"Well, thanks a lot for wot help you did give, anyways," Skinner said, standing up, feeling a bit stronger. He pulled the belt on. "Goodbye."
"Leave the glasses here."
"Oh c'mon, really?"
"Yes. You can't have future artifacts in the past."
"Bishop has plenty of them!"
"He shouldn't."
"It's an unfair advantage."
"Sorry."
"I'll give it back later."
Melissa considered this. "After Bishop's been killed," she said. "Do I have your word?"
"Of course. You 'ave my word as a gentleman."
"Alright. Then goodbye."
Melissa touched the belt, and a moment later, Skinner landed on the meeting room table. Fortunately, no one else was there. Skinner set the belt on the table and went to grab his trenchcoat.