Helen held the needle up to the light, checking for any stray air bubbles gliding through the liquid. There were a few, so she flicked the glass and pushed the plunger until the freezing liquid squirted out the end, splattering over the cement and down her fingers.
"All right, let's see if you're as hot as Will thinks you are – genetically speaking of course," she said to the sand creature, as she approached the crumpled form on the bed.
It was still a sandy colour with granules of light and dark dots mimicking the surface of the tomb. Several scratches on its shoulders and ankles had healed but a deep gash under its ribcage remained open. She would have to attend to that when she finished collecting samples for her research.
Presently, Helen Magnus was after the creature's blood – not much, just enough.
With its mouth open drooling over the sheets, the sand creature's breathing remained steady and shallow as she slid the needle into its neck. A ripple of colour propagated from the spot where the tip went in – hitting the sides of its body and circling its limbs. It twitched a bony finger or two but did not wake.
"You're not such a bad patient," she cooed, withdrawing the first needle and taking another from the trolley beside her. This time it was a syringe with a hollow tube, ready to collect a sample. "Last one, I promise."
There was something very old about the sand creature – like the musky smell on closeted jackets. They looked fresh but every now and again there was that hint of age, brushing over the air.
Its skin rippled again as she began to draw the sticky blood out. Through her plastic gloves she unintentionally felt its texture. It was fine, almost tissue paper and far more fragile than she had imagined. One slip with a sharp knife and it was open, as evidenced by the gashes.
The creature's breathing deepened to something reminiscent of a snore. Every time its body deflated, a low drawl flowed out of its razor lined mouth like words.
Her needle full, Helen withdrew the metal from the creature and snapped a lid on its top. Satisfied, she pried off her gloves and placed everything in the trolley, preparing to leave the cell.
"All done here for n-" Helen blinked, looking back to the bed where the creature had been. It was empty though she could still hear the deep rustle of the creature's breathing coming from the empty space. Helen checked the cell door, it was closed and the rest of the small cell remained bare.
This time, Helen forced herself to look more closely at the empty bed. Sure enough, there was a slight rise and fall to the air where the camouflaged body exhaled. Its disguise was near perfect.
Beautiful but deadly, she thought as it began to wake up. Helen decided it was time to leave.
The creature agreed, whispering something under its breath.
Helen tensed.
She let go of the trolley, pushing it aside as the sand creature's hand scratched across her neck, throwing her to the floor. She hit the opposite wall hard enough to blur her vision. Everything was slurred, images and her thoughts. She was barely able to pick out the rising form of the creature as it stretched its injured limbs, licking a wound on its arm.
There was a rattle as the trolley and its contents sped toward her, pushed by the creature. Helen stirred and lifted her legs, taking the impact. It hurt like hell, but she refused to slip into unconsciousness.
"Bollocks..." she whispered, as the creature advanced. Her tranquiliser gun was on the table outside the cell – well out of reach. There was a set of keys in her back pocket and she hoped to death that the sand creature hadn't learnt how to use them because in a moment or two, they would be at its disposal.
The sand creature fell to all fours as it grew closer, slinking from side to side. Helen wished that she could see something more than a quivering of air. It wasn't right, dying in silence like this.
"There are other ways – to do this," she pleaded, trying to hold her voice steady. She could hear the tap of its claws as it moved through the room and eventually the sound of its skin contorting with a subtle effervescence.
Its lips moved again, accompanied by a rolling tone.
"You're right," she closed her eyes, as a paw snapped her neck to the side.
*~*~*
Ashley had been watching her grandfather speak for the last half an hour without saying a word. He'd grown used to her stunned silence and resigned himself to offering her biscuits and tea instead. Whenever she accepted an item of food, he felt that they had made progress.
A shadow wiping over the room interrupted them as someone passed in front of the arched window. Ashley scared at the sound of the front door shaking on its hinges and then slammed decidedly shut. Her grandfather folded his glasses, placing them gently atop a leather-bound book and then nodded at her.
"If you'll excuse me – that'll be my daughter returning from the lecture. She's a doctor you know, a better one than me. I should get her to take a look at you – check up on my needlework."
His daughter? Oh, Ashley's eyes went wide. "Wait –" she panicked, catching hold of his sleeve as he went to leave. "I-" she fumbled for an excuse, "would rather just rest, if you don't mind."
Dr. Gregory Magnus's bushy eyebrows curled even more eccentrically. "Sure? I guess you're right. It's best Helen stay out of whatever's going on – it's a delicate time for her and you've got that look of trouble about you."
Ashley couldn't help herself frowning. Her grandfather thought she was trouble? That hurt a little.
*~*~*
She could hear her mother's muffled voice after Dr. Magnus closed the door. It was utterly bizarre – she sounded younger – different, as if she were a completely different person. Well, she was a different person, Ashley figured. People were made out of their experiences and there were some crucial parts of Helen that were yet to happen.
Shaking her head, Ashley rose from her seat and stumbled painfully around the room.
"This can't be happening," said Ashley, astounded. Everything that she touched was real, too real to be a construct of her imagination. Turning a delicate china ornament under her fingers, she paused to read an inscription under its base.
Darling daughter
"Curious – isn't it."
Ashley almost dropped it. Saving the precious object in her palm, she rolled it back onto the mantle and twisted her head to the side. Her matted hair fell across her shoulder as her eyes picked her elusive father out of the shadows in the corner of the room.
John stepped out from the servant's door, leaving it open should he need to leave in a hurry. His clothes matched the period – a heavy, multi-layered coat and shirt that ruffled toward the neck. The man though, was out of his time. His eyes were cruel and sad from too many lifetimes alone.
She turned warily, eyes flickering to the poker resting against the fire place.
"Curious how time can be walked through again and again," John continued, edging forward "– trampled over like one of your grandfather's exquisite gardens."
"What are you doing here?" she hissed, afraid for the voices in the hallway behind the other door.
"Steady..." he cracked across the room without moving, teleporting to the fireside before she could move. He wrapped his hands around the poker and lifted it free. John slipped the warm iron between his fingers, turning it curiously. "That's one way to thank me for taking you to see your relatives. It can't be easy, having only one for so many years."
"You didn't answer my question. I'm what – kidnapped and you take me home? That makes no sense." If she didn't know better, she'd say he was taunting her, begging for a challenge. Then again, from what her mother had told her this could just be his natural mood.
"Your mother," he began, using the poker to lean on, "she does medical examinations of all the abnormals in her possession?"
Ashley frowned. She was trapped in the past and he wanted to chat about work? "Most of them are struggling to understand their condi-"
"Even the dead ones?" he grinned, interrupting. "She kneels down beside them with a needle, those icy hands of hers picking a spot on their neck." John laughed quietly, as if he could see Helen doing that very thing in front of him. "The way she lingers on them, wondering if this one will be different. You never thought to ask –"
"It's for her research library – she told me. We document the abnormal gene pattern and I know that you know that because she told me herself."
"Why?" he drawled the word out as if its meaning were crucial to his very existence.
Ashley frowned, "Why did she tell me?"
"No." His reserved anger was forcing its way to the surface, "Why the research?"
She opened her mouth to give the 'tour group' response when he pushed forward into the room and raised a hand inches from her face.
"Wrong!" his eyes swirled, wild. "Your mother's research began in this room when she was still a child. Living forever is a terrible curse – her father saw that early and used every facet of his knowledge to help his daughter. As she grew up, they discovered a whole world of people like us – twisted forms of human, creatures with talents to rival her own."
"I don't understand why you're telling me this."
"You've made it painfully clear that you're old enough to know the truth but you have no idea what goes on behind the walls of your home," his snarl was fierce, held back by something only just stronger, "and I don't think that you really want to."
*~*~*
Dr. Magnus kissed his daughter on the cheek after she'd taken a moment to calm down. "You were away for a long time."
"Please don't start," she replied, sternly. "I don't have the energy left."
"So I take it they weren't so keen on our research?"
"Narrow minded sparrows," she threw her umbrella at the hallstand.
He couldn't help but smile as his daughter tore the foyer apart – hats, coats and things flying roughly to their place. "It has been my long held suspicion that the world isn't ready for you, Dr. Magnus."
Helen shook her head. "I'm not a doctor, still an unwanted student I'm afraid. Is there someone here?" she added, hearing an object unsettled in her father's study. Helen crossed the floor and stretched her gloved hand towards the doorknob.
"A patient," he stepped in front of her. "They're tired. I think it be best we leave them be. In the meantime, you can tell me about these sparrows."
She sighed, the first lines of a smile creeping onto the edges of her eyes. "Very well."