Arsenic for the Soul (7 page)

Some were decapitated with a red
substance plastered on the upper body. She swallowed the massive
lump in her throat.

“
You don’t need innocents
to save to feel like you matter,” Vivian assured her. Her soft
brown eyes met Camilla’s and the sight instantly comforted her.
“Maybe now you can take the time to think of yourself.”

“
Yes, maybe I
can.”

They walked the corridors of the
gallery in a haze of black light. Shadows bobbed above them and
Camilla lifted her eyes to the ceiling. Limp corpses were piled in
dangling cages. Nearly a dozen of them were curled up inside, their
limbs outstretched for salvation.

“
Just more mannequins,”
Vivian said, prodding her forward. She was anxious to flee this
mausoleum of a mall and return to the land of the living. The
corridor led to another room that seemed devoid of art, but the
most twisted display of all awaited them at the end. Candles
illuminated this corner of the gallery and the grisly
oddities.

Mannequins were melded with the walls.
Their faces and hands bulged under the surface of the plaster, as
if they had been immured. At the end of the room, a sigil was
painted on the wall above an appendage on red satin. The insignia
featured rich floral designs, a knight’s helmet, and a shield
inlaid with a cross. Vivian swore she had seen it
before.

“
It looks like a family
crest.”

Camilla stared at it in
awe.

“
Do you know what it
means?”

“
I—I can’t be
sure.”

“
Don’t keep any more
secrets from me. Let’s get everything out in the open now. What is
it?” Camilla stepped forward and picked up the snake-like shape on
the red satin. She cried out and dropped it. Vivian roared forward
to crush the snake, expecting to see blood pumping from Camilla’s
hand. She halted at her next words.

“
This is an umbilical
cord.”

Vivian leaned in for a closer look and
there was no mistaking the spiral striations and sickly pallor.
Even stranger, Camilla whipped out a photo that depicted the scene
before them—sweating candles, satin, and the cord of
life.

“
This picture was waiting
outside the bedroom window after I saw the lurker last light. It
seems I was meant to find this, but I don’t understand why.” An
idea occurred to Camilla, and she wasn’t sure if Vivian would
approve.

“
Can you test this—” She
indicated the tangled piece of flesh. “—at the hospital? And find
out who it belongs to?”

“
You don’t seriously think
someone dragged you out here for an umbilical cord, do
you?”

“
I’m not dismissing the
possibility. Also, I don’t believe this is a token from a weird
admirer. I have my suspicions it’s someone related to me.” Vivian
balked at the notion.

“
That can’t be possible.
You said yourself that the Vesely bloodline is six feet under.
You’re the last remaining heir, so to speak.”

“
Then how do you explain
the article about the Magdalene asylums in my apartment? And now
I’m being directed to an umbilical cord related to my origins.
There has to be some rhyme or reason to this madness.”

Vivian’s eyes narrowed in the strange
light and the cord seemed to pound under her gaze. The musical
ambience swelled around them.

“
You think it could be
yours?”

Camilla didn’t answer. She hastily
picked up the appendage and wrapped it in satin.

“
Please do me a favor and
find out if this belongs to me.”

“
This is so screwed up,”
Vivian said, accepting it. The music disintegrated.

They turned around to see a man
standing in the dark. The light illuminated his face for a second,
but it was just enough to ingrain the horror in memory for the rest
of their lives. Black eyes bulged from a sunken face that clearly
never saw the light of day. His mouth resembled a laceration that
cleaved his nose and split his cheeks. Skin was stripped from
around the mouth to form a raw cavity with teeth.

Vivian didn’t remember screaming.
Suddenly she was catapulting across the gallery with Camilla,
running through the tinted corridors.

The man streaked after them and
overturned everything in his path. They heard the mannequins flying
against the walls and feet with long nails scrabbling on the floor.
The guttural noises coming from its throat cut right through the
disorder.

Its hands outstretched toward Vivian’s
hair as she fled, barely catching a few strands attached to her
head.

She dove to the floor and ploughed
under the security gate, scraping the skin on her knees and chin.
Vivian turned around to see Camilla flat on her belly, wedged under
the gate.

Just as she squeezed free, her pursuer
flung himself at the gate. His gaunt arms jutted through the bars
with crusty nails tipped in blood. He squealed ravenously at the
sight of them, as if nothing could sate his hunger quite like
tearing them apart.

After another spittle-filled scream,
he retreated into the shadows, leaving a bewildered Camilla and
Vivian to catch their breath.

The sunset had departed, extinguishing
the last of the crimson light dousing the Black Atrium. Camilla and
Vivian clutched each other tight as they stumbled through the
darkness. An hour must have passed as they searched for the
exit.

Their brains were wired and
edgy despite the exhaustion. Every rumble sounded like that
thing
was lurking only a
few feet away, ready to pick the flesh clean from their
bones.

“
Where the hell is
it?”

“
I hope you’re referring to
the exit, not that man.”

Breathless, the girls shivered as
glass crunched under their feet like ice.

“
This is it. The door
should be here,” Camilla said, running her hands over the surface
before a sinking realization punched her gut. “It’s been chained
shut!”

“
I’ll be damned if I’m
spending another minute in this hellhole. Find me something to
break it down and let’s get out of here.” After a few minutes of
scavenging, Camilla found a rusted pipe jutting from the
wall.

Vivian wasted no time laying into the
door that barred them from the streets. Prague’s city lights
twinkled through the crack in the doors, motivating her to ratchet
up the pressure.

With mounting frustration, Vivian
switched tactics and attacked the hinges, hoping it would provide a
softer target. The surface began to chip away under the weight
Vivian was putting behind the pipe. Camilla happened to look over
her shoulder and spy something moving in the dark.

“
Break it down
now!
”

“
What?”

“
There’s something creeping
up behind us in the dark!”

She knew it was the man she saw in the
gallery returning to conquer his prey. His breathing became more
pronounced and visceral as he covered the distance in long, lanky
strides. Vivian’s arms ached but she more than doubled her effort
when she imagined the tortures in store for them if she
failed.

Her foot barreled into the door,
snapping cleaning it off the hinges. They rushed into the streets
as their pursuer screamed in fury. The shattering of glass pealed
behind them as if the ceiling was coming undone in one final
magnificent showing of self-destruction. When the Black Atrium was
several blocks behind them, they slumped to the streets.

Vivian’s voice came out in a hoarse
whisper.

“
Is that the man you saw
looking through your window?”

Camilla looked to the rotting dome
simmering in discontent.

“
No, definitely not. I
would remember that face.”

Or better yet, she would remember if
he lacked a face.

FIVE

Vivian barely slept after she escaped
the Black Atrium with Camilla. The morbid discoveries lingered in
her thoughts as she shuffled through clinicals the next day. If she
wasn’t contemplating the umbilical cord in the art gallery, she was
surely thinking of the man who almost removed her head.

Too many questions remained unanswered
about the encounter. Who was stalking Camilla and why? And what was
this nonsense about her origins? Was it possible that someone in
the Vesely family was still alive?

She was so preoccupied in her waking
nightmares that she collided with someone in the hall.

“
Oh God, I’m
sorry!”

She locked eyes with Milo,
the handsome technician from the blood lab. It was embarrassing
enough to walk into someone, but why did it have to be
him?

He laughed as she furiously tried to
keep the blush out of her cheeks.

“
No harm done. Hold on a
second, we met a few days ago, didn’t we? Your name is…
Vivian?”

“
Good memory. And I
remember you well, Milo.”

“
Oh no, is it because of
the vaccine? Do I hear a grudge in your voice?”

“
No, nothing like that.
There’s not much you can do about it if I bear you a grudge anyway.
Well, since I have your attention, hopefully you don’t mind strange
questions but…”

“
I’ve had my
share.”

“…
where can I look up
someone’s family history to see a possible list of living
relatives?”

“
Are you using a blood
sample?”

“
No.” She paused. “It’s an
umbilical cord.”

Milo looked at her
quizzically.

Oh God, I’m freaking him
out. Yeah, he definitely thinks I’m weird now.

“
Is this
your
umbilical
cord?”

“
No, it’s for my friend
Camilla. Let’s just say she came into possession of it somehow.
It’s complicated.”

Milo stared at her as if trying to
make sense of this enigmatic woman. Perhaps there was something
more to that vacant expression.

“
I can’t say I have
experience with that,” he chuckled at length. “Blood borne
illnesses are my specialty, not genealogy. You may have better luck
asking a family historian.”

“
Thanks for pointing me in
the right direction. Well, you certainly won’t have any shortage of
weird questions with me around.”

Well, that settles it. I
can check him off the list of potential boyfriends. Damn it,
Camilla!

Milo smirked and sauntered off to the
cold depths of his blood lab. Vivian didn’t know any genealogists
but she knew the second best thing: Gavin. Formerly her anatomy
professor, he worked the bar at the Toxic Mistress. The cybergoth
hotspot was notorious for orgies, drugs, and underground trade in
the VIP rooms. Smuggling an umbilical cord inside seemed harmless
in comparison.

With a sigh, Vivian checked her
clinical schedule for today. She was scheduled to help with
transport in the morgue.

“
Today is the very
definition of morbid,” she chuckled. The morgue was discretely
tucked away where no one would stumble across its refrigerated
compartments and inhabitants. As Vivian trotted down to the
basement, she wondered if the morgue shared the same refrigeration
infrastructure as the cafeteria. That notion was slightly amusing
to her.

The security attendant on duty seemed
stingy when he greeted her. Aside from a mumbled “hey” and “let’s
get going,” his social skills were severely lacking. Perhaps that
was an inevitable consequence of working with the deceased. His
mood was probably dampened by the low pay and undying cold,
too.

Icy whispers rushed out as soon as the
guard opened the doors to the mortuary. To Vivian’s relief, it
wasn’t the crimson slaughterhouse she was expecting. It seemed more
sterile than any patient ward she set foot in.

The red tiles were worn from tables
being wheeled in and out of the room as the dead journeyed to their
final destination. If not for the low temperature, the fans would
have surely chilled her to the marrow.

Vivian scanned the human-shaped
bundles sacrificed on stainless steel tables. Paper shrouds were
draped across the nude corpses in various stages of decay. The
scent of formaline masked the stench of ammonia, methane, and
liquefied tissue.

One cadaver in particular
stood out among the other piles. He, she, or
whatever
it was under the sheet must
have easily weighed five hundred pounds.

“
That’s the fourth junkie
overdose this week,” the security attendant said. “He won’t fit
inside a compartment and the higher-ups are taking too long to
authorize his transfer. At this point, I just want to mitigate the
stench as much as possible. Can you check the identification? Just
to make sure we’re not eviscerating the wrong body.”

“
Not a problem.” Vivian
studied the instruments in the morgue as she approached the corpse.
Scales used for hanging body parts dangled from the ceiling, oddly
reminiscent of the hanging cages in the Vesica Piscis art gallery.
She would rather work overnight in the morgue than return to that
haunt.