A sick little thrill rolls through me. Whatever happens down there, Ian drove me to it.
I go to the door in the far wall. Muscle memory types the code in, and when the door clicks open, it’s a beckoning call. I slip through into the stairwell and begin to descend.
I’m almost to the bottom of the stairs when I stop dead in my tracks. The vault door is open.Ian, I remind myself. Ian is down here. I should be relieved, but my body stays tense, my chest tight.
“Ian?” My voice bounces through the vault door and down the corridor, too loud.
No answer. I keep going.
By the time I get to the vault door, my hands are shaking. I feel like I’ve hit my fight or flight quota for the day. Any more scares and my heart will give out.
“Ian?” It’s only a whisper, but it feels like a shout. It’s so quiet down here. The air is close and stale.
I step through the vault door and into the corridor beyond. The lights fade on, and my heart stops.
The doors are open. Eros’s door is open wide, its shadow multiplied under the lights. Orpheus’s door hangs only slightly ajar. But the corridor is empty. There’s no sign of them. Did they… did they go somewhere together?
I stand there frozen, unsure what to do. Part of me wants to run back the way I came, slam the vault door behind me and lock it, never to return. These open doors, the silence, everything bathed in a fluorescent glow… it gnaws at my nerves like a toothache. But I can’t just run away like I’mscared. What do I think is going to happen? And I came all the way down here.
But Eros’s words ring unwanted in my ears.Don’t trust him.
“Shut up,” I mutter. “Don’t be a pussy, Katherine.”
The time it takes me to reach Eros’s room feels like an eternity. At first, everything is completely quiet. It’s like Ian came down here, opened the doors, and then left. But why? Was he in a drunken haze? Did he want to free his creations? Did he feel so guilty about calling Eros a whore that he decided to unleash him and Orpheus into the world, allowing them to live out some semblance of humanity? Yeah, as if.
As I move closer, I begin to hear a quiet sound. A soft, incessant buzz.
Someone, or something, is still here.
I walk slowly to the door and look in.
Ian isn’t there. But Eros is.
Eros is all over the room. Scattered, fractured. Torn, limb from limb. Cut up and strewn. His legs are folded over one another on the far side of the room. One ankle is slashed, with wires sticking out at odd angles. One arm is on the dais, hand draped over the edge. The other arm lies a few feet away, broken in two places. His hand is in the far corner, opposite his legs. His torso lies at the foot of the dais, toga still wrapped around it, stained with electrical fluids. Wires and bits of machinery are everywhere.
His head is at my feet.
He stares up at me for a moment. Then his eyes roll back until all I can see are the whites. He blinks and his eyes roll down again, his blue gaze finding me. Fluid drips from his severed neck. It drips from his ears. The liquid is clear and thick as semen. I realize the buzzing sound is coming from Eros: some displaced wire, some gear half broken. I don’t fucking know.
I brace myself on the door frame. I think I should speak. I should say something. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Eros speaks for me. “K-Katherine.” His voice is out of focus, warped like an old record. “Fox. Fox. Katherine.”
“Kit.” I kneel then, placing my hands gently on either side of his face, holding him so he can look up at me. It feels like there’s something caught in my throat, and I can’t swallow it down. “It’s Kit, remember?”
Half of his mouth curves up in a smile. The buzzing stops, then starts again. “Kit. Hello. H-hell…o Kit. Kit. Fox.”
“Who did this to you?” I whisper. My fingers shake as they brush a lock of flaxen hair from his forehead. “Ian?” Ian, hatinghis own creation so much that he lost his mind? Ian, on a sexbot murder spree, fleeing his home and leaving me here to pick up the literal pieces?
Eros’s eyes roll back. “K-Kit.” His eyelids close, then open. “Kit. I’m sorry.”
“Eros.” I stroke his temple with a thumb. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
His mouth twitches, and I can’t tell if it’s a smile or a grimace.
“Eros, please. Can you tell me what happened?”
“K-K-Kit.” Fluid from his ear drips down to my wrist, warm and thick. “I’m sorry.”