Page 2 of The Flesh Remembers
Her ribs felt like a birdcage, the frantic fluttering within betraying her composure. How could he so casually name her desperation? She squared her shoulders, forcing herself to meet his piercing gaze. “I am prepared,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “If the doctor’s work can truly do as he claims, then I am prepared to do anything.”
His lips curved, not quite a smile, but something darker. Without warning, he moved closer, trapping Eleanor against the corner of a lab table. The sudden intimacy of the gesture sent a shock through her, causing a short gasp to escape her lips. His breath ghosted across her temple, sending shivers racing down her spine.
“Beware, Dr. Ashcroft,” he murmured, his tone laced with wicked promise, “they’ll push you to your limits and beyond.”
Eleanor’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. She should have shoved him away, demanded respect. But the memory of James’s passion clawed at her, and the closeness of another body, any body, stirred an aching, forbidden response in herstarved flesh. Her shame warred with a rising, dangerous thrill.
Frye’s large hand settled on her hip, his grip firm yet tantalizingly restrained. His voice dropped even lower, a soft growl near her ear. “What will you give for him,Doctor?”
Excerpt from the diary of Dr. Eleanor Ashcroft
I am writing this in the cab on the way to the clandestine meeting. I may be writing it as a record in case something happens to me there. I am walking into unknown danger, this I know. But I have to try.
I am not a stupid woman, but this seems like a foolish thing to do. Love. It’s for love, isn’t it? Wouldn’t we do anything to preserve a perfect love?
I am a woman of science and learning. I know what the textbooks say about this sort of thing, and I agree with them. It isn’t possible. Shouldn’t be possible.
Despite that, however, I hope that it is somehow… possible.
The Problem of Death
Eleanor felt a tremor ripple through her body, like the first crack in an icy surface, yet she steadied her voice, refusing to shatter.
“Kindly remove your hand,” she said to him, her tone defiant despite the heat blooming in her cheeks. “You presume a great deal, sir. Know that I am here to hear what Dr. Fairfax has to say, and that is all. I will decide once I know what is going on here. Now, please, may we continue?”
A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes as he stepped back, releasing her. The tension between them dissipated, and when Frye turned his back to her, Eleanor took a deep, silent breath to steady herself.
Frye’s lips curved into a sly smile. He beckoned her onward, his feral, wild presence still sparking something within her that she could not name. Her pulse still raced, and the place where his hand had touched her burned with the memory of his grip.
They passed by many closed doors as they walked down the narrow corridor. Before they rounded the corner, Eleanor heard what she could only describe as a groan coming from behind the door on her left. It was wet and ragged, but she felt it was undeniably human.
“What was that?” she asked Frye, stopping next to the door.
Frye eyed the door warily and then looked back at Eleanor. His lips pressed together in a thin line as though he were suppressing something he wanted to say.
“I heard nothing.”
“I-I thought I heard something from behind that door.” Eleanor was not so positive now. Perhaps it had just been her imagination.
“The building is very old, Doctor. You’ll swear you hear all sorts of things. It’s naught for you to worry about.” Frye continued down the corridor, and Eleanor had no choice but to follow or risk getting lost in these hallways. She supposed that Frye’s comment settled the matter, though that did little to settle her anxiety.
Frye led Eleanor to a small windowless chamber with a simple wooden bed. The bed lacked ornamentation, but the down-filled mattress and pillows appeared soft and clean. A small wooden nightstand stood next to the bed, on which sat a wash basin and pitcher of clean water.
“Wait here,” Frye said gruffly. “Fairfax may be some time yet; you’ll want to rest up for what will come.” He gave her a knowing look that hinted at something she was sure she would not like.
Eleanor swallowed back the sense of unease growing within her and stepped into the room, only to halt at the threshold. The air inside was humid, heavy with the scent of steam and varnished wood. She crossed it slowly, her boots creaking against floorboards that seemed to moan underfoot.
As she passed the oil lamp on the wall, it flickered, casting a spiral of shadow across her chest, and for the briefest moment, she felt watched. Or wanted.
“Thank you,” Eleanor said softly, brushing past Frye and walking into the small chamber. “I do feel a bit tired. Perhaps it would benefit me to lie down for a moment.” She wanted to appear brave and confident in her decision to go with this strange meeting, but she worried that the quiver in her voice belied her fear.
Frye turned in the doorway to face her, his hulking presence taking up most of the space. The flickering light from the gas lamps on the wall created strange, twisted shadows, giving his bearded face a somewhat sinister appearance.
“We won’t kill you in your sleep, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Frye said with a laugh. “But what we do here is not strictly legal, you understand, so we must take certain precautions. I’ll return for you when Fairfax is ready.” The light glinted in his dark eyes as he added softly, “Pleasant dreams.”
Eleanor sank onto the bed, the hum of machinery whispering through the walls like a mechanical heartbeat. James’s touch haunted her even now–phantom hands thatrefused to let go. She curled into the memory, just for a moment, before sleep took her.
Several hours later, Eleanor woke reluctantly. She pressed her fingers into the sheets, trembling with the hunger that had haunted her since his passing. The throbbing between her thighs begged for relief, but it was the relentless pull of the machine's hum so eerily alive that drew her forward. Rising, she slipped on her cloak, while the sound beckoned her, promising answers and perhaps other things.
