Page 28 of The Flesh Remembers
The clinic had never felt colder, its air thick with tension and the scent of burning ozone. Eleanor’s footsteps echoed as she moved toward the lab, each step weighed down by the anticipation of what awaited her. Eleanor had been exceedingly weak after the last procedure and had left her room to rest. However, not even an hour later, Marian knocked frantically at her door, her voice trembling. Her words laced with fear and a morbid fascination:“He’s awake. He’s… different.”
As Eleanor stepped inside, the sight before her sent a shiver down her spine.
James lay on the dais, his body partially restrained. The galvanic apparatus above him pulsed with chaotic energy, its arcs of light casting shadows that danced across the room.His chest rose and fell with jagged breaths, his skin mottled with faint traces of necrosis.
But his eyes, burning with a feral intensity, stopped her heart. There was hunger in them, raw and unrelenting, and it wasn’t just the hunger for life.
“Eleanor,” James rasped, his voice rough but disturbingly clear. His head turned toward her, his movements deliberate and too smooth to be natural.
She froze in the doorway, her heart pounding. “James?” she whispered.
His lips curved into a faint smile, but it lacked the warmth she remembered. Instead, it carried something predatory. He lifted a faltering hand, reaching for her.
“You brought me back,” he murmured, his voice laced with both awe and something darker. “I… feel alive. But… incomplete.” His gaze roamed over her, lingering on her throat, lips, and lower.
Eleanor’s cheeks glowed, the heat tethered to her skin like a lingering ghost, while his eyes mirrored a desire both distant and eerily close. She stepped closer, her heart pounding. “James, I’m here. I’ll help you.”
He grasped her wrist, his grip cold but unyielding. “Help me,” he repeated, his voice a low growl. “Yes… You can help.”
After a long moment, James let out a pained cry, and his head shook wildly from side to side. When he stopped and gazed at her, a softness in his eyes had not been there a moment before. James, it washerJames. He was still in there somewhere, fighting to be heard. She could not give up on him.
“James, darling, I know you are there. James, I love you so much,” Eleanor cried, her head resting against the cold flesh of his chest.
“El, my dear sweet El,” came the ragged whisper. As quickly as he had come, he was gone again, and the stranger with James’s face once more took ownership of that cold flesh she knew so well.
The staff observed the scene with a mixture of awe and unease.
Dr. Fairfax hovered near the control panel, his hands working nervously as he adjusted the dials. “This level of cognition is unprecedented,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “But his physiology, his responses, they’re… unstable.” Fairfax could scarcely suppress his giddy excitement. In all his years at the Campbell Institute and his experiments involving children and the elderly, he had experienced some promising leads, but nothing that had ever been as successful as this process had been. Though he was loath to give any credit to Blackwood and his ritualistic “magic,” he could not deny that without it, he never would have made it this far. For all his dislike of Blackwood and his ridiculous, sexually depraved group, he was now a believer in whatever dark power he had conjured, and he would tolerate it if it helped him discover the answers, he had been searching for all these years.
Marian stood closer to the dais, her fingers clutching her clipboard tightly. She obediently made her notes, following Fairfax’s orders to the letter. She felt such pride in Dr. Fairfax and the work they had done together, and she wanted him to be pleased with her efforts, so any reluctance she had, she kept to herself. She merely smiled at Fairfax and dutifully nodded when he made his next observation.
Marian's cheeks glowed, her breath quickened, as she followed James's movements with unwavering attention.When her hand brushed his forearm, he flinched, letting out a low, guttural sound that made her step back. Yet, her wide eyes betrayed an unwilling fascination. She had worked with Dr. Fairfax for many years, assisted him with numerous experiments that many had thought immoral, and willingly and happily did it all. It was what ultimately led to their leaving the Campbell Institute in disgrace. But nothing they had done there, none of those morally questionable experiments, had made her feel such cold dread or complete exhilaration.
Assistant Frye stood rigid in the corner, his expression dark. “This is a mistake,” he said through clenched teeth. “He’s not a man anymore. He’s a… thing.” Frye knew he should leave. He should resign now and walk out while he still has his soul intact. He had never been a religious man, but there was a basic order to the universe, and they were upsetting that order, tipping the balance. Surely, if one existed, whatever god may exist would not be mocked this way. Ultimately, though, Frye did not leave. He held out hope that perhaps he could stop them, possibly there was a way to reach Eleanor and find her to see reason. Frye rubbed a hand over his face and sighed, steeling himself for the fact that he may need to take matters into his own hands.
Lord Blackwood stood apart from the others, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “Frye,” he said softly, his tone laced with warning. “Do not let your fear cloud your judgment. What you see is not a failure, it is evolution.”
Blackwood glared at Frye, his previous annoyance at the assistant’s interference becoming sharper and angrier. Blackwood would not allow this process to be ruined. He had first thought that it was Eleanor who would cause a problem. He figured that she would fall apart and lose her nerve. However, she had proved much more formidable than Blackwood had given her credit for. She had taken part in the sexual rituals with only a brief hesitation and had endured the pain and humiliation. She had taken all of it and seemeddetermined to take much more. No, he hadn’t counted on that, and he certainly hadn’t figured Frye would be the one to give him problems. Well, it didn't matter. Blackwood would remove the threat of Frye, if needed.
Frye scoffed at Blackwood’s comment but said nothing more, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
James tightened his grip on Eleanor, his other hand reaching for her waist. His breathing grew heavier, each exhale tinged with a faint, sickly scent of decay.
“I need you,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion and also something darker, something primal.
Eleanor’s heart ached at his plea, but doubt coiled in her chest. His touch, once tender, now felt possessive, almost demanding. Yet the depth of her love for him drowned out her fear.
“Of course, James, whatever it takes,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her mind.
Lord Blackwood stepped forward, his presence commanding. “Then you know what must be done,” he said. “He is incomplete, tethered to this world, but that tether is fragile. Your body, your essence, is the bridge that will bind him fully. Give yourself to him, Eleanor. Let him claim you.”
Eleanor swallowed hard, her gaze locked on James’s. His eyes burned with hunger, his lips parting as he pulled her closer.
The galvanic coils above them sparked wildly, energy feeding the room's atmosphere. James’s hand slid up Eleanor’s arm, his touch cold yet electric. His other hand gripped her waist, pulling her onto the dais with him.
The staff watched in stunned silence as Eleanor straddled him, her cheeks flushed, and her breath ragged. James’s hands roamed her body with desperation and fervour, his touch leaving trails of cold fire on her skin.
“Eleanor,” he growled, his voice rough and trembling. “You feel… so warm. So alive.
