“What the hell is going on?” Skulduggery snarled, his gun suddenly in his hand.

“Kill me if you must,” Doctor Nye said in its high voice, “but if you do so, your friend will bleed to death. Make up your mind. I have a lot on my plate tonight.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Fletcher. “Who is that?”

“Step away from her,” Ghastly commanded. “We’ll get another doctor in here.”

“Another doctor would not be able to save her life,” Nye responded, sounding bored. “These are wounds inflicted with abandon. No method, no design, no finesse. But they are severe, and they are many, and organs have been sliced and arteries nicked. I have completed my examination and I know exactly how to proceed. If you call in another doctor, they would need to start over. By that time, she would be dead.”

“You can save her?” Skulduggery asked.

“Undoubtedly. And if I am allowed to get back to work immediately, there won’t even be any scarring.”

Skulduggery looked at Ghastly, then nodded.

“Get back to work, Doctor,” Ghastly said. “Skulduggery, I’m sure you’ll want to stay, to make sure he behaves.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Skulduggery said. He didn’t put his gun away.

“Me neither,” said Fletcher.

Ghastly left, anger quickening his step. He found Madame Mist in her chambers.

“Nye?” he said, barging in. “You have Doctor Nye working here? Are you out of your mind? Nye is a monster!”

Mist observed him from behind her veil. “Just because the Doctor is a being without specification does not make it a monster.”

“Without specification? You mean because it isn’t male or female? You mean because it isn’t strictly human? No, that’s not what I’m talking about. It’s a monster because it conducts medical experiments on its captives!”

“That’s all in the past.”

“Nye is a war criminal!”

“Who has been punished for the crimes it committed. Elder Bespoke, I was tasked with equipping this Sanctuary with the very best medical staff available. Kenspeckle Grouse is dead. Doctor Nye was next on the list.”

“And you didn’t think to run it by us first? You didn’t think we’d object?”

“When you say we, are you referring also to the Grand Mage? Because I did confer with him, and he agreed that this facility would benefit from Nye’s expertise.”

Ghastly frowned. “Ravel agreed to this?”

“Yes. If you have a problem, maybe you should take it up with him.”

“Yeah,” Ghastly said, “maybe I should.”

Ghastly walked the corridors, his pace slower now. Ravel was like him – he was a soldier. He’d fought in the war, fought against Mevolent, and he’d had friends who were captured. They’d all heard the stories, about the torture and the sick experiments. They’d all heard of the doctor with the long arms and legs and the scabrous nose. Everyone had heard of Doctor Nye.