The source of that lighting was a dozen or so monitors, spread around a lab that twenty or so individuals might use. Eight of those twelve monitors were showing images of Riley Davis, Bonesaw, most from a head-on angle, most shot from cameras small enough that the images had a fishbowl effect. She leaned toward the cameras while trying to make out details, which put her eyes at a level where the fishbowl effect magnified them wildly in comparison to the rest of her face. The rest of the screens I could make out showed what I imagined were regular laboratory readouts. Graphs, tables, molecular chains.

I felt cold in this stark, dimly-lit space. My mind stumbled, trying to parse what he’d just said.

I was too tired, and so soon after the engagement with the Simurgh I simply didn’t trust my own judgment or senses. A part of me wanted to deny this reality, refocus, and move forward anyway. I needed medical care, so did Rain, and Sveta needed to get calm. Whatever happened, we’d be doing that, so… it made sense to turn, go to the first aid kit, and get started.

I couldn’t bring myself to budge. I stared at Chris, as emotions belatedly crept in. Instincts, or an awareness I would have called instincts before they’d turned out to be as faulty as they were proving to be now… they told me he was too guarded, too intense.

And the reality was, as logic joined my emotions in arriving late to this party… we didn’t have time to fuck around. We were about to hand Fortuna everything she needed to win.

“Cryptid,” I said, my voice low, my tone quiet. “Tell me that you haven’t made it yet. That you’re almost done.”

Cryptid shook his head slowly. His fur was gradually changing from brown to black.

“Riley,” I said. “You there?”

“I’m here,” the voice came through. “I didn’t hear his response, and the camera isn’t giving me a good view of him.”

“He just shook his head. Was there not time?”

“There was time, I talked him through the steps. It’s set, or it should be set. Why? What happened?”

“That’s exactly what I’m wanting to know,” I said. I met Chris’s eyes. The orbs remained unchanged and the narrow pupils focused on me even as the flesh around the eyes changed and rippled, becoming thicker, with more creases and lines. Flesh turned from light brown to stark white with dark mottling around the lines, folds, and creases, like the pigmentation had all leaked in there. It made the contrast of the dark fur—dark feathers more stark.

“Did you have another idea?” Rain asked.

“This isn’t the time to be cagey,” Sveta said.