Nada's Escape: Fighters' lies

15.3 Insertion

The scalpel hangs over my arm, anatomy textbook open beside us.

"Are you ready?" Darcell asks.

I swallow, "Yes." He starts to lower the blade.

"Wait!" I say, fear bubbling up at the last second. "Didn't you say there was going to be anaesthetic?"

He grins.

"That's one thing you can always find in this house." He reaches over to a box of vials. Carries, I suppose. Blood drugs. I really shouldn't be doing this. He swabs the inside of my forearm with a cool cotton bud.

"This should numb any pain, but you'll still have sensation in the area."

I nod, feeling numb in other parts of my body.

"Plus its antiseptic."

He waits for me to meet his gaze before continuing. "But you're going to need to stay very still, for both our sakes."

My stomach clenches, but I put on my ferocious face. I scrunch my fingers into the front of his shirt and wrench his torso flush with the kitchen bench.

"I can stay still, but can you cut straight?"

He carefully readjusts his seat closer. "I promise, I'll do my very best."

I examine his face for ticks, for uncertainty or lies. But his eyes burn into mine with the intensity of a blowtorch. I scrunch my fingers further into his shirt.

"Alright then. Let's do this."

He readies the scalpel again, and I look away this time. I'm not all that squeamish... it's just freaky to see it happen, you know?

I don't feel the bite of the blade. Just a line of red welling in my peripheral vision. I swallow, keeping calm by focusing on everything other than my forearm.

My knuckles burn at the shirt fibres being scraped across them. Between the scents of blood and heady spirits there's the musky smell of my sweat and his. I feel the warmth of his skin against my knuckles too. I try to focus on the top of his head, but he's too close, a blur. I lean back instead, letting my gaze roam the kitchen.

I notice the grease clinging to the stove jets and imagine prying it off with my fingernails. More appealing than the feel of my skin-

I clench my hand tighter, gaze resting on the little LED construction. I'd watched him dig the children's electronic kit out from under his bed but I'd been the one to stick the LEDs into the right shape. Whilst Darcell had readied the operating table, I'd thoroughly disinfected every crevice of the plastic casing. It was going inside me, after all.

He slides the lights under my skin and then stretches it closed around them.

"You're going to have to hold it closed while I stitch."

I grimace, feeling the pull of my skin and the pressure in my arm from the lights. I'm grateful for the anaesthetic.

He makes fast, loose stitches and I try to get my eyes to focus on his hair. Reflective next to the blinding desk lamp.

"Alright, drink this."

Healing potion. I gulp it down, try to keep my injured arm still despite the prodding of my instincts. We watch the skin slowly sealing around the cut. Darcell counts under his breath and then quickly clips the stitches with surgeon's scissors, pulling each tiny piece out with tweezers. It pinches but his hands don't shake.

The holes left by the thread begin to heal too. Slower than the main cut.

"One more, just in case. Gotta keep it from scabbing."

I drink the second vial slower and regret it as the familiar burning sensation makes it up into my nose.

The last of the stitches starts to smooth over. I slowly release my fingers still tangled in his shirt, feeling the tendons and muscles press strangely against the insertion.

"You're actually not the worst surgeon." I admit, flexing my fingers. I push back from the bench and feel the blood rush to my head.

"Woah," Darcell puts a hand to my elbow as I teeter slightly. "The potions were mixed with alcohol. Maybe you should lie down a bit."

I nod, feeling pretty fricking exhausted if I'm being honest. Maybe it's all the running around tunnels and facing down the council.

I slump back into a couch in the lounge room. I let my eyes go soft on the light in the kitchen. I listen to the clatter of utensils and the woosh of the tap as Darcell cleans the place up. Cleaning up my blood.

I resist the urge to prod the insertion. Instead I take a deep breath, dust tickling the back of my throat. I don't know when my eyes drifted shut, but they snap open at a footstep on the carpet.

Darcell slumps down on the carpet next to me.

"You doing okay?" He asks, light glancing off through his corneas.

I prop myself up on an elbow. "Yeah I'm fine. Do we check if it worked yet?"

I slide my fingers down the smooth skin of my wrist. I can barely feel the lights beneath the skin.

"Sure," he replies with a yawn, "Do you know where the switch is?"

I slide my fingers to the middle of my forearm, feeling for the...

Ahh. There it is. Not a switch so much as a button, soft beneath the skin like a piece of cartilage. I press, wincing though there's no pain.

My skin glows, blinding me in the darkened room. Lights pulse, slow like an ancient heart. They illuminate a shape beneath my skin; the almost-chess bishop of the warrior mage's symbol. I trace the outline of it against my skin in wonder.

It worked! It really worked! My relief has me shrugging off my tiredness, sitting up to admire it from more angles. I can't believe it.

"It's perfect!"

"So what's next then?" Darcell drawls, heaving himself into an armchair.

I shrug, "It's like we talked about before. No one can know we were working together on this."

He shakes his head. "It'll be for the best. No one would suspect Finley of something like this."

I shrug. "He'll be just as surprised as the rest of them. A perfect actor."

Darcell leans his head into the shadow.

"Besides," I continue, "I can't just go around knocking on councilmen's doors at three in the morning."

Darcell nods silently. I stand and give him an assessing glance.

"Now would be a good time for you to reveal that ulterior motive of yours."

He sighs, "I have lots of motives."

I cross my arms. "I'd like you to be a little more specific."

He leans further back in the chair, the light from the kitchen only illuminating one side of his face.

"I like causing trouble and I like you."

I cross my arms, waiting for him to continue.

"And if you want any more specifics tonight, you'll just have to kill me." His lips quirk into a tired grin on the lighted half of his face.

I walk towards the lighted kitchen, turning back a step before I cross the threshold.

"Be careful what you wish for." I whisper and I leave the gothic house behind.