The air in the infirmary was thick with the tang of antiseptic and the faint, metallic edge of blood. Rain lashed against the high, narrow windows, casting erratic patterns of shadow and light on the stone walls. Magda leaned over Marylou’s bed, her gloved hands steady as she tried to peel back the strange, glistening web that clung to the unconscious woman’s skin. The sound of the webbing pulling away was sickeningly wet, like meat torn from bone.
The room was crowded but silent, the tension so sharp it could have drawn blood. Steve stood beside Marylou, his face pale, his hand clenched into a trembling fist at his side. Christian lingered near the door, his arms crossed, his eyes locked on the scene. Daisy stood beside him, her hand brushing against the Moon’s Tear at her throat like it
