Chapter 186: Infected (7)

Murmuring started immediately, spreading through the hall as people turned toward their neighbors.

Misha did not interrupt since she knew Anderson was not wrong enough to dismiss.

A woman near Senna pulled her shawl tighter across her chest.She had watched Anderson run with the same pinched expression she now directed at Misha.

"He has a point. You can’t tell us to stop accusing each other and then drag someone around because you think he looks suspicious."

Another man nodded, though he kept his eyes on Dorian before glancing at Misha when he spoke. "You said suspicion isn’t evidence."

"I did." Missha nodded once, then she continued before those words became another accusation. "And I still mean it. Suspicion gives us a reason to investigate, and evidence is what determines what happens afterward."

Anderson gave a short, disbelieving laugh. "You grabbed my wrist and made me run across the room like some animal! What part of that was an investigation?"

"I was checking how your body responded to exertion. I should have explained that before I touched you and for that, I’ll apologize."

The admission interrupted the murmuring for a moment. Anderson appeared to have prepared himself for an argument. His mouth stayed slightly open while he searched for somewhere else to put his anger.

"Dorian asked you to cooperate. Right now, I’m investigating. How can I clear you of my suspicion if you act like you’re guilty?"

Anderson’s jaw tightened since he couldn’t refute that.

Of course, Misha remembered enough laboratory work to distrust single findings. One strange result did not become truth because it fit what she wanted to see, especially not when a person’s life sat on the other side of that conclusion. So, she looked for another.

"I’d like to look into your mouth."

Anderson stared at her in disbelief. "Again? This is ridiculous! First she wants my pulse, then she wants me running around, and now she wants to look inside my mouth like I’m already one of those things!"

Misha’s attention sharpened at the wording. She tilted her head. "What do you think I’m looking for?"

The man’s mouth opened, then closed. He clenched his fist before he finally gave her a reply, "I don’t know."

"You seemed pretty sure a second ago."

"I meant infected."

"That isn’t what you said."

His irritation flared. "You’re twisting my words now!"

She heaved out a sigh. "I want to inspect your mouth because Relva and the first victim both had abrasions along the throat. If you’re clean, this is easy."

Dorian looked toward the two Blackthorn members nearest Anderson. "If he refuses, restrain him."

He trusted Misha’s skill enough to allow her with her inspection.

Anderson snapped his head toward him. "Dorian!"

"You heard me."

"You said no one acts on suspicion!"

"We aren’t killing you." Dorian’s voice remained calm. "We are giving you an opportunity to settle this."

Anderson raised both hands. "I’m not infected! I’m not!"

One of the Blackthorn members approached with a rope which made Anderson backed away.

"Please!"

Misha’s fingers curled against her palm. Hearing him beg that way made her hesitate. He sounded so human.

Anderson obviously noticed it, so he went on. "Please... please believe me."

The plea cracked near the end, and several people looked toward Misha as though the burden had shifted. It was as though everyone had silently decided that if she continued now, whatever happened would belong to her.

Misha’s attention shifted from his face to his body. His hands trembled, his breathing came fast, and his eyes watered. Every visible signal of panic had appeared after he realized what the room expected innocence to look like.

"Do it."

Anderson’s body went still. The trembling stopped first, then the shallow breathing. Then, the panic vanished from his face so completely it looked less like someone calming down and more like a performance ending.

The man’s throat moved into a ripple as something pushed beneath the skin just above his collarbone and disappeared upward.

Misha’s hand moved toward Twinfang. "Everyone, back away!"

"What?"

"Back—"

Crack.

The sound carried through the hall with a dry, ugly sharpness. His mouth dropped open, then continued opening as his lower jaw was forced downward and the skin at its corners stretched white.

The man reaching for him stopped. He had time to pull his hand back, perhaps to step away, but his eyes remained on Anderson’s face.

The corners of Anderson’s mouth tore. Blood ran over his chin as four pale appendages forced themselves between his teeth. They unfolded in slick lengths of translucent muscle wrapped around black central cords. Small hooked structures opened along their undersides, catching briefly against his lips before ripping free.

The nearest appendage struck beneath the Blackthorn member’s jaw. It passed through him with enough force to snap his head back, its hooked tip emerging at the nape of his neck.

Blood hit the wall behind him.

For a moment, he remained upright. His fingers brushed the pale length buried in his throat, almost cautiously, and then it was dragged out of him.

"AHHHH!!!"

"HE’S INFECTED!!"

Chaos detonated through the room. People screamed, and someone slammed into a table. Senna dragged Relva’s children backward while Dorian shouted for everyone to clear the center.

A second appendage lashed sideways. The woman standing behind the Blackthorn member had enough time to raise one hand, and nothing more. The hooked limb punched through her cheek and tore near the base of her skull.

She dropped instantly.

Misha had both blades in her hands.

「 Fear and panic suppressed. 」

「 Passive Skill in Effect: Weapon Mastery 」

「 Enemy movement prediction enhanced. 」

Anderson turned toward the fleeing crowd. His head hung at an angle above the ruin of his mouth, and the pale limbs shifted independently, testing the space around him.

Misha stepped into that space.

The nearest appendage tightened at its base. She caught the motion and ducked, feeling the air move beside her temple as it snapped past. A strand of hair drifted across her cheek.

Her right blade cut forward. Twinfang passed through the limb, and the severed end struck the floor near her boot, contracting hard enough to pull itself several inches through the blood.

Purple lightning struck him across the chest.

His body jerked, heels scraping against the floor as Caius held the discharge long enough for Misha to retreat a step. The remaining appendages stiffened and curled, their hooks opening and closing.

"Clear the center!" Caius ordered. "Use the side aisle! Keep moving!"

Astrid fired twice.

The ice rounds struck low, bursting against Anderson’s legs. Frost spread across his trousers and locked his ankles to the floor, the second shot building over the first until his attempt to step forward ended in a violent wrench of his knees.

An appendage slammed into a tabletop, hooks biting through the wood and dragging a deep groove toward the edge.

"Fuck."

Misha cut across it before it could withdraw. The blade sank deep, but the limb twisted around the steel, pulling her arm forward.

Caius’ lightning struck again. Its grip spasmed open, and Misha tore Twinfang free.

Across the hall, Senna was trying to move both children at once. The younger one had sat down in the confusion and hooked his fingers around her skirts, crying too hard to follow what she was saying.

Astrid shifted between them and the creature, keeping her weapon trained while nudging a fallen stool aside with her heel.

Anderson’s body strained against the ice. Something cracked beneath his trousers, and his right knee bent farther than it should have. He made no attempt to protect it.

Misha circled left, drawing the moving appendages away from Astrid and the others. There were three lengths still attached, one shortened by her first strike, another leaking dark fluid from the cut that she had failed to finish.

One of the limbs dragged across Anderson’s chest. Its hooks caught in his shirt, tearing the fabric and exposing the stretched skin beneath his throat. The movement inside him was visible now.

Misha felt her stomach turn. There was too much beneath that skin, too many shifting lengths pressing against the narrow space where his airway should have been.

"Anderson!" She tried calling.

His left eye moved toward her.

She nearly missed her next step.

For one stupid, dangerous instant, she searched his face for recognition. Tears ran along the sides of his nose, mingling with the blood around his mouth, and she could no longer tell which parts of him belonged to the man who had begged her.

Lightning wrapped Anderson’s upper body.

Misha drove forward. Her left blade pinned the nearest appendage against the edge of the table while her right cut through it, sawing once when the black cord resisted.

When his body pitched forward, Misha stumbled sideways as his weight struck the table, and a hooked appendage swept over her shoulder toward the people still clearing the aisle.

Caius stepped into the gap.

"Down."

Misha dropped behind the table as purple light flashed across her vision. The discharge struck the frozen length, and she heard a wet crack followed by pieces pattering against the wood.