Long-press a paragraph to send danmaku
"Doctor! His chest is open!" The paramedic's shout hits me before the stretcher does.
"Clear the table," I say. "Marcus, get me a retractor. Now."
The man shouldn't be alive. His sternum is split from collarbone to ribs, a straight, clean opening with no torn tissue or broken bone. Blood pours through the gauze and spatters the linoleum. The metallic smell coats the back of my throat.
Marcus appears beside me. "Ivy, you good?"
"I'm good. Move."
"You always say that right before you do something reckless."
"Then keep up."
I pull on gloves and take the retractor. The paramedics step away. The man's chest gapes beneath the surgical lights, but the wound looks wrong. Too neat. Like someone unzips his body and leaves the edges untouched.
"What did this?" Marcus asks.
"We can argue about that after we stop the bleeding."
"There shouldn't be this much blood left in him."
"Then let's find out where his heart is."
I reach toward the opening.
The man's eyes snap open.
I stop with the retractor inches from his chest. His pupils are wide, swallowing the overhead lights. They don't look drugged. They look focused.
"Sir, don't move," I say. "You're in surgery."
His hand shoots up and closes around my wrist.
Cold clamps around my skin. Not clammy. Not chilled. Dead cold, like he spends his nights in a freezer.
"Help me," he rasps.
"We are helping you. Let go of me."
"Not like this."
Marcus steps in. "Sir, release the doctor."
The man doesn't even glance at him. His grip tightens until my fingers tingle.
"You're Ivy Moore," he says.
My pulse jumps. "How do you know my name?"
"I know why you lost your last job."
Marcus looks at me. "What is he talking about?"
"Nothing." I tug against the man's fingers. "Who are you?"
"Someone who's running out of time."
The monitor shrieks. His heart rate drops from sixty to thirty.
"He's crashing," a nurse calls.
"Get the paddles," Marcus orders. "Ivy, step back."
"Not yet."
"That's not a request."
The stranger keeps his eyes on mine. "You saved a patient after the attending called the time of death."
My stomach tightens.
"That file is sealed," I say.
"You broke protocol. You lied on the report. You saved a boy who should've died."
"Who told you?"
"I did my homework."
"Then you know I'm not a miracle worker."
"No. You're worse. You can't leave people to die."
The monitor drops again. Twenty beats. Ten.
Marcus grabs my shoulder. "Ivy, now."
The stranger's breath catches. Blood shines on his teeth when he speaks.
"Keep me alive for seven days."
"You need a surgeon, not a deal."
"Keep me alive for seven days, and I'll give you what you want."
"I don't know what you think I want."
His gaze sharpens. "The truth about your family."
Everything inside me locks.
Marcus pulls me back. "Ivy?"
"What did you say?"
"Your mother. Your father. Your brother." His voice breaks, but his eyes stay clear. "The fire wasn't an accident."
The room blurs around him.
Six years ago, the police call it an electrical fire. They find accelerant in the basement and close the case. My parents and my little brother die before I can get home from a medical conference in Boston.
The official report says no one else is involved.
I never believe it.
"You're lying," I say.
"Let me die, then."
"I should."
"You won't."
"Don't bet your life on that."
"It's already gone."
His heartbeat stutters. The monitor gives one long, rising tone.
"Code blue!" the nurse shouts.
Marcus shoves the crash cart into place. "Ivy, move away from the patient."
The stranger's fingers remain locked around my wrist.
"What do you want from me?" I ask.
"Seven days."
"And then?"
"I tell you who killed them."
"You expect me to believe a man with an open chest?"
"You believe the fire report?"
That lands harder than it should.
Marcus reaches for my arm. "Ivy, let go."
"He won't let go."
"Then make him."
The stranger's mouth twitches. "Moon contract."
I stare at him. "That's not a medical term."
"Old magic. Binding magic. Say yes, and the agreement holds."
"This is a hospital."
"Then you have nothing to lose."
"I have a license to lose. A job. My life, if you keep bleeding on me."
"You lost your family already."
Marcus slams the defibrillator pads onto the man's chest. "Ivy, get back!"
The stranger's pulse disappears beneath my fingertips.
"Say it," he whispers.
"Say what?"
"Agree."
"You're blackmailing me while you're dying."
"I'm giving you a choice."
"You don't get to call it that."
His eyes stay fixed on mine. "Seven days, Ivy. Keep me alive, and I'll give you the name."
The defibrillator charges.
Marcus shouts, "Clear!"
I should release the hand on my wrist. I should let the paddles do their work. I should let this stranger die before he drags me into whatever nightmare he brings with him.
Instead, I bend closer.
"Fine," I say. "Seven days. You tell me who killed my family, and I'll keep you alive."
The stranger exhales.
"Deal."
His hand burns through my glove.
I scream as the pain races from my wrist to my shoulder. It isn't heat. It's a blade of ice shoved under my skin. My heart stutters with it.
Marcus tears me away. The man's hand drops onto the stretcher.
"What happened?" he demands.
"I don't know!"
"Then tell me why his chest is closing."
I look back.
The split edges draw together beneath the blood-slick skin. No sutures. No pressure. The tissue pulls itself shut in smooth, impossible increments. Blood vanishes into the wound. In seconds, the man's chest is whole.
The paddles hover uselessly above him.
"Nobody touch him," I say.
"Ivy, what did you do?" Marcus asks.
"I said I don't know."
The monitor beeps once.
Twice.
Then a steady rhythm fills the room.
The stranger breathes. His skin looks normal. His chest rises and falls without a scar.
A nurse whispers, "That can't happen."
"You saw it happen," Marcus says. "Call security."
"Don't," I say.
He turns on me. "Don't what?"
"Don't let anyone move him."
"He's a trauma patient."
"He's not normal."
"Neither are you right now."
My wrist throbs. I rip off my glove and see a black mark beneath it: a crescent moon crossed by a single line.
Marcus catches my hand. "Was that there before?"
"No."
"Can you feel it?"
"Yes."
"Is it a burn?"
"It's a contract."
He stares at me. "You actually believe him?"
"I believe my skin didn't draw that by itself."
The stranger's eyes close. His breathing settles. Around us, nurses whisper and machines click, but I can't stop watching the security monitor in the corner.
The EKG shows a heartbeat.
The infrared feed shows nothing.
No heat. No human outline. Just a cold, dark shape lying beneath the sheet.
Marcus follows my stare. "What am I looking at?"
"The man you want to send to surgery."
"The man who just regenerated a split chest?"
"Yes."
"Ivy, step away from the bed."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
The mark on my wrist pulses once.
The stranger opens his eyes.
This time, he doesn't look at me. He looks straight at the infrared camera and says, "They found me."
The security monitor flickers.
A second cold shape appears behind Marcus.
And the hospital doors slam shut before I can warn him—