"You really think these hands of yours could save lives?"

Voices echo in my head and I cover my ears. I realize they're trapped in the skull. They reverberate through my bones. I can't suppress the shudder before it strikes me right in the core - can't describe it as a heart, doubtful whether it even exists nowadays. My classification? Null. Probably overloads machines equipped for modern medicine. 

Going to class is weird because I'd be listening to a lecture and suddenly they mention something about cleanups and my hands start twitching. It's not particularly unpleasant as much as it keeps me from taking notes. At least it means I'm staying alert. I'll just power through it as I always have. 

On another note I realize my fingertips have turned ashen. Checking other extremities reveals the same effect overall - must be from the black blood. It looks like I have constant frostbite. I've started wearing gloves that actually have fingers now - gets harder when I need to use any tactile senses but at least I can ask Koriol to help during labs. He probably knows something's up, but he's shown no sign of it. Didn't even ask why I was wearing gloves at home. Makes things easier, but it's also eerie - always has been. Koriol is a force to be reckoned with when it matters. He claims he's returning the favour for me saving his life, but really, I would've been locked away long ago if not for his elaborate planning.

I've also been feeling... cold, lately. Not to the point that I'd die, but... Nevermind that. The numbness helps ease my mind. I'm better off embracing it.

Jail. Great.

Cops are wary. But curious. Small town, few crimes, I'm a high profile case. Should I be proud?

Heath. Lawyer dealing with supernatural cases. Sketchy guy, but I'll deal with that notion once things have actually settled somehow.

At least I'm back.

“I thought we were past that,” were the first words I heard upon coming home. Koriol looked horrendous - or, as horrendous as a rich man could look. Eyebags are nothing new. Though, you'd rarely see on his face unless he's been up researching something very serious. Seems that he has - there's still a bit of red yarn stuck on his sleeves. Does he even notice?

“We are. I didn't-” I did. Van Helsing. “I meant to save as many of them as possible. Could only save two.”

“Hazel, you're all over the news. I doubt anyone's going to believe you.” He’s massaging his temples - something his father would constantly do. Whatever Koriol’s gone through has put him in the same position as the CEO of a communications company. 

“They can believe what they want to.”

“That's not going to keep you out of jail. Your ‘if they meant to do that, they would've done it already’ mentality won't apply here - people can be swayed especially if you're innocent-”

“I've got fucking black blood, Celestheryne, that’s grounds for skepticism if nothing else.”

“So you're just… going to give up.” He turns around. Seems to have been washing the dishes. Life goes on. Good.

“Never said that.” 

“People worry about you, if you haven't noticed,” he says firmly - not a bluff. But who? …Just Koriol, probably. 

“And I appreciate that, but you were wasting your time. None of this stuff exists on Google.”

“I've looked on Cryptoleak. Not that I could find anything remotely similar to your condition. I ought to bring you to the lab for testing.” 

“On campus?”

Koriol turns around. “Why not?” His eyes are fierce despite the fatigue. Sunken and dark, he finally looks serious enough for me to believe this man was really the brains behind all those operations - yet still a cog in the works anyway. In our field you don't need skill or talent to advance. The likes of us stayed at the bottom of the chain, just barely above the targets - the lines blur with the swipe of a hand. Disposable. Liabilities if we were given too much clearance. Not even the right connections would get you anywhere - you have to be the right kind of person. The right person.

And when even Koriol is unable to get any further…

No matter. We're past that. Just... not past the stealth shenanigans.

"They wouldn't appreciate us for contaminating equipment with unknown substances. Besides," I sit down at the dining table, "I can't exactly walk around campus without getting recognized."

"You're still considered innocent, they won't just kick you out yet."

"The profs would probably be biased."

"...Fair." Koriol places the last plate onto the rack and sits down across from me. "What are you going to do now?"

"Life goes on. Fine. I'll go to class but that's all you'd see of me up there. Otherwise I'm going to investigate. Get evidence."

"I'll hel-" 

Slam hands on table. Cold glare. Koriol's back straightens - he had been playing with the yarn on his sleeve but now he's on full alert. "You will not. You've helped enough." Can't involve him. Supernatural shit. They'll brand him an accomplice.

He sighs. Probably expected this answer. Why offer, then? 

The door clicks. Unlocks. Roommate peeks their head in. Sees me. Speeds up the stairs to their room without as much of a nod. Figures.

"We might have to move," he whispers.

"We? You've already been helping with my rent, you don't need t-"

"Are you hearing yourself right now? Between travel fees and lawyer rates, you think you could afford Vancouver rent?"

"They're going to investigate you too."

"Then let them. If they looked at records they'd see that I was a past roommate anyway."

"Koriol, I can't owe you any-"

"Why is everything a transaction in your head?" Koriol pauses and groans, running his hands through his hair. "Right. Don't answer that. People always look for merits. Got it. Understood. Yeah."

"We're on the same page then."

"We're not, Hazel." He looks up. "Just... don't lose this case. Catching attention is already a horrible thing for you."

I look in the direction of the stairs. "So I've seen."