Chapter 6 The Anatomy of Stone

The morgue beneath the Holy Flame Cathedral did not howl with the voices of tormented demons, as the city's superstitions suggested. There was only one sound: the slow, metronomic weeping of melting ice.

It was a cold, indifferent countdown for the dead, a rhythmic drip-drip-drip onto the galvanized zinc slabs. When Linus led Lillian into the chamber-a space that reeked of formaldehyde, old stone, and the stale, mineral tang of decay-the elderly coroner nearly dropped his bone saw.

"C-Captain Kerr?"

The old man's eyes darted in terror between Linus's granite expression and the Cold-Iron chain around Lillian's neck. A beauty in an emerald velvet gown, collared like a common slave and led into a morgue by the empire's most feared Inquisitor-the sight was more macabre than any corpse in the room.

"Get out," Linus said. A single word, sharp and final as a guillotine's blade.

The coroner scrambled to obey, fleeing into the shadows without daring to cast a second glance at the captive girl. The heavy iron door groaned shut, sealing them in with the white-shrouded shape on the central table.

"Begin, Consultant," Linus commanded.

He released the chain, letting it coil onto the floor with a sharp, musical clink. He leaned against the door, arms crossed over his massive chest, his indigo gaze appraising. "Show me your worth. Prove you're more than just a pretty heretic."

Lillian rubbed her bruised wrists, ignoring his stare. The fear was there, but the scent of the morgue had triggered a different instinct: the clinical detachment of a master. She walked to the table and yanked back the shroud.

Even with her preparation, her breath hitched. This wasn't a corpse; it was a masterpiece of agonizing sculpture. The man had been a dockworker in his prime, yet he remained frozen in a final, frantic moment, fingers clawed deep into his own throat. His skin was a matte, ghostly grey, and every muscle fiber had been perfectly petrified into crystalline stone.

Lillian reached out, her knuckles rapping against the man's chest.

Thump. Thump. A dull, solid sound. No flesh remained.

"The Church calls it 'Medusa's Kiss'," Linus's voice echoed in the cavernous space. "High-level dark magic. But the records show no awakening of that bloodline in a century."

"Of course it's not magic," Lillian said, her voice suddenly stripping away its frailty. In this realm of the dead, she was no longer a captive; she was the architect. She began to roll up her emerald sleeves, exposing her pale forearms. "Bring the acetylene lamp closer. I need light, not shadows."

Linus cocked an eyebrow. It was the first time in his life anyone had dared to give him an order. Yet, watching the sharp, focused fire in her amber eyes, he found her more intoxicating than he had during her fever. He picked up the lamp and moved to the opposite side of the table, falling into the role of her assistant without a word.

"The bone saw. And the No. 3 scalpel," Lillian held out her hand.

"The tissue is as hard as granite," Linus noted, handing her the tools. "A standard blade won't even graze it."

"It's not granite; it's an instantaneous crystallization of calcium carbonates and metallic salts," Lillian scoffed. "Like quick-drying cement. You just have to find the structural flaw."

Instead of cutting, she snatched a bottle of concentrated acetic acid and poured it over the corpse's chest.

SIZZLE-

Acrid white smoke erupted, the sharp scent of acid overwhelming the rot. The hardened skin began to bubble and soften.

"Now." Lillian gripped the saw.

SCREECH-SCREECH-

The sound was a violent assault on the ears. Shards of stone flew like grey snow, settling on Lillian's dark green dress. Linus watched her in silence. He watched the woman who, an hour ago, had been trembling in his bed, now acting like a butcher-unflinching as she sawed through a human ribcage. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple, sliding past the copper button at her throat.

She was brutal. She was brilliant. And gods, she was beautiful.

CRACK. The sternum was pried open. Lillian tossed the saw aside and plunged her hands into the grey-white chest cavity. There was no blood; only fine, red crystalline sand. Suddenly, she froze.

"Linus."

She used his name-not his title. A call of equals.

"Look at this."

Inside the chest, where the heart should have been, there was a fist-sized brass pump. Its gears were jammed, frozen by the petrification. It was an alchemical nightmare of translucent tubes and reinforced valves. At its core, a small crystal glowed with a faint, dying blue light.

"An artificial heart," Lillian whispered, her voice trembling with horror. "Someone carved out his heart and replaced it with this. It was designed to enhance endurance, but the 'Aetheric Fluid' leaked."

She used tweezers to scrape a bit of crust from the pump. "High concentrations of metallic salts entered his bloodstream. It turned him to stone from the inside out in seconds."

She looked up, her eyes locking onto Linus's. "This isn't a curse, Linus. This is human experimentation. Someone is trying to create 'Super Soldiers,' and the failures are being discarded like trash."

The truth was a thousand times darker than a witch's curse.

"You're right," Linus said, his voice a low vibration. He circled the table and came up behind her.

Lillian tried to straighten her back, but she felt his hard, solid chest press against her spine. He braced his hands on the table, caging her.

"Human modification... only the foundries controlled by the Brandt family have this technology." He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear.

Lillian went rigid. The clinical logic ebbed, replaced by the primal fear of the prey.

"I've proven my worth," she said, her voice tight. "Let me go."

Linus didn't move. His hand left the table and moved to her waist, his fingers splaying wide over the velvet. "You have indeed proven your worth, Lillian."

He took a deep breath against her neck, inhaling the scent of stone dust and her fear.

"But you're the only civilian who knows this truth now. If you walk out that door, Brandt's assassins will have you in pieces by dawn." His grip tightened, pulling her flush against him. "So, it seems you'll be staying in my cage a while longer."

He seized her chin, forcing her to look at him. Between them was a fever of desire and dominance.

"Besides..." Linus looked at her lips, his gaze darkening. "I find I rather like the way you look with a knife in your hand."