Sixten said, grimacing. “You stand corrected,” Kash muttered, trailing him. “You know, Qudir, maybe you should mention these nastier situations before you call. Like a heads up.” Sixten sauntered into the demolished lab. “Then I’ll kick off my favorite boots and replace them with the old ones I wear for gardening.” Qudir didn’t glance Sixten’s way. “You don’t do yard work.” “Still…common gentilities have escaped you lately.” With every step he took, blood squelched beneath his feet, making a God awful suctioning. Kash pushed a fingertip in his sensitive ear, swiveling it. “Nails on a chalkboard.” In front of them, blood dripped in slow, large drops onto a metal pan anchored to a gurney. Above, a youthful female with raven hair dangled from the ceiling by chains, her armpits cleanly sliced. “Where’s the rest coming from?” Sixten asked, since the human’s blood was contained. “It’s anyone’s guess,” Oycher answered, reaching up for the girl.
