Playing With Fire

Chapter Twenty-six MURDER IN THE NEW MORGUE

STENTOR AND CIVET struggled to move the Grotesquery off the gurney and onto the operating table. The Grotesquery was big, and heavy, and awkward, but most of all it was big and heavy. They had just managed to drag the top half over when the gurney squeaked and moved, and the Grotesquery started to fall. Civet tried to grab it but he went under, and the Grotesquery dropped, very slowly, on top of him. "Help," Civet cried.

Professor Grouse stormed in. "What on earth are you playing at?"

"It — it fell," Stentor said, standing to attention.

"I can see that!" Grouse barked. "That specimen is a rare opportunity to study a hybrid form, you imbecile. I don't want it damaged."

"Yes, Professor. Sorry."

"Why were you trying to move it by yourself? Where's Civet?"

Civet managed to raise a hand. "Here I am, Professor."

"What on earth are you doing down there, Civet?"

"Trying to breathe, sir."

"Well, get up!"

"I would, sir, but it's very heavy. If you could maybe grab an arm, or something. ..."

"I'm an old man, you fool. You expect me to lift that monstrosity off you?"

"Not by yourself, no. But maybe if Stentor were to help, then I could wriggle out. It really is getting difficult to breathe under here. I think my lung is collapsing."

Grouse gestured. "Stentor, help me lift."

"Yes, Professor."

Together, they pulled the Grotesquery back far enough to enable Civet to squirm out.

"I've never dropped a specimen," Grouse said as they grunted and heaved. "I was never pinned by a corpse either, Civet, you remember that."

"Yes sir," Civet said, as he finally managed to extricate himself.

Grouse hunkered down beside the Grotesquery, then took a pair of scissors and carefully snipped a few bandages away, revealing the scarred flesh beneath. "Astonishing," he murmured. "So many parts from different creatures, all merged into the one being. A being born of impossible horrors ..."

Stentor nodded. "It'd be even more impressive if it worked, though."

"Less talking," Grouse snapped, "more lifting. Lift it onto the table. And no more damage to it, you hear? I swear, you're lucky I'm so easygoing. Stentor, bend your knees when you lift, you idiot."

"Sorry, sir."

They strained and lifted, and suddenly Civet let go and jumped back. Stentor clung on, holding the Grotesquery half on, half off the table.

"What's wrong now?" Grouse demanded.

"Professor," Civet said nervously, "are you sure this thing is dead?"

"It's not a thing, it's a specimen."

"Sorry, sir. Are you sure this specimen is dead? I ... I think it moved."

"Of course it moved. You moved it."

"No sir, I mean, I think it moved on its own."

"Well, I don't see how that could be. The ritual to bring it to life was interrupted — only a small portion of Valkyrie Cain's blood was transfused."

Civet hesitated, then grabbed a massive arm and helped Stentor slide it farther onto the table.

He leaped away. "Okay!" he said loudly. "Okay, that time I definitely felt it move!"

"A lot of energy was passed into it," Grouse said, frowning. "It may just be a residual spasm. The muscles may simply be reacting to stimuli."

"It wasn't a spasm," Civet said. "I swear."

Grouse looked at the bandage-wrapped body. It was big, and cold, and unmoving. "Very well," he said. "How many Cleavers are stationed here?"

"Three."

"Okay then. Boys, I want you both to go upstairs, tell the Cleavers to come down here, tell them we may have a — "

And then the Grotesquery sat up and Civet yelled and jumped back, but Stentor was too slow and it grabbed his head in its big hand and crushed it like a freshly laid egg.