Page 33 of A Most Abhorrent Vessel

I place his translucent hand on his chest. Perhaps if I removed the bandages, it would take better effect?

I unwind them swiftly, placing Orlando’s effects beside him.

Still, no change takes hold of him.

I desperately try not to despair, for the longer he remains afflicted, the more I fear for his fate.

How did I come to care for this near-stranger so quickly? At first, it was mere curiosity, but then—I haven’t cared for another since I was turned. But here he was, this strange man. Utterly captivating.

My mind conjures his image as he appeared before me when he consumed my ichor. I cannot deny I was mesmerised. He was beautiful in a delicate way—not in a soft manner, but rather intense, like ancient cliffs along an icy sea.

Yet it was not that. Beauty, after all, didn’t suffice to captivate me.

There was something about his demeanour. Perhaps the lonesomeness in his voice? Or was it the yearning in his eyes that made me feel seen?

But of what use are these sentiments while he remains lifeless before me?

Is there no other hope left?

No. I shan’t accept this fate. Perhaps, if I were to share my essence? I do not know if my ichor has the power to revive the dead.

I swiftly remove my coat and unfasten a cuff—but wait.

I glance at Orlando.

A flicker.

I cease to blink, hoping my eyes did not deceive me.

There!

Between the unbuttoned shirt, it appears.

Infinitely faint. Finer than a moth’s wing.

Bones.

Ever so slowly, they unfold.

Long, thick bones conjured from a crimson fog.

The outline of a body.

A heart. Still and unmoving, it awaits within a delicate cage. Lungs blossom incarnadine until they cradle it carefully.

Sinews wrap themselves around marrow, deep red muscles crowd the space between. The transformation takes place before me swifter than mortal eyes can comprehend.

In awe, I watch, and I wait.

Then skin finally writhes over every limb like greedy parasites. Faded chamois, scattered with freckles like a map. I want to touch them, but—

Long, dark lashes frame closed eyes. A delicate moustache over a full lip. Wavy hair curls around too-big ears.

Then, one ragged exhale as if it were his last.

No. His first.

His nostrils flare and then all of life begins in unison.