Free Lynn Viehl - Darkyn 1 - If Angels Burn (v1.1) by If Angels Burn

patients here.” She pushed herself off the table and tapped the surface. “You’ll be first.”
    Alex took blood and tissue samples, using syringes that appeared to be made from the same bronze metal as the knife. “Why aren’t these needles stainless steel?”
    “Copper is the only metal that can penetrate my skin.”
    “Get out of here.” She removed the needle from his arm and watched the tiny hole it had left disappear. “What moron told you that?”
    He sighed. “Think of it as a severe allergy.”
    To keep from snickering, Alex rolled over the portable X-ray and took a full head series. Luckily she still remembered how to develop the plates from her intern days. Once the films were developed, she placed them on a light table and studied the results.
    The results were unspeakable.
    Cyprien got off the exam table and joined her. “What is it?”
    “This could be your skull. I think.” She pointed to the jagged contours of his distorted bones, and then remembered he couldn’t see. “Sorry. It looks like someone put a puzzle together with all the pieces jammed in the wrong places.” She glanced up at him. “How are you able to walk around like this without bumping into things?”
    “I’ve always had an excellent proximity sense.” He reached out and tapped the end of her nose with one finger. “And your voice is very easy to follow.”
    The touch was casual, even friendly. But Alex didn’t want to be friendly with Cyprien. She wanted to be in Chicago.
    “My mom always said she could hear me a block away.” She surreptitiously rubbed her nose and then studied the films again. “I’ll need to see any other X-rays of your head taken prior to the accident.”
    “There are none.”
    It wasn’t her lucky night. “Okay, then I’ll need to see a photograph of what you looked like before this.”
    “I’ve never been photographed.”
    “Not for a passport or a driver’s license or… you’re kidding, right?” When he shook his head, she released a frustrated breath. “You’re not. Of course. Great. How am I supposed to restore your face if I don’t know what it used to look like?”
    He turned in the direction of their silent chaperone. “Phillipe,
obtenez la peinture de la bibliothèque et apportez-l’au docteur
.”
    Phillipe disappeared, and then returned a few minutes later carrying a huge painting of a knight in a white mantle and armor.
    The face of the man in the painting was handsome, if a little cruel-looking around the mouth and eyes. Maybe he was upset about all the crushed, bleeding bodies around the feet of his horse.
    “Nice picture,” Alex told Cyprien, “but that’s not going to help much.”
    “Will it not?” He seemed surprised. “Before the accident, I looked exactly like the man in the portrait.”
    “You looked like this badass white knight on the black horse stomping over a bunch of dead people?” she asked, to be sure. After all, Phillipe could have picked the wrong painting. “He looks like he’s waiting for three other guys to show up in the bloodred moonlight.”
    “Perhaps he was.” The hole of his mouth bent up on the ends. “In his time, however, he was considered to be a rather handsome, dashing fellow.”
    “If you like guys who wear tin cans to work, I guess.” The painting was actually quite detailed; she moved closer to it and studied the face. “I can’t give you back the mustache and beard unless I can uncover some hair follicles, and you’ll need to dye the rest of your hair to lose the Cruella De Vil effect. I can manage the features, though, if I can figure out how to keep you from healing around my scalpel.”
    “I have also had all the instruments coated with copper. It… delays the healing.” He gestured toward the cabinet. “Is there anything else you require?”
    She didn’t even hesitate. “Three surgical interns, four nurses, an anesthesiologist, a sterile environment, a blood bank, an ICU, two weeks to prepare and test the