Page 16

Jonah nodded slowly, the tension in his jaw easing just a fraction. He released her arm, and with that silent reassurance, Ruby turned and jogged after Gerald. The weight of Jonah’s scowl lingered on her back.

Gerald led her through a narrow door behind the counter, the scent of old wood and metal registers thick in the air as they passed.

They entered a tiny kitchenette, the space cooler and tinged with the faint smell of smoke.

An antique oven, its once-white enamel now chipped and browned with age, stood against the far wall, coated in a thick layer of grime, as though it hadn’t been used in decades.

Time had forgotten this place, leaving it preserved in the amber glow of another era.

“First door on the right, honey,” Gerald said, pointing with a crooked finger. “I’m gonna head back into the shop and give it another wipe down before closing up for the night.”

Ruby glanced at her phone—2 p.m. The knot of dread tightened in her chest, twisting into something darker, more insistent. She watched him shuffle away, the door clicking softly behind him, leaving her in silence.

The room was unsettlingly neat, save for the oven, as though it had been scrubbed clean with obsessive precision.

No dishes cluttered the sink, no trash overflowed from the can, and only two items rested on the chipped Formica table: a lighter and a container of cigars, both polished to a dull sheen.

They seemed to be the only traces of life left in this space, stark against the otherwise immaculate surroundings.

A wall adorned with a collection of photographs stood in front of her.

Her pulse quickened as she stepped closer.

In one, a younger Gerald beamed at her, his arms wrapped around a dark-haired woman in a wedding dress.

Both of them radiated happiness. Ruby reached out, her fingertips trembling as she slipped the photograph out and flipped it over.

The ink on the back was faded but legible, scrawled in messy handwriting: “Gerald and Esther wedding, July 8, 1942.”

A chill ran through her, ice flooding her veins.

Horror gripped her heart with such ferocity that she had to brace herself against the table to keep from falling.

The world seemed to hum, a high-pitched buzzing filling her ears, drowning out everything else.

She forced herself to take a step, then another, back toward the door leading to the shop.

The floorboards groaned under her weight as if protesting her every movement.

She could hear the low murmur of voices—Jonah and Gerald discussing some trinket, the sound muted and distant. Taking a steadying breath, she pushed through the door. The scent of dust and aged wood greeted her once more.

“Who are you?” Gerald cut through the silence, startling her. He had set aside the antique he’d been polishing and was staring at her, confusion clouding his features. “What were you doing in my house? Customers aren’t allowed back there.”

Ruby froze for a moment before Jonah stepped forward, his expression tense. “Do you… Do you really not know?” His eyes searched Gerald’s face as if looking for an answer that wasn’t there.

Gerald blinked, shaking his head as though trying to clear the fog in his mind. “I have to close up soon,” he muttered, running an old rag over the counter, though it was already spotless. “Gotta start preparing dinner for me and the misses.”

Ruby took a step closer and placed her hand on Jonah’s arm, grounding herself. “No,” she whispered, barely audible. “I don’t think he does.”

Realization dawned on Jonah’s face, horror flashing across his features. “That’s not possible,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “Thermophiles don’t get sick. They don’t even age.”

Ruby swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. “Before I turned, I had an accident. I burned the side of my leg pretty badly, and it left a large scar. It didn’t heal after I became a thermophile. I still have it.”

Jonah’s eyes searched hers, desperate for answers. “Meaning?”

“Meaning the bacteria doesn’t heal previous injuries, infections, or diseases.

If he already had a degenerative disorder, it would stop it from escalating, but it wouldn’t reverse it.

” She glanced at Gerald, whose vacant stare was now fixed on a distant point beyond them.

“He probably doesn’t even know he’s a thermophile. ”

“What does thermophile mean?” Gerald asked, frowning, his brow knitting together in confusion as if the term were just out of reach.

Ruby offered him a soft smile, her heart aching with the lie she was about to tell. “A superhero in a comic book,” she said, the words bitter on her tongue.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Jonah faltered. “Without phlogiston, he shouldn’t be able to move.”

“Do you smoke cigars, Gerald?” Ruby leaned against the counter. It creaked under her weight.

Gerald’s expression brightened, and he nodded sheepishly. “One a night. My Esther hates it, but it helps me sleep, so I smoke ’em in the bathroom. She should be coming home soon; she went out to buy eggs.”

Ruby nodded, trying to keep her face neutral. “I’m sure she’ll be here shortly.” She dropped her voice. “I texted Lucas when we got here. The TCA should be here soon.”

Panic seized Jonah, and he shook his head violently. “We have to get him out of here,” he pleaded. “He doesn’t even know what he is. He’s innocent. We have to… have to help him. We have to… do something.”

“No.” The word was firm, absolute.

Jonah spun to face her, eyes wide with disbelief. “No?”

“There’s nothing we can do for him but help him rest.” The words hollowed out her chest and carved her heart with a dull blade.

“Rest?” Jonah scoffed, “That’s really what you’re going with? Why? So you don’t have to admit you’re putting a sick, old man down like a dog?”

He tried to push past her, but she was faster, shoving him back and pinning him against the wall, her forearm pressing into his sternum. “This is for the best,” she insisted.

Jonah looked at her then, really looked at her, like he was seeing a stranger. Not even when he claimed to not know her had he looked at her this way. “I’m not going to stay to watch,” he spat, “Some of us don’t believe in this shit.”

He spun on his heel and stalked toward the exit, and she followed.

“What do you mean you don’t believe in this shit?” she demanded, her voice rising. “You’re a TCA agent, right? This is what we do.”

He whirled toward her. “This is what YOU do. I turn in actual criminals and look for Edward. That’s my job. Not this shit. Not fucking murder.” Seeing the way she recoiled, he scoffed. “You act like you don’t know that you kill them,”

She crossed her arms over her chest, squeezing, hoping maybe the action would numb the dull ache. “I don’t. But I do leave them for the people who do.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Jonah challenged.

Gerald bent over the counter and examined the contents within. He smiled to himself and hummed a song Ruby hadn’t heard in decades. The pit in her chest grew, stretching to engulf the entirety of her torso.

“No. I’m not okay with it.” She forced out. “I fully expect to pay for it someday. Either in this life or the next.”

“Then why—?”

“What’s the alternative?” she snapped. Her hands balled at her sides, nails cutting into her palm.

“There’s nothing the police can do. You shoot us, we get right back up.

Chop off my head, and my body will keep moving.

We’re strong enough to break out of any handcuffs, fast enough to outrun any human.

There’s no prison that could hold us. Death is the only option.

You KNOW this. You went through the training, just like I did. ”

Jonah’s expression hardened. “Hypocrite,” he hissed. “Guess that applies to every thermy except you, right? If you can live among people, especially with the number of people you’ve killed, then why can’t he? He hasn’t hurt anyone.”

“It’s different.” She didn’t believe the words, even as they tumbled from her mouth.

“How?” Jonah shouted, disbelief cutting through the air like a knife.

“Did he not think? Make his own decisions? Have a heart that pumps blood?” The hole expanded, consuming her legs in deadened anger.

“He has a disease. An infection. Just like you. He didn’t choose this, didn’t ask for it.

He can feel, and he’s alive, even if his version of life looks different from yours.

” Her arms were gone, engulfed in warming rage.

“You’re making monsters out of beings who had no choice.

Monsters out of people who have the same affliction as you.

You’re not superior just because you can walk around without the TCA breathing down your neck.

” Her head went next, rationality consumed by the heat of her fury.

“You’re worse than him when you think about it. At least he’s not a murderer.”

“I NEVER KILLED ANYONE!” Ruby’s yell echoed off the walls, raw and unfiltered, her chest heaving with the effort. The weight of them hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Jonah blinked, the anger draining from him, replaced by shock. “But—”

“But my number?” Ruby unclenched her trembling fist and pounded her hand into the wall beside Jonah.

Flecks of plaster floated to the ground.

“How long have you been thinking about it? Did it keep you up at night, wondering why you had to work with a murderer? A thermophile who killed thousands. Is that why you pretended to not know me? Why you ghosted me all those years ago? We spent months together and you couldn’t be bothered to even ask if the rumors were true.

” She let out a bitter, humorless laugh, her eyes never leaving his, her face mere inches away.

“Edward turned me. Burned my Andy. Then buried me alive under a crematorium.”