The woman in the tank looked past Erebos and found Kegaku's ruined hand.
Her right palm opened against the glass. The graft copied her from across the room, peeling itself off the black table while Kegaku fought to keep his elbow down. Its surviving teeth opened around a piece of burned white thread.
The woman's mouth moved inside the cloudy water.
Her voice came through the graft, thin but still understandable.
"Bring my hand to the glass before the collector cuts again."
Kegaku stared at the woman. His lips parted around an answer, but the curse marks under his collar pulled tight before he could give it.
Erebos kept one hand on the tank's gold rim.
"The connection failed twice before, and you will remain still."
The woman flexed her fingers. Kegaku's graft clamped around his wrist hard enough to fold him over the table.
"She appears to disagree with the person speaking for her."
