Yve leaned closer over the table, studying Maurice's body.
Jenkins studied the woman's corpse behind her, shoulders heavy, exhaling through his nose like he'd run out of ways to be tired.
Another long sigh slipped out of him.
Yve tilted her head slightly. "You alright, doc?"
Jenkins didn't look up right away. "…Yeah." He swallowed. "Just… still can't believe it. Based on the missing jaw, I'd say he didn't go quietly."
Yve's expression softened a fraction. "Yeah… Maurice was a good man." She glanced down. "In just a week… we've lost so many already."
Jenkins rested a hand on the edge of the table, grounding himself against the weight of it. "This job is hard," he said quietly.
Another breath. Another pause.
Yve shifted closer again. Her claws flexed once—then relaxed—carefully extending out as she leaned in to examine the injuries more precisely.
She traced the edge of the wounds on Maurice's chest without touching them directly, eyes tracking the shape, the depth, the direction of force.
Jenkins watched her work. "You figured that out yet?" he asked.
Yve didn't answer immediately. She kept looking. She leaned in further, then finally spoke, voice quieter now. "…Yeah." A pause. "I think I know how he died."
Jenkins looked up at her, pen already hovering. "You do? How?"
Yve tilted her head toward the table. "Come here."
Jenkins moved around table body, stepping beside her.
Yve leaned in and used the tip of her claws to indicate the wounds. "See that? Those are claw marks. Not siren-made. Not animal either."
Jenkins squinted. "Yeah…those look… deep."
"They are." She traced the direction of the tears in the flesh. "That belongs to a Skindrifter."
Jenkins stiffened. "…What?" He adjusted his glasses like that might fix the meaning. "Really?"
Yve shook her head once.
Jenkins stared at her. "Hold on." He straightened. "Let me get your tablet. I need to document this." He moved fast to his desk, pulling open a drawer and retrieving the advanced siren-tech. He returned and powered it on. "Go on," he said, already tapping the tablet.
Yve pointed toward the dark residue clinging to the edges of Maurice's wounds. "The black goo in his wounds is from a Skindrifter."
Jenkins adjusted his glasses and leaned closer. "I initially assumed it was necrotic blood or just some kind of chemicals."
Yve shook her head. "No." She walked to the neighboring table where the dead Skindrifter lay beneath a stained sheet. Pulling the covering back slightly, she exposed one of its hands. "Look."
Jenkins followed.
Yve pointed first at the creature's claws, then at the tears carved across Maurice's chest. "If we compare those marks to these claws..."
Jenkins leaned in. His eyes moved between the corpse and the wounds. Then again. Then a third time. "...The spacing matches."
Yve nodded. "It does."
Jenkins immediately began recording notes into the tablet. "Interesting..." His eyes drifted back toward Maurice. "What about the heart?" he asked. "The vascular damage suggests forcible extraction. The major vessels appear torn rather than severed. Almost as if..." He trailed off.
Yve finished the thought. "Skindrifter ate it."
Jenkins visibly recoiled. A sound somewhere between a cough and a gag escaped him. "They what?"
"Ate. It."
Jenkins looked back at Maurice. Then at the empty cavity. Then immediately regretted doing so. "Why?" he asked. "Is that... a dietary requirement? Do they specifically consume human hearts?"
"Not all humans." Yve folded her arms. "Skindrifters feed on trust. Compassion. Empathy."
Jenkins paused mid-note. "...Those are not edible substances."
"You know what I mean." Yve pointed at Maurice. "Based on what happened these past few days, the Skindrifter likely pretended to be David."
Jenkins nodded slowly. "Go on."
"It lured Maurice somewhere isolated." Her gaze lowered briefly. "Maurice followed without hesitation."
Jenkins frowned. "Because he trusted David."
"Exactly." Yve tapped the edge of the table. "Or what he thought was David."
Jenkins remained silent for a moment. His fingers hovered above the tablet. "But why?" he finally asked. "What purpose does that serve? Why exploit affection? Why not simply attack?"
Yve's expression darkened. "Hatred."
Jenkins wrote.
"Jealousy."
He wrote again.
"An unsatisfied thirst for vengeance."
This time he stopped writing. "Hm."
Yve glanced at him. "Hm?"
Jenkins looked thoughtful. "Those are remarkably complex motivations."
"Yes."
"Which implies a sophisticated emotional framework."
Yve shrugged. "I suppose."
The room fell quiet.
Finally, Yve spoke again. "I don't actually know why they feed on the hearts that trust and love the people they imitate."
Jenkins looked up. "But?"
Yve hesitated. For the first time since the examination began, she seemed uncertain. "Maybe..." She glanced at Maurice. "...because they died without it."
Jenkins didn't interrupt.
"Maybe they died alone." Her voice was quieter now. "With their bodies left to rot somewhere and without a proper funeral." She looked toward the Skindrifter's corpse. "Maybe nobody even knew where they were."
Jenkins lowered the tablet slightly. The explanation lingered in the room. Then he frowned. "Wait."
Yve blinked. "What?"
"I'm realizing there is a significant gap in my understanding."
"Which is?"
Jenkins continued. "You keep referring to them as dead."
"Because they are."
"No, I understand that part." He rubbed his forehead. "What I mean is... dead in what sense?"
Yve tilted her head.
Jenkins continued. "Are we discussing something analogous to Shriekers? Reanimated biological tissue? Similar to the undead depicted in popular films?"
Yve immediately shook her head. "No."
Jenkins waited.
Yve pointed at Maurice. "Shriekers are bodies like Maurice here, if he were infected his body would come back to life." Then she pointed at the Skindrifter. "Skindrifters are souls."
Jenkins froze. His fingers stopped moving. For several seconds he simply stared at her. "...Come again?"
"You heard me right."
The scientist's eyes widened behind his glasses. For perhaps the first time that day, Dr. Jenkins looked genuinely shaken. "But that's not possible."
Yve raised an eyebrow. "What isn't?"
"Souls." Jenkins gestured vaguely. "They cannot be observed. They cannot be measured. They cannot be quantified." He adjusted his glasses. "I've read numerous studies concerning the soul, consciousness after death, and alleged spiritual phenomena. None have produced reproducible evidence."
Yve blinked. "You still stuck with that tiny human brain of yours, huh?"
Jenkins looked offended. "I beg your pardon?"
"Maybe I should've spent more time tinkling at your brain when I operated on you."
Jenkins scoffed. "No. You're misunderstanding me." He pointed the tablet at her. "What I mean is that souls, by definition, should be intangible. They shouldn't be visible, tangible, audible, or detectable through any known sensory mechanism. Like air." He paused. "Actually, that's a poor analogy."
Yve waited.
"Air is technically detectable." Jenkins sighed. "You understand my point."
"I do." Yve folded her arms. "And you're wrong."
Jenkins groaned immediately. "Oh, wonderful."
"Humans can't see souls."
"Exactly."
"Because human biology hasn't evolved to."
Jenkins stopped. "...What?"
Yve pointed at Maurice's corpse. "Humans." Then she pointed at herself. "Sirens." Then toward the dead Skindrifter. "And many other species."
Jenkins frowned.
Yve continued. "Out of all the intelligent species I've encountered, humans are one that I find unique."
"How so?"
"You are both remarkably aware and yet remarkably unevolved."
Jenkins stared. "Those sound mutually exclusive."
Yve ignored him. "Humans evolved to be sapient beings before developing the biological evolution that usually accompany that kind of awareness."
Jenkins pinched the bridge of his nose. "I feel like you're somehow becoming less coherent."
Yve sighed. "It is true that souls cannot be detected through your basic senses."
"Glaring the obvious…go on."
"But the other senses can perceive them."
Jenkins stared at her. "Other senses?"
Yve nodded.
Then very carefully, he said, "But there are only five senses."
Yve tilted her head. "Okay genius, name them."
Jenkins frowned. "Vision," he said counting one in his right hand. "Auditory perception, tactile sensation, olfactory perception, gustation."
Yve looked at him like he'd just admitted he couldn't see colors. "You're still only counting the obvious ones."
Jenkins adjusted his glasses. "The obvious ones are generally the ones supported by neuroscience."
"Feelings are senses."
He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "...No, it's not."
"Yes."
Jenkins sighed. "Yve, emotions are psychological states."
"They are information."
"That is not the same thing."
Yve tilted her head. "When you're afraid, do you know you're afraid?"
"Of course."
"Without looking? Without touching it? Hearing it? Tasting it?"
Jenkins frowned. "That's not—" He paused.
"So how do you know?" Yve folded her arms. "Feeling."
There was an awkward silence.
Then Yve continued. "Instinct is a sense. Awareness is a sense. Empathy is a sense."
"No. Definitely not. And empathy is certainly not a sense."
"It lets you perceive things."
"It lets you infer things." Jenkins corrected.
Yve pointed at him. "When Dylan walks into a room angry, can you tell?"
"Not really…for the years I've known him he always looked angry."
"Before he speaks?"
Jenkins hesitated. "...Occasionally."
Yve spread her hands. "See?"
"But that's body language."
"That's empathy."
Jenkins groaned. "This is ridiculous."
Yve smiled. "In my world, it's called normal."
A quiet stretch of silence settled between them, broken only by the faint mechanical hum of the tablet in Jenkins' hands.
Then Jenkins spoke, more measured now. "Is this how you identified Dylan as a Skindrifter?"
Yve didn't answer immediately. Her eyes stayed on Maurice for a moment longer before she exhaled. "No." She shook her head slightly. "It took me longer than that."
Jenkins watched her carefully.
Yve continued, quieter. "Even beings like us… our senses also fail. I mean I already felt something was off when I first saw him in the forest. When he was looking for me." A pause. "But I ignored it."
Jenkins frowned. "You suppressed the inference."
Yve gave a faint, tired smile. "If you want to phrase it like that." Her gaze dropped. "I didn't want to doubt him."
Jenkins' expression softened slightly. "…Do you feel guilty?"
Yve didn't answer right away. Then she let out a slow breath. "Yeah." She looked back at Maurice. "If I'd realized sooner… he wouldn't have almost died."
Jenkins adjusted his grip on the tablet, then spoke carefully. "If it provides any marginal consolation, your senses failing was not isolated."
Yve glanced at him.
He continued. "The other sirens also failed to identify the anomaly."
Yve nodded once, but it didn't ease her expression. "That's because their guards were down." A pause. "We like to think we're evolved." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "But we're actually not." She exhaled through her nose. "If anything… sirens are just as stupid as humans."
Jenkins blinked slowly. "I'm unsure how to respond to that statement."
Yve looked at him.
"As a former human, I find that offensive."
"How about as a newly surgically transformed siren?"
Jenkins paused. "I am still unsure how to respond. But I do feel some kind of anger by what you said…feel like my honor has been…"
Yve let out a short, dry chuckle. "Seems like you're starting to react like a true siren." A pause. "But it's true though." Her voice softened again. "We're just as stupid and just as emotional as humans." She glanced back at the bodies. "Maybe even more."
Silence.
Then Jenkins spoke, voice low but steady. "I learn a great deal when I speak with you, Yve."
Yve glanced at him without looking away from the body. "Of course you do. I'm fun and interesting." She shrugged lightly, like it was self-evident.
Jenkins didn't react to the humor. His eyes stayed on Maurice. "Based on everything you've described…" he said carefully, "is it reasonable to assume Maurice's soul is now extant, and… hostile?"
Yve finally looked at him properly. Then at Maurice. A slow exhale left her. "Yeah." She leaned back slightly. "He died alone. Scared. Probably felt betrayed." Her gaze tightened. "And his body's been abandoned for days before Duncan and Darnell found him."
Jenkins frowned. "Is there a temporal threshold? A point at which transformation becomes irreversible?"
Yve shook her head. "The book I read says it depends."
"On what?"
"How bad it was." She gestured faintly toward the wounds. "How forgotten they are. How they died. How long they were left like this."
A pause.
Jenkins' brow furrowed. "And Maurice?"
Yve didn't hesitate. "…He's probably already a Skindrifter."
Silence.
Jenkins lowered the tablet slightly. "Is there any intervention protocol?" he asked. "Containment? Cognitive anchoring? Emotional recall triggers? Maybe we can still try and save him? Show him how much we cared about him."
Yve shook her head again. "Won't work." She looked at Maurice with something heavier in her expression now. "Once they turn, they lose their memories."
Jenkins went still.
Yve continued quietly. "All they keep is the moment they died." She pointed faintly at the body. "And whatever they see first after that."
Jenkins' jaw tightened. "So the abandonment becomes the anchor point."
Yve nodded once. "That's what fuels it. Rage. Loneliness. Helplessness." A long pause followed. "And based on Maurice's case, the pain of betrayal."
Jenkins finally spoke, softer now. "…He didn't deserve this."
A knock echoed across the house.
Dylan stepped in without waiting. He nodded once at Jenkins. "Yo."
Yve turned slightly, voice soft. "Hi…"
The room still carried Maurice.
Dylan's eyes flicked over it, then back. "What's with the vibe in here?"
Yve answered flat. "Nothin'."
Dylan didn't buy it, but didn't push. He looked at Jenkins.
Jenkins adjusted his glasses, steadying himself. "It's nothing," he said. "Though I have obtained a significant amount of new information today."
Dylan blinked once. "…Right."
A pause.
Then Yve's expression shifted. She sniffed the air. "…What's that smell?"
Jenkins frowned immediately. "Yeah. What is that?" He looked toward Dylan. "It's like forest biomass mixed with iron-rich blood."
Dylan's posture tightened a fraction. "Uh…"
Yve stepped closer. Focused now. "It's coming from you." Her eyes tracked him. "Are you injured? Or did you enter the forest alone again?"
Dylan caught her wrists lightly, stopping her from leaning in further. "What? No—no, no."
Yve's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then what was that? I was with you the whole night, and that's not how you smelled then."
The words landed wrong—too casual, too intimate, too honest. The air in the room shifted immediately.
Dylan went still.
Yve froze right after him, realizing a second too late what she'd implied.
Jenkins looked down and away, suddenly very interested in the tablet in his hands. "I am an adult," he muttered. "This does not concern me in any capacity."
Yve's face flushed hard. "Oh heavens… this is embarrassing."
Dylan exhaled through his nose, a faint half-smile tugging at him despite everything. "I'm fine," he said. "It's just—"
"Just what?" Yve cut in quickly.
He hesitated. Then scratched the back of his neck. "I'd show you, but… promise me you won't freak out."
That made Yve's expression tighten instantly. "What is it, Dylan? Are you alright? Why would you say that? That already sounds like something I should freak out about."
Jenkins cleared his throat, voice suddenly too precise. "Maintain emotional regulation, Yve. Panic responses are counterproductive."
Dylan shot him a look. "…Not helping," he muttered.
Jenkins immediately looked away again.
Then Dylan started removing his shirt. The room went quiet in a way that felt heavier than before. He turned his back to them.
For a second, nobody spoke.
Jenkins' expression shifted immediately, professional control cracking. "…What the fuck!"
Yve moved before she fully processed it. "Dylan…" She stepped closer, voice dropping. "I'm so sorry."
"Hey." Dylan's voice stayed calm. "Relax."
"Stop telling me to relax," Yve snapped, sharper than she meant. "I almost tore your back open. You relax."
Dylan reached back and gently took her wrists again, guiding her hands away from instinct. "They don't hurt."
Yve blinked. "What?"
Dylan shifted slightly, like he was testing it again. "No pain. No sting. Nothin'." His jaw tightened a little. "My muscles are sore, yeah… but that's 'cause of you ridin' me all night."
A beat.
Absolute silence.
Then—
Yve froze so hard it looked like someone paused her mid-animation. The color drained from her face, her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Jenkins made a sharp sound. Not quite a cough. Not quite a choke. But like the sound of a man swallowing his tongue. He slowly, deliberately, tried to focus his attention back on the tablet.
Meanwhile, Dylan realized what he'd said a half-second after the words left his mouth. His gaze dropped to the floor. He cleared his throat, a rough, awkward sound that scraped the silence.
After a moment of awkward silence, Dylan let out a short breath. "I mean… what I'm sayin' is I'm fine." He then crossed his arms, stared at the opposite wall with the intensity of a man praying for a sinkhole to open up and swallow him whole.
Yve exhaled sharply through her nose, still clearly trying to recover from the earlier misunderstanding. "Alright. Turn around. Let me see it again."
Dylan obeyed, rotating slowly.
Yve stepped in closer, focus returning instantly as she examined the wounds. "…What's with this bluish residue?" she muttered. "What kind of hole did you swim in?"
That did it.
Jenkins made a strangled sound, forcing his laughter back down, immediately pressing the tablet against his face like it could erase sound waves.
Dylan gave a quiet, restrained chuckle but didn't turn around.
Yve snapped her head slightly. "Oh shut up, Jenkins."
Jenkins' voice came muffled from behind the tablet. "What? You're the one who said it."
Yve rolled her eyes hard enough to feel it.
Dylan tilted his head slightly. "I ain't swum in nothin'."
Yve leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes. "No… wait." Her tone changed. "These are coming from the wounds."
Jenkins lowered the tablet instantly. That shift in tone was enough. He moved toward the drawer beside the table, he pulled out a cotton swab, already moving into procedure mode without thinking. He gently swabbed the residue from Dylan's back, then brought it close, analyzing it with a faint frown. "…It smells like blood," he said slowly. "But there's additional organic complexity present."
Yve nodded. "Forest scent."
"And this sheen…" Jenkins added, turning it slightly under the light. "It has refractive properties inconsistent with standard hemoglobin degradation."
Yve straightened slightly. She walked to the window without another word. Grabbed the blinds and rolled them up.
Sunlight poured in and it hit Dylan's back fully. For a moment, nothing changed.
Then—
It showed.
A faint glow. Not bright, not obvious, but unmistakable. Soft, dark bioluminescence spreading subtly across the residue lines.
Yve went still, mouth agape.
Jenkins did too. The cotton swab dropped slightly in his hand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note;
Offer is still up!