As the Crow Carves

Letter. Stained paper, 5x6 in.

Our dearest Doctor,

A woman came by our humble laboratory to ask for a consultation. She seems a specimen worthy of study: white hair and dark circles, but young. Or perhaps the other way: bright eyes and malleable skin, but old. Alas, she did not wish to subject herself to study and was regrettably firm. She only wanted to know our qualifications.

We aren’t suited for the job, but we crowed your praises, though the results of your last surgery speak for themselves. You created such a beautiful beak. The woman seemed <i>very</i> interested. Did we do the right thing, Doctor? Perhaps we should have kept silent. Perhaps we should have killed her for prying. But she didn’t try to kill us first. In fact, she seemed to have a great deal of respect for our noble profession, and left peacefully.

Please do keep your equipment ready. Just in case.

Your loyal assistants,

Brood and Bile

Letter. 8x6 in. Paper rolled and bound with a severed crow’s foot.

To the one they called the Plague Doctor,

I write you on behalf of my mentor. She seeks your expertise in treating an acquaintance. Mr. Russett is very ill after exposure to the local environment. His life is now ruled by compulsive spurts of blood and violence, which he cannot remember afterward, and no one can prevail upon him anymore.

He will need to change.

Please make yourself available to meet tomorrow at midnight, and we will explain further. Think of it as an experiment: something that pulls us all toward a better future. Perhaps we can use the results for cures against this pestilence you study.

If that doesn’t strike your fancy, there is also budget for a handsome reward.

--Sophie Laurent

Medical notes, Emma Davies. Bloodstained, black leatherbound journal, 8x10 in.

Diagnosis: Engorged mass, vascularized, protruding from the chest, attributed to Corruption. We operate to remove. The patient will need blood transfusions throughout.

Before Operation: Patient bound to table. Pulse recorded at nearly double average speed. Anesthesia administered to mitigate struggling, but fails. Vomit is mostly blood. Anesthetic mixed with crow blood is successful.

6:02 PM: Operation begins. Transfusion of corrupted blood produces muscle spasms within the first hour. First incision to the abdomen reveals growth of new ventricles and veins, anterior and bilateral. Additional transfusion enlarges the heart. Valves leak. By 11:30 PM, spasms extend to the new appendages. Doctor locates the—I will create a term for it later. It appears to be an artery. It leads inward to—<b>[Blood spatter obscures most of the text, and the handwriting grows increasingly rushed.]</b> — erupts from chest <b>[illegible]</b> yet beautiful <b>[illegible]</b> TEETH <b>[sic; illegible]</b> —

<b>Notes resume on the next clean page. The handwriting is steady again.</b>

Interrupted by an attempt to disrupt the operation by non-medical personnel. Culprits have fled. The blood they left is picked up with a rag and drip-fed to patient. It weeps red tears and its new organ writhes. Operation resumes 4:43 AM.

Journal. 8x6 in.

Post-operation notes: Davies and Creed performed admirably; they will be doctors in their own right, soon. Their hands remained steady, both during the surgery itself and with bomb lances when threatened with interference. The transfusion was successful, and Mr. Russett has transcended. He has more than enough blood, now. It bursts from his joints and oozes from his skin. He cannot contain it all inside him. Yet his thirst continues, even more ardently than before.

What a privilege to be head surgeon over such an operation! Though it felt more like a birth. The patient screamed like a newborn finally meeting the cold cruelty of the world outside. It could no longer form words, instead gurgling through the viscera in its throat, clucking its massive tongue like a child trying to utter its first word. Though its eyes were covered, it leapt into the night, leaving a glistening trail behind it. I let it go. I loved the way my hands were stained. I would like to see this creation shine like the red moon. I’ll admit I had feared nothing could ever compare to my glorious time with Mr. Wyndham, but this has surpassed it. This has given me hope for more.

My employer did not seem concerned at the operation’s conclusion, her only reaction a signal to Miss Laurent and a sharp nod in my direction. She maintains great interest in our use of crow’s blood. We are making steady progress on our research, and more operations are due to be scheduled.

Many have been maimed in this place. And many more wallow in their own sorrow and desperation. I can help.