Chương 123: Chapter 124 – Guilty Relief

Trula watched silently as Wentworth completed his exhaustive examination of the hybrid's corpse. His stomach tightened, bile rising as he remembered Wentworth's original plan to perform this procedure while the hybrid was still alive. Lately, he had become far too familiar with the man's descent into darkness. With every fiber of his being, he knew he had made the right decision to end the hybrid's life before the steely blade could make its first cut.

Wentworth had perfected ways of keeping subjects alive while he meticulously removed non‑essential organs, savoring every scream, every cry, every moan the subject made. Trula knew without question that Wentworth's displeasure came not from the hybrid's death, but from being denied the opportunity to torture him to his final breath. Sweat formed on the nape of Trula's neck. His anxiety climbed higher with every passing moment. What would he do if Wentworth figured it out?

How could he continue to feign ignorance about the hybrid's death if Wentworth discovered the lethal drug in the samples?

"Trula!" Wentworth snapped, his voice rising.

"Where the hell are you, because you sure as hell are not here!" Trula jolted.

"I'm sorry, sir. I was… eh… fascinated by the inner workings of this thing. They are, well…" he paused, "they are remarkably similar to our own."

"Yeah, whatever," Wentworth hissed.

"I'm sure we will find vast differences once every sample is examined and tested," he said, removing the lid from a specimen jar.

"They have all the same organs that we do," Trula said, then added, "and they all seem to be in the same places." Wentworth shot him an irritated glare.

"Yeah, so does a pig. That does not make them the same, now does it?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I will keep my observations to myself," Trula said softly.

"Here, take this," Wentworth ordered, handing him a jar containing the hybrid's heart.

"Make yourself useful and dissect this. Run toxicology on the tissue while you're at it. From what I can see, there may be scarring in the right ventricle. It looks enlarged," he said, inhaling sharply.

"I think he had a heart attack, maybe brought on by extreme stress, or maybe he had an underlying condition. Regardless, I want you to take a closer look." Trula accepted the jar, fully aware of what he would find. The hybrid had suffered a fatal heart attack, but it was by his hands, not from stress or disease. It was the drugs he had injected. He killed him. He carried the jar to the dissection table and opened it carefully. The heart attack itself would be easy enough to confirm.

The toxicology, however, would reveal the truth. How was he going to hide it? He glanced at Wentworth as the man continued examining the hybrid's body, then looked back at the heart. The answer struck him with sudden clarity. Wentworth had asked only for a toxicology report, not a DNA test. A simple toxicological analysis was all he wanted. All Trula needed was a little blood. Wentworth never needed to know where the sample came from; he only needed to believe it belonged to the hybrid.

The drug would appear only in toxicology. Whatever other tests Wentworth performed on the remaining samples would not expose the truth. Wentworth set a sample jar on the table with the others.

"Clean this mess up when you are done with that heart. I have an appointment, and I am already running late."

"Would you like the remains held in storage or in the incinerator?" Trula asked matter‑of‑factly as he made the first slice into the heart.

"Just burn it. Burn all of it," Wentworth said coldly.

"From what I can determine, and I'm sure you will find the same, it died of a massive coronary. He was probably a ticking time bomb with either coronary artery disease or some congenital condition," he sighed.

"I already gathered the genetic material I needed while he was alive, so the rest was just a waste of time. I found no glaring anatomical anomalies that would suggest anything significantly different from any other specimen out there, so just throw it all in the incinerator and be done with it."

"Yes, sir," Trula said, relief washing over him.

"I will take care of everything. It will be like it was never in the room."

"Yeah, yeah," Wentworth muttered, waving him off as he walked out the door. Trula watched him leave, then let out a heavy, trembling sigh as he set the scalpel down with shaking hands. He stared at the heart, torn between relief and guilt. Mere hours ago, this had been a living, breathing, self‑aware individual. Now he was reduced to pieces in unlabeled jars. Trula rose from the table and checked the hall. He needed to be certain Wentworth was gone before he did what he knew he had to do.

He waited by the door, listening for several minutes. When he was sure the hallway was empty, he shut the door and went to the supply closet. He retrieved the blood draw kit and rolled up his sleeve. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"Come on Lass, your wee one will be fine." Grim said, looking up at Sheera then over to Ray solemnly.

"Come on Sheera, she's a tough little cookie, in no time at all she will be back running around wanting to know all there is to know about this place." he said, trying to give her a reassuring smile.

"I mean look around, this place is well, it's kid sized, she's going to be running around like it is her own gigantic playground."

"Ray," Grim began, "We really need to get on that ship or we're going to be stuck here until tomorrow afternoon." He said, softly.

"Sheera, we need to go, honey." He said, taking her arm softly.

"I know it's hard, I know you're scared but allowing your emotions to paralyze you into inaction is not going to help Thai. Celestia said she is going to try to get a portal point closer to the Shadowborne Villa." He sighed, "You could very well miss her when she returns if you stay here." He looked over at Grim, his eyes pleading for help.

"Miss, your girl is in the greatest of hands, she has her daddy and Celestia to look after her. They are going to get her all fixed up and bring her back. You have a job to do and that's to take a breath and get on that boat, and get things ready for her return." He said, softly but firmly trying to elicit some form of response out of the elf. Ray watched as the dwarven dock hands worked diligently to move large crates on and off the cargo barge.

He felt odd referring to the vessel as a barge, to him it was merely a large raft. He could feel his anxiety rising as he looked at the vessel, what was the weight capacity on that thing. He knew they used it to transport large stones and items, but their definition of large and his definition of large were on two entirely different planes of existence. He watched silently as they scrambled hoisting the crates with a crane that was not much bigger than he was. He snickered to himself.

I wonder what they would do if I lent them a hand. He had little doubt that he could pick up the containers like picking up a box full of toys.

"Hey Grim?" Ray called out. Grim turned around to face him.

"Yeah." He said moving closer.

"What can I do you for?"

"Would I potentially be starting some kind of inter realm conflict if I helped get the crates on the ship?" He asked, almost shyly.

"I know we are already running behind, so you know…" he broke off watching Grim's lips curl into a smile.

"Well this should be interesting." Grim muttered.

"Hey guys!" He called out to the workers who were still scrambling to get the cargo loaded.

"The big guy here wants to give you a hand, you got any problem with it?" He asked, before snickering at Ray.

"No, boss. The more hands, the quicker it gets done. Send him over." An older dwarf with a clipboard replied.

"You heard the man, get going." Grim began, "I'm going to go sit with Miss Sheera."

"Okay." Ray said as he quickly made his way to the dock.

'What's your name?" The man with the clipboard asked, craning his neck to look up at Ray.

"Ray, sir." He said, extending a hand.

"Pleasure to meetcha Ray. I'm Scottie." He replied, sticking the clipboard under his arm and taking Ray's hand to shake it.

"You are a big fella, now aren't ye?" He snickered.

"Can ye by chance operate that there crane?" He asked pointing to the piece of equipment on the side of the dock. Ray looked in the direction Scottie was motioning in and began to laugh hysterically.

"Scottie, my friend, I wouldn't be workin' it, I'd be wearin' it." Scottie gave him a bewildered look, then looked at the crane and back at him and began laughing himself.

"I see whatcha mean, lad." He scratched his head.

"I see whatcha mean." Seeing Scottie's bewilderment he said, you know, I can probably pick up those crates faster than the crane, so why don't you just show me where they need to go and I'll start moving them for you."

"I don't wantcha do go hurtin' yourself lad, some of those crates are pretty dang heavy, at least a hundred or so pounds." Scottie said cautiously.

"You go hurtin' yourself, you'd be stuck where you dropped, cause I know me and the boys wouldn't be able to to go liftin' you on your feet." Ray snickered.

"I think I will be fine Scottie." Ray winked, just show me what you need moved. I'd hate to start putting things on that your men just took off."

"Alright." Scottie said skeptically.

"Over there," he said, pointing to the left side of the dock. Them there crates are the one's going your way, the ones there on the right are the ones that are stayin'" Ray walked over to the left side of the dock. The scrambling dwarven workers suddenly stopped as the shoved elbows into one other's side to look in Ray's direction. By the time Ray made it to the first crate all other activity had virtually ceased, except for a few dwarfs casting bets on whether he would actually be able to pick up a crate.

Ray keenly aware of all eyes on him smirked as he decided to give the boys a show. He squatted down to lift the first box, expecting its heft to be rather significant based upon its sheer size. Much to his chagrin, it required less effort to pick up the box than it did when picking up Thai. He masterfully rested the crate on his shoulder before turning to Scottie.

"So where do you want it?" He asked casually as the dockworkers stood with their mouths agape. Scottie stood speechless for a moment as the question finally registered.

"Jackson, don't just stand there catching flies with yur mouth open like that, show the man where it needs to go!" He called out. The dwarven crew looked at each other and murmured back and forth, some shaking their head in disbelief, some just amused at the spectacle.

"Same goes for the rest of ya, get back to work or I'll be docking ye pay!" Scottie called out. Sheera sat with Grim, amused. She snickered slightly at the sight of Ray carrying the crates effortlessly to where they needed to be loaded as the other dwarven workers began to scramble around the dock once more. Out of the corner of his eye, Grim could see the corners of Sheera's mouth curl as she watched wordlessly. As he turned to face her, he suddenly noticed a solitary tear gently rolling down her cheek.

"Aw, Miss, what is it?" Grim asked.

"For a split second I forgot Thai wasn't here, so I was looking to see what her reaction to the spectacle was, only to suddenly remember that she is on her way to the Goblin Realm." She sighed.

"Isn't it funny how the mind plays those awful tricks on you?" She asked, her voice as graceful and delicate as the breeze blowing up from the bay.