Even though Wallachia felt, and heard, the hunger in her stomach, she couldn’t bring herself to eat the slice of meat on her fork. The piece was drenched in red, thick sauce and emitted a strong, delicious scent that teased her nose. It had been cooked straight through, with not the slightest shade of red remaining. It was as good as could be prepared by her, a masterpiece in the assortment of meats.
And yet, she just stared at it. Carving the woman up in the first place had proven to be more boring than usual, which hadn’t surprised her at the time, seeing how she was a little tired, but now it actually started to worry her. The woman had screamed and cried as the knife had sliced her flesh up in perfect squares, draining her blood at the same time to conjure the sauce, yet it hadn’t helped. Something was wrong with Wallachia’s body and mind, and she didn’t know what.
Disgusted at herself, she flung the fork at the wall and growled. “Why?” she said, then slammed the table with her fists. The plate clattered and the wineglass, filled to the brim with thin blood, almost fell over. She caught it before it did and drank it all in one swoop. She didn’t even bother to enjoy it.
The door rang. Such a rare event made her perk up, covering her flaring emotions, and get up from the chair. Suspicious, and slightly curious, she approached the door and prepared her powers in case the TSAB had found her again. She checked the peep hole. A man with filthy black hair stood outside, his eyes darting back and forth. He wore a hoodie with the hood itself down. He looked nonthreatening, but she took no chances. The TSAB were cunning, even if their choice in agents were sometimes weird.
Tensing up, bringing her powers just below the limit for when she could release them, she opened the door a little and peered out. “Yes?”
“Wallachia, I know who you are,” the man outside the door said and smiled. The corner of his mouth twitched, accompanied by a speck of sweat on his forehead. “I’m Trent and I can help you.”
Intrigued, and more than a little dumbfounded, she didn’t shut the door in his face right away. “Help me with what? If you know who I am, you wouldn’t be asking that question.”
“I want something from the TSAB’s databanks,” Trent said, rambling on. “But I can’t do it without your help, and what I can do for you while we’re there is to erase your profile in the mainframe. They will restore it eventually, but until then you will be invisible on their surveillance network.”
Wallachia raised an eyebrow, surprised at the direct request and offer. Trent, she found, interested her more than anyone in recent weeks. She decided, on the spot, and shrugged. “I’m bored, so sure. Let me get ready.”
Trent smiled wider and Wallachia shut the door in his face. Moving back through the worn down apartment, with dust gathering in the corners, she retrieved her new white trenchcoat and put it on over her usual white clothes. The coat reached to her ankles and covered most of her neck up to her cheekbones once she had buttoned it up. When she had bought it, or stolen it, it had enticed her. It made her hair flow out of it in a way she had really liked for no specific reason and the way it moved with her body made her feel... special. “First time I’m using you,” she murmured.
That was all she needed. She opened the door again, Trent staring at her with fear lurking beyond his face, and he followed her out of the building. She walked with a long stride and a smirk growing wider on her lips as her spirit grew, boredom being swiped away.
*
The TSAB Data Center building lay ahead of them. It was taller than most of the buildings around it, though still not the tallest, and the lack of lights on the upper floors made it melt into the night sky. The only floor that was lit was the bottom one, with guards patrolling inside.
Wallachia traversed the steps leading up to the entrance slowly. The trenchcoat flipped around in the wind, accompanying her hair that flowed over its brim at her neck. Streetlights lit up the area where she walked, throwing long shadows behind her as she reached the top of the stairs. She could see the guards on the other side of the glass panes. There were three of them and they hadn’t seen her. This late, they would be pacified by tiredness.
Putting her ear buds in, Trent’s voice sounded in her ears; “Light’s out in one,” he said. He lay in a bush somewhere, which was fine with Wallachia. He would just be in the way.
She stood there and waited, calculating her move. It was different from her usual approach, but, then, everything about her had felt different during the day. She clenched and unclenched her hands, focusing on one particular glass pane that had a guard close by on the other side. They still hadn’t noticed her. She licked her lips as her blood started to rush in her veins.
“You might like the sound of this,” Trent said. She was about to ask what he meant when
music flowed through the earbuds; a fast-paced electronic rhythm, accompanied by irresistible beats that made her nod along.
As the song built up, the lights on the bottom floor went out, though the street light remained. It was impossible not to see her standing outside, a cone of light shining down on her, as she broke into a run, music pumping. She gathered speed and jumped, forming a shield in front of her. The window pane shattered, sending pieces of glass into the face of the guard that spun around to investigate. He received an eyeful of glass splitter and went down with a pained shriek as the music climaxed.
Wallachia landed, rolled and sent out a blood projectile from her hand into the face of another guard. The back of his head exploded and his body collapsed to the floor, forming a small pool of blood and brain matter. She got to her feet and sidestepped the magical projectiles from the remaining guard’s magi-gun, taking cover behind a pillar. The projectiles chipped away at its surface. She threw herself sideways towards another pillar, firing away another projectile. It hit the guard in the chest and everything fell quiet.
She came to a stop just as the body hit the floor, its spine hanging loose through the fleshy strings that remained of his back. Her coat came to a rest and the light flickered back on.
“Beautiful,” Trent said, music lowering in volume, “I’m coming in.”
Wallachia stood up and saw Trent carefully climb over the shattered glass, eyeing the corpses of the guards. A hint of disgust flashed on his face, but it soon disappeared. The guard who had had his face pierced by glass lay in a corner unable to see, whimpering, but didn’t try and make a sound beyond that.
Trent didn’t comment about him, though he very much looked like he wanted to. Instead he nodded at the elevator and opened his bag. “Someone is coming down. My guess would be a senior mage.”
“They sure got security,” Wallachia said.
“Still less than they should have,” Trent said and held out a rifle. “You know how to handle one of these, right?”
Wallachia shrugged, unimpressed with the weapon. “Why would I need that? Are you saying I’m weak?”
Trent’s face paled and he shook his head. “No, no, not at all. It’s just, it’s black market. Modified and rebuilt based upon another design inherent to Earth. I think you might like it.”
Wallachia hesitated, then took the rifle anyway. She turned it over and checked all its components. On a closer look she had to admit it was intrinsically designed. She could almost call it beautiful. It was small and light, easy to handle. Not that its weight would have mattered to her, but still.
“On Earth they call it a P90, I think,” Trent said. “Fast firing and all that.”
“I don’t give a fuck what it’s called,” Wallachia said and checked the magazine. Satisfied, she slapped it in again as the elevator dinged. It had reached their floor. She cocked the rifle. “As long as it can help me, it can be whatever. Even I can accept some help at times.”
The elevator doors opened and a female mage stepped outside. She wore a black helmet with a single slit where her eyes should have been. It glowed orange, meshing with her Battle Jacket which was coated black. It covered her entire body, with red markings on the shoulders and knees. It gave her a bulky appearance, quite the opposite to Jackets Wallachia had seen in the past. Though even more unusual were the two magi-pistols the mage had in each hand, aimed at Wallachia. Pointy and sharp, yet smoothly rounded at their ends, they seemed to fuse with her Jacket.
“Stand down, Blood Angel,” the woman said. “You won’t get any further.”
Wallachia rolled her eyes and placed her free hand on her hip. “That’s the fifth time I hear that this year. When are you actually going to get serious about it?”
The mage said nothing and stood there, unmoving. The music in Wallachia’s ear increased in volume, coming around for another climax. She opened her mouth to hurl another insult.
The mage opened fire.
Wallachia sidestepped towards a pillar, avoiding the first bullets, firing back as she moved. The modded P90 spewed magi-bullets at the mage at an insane rate, but she also dove out of the way and the projectiles hit the wall behind her. Wallachia didn’t pause and lunged herself out from the other side of the pillar, placing one hand in front of her on the floor and used it as momentum to perform a handspring. She vaulted across the space between the pillars while firing upside-down as the mage came into her sights. The P90’s ‘bzzzt’ sound occupied the space for the next few seconds.
A shield appeared in front of the woman and the bullets were absorbed by it, leaving ripples like water moving across the shield’s surface. The mage quickly found new cover in a corner and stayed there.
Completing her handspring, Wallachia hid behind the pillar and checked her weapon. Half of the mag had been spent, which was fine to her. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, focusing her mind. Time seemed to slow down as her senses peaked. Hearing the slow heartbeats of those around her, including herself, made her feel exhilarated. Blood and adrenaline slowed to a crawl. The music, though, kept going at its own pace, beyond her own sense of time.
An inferno of whiteness, she threw herself out, white hair hovering and coat flapping, and unleashed the remaining mag into the spot where the mage hid. She flew sideways and, as the mage retreated from her hideout among the splinters thrown by the impacting bullets, Wallachia’s P90 clicked. The mag had run out, and she landed into a roll, proceeding into propelling herself forward, and closed the distance between them.
The mage fired as she ran, managing to dodge the incoming projectiles. Her own bullets, zinging through the air, whined past Wallachia’s ears. She turned her body sideways, as she could almost see the bullets coming towards her, leaving faint ripples in their path. She slithered through them and landed right in front of the mage who turned towards her and raised her guns.
Normal people would have dropped the rifle Wallachia was holding. Since the mag had run out, and she had no extras, it was useless. But instead of dropping it, she threw it right at the mage, who reacted exactly like she expected.
Reflexes caused the mage to deflect the rifle away, creating an opening. Wallachia took it while the rifle flew through the air.
Pushing off her feet, she back flipped and felt her left foot connect with the mage’s jaw through the helmet. She somersaulted backwards, landing on both her feet, the coat coming to a rest once again, while the mage was thrown upwards, then straight down as gravity took over. Her helmet was torn off, the woman screaming in pain as it did, and she landed on her back, though she recovered almost immediately. With hair dark as night sticking to her face with her own blood that ran from her nose, she fired again with gritted teeth. Her attacks became fueled by frustration rather than training.
Wallachia, prepared for the comeback, threw herself backward with a smile on her face. She could see the bullets whizzing by above her, just as before, missing her body by a few millimeters. When they had passed she extended her arms and did another handspring backwards. Somersaulting through the air, she landed on her feet and fired two blood projectiles back at the mage.
The first one missed and hit the wall, splashing red over its surface. The second, however, hit the mage in the chest and caused her to stagger. She tried to fire again, but her shots went wide, chipping away at the pillars instead.
With no time to waste, Wallachia ran up to the mage, made a sweep kick with her legs, causing the mage to lose her balance and fall to the floor, and planted a firm boot right in the woman’s ribcage once she was down. The mage coughed blood as her eyes tried to focus, her hands grabbing for Wallachia’s boot. The music died down.
“As I said, when are you gonna get serious?” Wallachia applied some more pressure and grinned. The woman coughed again and groaned. With a few ribs broken and her nose a mess, pain was her first concern. “You’re nothing more than a novice. As usual. The TSAB are overzealous amateurs.”
Trent emerged from behind her, carrying his backpack. “Come on. Last obstacle is dealt with. We’re running out of time.” He looked anxious, pressed for time.
Wallachia nodded at him and then knelt to kiss the woman’s forehead. She licked her lips as some of her blood touched it. “I usually don’t leave lovely beings like you alive, so consider yourself lucky. If you want to wait, be my guest. I’ll be back for you eventually. Your blood is quite delicious.”
With that said, she removed her boot from the mage’s chest, enabling her to breath properly, and followed Trent into the elevator. She was still grinning as the doors closed.
*
The room with the mainframe was an ease to break into for Trent. Wallachia stood guard, idly wondering what the hell she was doing. The elevator trip to the floor they were on had taken an eternity and it wouldn’t take long until the TSAB came in full force. By now the whole building had to be on alert, yet she still couldn’t hear any sirens. Either they were still far away or moving in silently.
“It’s open,” he said and slipped through. She followed and close the door behind her. Trent went to work right away as he started to plug in his hardware, clacking away on the keyboad. “Keep an eye out, would you? I’ll tell you when I’m done. This might take a while.”
“Whatever,” Wallachia said and turned to open the door again. She had it half-open before a shot rang out.
At first she wasn’t sure what had happened, as her head had suddenly snapped forward when she heard the gunfire echo in the room. She looked back at Trent, who had a devilish grin on his face, while she trailed the back of her head with a finger. Her soft skin, once smooth, was now wet and sticky to the touch. When her index finger hovered over the oozing wound which pumped out blood along with her heartbeats, she grit her teeth and stared at Trent. Raged boiled inside her.
Trent, meanwhile, seemed to have frozen in place with horror in his eyes, his grin waning. She took pleasure in that fact. “Y-you should be dead now. Drop dead. Now. Please.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Wallachia said and took a step towards him. The step, more surprising to her than to Trent, resulted in her falling to the floor. Her knees didn’t buckle as much as they stopped functioning. She looked back at them, anger flaring in her skull.
“Seems you are not invincible,” Trent said and laughed. It was a nervous laugh, overconfident. “Just in case, I’ll make sure you don’t get up.”
Wallachia grit her teeth and erected an emergency shield, though something within her failed to work. The shield, red as her own blood that now flowed onto the floor, covered parts of her head, but not the rest of her body, which was where Trent unloaded the entire clip. Her knee caps exploded as the bullets tore through them. She felt her ribs shattering as bullets hit her in the back, pierced her lungs and pinged as they reached the floor on the other side. Echoes of sharp noises were thrown around the room until only a clicking noise replaced it.
Trent holstered the gun and went to work on the mainframe in quiet concentration while Wallachia lay on the floor, swimming in her own blood. Whatever had been broken in her head after the bullet had entered didn’t soften the arrival of the unimaginable pain that surged through her being. Yet, she didn’t have the strength to even howl. She coughed, blood dripping from her mouth. It clogged her throat, making it hard to breath. While the seconds passed by, her vision grew blurrier and all the noises around her kept getting more muffled.
Her head felt heavy and she couldn’t lift it anymore. The steady stream of clicking coming from the console was the only thing she heard. Memories of a past fight where she had also been on the brink of death flashed in her mind. The difference now was that she couldn’t use that power again. She still tried to tap the resource of power within her, but there was nothing apart from an empty void.
She felt cold all of a sudden and her body started to twitch. Her heartbeat slowed down and for the first time she felt what real incoming death was like. Every other time she thought she had been close to death there had always been some kind of mechanism that allowed her to rejuvenate, but she had never felt this cold before. Its unrelenting frost covered her insides, choking them.
She pried inside her again. Nothing was there... No, that wasn’t right. There was something in the void she had just checked. An unrecognizable force lying in wait. She tapped it and felt a surge of energy. Her limbs twitched again.
I see..., she thought and clenched her hands, knuckles going white.
It’s time to use that.
‘That’ being a power she had just discovered. What it would do lay beyond her capability of understanding, but she knew the result; she wouldn’t get back up again. Despite knowing this, she unleashed it without a single thought of regret. The pool of blood rippled from the sudden energy discharge. Trent was too focused to notice what was happening. Her blood itself seemed to come to life, as it rose from the pool like extending arms, picking her up. The things seemed to have a mind of their own, flailing back and forth, curiously observing their surroundings, and poking, almost bickering, at each other.
They held Wallachia by her arms, then carried her on her back. They lay her horizontal, arms outstretched. More bloody tentacles emerged from her bullet holes, though they weren’t regenerating her flesh. They merely multiplied, morphing from the blood and with her body.
It all transpired without Wallachia’s knowledge. Her mind registered no pain. She wasn’t even in her own body. She was somewhere else. Another dimension.
By now, Trent felt something was wrong and turned to face the monstrosity. All of the tentacles looked at him as his mouth fell agape, eyes widening in terror. His scream was short-lived as the tentacles pierced his stomach, split his ribcage in half and proceeded to chop off his limbs while trashing wildly. Blood showered the walls. It dripped off the computers. The tentacles kept cutting and slashing in a feeding frenzy until only a gory mess of flesh remained of Trent. The whole action had taken less than five seconds.
With the threat gone, and the time limit up, the tentacles shrieked and convulsed. They trashed about, knocking down hardware and crushing panels. Electricity and sparks flew in the room, connecting with the tentacles. Energy surges pulsated through the blood and into Wallachia’s body. Arcs of lightning lit up anything flammable, setting fire to the room. Hardware went crazy. The tentacles and Wallachia’s body shook a thousand times a second with millions of volts flowing through their veins.
The room exploded, throwing debris out into the night sky with flames licking the exterior wall. It could be heard and seen from several blocks away.
*
Everything she saw was white and it disoriented her. The space she occupied didn’t seem to have a floor. An infinite void stretched in all directions and she looked down to orient herself. She wore her usual white dress, almost white enough to blend in with her surroundings. Confusion muddled her mind.
“Wallachia”, a dark voice said and she looked up. A few meters away, a heart had materialized, hovering in the air. Tentacles grew from it, stretching outward. It beat from time to time. “Welcome.”
She tilted her head, feeling no fear or worry. Only curiosity poked at her. “What is this place?”
An eye opened on the red surface of the heart, veins pulsing around it. It focused on her. “It depends. My body. Your mind. Our soul. It is what you believe it to be.”
“Sounds like bullshit to me,” Wallchia said and sneered.
The heart laughed. “You still are who you are. That will change from now on.”
“What do you mean? What happened to me?”
“I think you know. The knowledge rests within you, but I cannot force you to see the truth. All I can do is to urge you on.”
“There’s a truth?” Wallachia said, already growing bored of the heart. To her it was speaking nonsense, a philosophical rant with no end.
“A truth you have not seen since you met me.”
“Met you? I’ve never seen you before. Whatever you are.”
“You have, though I had another form back then.”
Wallachia paused and thought. She admitted to herself there was something familiar about the abomination. That something nagged at her mind. A memory from years before surfaced from her mind’s ocean, but it was too unclear to her to make out what is was. What she could see was a little girl and a man kneeling in front of her. The man seemed wounded and they were surrounded by dark shapes in a dark room.
“You see it now, don’t you?” the heart said.
Wallachia shook her head. “Too blurry. I can’t... remember. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Do not worry. I can help.” The heart closed its eyelids for a moment. When they opened again, its eye was brimming with red light. A tentacle, drenched in a gray, thick fluid, emerged from the iris and floated towards Wallachia’s forehead where it stopped. Its shape changed, resembling a syringe. “Relax. This will not hurt.”
She kept her eyes on the tentacle as it seemed to waver for a second. Then, it pierced her brain straight through her skull. An experience so alien assaulted her body that it was sent it into shock. While it convulsed, drool dripping from the corners of her mouth, memories flew past her eyes and were destroyed one at a time. She saw previous murders fly past and she forgot about them the next second. The taste of blood, flesh and organs disappeared. She felt her powers and mana surge out of her body through her brain. They were ripped straight out of her soul. The sheer abstraction of the pain almost made her go mad. She had to focus to remember her own self.
My name is Wallachia von Abram.
Another memory flew past and shattered. She couldn’t stop it.
I am the Blood Angel.
The sensation of bathing in blood disappeared. It had lingered, teasing her, before it went away.
My name is Wallachia.
She could no longer remember the smell of blood. She wanted to cry. Everything that she consisted of was destroyed.
von Abram.
Memories of people faded. Victims of the past faded into nothing. Finally, her Master appeared with a smile on his face. It projected a warmth she had seldom experienced and for a single moment, she felt a hint of peace. Then he faded, too.
My name is...
“You have no name,” the heart said and the tentacle pulled out of her brain.
Whiteness.
***
Epilogue
***
Teana flashed her ID to the guard. He inspected it and stepped back with a nod, allowing her to enter the Isolation Ward. Surrounded by white walls and bright lights that almost blinded her, she walked through the corridor towards the cell in the back. On the way she passed several other inmates, each one insaner than the one she had just passed. She could barely look at them.
A person stood at the last cell, waiting for her. “Enforcer,” he said and offered his hand. She shook it. “Glad you could make it.”
“Me too, Doctor” Teana said. “I read the report about the incident some week back, but I never got the chance to investigate it. Was she really captured that easily?”
The Doctor scratched his chin and pressed a button. The force field separating the cell and the corridor went transparent, revealing its contents. “Depends how you define easily. Effortless might be closer to the truth.”
“What do you mean?” Teana said and looked through the force field. Inside sat a young woman, white hair cut short, curling at the end, talking to one of the staff members while playing something akin to chess. For some odd reason, she was wearing a black tracksuit. “That’s the Blood Angel? Isn’t that really dangerous?”
“I assure you it’s safe. As if it’s the Blood Angel... It is and it isn’t.”
“You’re not making sense, Doctor.”
“That’s pretty much the gist of it.” Teana sighed and the Doctor chuckled. “I understand your confusion. What, or who, you are looking at there is Charlie.”
“Charlie?” she said and raised an eyebrow.
The Doctor licked his lips. “As you’ve certainly read about in the report, the surveillance footage from the scene of the incident shows us retrieving the body and that she was unconscious at the time, yes?”
“Yes. Go on.”
“What the report doesn’t mention is that there wasn’t a single scratch on her body. After an event like that, it’s an impossibility.”
“Unless you’re the Blood Angel,” Teana said and crossed her arms, unconvinced.
“That would be the normal assertion,” the Doctor continued, “if the woman had been the Blood Angel.” He shook his head, scratching his chin again. “MRT scans, x-ray scans, psychological evaluations, we’ve conductedevery possible method with the intention of confirming it. It has us dumbfounded.”
“What has? Please get to the point.”
“If our theories are correct, the Blood Angel is no more. Charlie, as she refers to herself now, is another person. She remembers nothing of her previous life.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing. She started over on a blank slate.” The Doctor shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“And she’s not faking it? The Blood Angel was a master actor, after all.”
“She isn’t,” The Doctor said and shook his head. “Impossible. She was a good actor, yes, but our profile on her is long and deep. We are familiar with her tactics. This is unlike anything we’ve seen before, and she hasn’t tried anything in more than a month.” He paused. “It can’t be amnesia either. It doesn’t work that way.”
Teana observed Charlie and the staff member for a few moments. “Do you mind if I speak to her?”
“Not at all, be my guest. She’s not so much different from yourself, Enforcer.”
She grimaced at that and said nothing. The Doctor seemed to find that amusing.
The force field disappeared. The staff member rose, said goodbye to Charlie and left, nodding at the Doctor. He motioned Teana to enter.
As she stepped into the bareboned cell, Charlie watched her with the red eyes Teana had come to know from the footage in past investigations. It unnerved her, being so close to the Blood Angel. She couldn’t let go of the tension in her muscles. She was ready to defend herself if she had to.
“Hello,” Charlie said and bowed slightly. “Nice to meet you.”
Teana was almost too shocked to speak. She fumbled as she sat down and nodded at her. “Nice to meet you too... Charlie.” She tried to keep her face straight. “I’m Enforcer Lanster. I’ve got some questions for you.”
“Okay.” Charlie sat with her hands in her lap, a soft smile on her lips. A ludicrous image.
“Do you remember the name Blood Angel?” Teana said.
“No.”
“Do you remember Wallachia von Abram?”
Charlie hesitated, but not for long. “No.”
“Do you remember ever killing anyone?”
Charlie’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “Never! That’s a horrible question, Enforcer Lanster.”
Teana blinked. “Alright. Sorry. I have to ask it.”
“I understand, it’s just...” Charlie stroke her neck and looked away. “It’s just such a horrible act.”
“Yes. Yes it is.” Teana’s mind drew a blank and she stood up. “Thanks for your time, Charlie.”
“That’s all, Enforcer Lanster?” Charlie said, raising an eyebrow. “You just came.” She grinned. Her teeth showed, but the predatory grin so prolific for the Blood Angel wasn’t there. It was a young woman’s smile, with warmth and friendliness. “Would you like to play some chess? No one has beaten me so far.”
“I’m sorry, but I need to go. Perhaps some other time.”
Charlie shrugged. “I hope so. I don’t meet many new people around here.” She bowed again. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Teana left the cell and inclined her head for the Doctor to follow. She was replaced by the staff member who entered again. to continue their game of chess. The Force Field reappeared, blocking the view.
“You were right,” she said. The Doctor nodded. “That’s isn’t the Blood Angel. Which makes this complicated.”
“How so?”
“Who am I to charge for all the murders and assaults?”
The Doctor looked back towards the cell. He scratched his chin once again. “We will keep her here for some time, but, I must say this, Enforcer; that woman is Charlie. She isn’t the Blood Angel. She can’t be held responsible for what the Blood Angel did.”
“I understand that. Still...”
The Doctor shrugged. “Time will tell. I’m afraid I have nothing else I could share with you. It was nice meeting you, Enforcer Lanster.
They shook hands again and Teana left, leaving the Doctor to attend to his work. She moved towards the exit, her mind a blaze of thought of what had just transpired. The guard nodded at her as she approached and stepped aside.
She opened the door and halted halfway through it. Throwing a long glance down the hallway over her shoulder, she stood there for a moment. Then she stepped outside, leaving the Isolation Ward behind.