"These men aren't dead," I announced, my voice cutting through the tension in the trauma room. "They're in a state of pseudo-death."
Dr. Felix Norton's face twisted with disbelief. "Pseudo-death? That's not even a real medical term!"
"It is when souls have been stolen," I replied calmly, moving between the six motionless officers.
Dean Nash leaned forward. "Ethan, are you saying their souls were actually taken?"
"Precisely." I placed my hand on the first officer's chest, feeling the faint spiritual energy still flickering within. "Someone with knowledge of forbidden arts separated their consciousness from their bodies."
"That's impossible!" Felix slammed his clipboard down. "I've been practicing medicine for twenty years. People don't just lose their souls!"
Officer Aaron Wells, the young policeman who'd been standing guard, stepped into the room. His face was pale but determined.
"Dr. Norton, with respect, you weren't there."
Everyone turned to look at him.
