The Burned Wife Reborn For Spectacular Revenge

The morning sun cut through the tall windows of the dining room, casting long shadows across the floor. Ava sat at the table wearing a simple gray tracksuit. The exhaustion from yesterday was gone. Her eyes were sharp, focused, and analytical. She had a black leather notebook open next to her silverware. The French head chef stood nervously at the end of the table. "You asked for this, Miss?" he asked, gesturing to the plates the maid had just set down. "Yes," Ava said. "Leave me." The chef bowed and quickly exited the room. On the table sat two plates. One held a bowl of organic apple salad, tossed with lemon juice. The other held a thick cut of A5 Wagyu beef, seared medium-rare. Blood pooled slightly around the edges of the meat. Ava picked up her silver fork. She needed to establish the rules of this mutation. She stabbed a piece of the crisp apple. She put it in her mouth and chewed slowly. She swallowed. Nothing. Just the sweet, acidic taste of the fruit. Her heart rate remained steady. She picked up a pen and wrote in the notebook: Plants - No trigger. Safe. She set the pen down. She picked up the heavy steak knife. She pressed the serrated edge into the Wagyu, cutting a small piece from the center. The pink flesh was marbled with thick white fat. Her pulse accelerated. Her mouth went dry. She knew what was coming, but she had to know the limits. She put the beef in her mouth. The rich fat melted against her tongue. The dining room vanished. The smell of ammonia and dried blood filled her nose. The sound of heavy machinery and terrified lowing echoed in her ears. She was moving forward on a metal conveyor belt. The metal walls pressed tightly against her sides, restricting her movement. Pure, animalistic terror flooded her veins. A loud mechanical clack sounded above her. A massive jolt of electricity slammed into the center of her forehead. The pain was blinding. It shattered her consciousness. Her muscles locked into rigid spasms. Ava's teeth clamped down hard on her own tongue. The metallic taste of her own blood filled her mouth. The steak knife slipped from her grip and clattered onto the floor. She grabbed the edge of the table, her knuckles white. She forced her throat to swallow the meat. As the beef hit her stomach, the slaughterhouse vanished. Ava slumped back in her chair. Sweat dripped down her neck, soaking the collar of her tracksuit. Her chest heaved as she dragged oxygen into her lungs. She reached for the crystal glass of ice water and drained it in three massive gulps. She picked up her pen. Her hand shook violently. She pressed the nib against the paper and wrote: Mammals - Death trigger. Extreme pain. She stared at the words. The mechanism was clear. She absorbed the residual bio-electric memory stored in the nervous system of the animal. She looked at the bloody juice on the plate. A cold realization washed over her. If she tasted animal blood and saw its death... what would happen if she tasted human blood at a crime scene? Would she see the murderer's face? Her heart hammered against her ribs. This wasn't a curse. It was an intelligence weapon. She closed the notebook. She wiped her mouth with the linen napkin. She reached over and pressed the silver call button on the table. A maid appeared seconds later. "Find Sam Jones," Ava said. "Tell him to meet me in the study immediately."