“Unconscious for what?!” Now I’m sounding positively shrill. “You’re not cutting into me until you tell me what the fuck you’re looking for!”
James pauses. Sets down the syringe. Takes off his glasses and cleans them on his lab coat, a nervous habit I’ve already noticed.
“The scans are showing anomalies,” he says slowly. “In your bone structure. In your neural pathways. In your…cellular composition.”
“Anomalies like what?”
“Like nothing I’ve ever seen in a human body.”
I shake my head. “That shouldn’t be a surprise to you. I’m genetically engineered. I’m unlike any other human in this world.”
“I’m aware of that, Nate, but…”
My brows shoot up, impatience rattling me. “But what?”
“I’ve accounted for all of that.” James meets my eyes, and there’s something almost like pity in his gaze. It reminds me of the same look the man with the mustache gave me. “There’s something else. What, I’m not sure. But I intend to find out. If you let me.”
I think about all the tests Julia ran on me over the years. All the scans, the bloodwork, the examinations I was never allowed to see the results of. I always assumed it was standard stuff—monitoring my powers, making sure I was functioning properly. But what if it was something else?
What if she was hiding something from me all along?
“Fine,” I hear myself say, rolling up my sleeve. “Do it.”
“Wait,” Mia says. “Maybe this is something Nate isn’t supposed to know.”
“Doesn’t matter. If I’m not supposed to know something about my own fucking body, then Ireallyneed to know what it is.” I give her a steady look, holding her gaze until she relents.
James nods. “I was hoping you would see it that way. Now lie back. I’m going to make an incision on your forearm. Just a small one. Just enough to see what’s underneath the surface tissue.”
My blood runs cold. What else would be below the surface tissue?
I lie back on the exam table, though I hate how vulnerable it makes me feel. James approaches with the syringe, and I feel the sting of the needle, then a spreading numbness in my left forearm. While I have an extremely high pain tolerance, I’m grateful that my body still has the ability to take on anesthesia.
“Can you feel that?” He presses a finger against my skin.
“Sort of. I can feel the pressure but not really anything solid.”
“Good.” He picks up a scalpel. “Try to stay still.”
Mia moves closer, her hand finding mine on the opposite side. Her fingers are cold, trembling slightly, and I squeeze them once. A silent message that tells her that I’m okay. Whatever happens, I’m okay.
I have to believe that for now.
The scalpel touches my skin. I feel pressure, like James said, but no pain. I watch his face as he works, watch the concentration in his eyes, the way his brow furrows as he cuts deeper.
And then I watch his expression change.
“My god,” he breathes.
“What?” Mia leans forward, trying to see. “What is it?”
James doesn’t answer. He’s staring at my arm with an expression I can’t read—horror, fascination, maybe a combination of the two. He reaches for a set of retractors, spreads the incision wider.
“Dad, what?—”
“Look.”
I sit up slightly, craning my neck to see my own arm splayed open on the table.
