Page 305
Only two males remain, posted outside the cavern to keep eyes out for Idril and guard the area, just in case. It’s probably not needed, but I’m not taking chances.
“Do you think Albertson can really make a serum that gives immortality?” Vae suddenly asks, staring into the glass of whiskey cradled in one palm like it might have an answer.
“I think that if anyone could, it’s Albertson,” Daxen answers eventually. “That man was scared shitless, and if he’s that afraid about the possibility of something like that existing, then I think the chances are higher than we think.”
“It just doesn’t make sense,” he complains, shaking his head. “How can someone isolate DNA and transfer it to someone else? If that were possible, wouldn’t someone have done it before? I mean, vampires don’t live thousands of years, but I have to assume that 1200 would be close enough to seem like immortality to most humans.”
Daxen’s mouth curves into a wry, calculated smile. “Oh, trust me, they’ve tried. It doesn’t work. Or if it does, we haven’t found a way to do it successfully. Every attempt so far has ended in complete organ failure within twenty-four hours.”
He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.
“Vampire and wolven DNA are locked. Human DNA is even more extreme. Say you isolate the part of our DNA that gives us enhanced healing and try transferring it into a human—and people have absolutely done exactly that—it won’t work. The human’s DNA rejects it immediately. It works like computer code that’s already been finalized. You can’t go back and change it. If you try and adjust even a single line of code, the whole program crashes. Same thing with DNA. The human’s system takes one look at the vampire DNA and says, ‘nope,’ and attacks it, destroying it before it can take.”
Vae looks even more confused, and frankly, I can’t blame him. “Then why would it be any different with Idril?”
Daxen smiles. “That’s a good question.”
“Thanks, professor,” Vae responds flatly.
My spine straightens as I recall Daxen’s request earlier, and it finally clicks. I snap my fingers and point at him. “That’s why you asked Albertson for his reports.”
He inclines his head. “That’s right. I already knew about the previous attempts at transferring DNA between Species, so I knew there had to be a reason Albertson was worried it might actually work this time, so I requested all the reports he has on her.”
“And?” Caelan’s voice is strained, like he finds the entire conversation distasteful.
“Idril’s DNA doesn’t behave like a closed system. It doesn’t reject anything. It reads what it touches, for lack of a better word, discovers how it works, and then adjusts itself to incorporate it.”
“You’re talking about it like it’s alive,” Vae mutters, grimacing.
“It might be,” Dax answers flatly. “Think of it like… I don't know—clay that molds into whatever you shape it into. The clay doesn’t fight; it adapts.”
“So Idril’s not, what, locked in?” I ask, scratching my head.
Dax points at me and sits up straighter. “Her DNA is still ‘open’ somehow. Fluid. It’s old, too.” His gaze wanders across the room and lands on the fire. “It’s almost like it was built differently from the ground up. Like it was designed for… evolution.”
Caelan throws his drink back before slamming his glass down on the mantle. His nostrils flare. “Designed by who?”
“Gods, I don’t know,” Daxen scoffs, running a palm down his tired face. “Nature? The Fates? I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to answer that. I mean… that’s like asking where we all come from. There’s no way to answer that. And in Idril’s case, we have nothing to compare her DNA to except her mother’s. Which, while similar, is nowhere near identical. There’s something about Idril’s that just feels… different. Like it’s an original blueprint of something lost to time and memory both.
“So, she’s definitely not human,” Vae says, eyeing Shade warily.
My Beast stirs, pushing closer to the surface as it senses a threat. From the corner of my eye, Caelan shifts, muscles coiling as he glares at his Packmate.
Dax leans back in his chair with a sigh. “She is, but she’s not. Fates, trying to explain this to you lot is like trying to explain a calendar to a monkey.”
“Maybe you’re just really shitty at explaining things,” I suggest. “Try using language someone who doesn’t read Science Weekly would understand.”
He opens his mouth like he’s about to snap back but hesitates and snaps it shut.
Well. That’s new.
“DNA is like a string of notes that makes up a song. Vampires, wolven, and humans all create the same melody with slight variations. Idril also has the same melody, but hers is layered with harmonies that no one’s ever heard before. Thousands of them. This morning, I would have compared the melody of our DNA to that of a beautiful composition. Now, I can say with absolute certainty that Idril’s DNA is an entire symphony, while ours is comparable to a toddler using one finger to play Three Blind Mice on a thirty-year-old keyboard. Badly.”
The analogy makes me grin as pride fills my chest. “You’re saying she’s more. Not less.”
“She’s everything,” Vae breathes. The words are so low I don’t think anyone else heard them, but I sure as fuck did. Daxen shifts, funneling a hand through his hair in frustration.
“The fucking kicker is, the structure and patterns of her DNA—they all work perfectly. Like she’s the original blueprint for something mythical. Something so fucking powerful that I can’t even begin to conceptualize it. And my mind kept wanting to jump straight to, ‘she’s evolved,’ as I read the reports, but that’s not right. It makes sense, but my gut is telling me it’s wrong.”
