Awakening (31 page)

Her anger faded just as quickly as it had appeared as she continued to sit on his lap, leather against leather, searching the depths within his eyes. He wanted to be condemned, but not about the Blight. Softly, she pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I hold nothing against you.”

Auberon jerked his head backwards and stared at the girl, the Center of the Universe; the Mother of the Goddess. Forgiveness. She was not the same as when he knew her before, she wasn't so rash. “I did not ask for forgiveness, Beck.”

“I know, but nei
ther did you unleash the Blight. Your eyes, your
soul
, tell me you simply took advantage of the situation. I didn’t know for sure until I saw it for myself,” she murmured, disentangling her limbs from his and standing over him. He looked up at her in misery and gratitude and she wanted neither.

Cradling his daughter in one of his strong arms,
Shaw cleared the distance and grabbed Beck's hand, bringing it up to his mouth and placing a tender kiss on her palm. Smiling at the gesture, she turned back to the room, ignoring the questioning gazes of Adam and Celeste. “So, can we eat now? Or do either of you have anything you wish to atone for?”

“Mommy,” the little girl spoke in a hushed whisper, her attention diverted by whatever caught her fancy. Waving her small hand through the air, she giggled with delight. “Do you see the connections?”

Giving up the possibility of eating sometime soon, Beck closed her eyes briefly, allowing the connections to become visible to her. Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw the golden light arcing between Adam and Celeste and Auberon. She saw the link between Celeste and the girl on the couch; the bond that existed from before their birth. The blond had no parental bond; she was a Guardian Angel, assigned to watch over the girl.

The child in Celeste’s womb had only one line; that of the mother. Yet it was different than
her own single thread. The babe was near copy of Celeste, its golden light reflecting Celeste’s, amplifying and shimmering brilliantly. Beck smiled at her daughter, “I do, sweetie.”

“
Celeste will make a wonderful Queen,” the Goddess breathed in all of her three-year-old earnestness. And with that same earnestness, she added, “If she survives, of course.”

Beck laughed at her daughter’s words; leave it to the Goddess to state the obvious, especially when said Goddess was three years old and had very indulgent and adoring parents. Kissing the top of her
daughter's dark curls, she grinned, “We will do what we can to ensure her success.”

“You’ll help me?” Celeste asked, humbled by that announcement.

“I will do what I can,” Beck repeated with a firm nod of her head. “However it is not my battle to fight and I will not be able to defeat the Queen for you.”

“I understand,” Celeste nodded, grateful for the show of support at any rate. With a sigh, she looked back at the couch where Kim continued to sleep, oblivious of the world around her.
“And what of my friend? What did you mean when you called her a Guardian?”

“Kim is
a Guardian Angel,” Adam murmured from behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. Celeste whirled around to face him, tilting her head to the side, surprised that Adam knew of any of this. But then she was surprised that she should be at all surprised since Adam was one of the famous Vespari twins who controlled the supernatural world. "She's your Guardian Angel."

“Mommy is an angel, too,
” the little girl stated sleepily from Shaw's shoulder. She grinned languidly, “But she is different from your friend. Mommy is angel made flesh, where as your friend is just an angel.”

“That is so cool,” Celeste murmured, watching Kim sleep. As color fanned across her face, she looked up a little embarrassed by her words
but it was all too much and she didn't want to think about the world being bathed in blood. The others laughed, taking it was the fascination it was meant. “So this means she is not human?” At Adam's confirming nod, she frowned, "But she acts human."

“Kim’s role is as a protector, she accepted her duties before she came
into this existence,” Adam explained, his voice calm and reassuring, soothing Celeste's battered brain. "Her conscious mind believes her to be human,” he said simply, taking her hands in his and lifting them to his mouth. “That is why she is having difficulty changing. She does not want to give up the illusion of humanness for the reality of being an angel.”

“Is it necessary for her to do so?” Celeste asked softly, not wanting her friend to suffer at all, either the physical pain of transforming or the mental strain of not wanting to be who she was meant to be. 

“The decision was made long before you were born, Celeste,” Shaw said. “She chose to live alongside you as a friend and confidant. When the time comes it is always difficult for angels to lose the humanity they so reluctantly embraced. After, she will put away her human life and fulfill her role as your Guardian.”

"How long will the process take?" she asked, staring down at her friend who lay as still as death.

“A day or two," Shaw answered. "When she wakes she will be an angel."

Celeste's breath caught in her throat and her heart lurched painfully in her chest as she looked up at Shaw with tears in her eyes, "Will there be nothing of Kim left?"

He smiled at her, drawing Beck against his side, "It depends on the angel's strength and the girl's love for you."

Numbly, Celeste
nodded, grateful for Adam's support otherwise she would be a boneless heap of flesh on the floor. "Will the three of you stay around for that long?"

She looked to Beck or Shaw to answer but it was the Goddess who spoke,
her amethyst eyes dark with exhaustion. "We have done everything we can; the rest is up to her. And to you. Mommy and daddy have to take me back to our home before I can sleep."

"Of course," Celeste nodded, wondering why the child had to sleep at home and then remembering
she was a Goddess who could create daggers out of thin air. "Thank you."

“
It will all be over with soon," the little girl said with a yawn. "I hope the chosen path leads to a future with you in it."

“Dr. Lincoln, you have to see this,” Roger Harkins said as he examined the monitor, his brows furrowing in disbelief. Rubbing his eyes, he looked again but the image remained. If it was real than it was a miracle; it just might be the break hey were looking for: a way to keep humans from converting once they were bit. If he could believe what he was seeing…. “It’s… impossible.”

“What is it?” the older man asked with an impatient edge in his voice as he looked up from his microscope. He didn’t want to be bothered by his annoying co-workers
. He had important work to get done and with the Vespari twins constantly breathing down his neck, pawing through his precious research, he didn’t need any more interruptions or distractions.

“Look,” Roger said instead of answering. He had been running human blood samples combined with
Apocritum
blood to determine what exactly happened. With their electron microscope they were able to see the change at the cellular level. Connecting it directly to the high tech computer, they could get a recording of the transformation as it happened and be able to analyze it. Stepping away from the monitor, he crossed his arms across his chest, expecting Stephen to see right away what was so fascinating.

With a less than tolerant sigh, Stephen walked the few feet to the monitor, his heart slowing as he saw what was happening on the screen. The human blood was changing the
Apocritum
blood, forming base strands of DNA. Stephen’s brow drew together as his hand reached out to find the mouse. He needed to print out an image from the video, to have a record of the moment the change happened. It shouldn’t be possible but it was. “There has to be an error.”

“I’ve run
the test three times,” Roger said, grabbing a vial of the blood sample he was testing. Tilting his head back so he could read the small print through the bottom half of his bi-focals, he said, “423132-H; it has your initials on it.”

That meant Stephen had collected the sample. Sitting down in front of the screen, he pushed the mouse, capturing an image to print up. Watching the screen with absolute fascination, he murmured, “Truly remarkable; the properties of this blood sample are unique. What was that number again?”

“423132-H,” Roger repeated as Stephen typed the information into another computer, his gaze returning over and over to the monitor, watching the cellular change in real time. When the older man remained silent, Roger carefully asked, “Is it just an anomaly?”

Stephen forced himself to look at the screen he just called up, shaking his head when he read the name. “Roger, what was the number again?”

Once more, Roger read the number and watched as the other scientist scrubbed his hand through his white, unkempt hair. Moving closer, Roger tried to angle his head so he could view the information but Stephen kept blocking his view. Frustrated with the old man’s behavior, he huffed a sigh and stepped back. “What’s wrong?”

“Huh,” Stephen grunted, straightening his shoulders and watching the blood sample as it continued to change the
Apocritum
blood, the DNA strands becoming more and more complex. Given enough time, a drop of the unique blood could potentially create complete DNA in an
Apocritum
. How would it affect a
Calix
? If what he suspected to be true was true it could be the very miracle he had spent his life looking for. “This is very interesting.”

“Whose blood is it?” Roger asked, growing
increasingly impatient with Stephen’s reticence. The old scientist was getting more and more eccentric as the years moved on but this was ridiculous. “Was there contamination of the sample?”

“No,” he murmured, contemplating this
unsettling information, his mind racing with possibilities. He might have finally discovered a way of getting his wife back; he might have found the anomaly the Queen was worried about. But there was a slight inconvenience with his plan. “Are you sure that this is the only sample that causes this… this change?”

“Yes,” Roger said, holding the last vial of sample 423132-H. He raised it up to the light as if it were possible to see what made it unique with the naked eye. Without warning, Stephen’s hand shot out and grabbed the vial from his hand. Narrowing his eyes, Roger glared at the crazy old man, “What’s your deal?”

“What happened to the other vials of this blood?” Stephen asked, handling the vial as if it were the Holy Grail.

Roger’s brow furrowed, “There were only four vials to begin with, Dr. Lincoln. In order to run the tests, I used the usual amount: three vials.”

“Right,” Stephen murmured, absently remembering that they usually used more human blood than
Apocritum
blood because it only took a small drop of venom to convert a human within minutes of being bit. “What ratio did you use?”

“After my initial suspicion was confirmed, I added more
Apocritum
blood to the mix,” Roger explained, grabbing his notes and reading over them, trying to work with the crazy old man. Before he told him the ratio, he anxiously asked, “Do you have the donor’s name?”

“I do,” Stephen admitted, speaking slowly as he weighed his options. Glancing up, he caught the question in Roger’s eyes. “Uh, it’s confidential.”

“Well, could we get some more blood from this donor?” Roger asked, bitter about Stephen’s reluctance to share his findings, his research. They were both assigned to this project; why couldn’t the old man get that fact through his thick skull? Roger heard the stories that ever since the death of his wife, Dr. Lincoln was a different, scarier man; one obsessed with his work. He may be a genius when it came to science but he was a real whack job when it came to everything else. And since Stephen was reluctant to share his information, Roger wasn’t going to offer up any more of his.

“I think that can be arranged
.” Stephen smiled slowly, considering the repercussions of what he just learned, how it would benefit his research. “The donor even works in the building. I am sure that it won’t be a problem to request more blood. Perhaps we could take some every week.”