Fynn would not have gone to the work party if Cate hadn’t talked her into it. She hadn’t been to the University for a week. She hadn’t returned to her own house since the night of the concert. It surprised her when Cate insisted she go after hearing her talk to Cara about blowing the donor party off altogether.
“Your work is important,” she’d said, ironing a blouse of her own that she was lending Fynn to wear. It was white, a man’s-style shirt. Fynn liked it, was touched that Cate took the time to make sure she looked nice. Cate set up the ironing board in the kitchen and wouldn’t let any of the groupies take the iron from her. She insisted on doing it herself.
“Komo is a full-time job, but he’s my full-time job,” Cate said. “You two are soul mates, but you still have your own life. No guy is worth losing your career over.” She shook out the blouse and handed it to Fynn. “Go meet the donors. Let your bosses see you working hard. Then come back to us.”
Cate understood everything Fynn was trying to accomplish. It made Fynn feel foolish for abandoning work in the days since the concert. She resolved to return to classes the next week, and at least finish out the semester. After that, she would take a sabbatical to go on tour with Komo. They were at the end of the Goddess Strain project anyway. Dr. Sullivan would have to understand.
Fynn slipped the starched cotton shirt over her camisole and let Cate button it for her. In the tower room, she tucked it into a pencil skirt that belonged to one of the girls and finished it off with a borrowed pair of high-heeled pumps. With her hair up, she looked like a different person. She looked like a real adult.
Once at the donor party, Fynn edged the crowd, arranging her face to polite interest when people approached. It took great effort. She held a glass of wine in her hand, if it could be called that. After the first sip, she’d almost spit it out in front of everybody. Compared to Komo’s wine, it tasted like dirty water. The stuff they served at University parties wasn’t good enough for Komo to soak his feet in. A terrible headache began to throb in her right temple.
The party was all donors and administrators Dr. Sullivan’s age sipping dead wine. There was no poetry or music here. No fragrant cigarettes, no dancing, and no Nine. Her feet hurt in the heels. She wondered what Komo was doing in that moment. When she’d left him, he was on the beach, getting surfing lessons from Randy. When he got back, he’d be tired and ready for someone to rub his shoulders. She wanted to be the one to do it, not for anyone to try to take her place.
Chancellor Freeman appeared by Fynn’s side. “We have to make sure we mention your mother,” she said. Fynn stood by while Chancellor Freeman called for the attention of everyone in the room. The woman had the voice of a bullhorn.
“We must remember that none of this great work would have been possible without Dr. Brigid Kildare of the Brigid’s Keep Institute,” Chancellor Freeman said. “As if the endowments weren’t enough, we have the ultimate contribution of her daughter, Dr. Fynn Kildare.”
Fynn tried to avoid the eyes of her co-workers. These public pronouncements about her family were embarrassing.
“Fynn is very young, yet she has accomplished so much,” the chancellor continued. “She is a brilliant prodigy in the sciences. Her work with Dr. Colm Sullivan’s team has put St. Cocha University on the forefront of immunology and anti-viral research. We’re on the map now, folks. Let’s hand it to the Goddess Strain.”
“It really was a team effort,” Fynn said. But her voice was lost in the applause. The chancellor gave her a half hug for the benefit of a photographer. Fynn would gladly have given a grand contribution of her own to never see that horrible, awkward picture online, but publicity was an inevitable part of being Dr. Brigid Kildare’s daughter.
Fynn spent the next hour answering questions and being polite with the millionaire alumni who paid for the lab equipment and assistant time. As soon as possible, she began a move to the door. A full-fledged headache gripped her temples. She needed to stop by her house for a few things and then get back to Komo.
A man she did not recognize extended his hand for her to shake. She took him for a young alum with his expensive business suit and silk tie.
“Dr. Kildare, I’ve been waiting to meet you,” he said. She shook hands with him. His palm was smooth and when she let go, she could smell his cologne on her skin. “I’m Cain Sandlin,” he said.
“The Cain Pharmaceuticals guy?” she asked.
“That’s me,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. He smiled, shrugged his shoulders. “The big, bad, Cain Pharmaceuticals guy.”
“I’m surprised you got past the gate,” Fynn said. “St. Cocha University doesn’t exactly approve of corporate evil.”
“I told them I was with the catering company,” he said. “Have you tried the sushi rolls? They’re pretty good.”
Fynn shrugged. She hadn’t eaten anything that day now that she thought about it. She only had an appetite for Komo, wine, and Nine. She smiled to herself. Maybe she would write a song about it.
“That’s a mysterious smile,” he said. “One I remember well.”
“Remember?” Fynn glanced at the clock on the wall. She’d been at the reception for over two hours. It had to be okay for her to leave soon.
“You and I grew up together in Brigid’s Keep,” the man said. Fynn stopped looking around and focused on his face.
“We did?” She supposed there was something familiar in the set of his jaw. She’d met hundreds of children living in the Keep at one time or another. She couldn’t imagine this slick businessman as a child. Certainly not a Keep child.
“I was much older than you,” he said. “Eight years older. But we were there together. I remember you.” He was blandly handsome, a pleasant smile on his face as he fiddled with something in his pocket.
“How does a Keep kid grow up to become the head of a money-grubbing pharmaceutical company?” she asked. Her mind flashed on the sick and dying children the man standing in front of her was responsible for harming. He just laughed.
“I assume you’re referring to our recent actions regarding Africa,” he said as casually as though they were talking about sushi rolls. The truth was that Cain Pharmaceuticals recently blocked widespread charitable distribution of a new viral immunization to Africa in favor of selling it to warlords and dictators for millions.
“Among other things, yes,” Fynn said. Cain Pharmaceuticals’ business practices ended up killing thousands of people who could not afford the shots. “You’re a murderer in a suit jacket,” she said. “We don’t need your funding for our project.”
“Maybe we should be working together instead of at cross purposes,” Cain said, his smile unchanged. “You might find I’m not as heartless as you think.” He leaned close. His cologne was really overpowering. She tried to escape it and bumped into someone big behind her. She turned around.
It was the bleached-blond surfer who cut her off at the Alley. He wore a nametag on his polo shirt like the new doctoral students. Eligos.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked. His brothers, Amon and Sam, came up behind him.
“We’re in Dr. Sullivan’s new cohort,” Eligos said. He caught Sullivan’s eye from across the room and waved. The old professor nodded without smiling before disappearing to the balcony.
“You’re kidding me,” she said.
“Nope.” He grinned. “So, you’re Brigid Kildare’s daughter?”
Fynn looked over her shoulder. Cain of Cain Pharmaceuticals was already walking away. She’d almost rather talk to him. There was just something about the three surfer guys that made her nervous.
“Still pissed at me for cutting you off on the wave?” he asked, calling back her attention.
He was almost as tall as Komo, but broader. His unusual turquoise eyes might have been the result of tinted contact lenses, but this close, they looked real. The hair on his forearms glinted like gold against his caramel-colored skin.
“It was a dick move,” she said. “
You could have killed me out there.”
“Now, why would I do that?” he asked. The three of them were grinning like crazy people, their arms crossed in front of their chests, biceps knotting in dangerous-looking bulges.
“Because you’re an asshole,” she said. Chancellor Freeman glanced over with a quizzical face, as though she couldn’t believe what she’d heard Fynn say.
“I just have to ask,” Eligos said, as unmoved by her distaste as Cain was. “What is she like?”
“Who?” Fynn asked.
“Your mother. Mother Brigid.” His eyes seemed to move like water. The two others crowded close to hear her answer. A few people standing around stopped talking. It was the question everyone wanted to ask.
Fynn looked down at her boots. “Strange,” she said. She crossed her arms. Someone must have decided the room was stuffy enough to crank the air conditioner.
“Did you say ‘strange’?” The three surfer guys leaned in. They looked hungry. That was what bothered her about them. Their eyes searched hers to the point of being invasive and...hungry.
“Fine. It’s fine,” Fynn said. “It’s great.” As she turned to walk away, she thought that she saw Eligos flash the others a grin full of pointed teeth. When she did a double take, he winked, holding up something red and heart-shaped between his thumb and forefinger. She fixated on it, forgetting about his shark teeth, about Cain Pharmaceuticals, about everything, but what Eligos held in his hand.
“I have your attention now,” he said. The two others giggled in the way that naughty children did when they were doing something awful. The high pitch of their laughter was very weird.
She rubbed her temples. It was a serious possibility that she was losing her mind. “Give me that,” she said.
“It would help with the headache,” he said. The two others watched him.
“Give it,” she said, modulating her voice. He grinned wider and held the pill over his head, out of her reach.
With no forethought whatsoever, Fynn jumped for it with a speed neither of them were expecting. He tried to veer back, but she grabbed his hand in both of hers and pulled it down. The space between them closed to nothing and she wrestled with him as he tried to free his arm.
In a far distance, she heard a little boy crying. A bolt of sorrow ripped through her. Someone was hurting a little boy. She held fast to Eligos’ forearm and hand. The Nine tablet was lost, dropped to the floor, and crushed underfoot. She regretted that, but there was something going on under her palms. Eligos’ skin emanated the heat of a killing fever. His muscles tensed, but he had ceased to move. He clenched his jaw and stood perfectly still, staring down at her without blinking.
Her own hands were heated to full Healing power. She hadn’t been aware that she’d gathered the energy. Somewhere a child was crying in pain. A sob of grief caught in her throat. She blinked back tears as healing energy flowed into this stranger she didn’t even like. The room disappeared in a flash of white light. She had to find the little boy. She was consumed with the urgent desire to locate him and heal his pain.
Don’t cry. She begged the white light to find where the boy was hurting. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
After a few seconds, it was over. The other two yanked Eligos away from her grip. “Fucking bitch,” one of them muttered. The three of them turned away and moved through the crowd towards the exit. A few of the other students and lab techs looked at her strangely. Chancellor Freeman shouldered her way over. Fynn slipped to the balcony to escape.
The night air smelled of redwood forest and ocean. With one hand, she undid her hair from its twist. She fell into a chair and rested her forehead against the cool cement of the balcony wall. She was exhausted from touching the stranger. Healing him, if that’s what she did. She wondered who the child was in her vision. Her heart still ached from sadness for him.
The smell of cigarette smoke turned her head. In the shadow against the building, an ember glowed. “This party sucks worse than most, doesn’t it?” Dr. Sullivan stepped out from under the eave. He flicked ash off the balcony.
“It does,” Fynn agreed.
“You still getting over that flu?” he asked. Fynn didn’t answer. Her excuse for not showing up at work was a transparent lie to the man who knew that she was never sick. He didn’t mention it though, and just pointed his cigarette toward the ocean. “Hard to believe we came from that,” he said. “After millions of years, we pulled ourselves out of the primordial ooze. Gills turned to lungs. And here we are.” He ground the cigarette under his shoe.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Fynn said. “Speaking of lungs.”
“I don’t. Usually.” He ran his hand down his face. Inside, a champagne cork popped.
“It’s turned out to be too soon for celebration,” he said.
“What are you talking about, Sully?”
“Years of research and trials,” he said. “All of it negated by a virus no one even knew existed before a week ago.” He opened the door that led to the stairwell. “I need to show you something.”
As they walked away from the party, Chancellor Freeman made another grand announcement. Her bullhorn voice followed them down the stairs. They were on the map now, folks, she said again. They were on the map and the world would never be the same.
Fynn followed her old professor down the hall. It was turning out to be a very strange night.
***
The fluorescent lights flicked on. The lab gleamed from chrome surfaces. She’d never noticed before how bright it was, how sharp and gleaming the edges of the tables and equipment were. She thought ruefully of the Nine tablet Eligos had taunted her with. He was right when he said it would have helped with her headache. It would have helped with everything.
“It’s Artemis,” Dr. Sullivan said, leading Fynn into the quarantine area.
Two cages sat behind the quarantine Plexiglas. In them were the Goddess Strain’s last lab monkeys Artemis and Io. In the cage next to Artemis, Io was asleep. Her snores rose from the cage like a baby’s breathing.
“We injected both of them with Goddess Strain right after a shot of Hydravirus,” Dr. Sullivan said. “Not that Artemis would need it. With your DNA, she was born immunized.”
Fynn knew all about the procedures, the tests, the controls. She’d co-authored the experiment reports. Hydravirus was new, but nothing Goddess Strain could not handle. The antidote mutated faster than any virus. The Goddess Strain was a living organism with DNA that had the ability to change its own code in order to destroy its prey faster than the virus itself could mutate to avoid annihilation. They mutated Artemis’ DNA when she was a zygote in a Petri dish, infusing her with Fynn’s cells. They shared so much DNA that in some ways, Artemis was more her sister than Lia was. It was a secret part of the project that only Fynn and Dr. Sullivan knew about. Sully had been a Keep disciple. He knew Fynn as a child. They needed to know the Strain’s effect on Divine DNA. Less than one percent of the world’s population was Divine, but it was a large enough group to require a control. Dr. Sullivan insisted on it.
“Io looks fine,” Fynn said.
Dr. Sullivan directed her attention to Artemis. Fynn had injected the monkey with Hydravirus. She had steeled herself against a wave of sadness, as the animal let her fill her vein with the viral infection that had destroyed its teenage human host. Fynn had confidence that their shared DNA would protect Artemis, but it still hurt to knowingly infect another living thing with a killer virus.
Fynn peered into Artemis’ cage. The monkey’s eyes were glazed over. When Fynn approached, she stuck her thin arm out between the metal bars.
“She wants more,” Dr. Sullivan said.
“More what?” Fynn asked.
For an answer, he stuck his hands through the silicone gloves attached to the cage. He injected the monkey before carefully pushing the needle into a special biohazard bin. He pulled his hands out of the gloves and watched as Artemis weaved. She fell into her bedding.
; “I don’t get it. She’s acting stoned. What did you just give her?” Fynn asked. “Morphine?”
Dr. Sullivan shook his head. “That was the Hydravirus,” he said. “It’s the only thing that calms her. Otherwise she starts chewing on her own fingers. In another few hours, she’ll want more.”
Fynn stared at the blissed-out monkey. This could not be happening. It did not make any sense.
“We need to get the others on the team,” Fynn said. “I’ll call Cara. We need to let them know. We need to start over. We need--”
Dr. Sullivan raised his hand for quiet. “We need to talk, Fynn,” he said. “There is something you should see.”
He led her to the electron microscope. “Artemis since the Hydra mutation,” he said. In the sample, the blood cells moved at unnatural speed. Virus clung to the cells as they slammed into one another. The entire slide looked like a crowded mosh pit at a wild punk rock show.
“But the Strain is working in Io,” Fynn said.
“Yes. Io is totally asymptomatic at this point,” Dr. Sullivan said. He fingered the pack of cigarettes in his front pocket.
“As long as Io remains healthy, we can control the problem,” Fynn said. Her chest physically hurt with sympathy for Artemis. They had to fix this. “We’ve gotten this far. We’ll just have to go a little farther and figure it out.”
“We’ll go to Brigid’s Keep and talk with your mother. See what she says.”
“No,” Fynn said. “This is our project, Doc. My project. This has nothing to do with her.” Fynn punched in the code to the quarantine chamber.
Fynn didn’t bother with the silicone gloves. She lifted Artemis out of the cage, her little body radiating the baked heat of a dying mammal.
“Damn, girl,” Fynn whispered. She told Dr. Sullivan to unwrap a syringe for her. He did so, his mouth clamped into a disapproving line. She stuck it into Artemis’ arm.
“This is the last time, little sister,” she said, withdrawing a vial of blood. The monkey’s head nestled against her arm. Fynn rested her hand over Artemis’ chest and belly. She took a deep breath in. The healing power was sluggish after whatever it was that had happened with Eligos. She muttered a Gaelic prayer to Brigid and felt it stirring faster.
The Arrow (Children of Brigid Trilogy Book 1) Page 8
