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“It hasn’t shifted at all. And, it fucking shimmers like oil on pavement. I’ve never seen—I don’t think anyone’s ever seen—blood that stays the same color and fucking glitters. Even stranger, the red blood cells are still intact. White blood cells are still fucking moving, which should be impossible. Those die within hours of leaving the body. It looks like it came out of someone five minutes ago, not days or weeks ago.”
“Okay, so the blood in that vial isn’t aging. That’s what you’re saying?” I ask, trying to dumb it down enough to understand.
“I’m saying,” He shoots me a look, “the blood in that vial doesn’t know it’s not inside a body anymore.”
Silence.
“That’s impossible,” Silas scoffs, breaking the silence. “What species’ blood does that? Wolven?”
Dax shakes his head. “No, their blood decays at a rate similar to ours—at a much slower rate than humans. It’s due to the magical properties that allow us to heal faster.”
“So whatever blood this is,” Gav’s arms are crossed over his huge chest as he leans against a cabinet by one of the stoves. “The body it came out of just heals immediately?”
“Not necessarily.” Dax rubs the back of his neck and sighs before standing up straighter. Great. He’s in full professor mode now.
“Okay, so, healing—especially in Supes—isn’t just about regeneration. It’s about triaging. Our bodies will prioritize more serious injuries first. Heal the torn artery, save the bruises and small cuts for later. That kind of thing. This blood wouldn’t triage, because it’s still waiting for a command.”
Gavran grunts in disbelief. “Like it’s not, what, activated yet?”
“Exactly like that,” Dax nods. “That’s why I sent it out for gene sequencing. I’m hoping we can get some answers when those reports come back.”
“Who’d you send it off to?” Gav asks. “I don’t exactly trust UPS with magic blood.”
“Relax. I’ve got someone. Real quiet type. Doesn’t want to be involved in anything that happens outside her labs. I sent a sample through a secure blind drop. They won’t ask questions.”
“How long?” Caelan’s been calm this entire time, but it’s an unnatural calm like someone forcing themselves into stillness.
“A week, probably more.”
“So we’re stuck waiting,” Caelan mutters. His fist drifts to his sternum again, where he rubs at it absently.
Maybe he has heartburn…
“Pretty much. I can do a lot of shit in-house, but a full gene sequencing is way outside my abilities with what we have here.”
We’re all quiet, clearly considering the massive magic-laced bomb Dax just dropped on us.
Note to self: When my packmates are acting squirrely as shit, push harder.
“Okay so, hear me out.” Silas holds up a finger, an excited smile on his face. “What if you let me smell it?”
“Absolutely not,” Caelan barks.
“Why not?” Silas argues, “I have a great nose! I smelled the cinnamon rolls last week, all the way from the trainee compound!”
Dax rolls his eyes. “That was once, and it’s because all the kitchen windows were open, you absolute walking liability.”
“I’m not asking to fucking bathe in it,” he huffs petulantly. “Just one little whiff. For science.” The fact that he’s trying to play the science card on Dax has me coughing to cover a laugh.
“What you’re gonna get is your ass beat if you don’t stay away from it,” Dax growls.
He turns to place it back in the fridge, but Gav pushes off the counter and crosses the room, putting a hand out to stop him.
“If it smells that distinct, it could give us some idea your testing hasn’t yet, yeah?” He cocks his head. “Why didn’t you smell it?”
“I was in a sterile environment. Gloves, goggles, mask, plenty of ventilation. I don’t normally sniff blood like it’s part of a wine tasting.”
Gav gestures toward Silas, who’s literally bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. “Alright, smell isn’t a test. But it is data. Silas has the best nose of all of us. I’d rather he take the chance now and see if there’s anything worth catching.”
