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AFTER A GRUELING DAY with the Phasmatodeas, McBrid still had his appointment with Professor Conguise to attend. These meetings were never enjoyable, but they were inevitable. He knocked on the door to the professor’s office.
“Enter,” called out Conguise.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him and taking the seat across from the professor.
“How is the Aranea project proceeding?”
“I’ve had some interesting results.” At the professor’s raised brow he continued. “I modified the serum, trying to make it less painful for the Servants.”
“In hopes that more will survive.”
It wasn’t a question but he said, “Yes. We lose too many to the process.”
“Good idea.”
“Thank you.” He squashed the small surge of pride. He hadn’t needed his grandfather’s praise and he didn’t need Conguise’s.
“Is it working?”
“Perhaps. The first few days, I saw no outward change in either host.”
“Really? Usually this process makes them ill right away.”
“I know but not this time. The male succumbed to illness on day five, but the female has still shown no symptoms.”
“None at all?”
He shook his head.
“Th-that’s not possible. They’re changing at a cellular level. Those types of transformations cause illness, pain and sometimes death.”
“I know, and yet, she remains well.” She was amazing. If she continued to show no symptoms he could let her return to her mother. “It’s possible that she’s immune.”
“Immune to cellular modification?” Conguise’s brows lowered. “That’s impossible.”
“Science is always proving the impossible possible.” He couldn’t help a smirk. It was one of Conguise’s favorite lines to use when pushing his agenda. “Her blood will be invaluable to our studies.”
“If she’s immune.” Conguise’s long fingers tapped the desk. “Keep me posted on any change, no matter how small.”
“Of course. I’ll finish the series of shots, gather samples of her blood and return her to her mother. I’m sure the older female is missing her deeply.” McBrid wanted to cram the words back into his mouth. He knew Conguise’s prejudices.
“She’ll forget about her offspring in time, if she hasn’t already.”
“Of course.” The mother would never forget.
“But it doesn’t matter because the host can never return. She could change at any time.”
“Not if her blood proves she’s immune.” Fersia deserved to go back to her mother.
Conguise’s fingers tapped in thought.
“I’d keep her for several weeks, perhaps more. It’d depend on how her blood looks but if it’s clear, she should be allowed to return to her life.”
“No.” Conguise’s fingers stilled. “We don’t know enough about any type of immunity or resistance. We’ve never encountered it before and we can’t take the chance of something triggering the transformation.”
“If she’s immune there’d be no trigger. No transformation.” He wasn’t going to make her stay and watch her mate change into a monster.
“It could be resistance and not immunity. Anything could weaken her ability to fight the change—a cold, an injury. Anything. We can’t risk it.” Conguise shook his head as he opened another folder. “How are the experiments on the Phasmatodeas coming along?”
He wasn’t ready to move off topic. “I disagree about Fersia...the female Servant.”
“You’d risk sending an Aranea into our society?”
“Of course not. Only a madman or a fool would do that, but if she’s unchanged she should be allowed to leave. She hasn’t seen anything. I’ve made sure of that.” He’d done it to keep her from being frightened but it worked for her freedom too.
“Except the transformation of the male.”
“I’ll move her when the time is necessary. Right now, all she’s seen is his sickness.”
“And that they’ve both been given shots.”
“To advance arthritis research.”
Conguise chuckled. “It does eliminate arthritis.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgement of the accuracy of his lie.
“Still. She can’t be released. I understand you may have developed a fondness for her since she’s unique, but once you’re done studying her blood, she must be destroyed. If you can’t do it, I’ll get someone who can.”
“No. I’ll do it.” McBrid showed no emotion. He’d mastered the art of hiding his fury at a young age.
“Good. You may make it by injection or some other non-painful means.” The professor smiled as if bestowing a gift.
“Thank you.” It was the proper response to a gift, even a vile one.