27- A Family Matter
BERLIN-BRANDEBOURG'S INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, 1989
When the main double glass doors opened, she was instantly seized by the cold, and noticed the snowflakes falling in large quantities outside. She let a group of businessmen pass her by in a hurry. Her fingers tightened a little more around the handle of her small suitcase, nervous about all the people coming and going around her and the hubbub of the taxis honking impatiently.
She slipped her hand into her coat pocket and took out the letter she had been keeping in it. She reread the last few lines, which she knew by heart, before turning around. Her eyes searched for a moment for something. Then when she finally saw the sign she was looking for, she started walking. Suddenly, she hurried and got on the bus just as it was about to leave. She sat in the back and the crowded vehicle slowly began to move, carefully navigating the freshly fallen snow.
She looked by the window and observed the snow-covered landscapes, hoping not to miss her stop. She noticed, as she had during her flight here, that people here in general seemed particularly nervous. She had understood there was something going on in town. She had seen a few groups of soldiers at the airport, there was a sort of wartime excitement. The tension and excitement was palpable all around her. Her country was far too far from Europe to understand exactly what was going on, but she had seen it on the newspaper people were reading on the plane. People talked about a wall, a separation, a conflict with Russia. But she had been told this would not affect her stay here in any way.
She felt on her the insistent glances of a few people sitting a little further back in the bus. She lowered her gaze and tried to hide her face, which she knew was being watched no matter what she did. She had stopped trying to hide her scars under make-up. She couldn't do anything to hide it anyway. Besides, the people of Puerto Deseado knew. They had never asked questions, they knew her story. But this sudden change of universe, from the arid plains to the European countryside, was rather destabilising, she had to admit. She suddenly felt ridiculous in her retro dress and old wool coat. She clearly didn't have the look of all those smart European women, elegantly coiffed and dressed in the latest fashions, as they said here. But after all, that didn't matter to her, she had more important things on her mind.
After only a few minutes in the bus, she stood up abruptly. The bus passed through a tiny village on the line to Berlin's centre and stopped. She got off. She found herself back in the cold, engulfed in heavy snowflakes and gusty wind. The bus started up again and drove away with a loud smell of petrol, leaving her suddenly alone in the middle of nowhere. Around her was nothing but the plain and fields empty of civilisation. A little further on, there was what looked like another small village, but this was the place she had been told to stop at. She had followed the directions on the letter, but could not contain her surprise.
She glanced to the right, then to the left. Then her eyes were drawn to something. A little further on, parked along a dirt road, she noticed a large, dark-coloured four-wheel drive car. The headlights came on, someone opened the door and got out. Despite the thick falling snow and the fog, she had no trouble recognising the man waiting for her on the other side of the road, clad in a long leather coat, a self-scarf and a strange metal-laced corset, which, she noted inwardly, seemed strangely light for the temperatures they were experiencing.
She joined the man, moving slowly through the snow, one hand clutching her coat. She felt her fingers twitch slightly, and she fought hard to hold back the tremors that had taken hold of her arm. The pain was unbearable, she could feel her nerves twisting in all directions. She couldn't tremble, not now. She concentrated on the man who was waiting motionless beside the big car, his hands ceremoniously crossed behind his back. He was much taller than she had imagined, and much more impressive. His steely gaze suddenly focused on her, hidden behind his small round glasses.
"We've been waiting for you, Dr. Boaz."
His hoarse voice almost startled her. He stepped aside and invited her to get into the car. The woman nodded slightly and gave a shy smile, but got in without hesitating. She slid her suitcase inside and took a seat in the back. There was a man sitting in the front passenger seat. He turned slightly towards her and stared at her for a moment with his piercing blue eyes. His facial features were hard, but he nodded courteously in greeting. She noticed his hands crossed in his lap, and saw an ugly scar in the palm of his hand. Understanding what she was looking at, he closed his hands together, and she turned her head away without a word.
The driver, a rather large man with an impressive build, did not give her a glance and started the engine. From his black outfit and the cap he wore, she knew he was undoubtedly a henchman. She saw the alchemist slam the door and go around to climb into the back of the car. He took his seat next to her. The car started slowly, the tyres squealing in the snow.
Soon they were off the main road and onto small, isolated country roads. They drove further and further inland, and after a few hours they quietly crossed the border into the Czech Republic.
During the whole journey, the alchemist just stared straight ahead, without speaking to her. The blond man sitting in the front did not move either, obviously concentrated. Somewhat intimidated by the cold, silent atmosphere in the car, Kristina Boaz looked at her hands carefully, then glanced down at the suitcase at her feet, thinking about how little she had taken with her. Her departure had been hasty, but she knew she had made the right decision. An offer like the one the alchemist had made her could not be refused. There was nothing left for her in Argentina. She had no future there anyway, she knew it, and her mother had understood that long before her. Just as she had understood the disease would soon have the upper hand. Europe was waiting for her with open arms now, with all its promises and possibilities. It was an unhoped-for opportunity for her. A new face, which even the most experienced surgeons in Latin America could never have given her, and above all, a new life.
—
STRAHOV COMPLEX, PRAGUE, 6 MONTHS LATER
She stood up and looked at the strange coloured liquid waving in its transparent bottle in the light of the small lamp. She tilted it to one side, then to the other. She looked down at the notes spread out before her, all over the desk where books, equipment, and all sorts of other things were piled up. It was very dark in the room, but it suited her. She liked to work in the silence of the night, and to be able to concentrate on her research out of anyone else's sight. She enjoyed the quiet of these late hours of the night, which contrasted sharply with the constant bustle of the underground fortress. The fortress had been newly occupied under the orders of the alchemist, and despite the facilities specially designed for her research and the advanced equipment provided, she could not get used to the new environment, nor find her way through the maze of corridors and underground scientific facilities.
She suddenly felt a violent itch on her cheek. She raised her hand to scratch it, but suddenly stopped when her fingers came into contact with the thick bandage that prevented direct access to her skin. She winced in frustration. She was so focused on her research that sometimes she forgot about the major surgery she had undergone a few weeks earlier.
She put down the vial and took a moment to breathe. She could feel her fingers tightening, and her neck stiffening. She was exhausted. She didn't have a moment to herself during the day, not to mention the pills she was taking for the pain were making her a little groggy. But strangely enough, she felt relieved.
For she had succeeded. It was unexpected after such a short time here, but she was clearly on to something. The research she had started in Argentina had allowed her to make the connection with the alchemist's projects. All those hours spent dissecting the bodies Eckhardt had brought back, all the cells and genetic sequences she worked on during the day, it was all connected in a way.
She was one of the best scientists in the world at what she did, and she knew she'd been right. She had found it. Or at least, from the initial results, it all fit together, everything fit together perfectly. The perfect blend, the purest and most powerful modified DNA that ever existed. The one of beasts and creatures of super-power, whose strength transcended the centuries. And even if this DNA could not directly recreate the race her master was desperately trying to revive, it would make her stronger.
She wasn't greedy, no. And she certainly didn't want to take over the world. The idea seemed ridiculous to her, really. All she wanted was to be able to build her own world, create her own descendants, and survive. She was not like all those power-hungry men, she was not like that madman Eckhardt who thought he could fool the world with his mystical creatures. But that didn't matter to her after all. She accepted the rules of the game, bowed to her master's demands, and she knew that all her work would not be in vain. She understood she was just another pawn in his game, but she was ready to accept it. For the moment, at least. But if she had to go through this to reach her goal, then she would know how to be patient, and play her own cards when the time came.
There would surely be a long way to go, she was only at the beginning, but she was making progress. She couldn't help but smile when her gaze fell once again on the syringe in front of her.
A knock on the metal door startled her out of her reverie. Reflexively, she grabbed the syringe and slid it into a desk drawer to hide it. She gathered her notes in a rough heap, she didn't like the idea that someone might accidentally glance at them. She stood up quickly, then walked towards the entrance to her flats, her eyebrows furrowed.
When she unlocked the lock, the door creaked open and she found herself face to face with the blonde-haired, light-eyed Frenchman.
"Karel," Boaz noted bitterly as their eyes locked firmly together.
For a moment, the man simply stood there, in front of the door, without saying a word. The scientist eyed him warily.
"Are you looking for something, perhaps?", she finally asked, annoyed by this impromptu interruption in her activities.
He then handed her a paper file. When she took it and started to leaf through it, Boaz discovered a whole bunch of documents, ranging from analysis reports to detailed diagrams.
"Your new project," Karel told her in his deep and gloomy voice.
Even though every movement of her face made her suffer terribly, the woman could not help but frown a little more. Before her eyes scrolled pictures and sketches of what looked like a nephilim crossed with something else. An animal, or perhaps human body parts.
"A Proto?"
Karel barely nodded.
"Couldn't he tell me about it tomorrow?"
"He knows you're a better worker at night. So whether you start working on it tonight or tomorrow..."
Kristina Boaz looked up from the documents and glared at him.
"All the materials you'll need are already in the Maximum Containment Area."
Boaz looked at him without understanding.
"So I no longer work in the Psychiatric Area and the Sanitarium?"
"It seems that Master Eckhardt has high hopes for you. You're still Head of Corrective and Remedial Surgery, with slightly more... important assignments, from now on. Consider it a promotion, in a way."
"But what happens to all the research I started?"
"It will never be lost. It can always be of use for something else, right?"
Karel's cold, hard gaze then looked straight at her. For a moment they looked, glared and challenged each other. She was not afraid of him, but she was particularly wary of him. Karel was a discreet man, but she was not fooled, he was not the kind of man who could be trusted. He was certainly not on her side, she preferred to keep her distance as much as possible. She hated that piercing little glint in his eyes whenever he looked at someone, as if he was trying to find out what was going on in their heads, as if he was trying to read their souls. Could it be that he had doubts about her and the activities she had made behind Eckhardt's back?
After several long seconds of silence, the Frenchman slowly started moving again and walked away down the corridor.
"No need to rush, but I'd rather start working and concentrate on that Proto if I were you," he said from over his shoulder, as if to warn her.
Boaz did not answer. She just watched him walk away and turn his back on her. She waited until he had disappeared completely into the darkness before returning to her flats. She slammed the door gently and leaned against the cold metal for a moment. Her heart was pounding against her ribs and she took a moment to calm down.
Then she suddenly started to move again and walked briskly towards her desk. After a last look back, as if to make sure no one was going to barge into her cell again, she took the large syringe out of her drawer. She removed the protective cap.
She stood for a moment contemplating the liquid in the vial. Then, as more and more often in recent weeks, she felt that terrible pain return to the back of her head. A sharp and penetrating pain, the one that announced the next crisis and the next tremors, which were not long in coming. Her fingers suddenly clenched in unbearable pain, her whole arm stiffened, she was unable to control it. She held back a cry of pain, bent in half. She sat down on the chair, clutching with her still valid hand the muscles of the one that refused to obey her.
She could not contain her tears of rage. This rage that never left her, this rage that had been inside her since the moment she had woken up in the hospital, almost three years ago, and since the moment the first seizures had begun. It hadn't taken the doctors long to diagnose her, and it hadn't taken her long to understand. She had seen the effects of the disease on her grandmother. And then on her mother, who adamantly refused to face the evidence. And now, her... It was as if their whole family had been cursed. Sometimes she thought it might have been better for her to have died than to have survived that bloody accident. At least she wouldn't have been disfigured, and the damn disease wouldn't have come on so quickly. She wouldn't have had to suffer and see everything fall apart around her. She would never have had to deal with the constant pain that would eventually drive her mad anyway, if the dementia and paralysis hadn't taken over her body first.
There was only one way out for her. She knew what she had to do now. Everything was clear in her mind. After all, she too had the right to win the game. And even if it would be hard, she would fight. She would fight for the life she had always hoped for. A life without suffering, without illness, without weakness. A life of strength and power, but above all, longevity.
She pulled up her blouse, and took the syringe to stick it into her lower abdomen, next to the other bruises that dotted her skin.
—
6 MONTHS LATER
She gave a side glance to the guard who stepped aside to let her pass. When she entered the large meeting room, she met the gaze of Karel, who had already taken his place around the round table made of solid wood, which contrasted sharply with the metal of the walls that surrounded them. Beside him, the skeletal figure of Rouzic did not react, his hands wisely folded in front of him, watching the walls and the imposing gargoyles above them with a suspicious look.
Boaz walked around the table and sat down a few chairs away from them. She gave them a quizzical look, to which the two men did not bother to reply. Annoyed, the scientist folded her arms against her and leaned back in her chair. She didn't like this kind of unannounced meeting, it was never a good sign when Master Eckhardt summoned them all like this. What's more, she was not in the mood to be lectured. Since the day before, she felt particularly strange, and had a great feeling of general discomfort.
The alchemist entered the room, with his metal glove around his arm, which he never left now. He looked at each of the members present, before waving the guard out and closing the door.
"I understood there is news about the paintings, master?", Karel asked before he could say a word.
The man walked a few more steps before stopping in front of them, both hands flat on the large table. His eyes peered over his small glasses at the man and he looked at him seriously.
"As you know, we already have in our possession one of Obscura's paintings, which is kept safely here in the Strahov, in a specially prepared room."
Everyone nodded slowly.
"I have been tracking down the other paintings for over forty years now, scouring the whole of Europe to find them. I have sent men to the four corners of the world, to the most remote and unlikely places. And it seems that the second painting has just been located in Russia by one of our undercover agents."
"This is excellent news, Master," said Rouzic in his deep, drawling voice.
"I'm waiting for confirmation from the henchmen on the ground, but with any luck it'll be repatriated here in the next few days."
"Good," Karel simply said, nodding.
"Where exactly had the first painting been hidden?", Boaz asked in a deceptively innocent voice.
Rouzic leaned slightly towards her, as if he had the idea of discreetly giving her the information, even though there were only the four of them in the room.
"For your information Boaz, the first painting was graciously given to the Master, or at least its location was revealed by the son of the Kriegler family, the same son who helped him escape the prison forged by the Lux Veritatis."
Kristina Boaz looked at her master, who did not take his eyes off her for a few moments.
"And aren't there maps somewhere that would allow us to locate the other ones?", she asked.
She felt the eyes of the other two men suddenly focus on her, as if she had insulted them.
"I mean, I don't know much about their history, but I suppose the Lux Veritatis wouldn't just hide destruction weapons and not leave clues or notes behind for their members to find them if necessary?"
"I must salute your undeniable deductive mind, Boaz," Karel replied cynically.
"That's exactly what we're looking for right now," Eckhardt interrupted them, visibly fed up too. "There is every reason to believe the Order has concealed clues and kept information about it in strategic places. Some of our men have been deployed all over the place to do field reconnaissance, we intercepted a group of men who had unmasked one of our labs in Scotland, but I didn't manage to get Heissturm, though..."
"The third shard is safe, Master," Rouzic said to reassure him.
"I know, I know," replied Eckhardt, straightening up and now pacing the room. "But we'll have to deal with this problem sooner or later too."
"We have men deployed all over the city, Master. At the slightest approach or attempt by the Lux Veritatis-"
"I know!", Eckhardt shouted. "As long as the Lux Veritatis are alive and active, they will pursue us, watching our every move and action. They're on to us, they won't let us go. But if I can get the paintings together and reconstitute the Sanglyph before they intercept me, if we can stay one step ahead..."
The alchemist stopped walking and fell silent. He rubbed his hands together as he thought.
"Well, actually Master Eckhardt, it could be that I can find contacts who would have interesting information for us."
The man straightened up and turned to Rouzic, who was watching him impassively, his hands ceremoniously folded in front of him on the table. Eckhardt indicated to him to continue with a gesture of the head. The archivist cleared his throat and readjusted his suit jacket before speaking again. Boaz couldn't help but roll her eyes at such ridiculous manners.
"As you know, I am an archivist in the city's national archives. Our world is admittedly rather closed, and reserved for initiated people. But I do come across a lot of people from various disciplines. And I might know people who could be useful in our research."
The alchemist signalled him to speed up and get straight to the point.
"I had the opportunity to cross paths with an art dealer at a reception, a certain Visili, or Vasili, I don't remember his name exactly, you'll have to excuse me. But I think we won't have any trouble finding him, he is one of the biggest art dealers in the country, he is quite famous. He's an extremely cultured man, with many contacts all over Europe."
Eckhardt considered his proposal, then nodded slowly.
"That could be a serious lead, indeed. Or at least one worth exploring. Do you know where to find him?"
"As I said, he's one of the most renowned art specialists in the country. I think he told me he had several offices in Europe, including one in Paris, but his main design office is here in Prague."
"You know what you have to do, Karel," said the alchemist, turning to his right arm.
The Frenchman sat up straight in his chair.
"I'll contact a security team right away. Our forces have been deployed all over the city, they are now present everywhere. We'll find him quickly."
"Is the area secured as I asked?", asked the alchemist.
"Within a kilometre of the Strahov. That's as far as we've been able to get, we'll draw attention to ourselves if we try to expand that area. I'm planning to increase the number of me by the way. We're recruiting now, we need a person in charge of security and defence systems. I have made contact with an experienced former mercenary who runs his own security agency. His henchmen are extremely reputable, and there are rumours that he recruits them directly from certain secret services or from the most experienced armed forces."
"Please do," Eckhardt cut him off. "I certainly don't need to burden my mind with such details."
After this scathing remark, to which he did not reply, Karel slowly rose from his chair. Boaz, who had remained silent until now, watched him walk towards the door with a hurried step, before Rouzic, not far from her, got up in turn. As she was about to leave her chair, she suddenly felt a violent nausea. A searing pain pierced her abdomen and she gasped for breath for a moment. Karel heard her grunt in pain and turned around as he was about to leave the room. His sharp, uncompromising gaze focused on her, before Rouzic and Eckhardt did the same.
"What is it, Boaz?", asked the alchemist in a flat, cold voice.
"Nothing at all," she replied curtly.
She took a deep breath, but the pain did not go away. She still tried to keep a straight face in front of the three men who were watching her questioningly.
"Where are you with the Proto, anyway?"
Feeling the pain in her belly increase more and more, the Argentinian stood up, unable to sit still any longer. She swallowed loudly.
"The first tests were conclusive, Master," she answered with difficulty. "Unfortunately, none of the guinea pigs have survived so far, the nephilim DNA is extremely powerful, few subjects can withstand it..."
"I'm sure you'll find a solution soon, won't you?"
It was an order. Finding no verbal response to it, Boaz merely nodded, concentrating on not throwing up in front of him. Luckily, Eckhardt paid no further attention to her and turned away, before making his own way out. She saw him disappear into the corridor, closely followed by Rouzic. Karel, who followed in their footsteps, stared at her for a moment with his small, piercing eyes, as if he were giving her a warning, as if he had sensed what was happening inside her. Then he finally turned his back on her and disappeared.
—
She opened the door of her cell wide and slammed it behind her with a resounding noise. She ran to the back of the cell to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible, and threw herself on the toilet. No sooner had she leaned over than she began to vomit loudly. After a few moments, when the nausea had passed, she stood up carefully and wiped her mouth with a towel that was lying nearby. She took her time getting to her feet, unsettled by the sudden pain that wouldn't leave her. Her whole abdomen twisted in a new terrible cramp, which took her breath away again.
She managed to walk with difficulty to her desk, staggering dangerously between the furniture. She leaned on the furniture, slumped over it, knocked over her notes and equipment as she desperately searched through her papers. She tried to catch her breath and grunted at the same time. She hadn't had a seizure in months, and although she knew she was completely cured, the DNA she'd been regularly injecting herself with had particularly reduced the pain. But she'd never felt that kind of pain before.
Side effects, she thought as she went through her notes.
She felt a violent contraction in her abdomen, and a pain shooting through her back. She couldn't feel her legs, she leaned on the desk for support, and let out a cry of pain. Her fingers tightened on the papers she was holding. Then she felt something trickle down her leg.
When she looked down, she saw nothing at first. There was nothing on her trousers. At least not on the surface. With difficulty, she undid her belt and dropped the garment to the bottom of her ankles. She looked down at her thighs, then at her lower legs, but still saw nothing. Yet something was running down her legs. She ran a hand over her skin and realised there was a liquid. But it was not blood, it was a clear, warm liquid. The woman frowned.
What the...?
Her abdomen contracted again with such force that she almost fainted. She barely managed to hold on to her desk, but when she tried to stand up, she suddenly felt a large amount of liquid coming out of her crotch and splashing on her feet. But again, it was not blood as she had feared at first. It was the same warm transparent liquid. It was water.
Boaz fell to her knees, overcome with pain. She groped for the mirror she kept in one of her desk drawers. She clumsily grabbed it and slipped it between her thighs. The room was not very well lit, she could not see clearly, but she could see enough to make out the shape between her legs.
She dropped the mirror, which shattered beside her. She thought her heart had stopped beating. She was unable to control the anguish that suddenly took hold of her, making her tremble with all her limbs. She let out a both surprised and terrified sob, unable to control herself. But she had no time to think. She felt another contraction, and a sharp pain in her lower abdomen. She knocked over the chair at her desk as she got down on all fours and fell on her side. She got rid of her trousers and then sat on her back, and instinctively began to push with all her might.
The next few minutes seemed interminable, and yet, after pushing only a few times while holding back her screams, there was one last pain, and then suddenly, release. She felt a lump sliding across the floor. Drenched in sweat, she took a few moments to catch her breath. She was terrified of what she would find. Her eyes searched for a point to hold on to reference, but as always, she found no light to hold on to.
She felt movement against her legs and finally decided to sit up slowly, first on her elbows. She let out another sob as she discovered the little being she had just given birth to. In her mind, there was total confusion. Suddenly overcome with anger, she sat up and rummaged through her equipment on her desk. She scratched her hands on her scalpels, picked one up at random, and then turned around. Without thinking, she stuck it into the cord that connected her to the baby who was beginning to stir, and cut. Then she stood over him and raised the knife. She was consumed by rage, blinded by pain and incomprehension.
She didn't understand. It was technically impossible. Since leaving Argentina, she had never... and well, there had been no physical signs, no symptoms either. It was impossible. How could she...?
The DNA has modified some of my cells, and maybe it has modified these cells too, she thought suddenly.
She inhaled sharply, as if she had been underwater for several minutes. As she had expected, the DNA she had used on her had altered part of her brain cells, her immune system, her blood... And undoubtedly these cells too. The entire modification of her body must have caused a general reaction, on all levels without exception. She would never have thought of this possibility, but it was the only logical explanation.
The baby squeaked slightly and writhed on the cold floor, which suddenly brought her back to reality. The Argentinean felt her fingers clenching on the scalpel she was holding again. And suddenly her eyes fell on the small form standing beneath her, still covered in its whitish amniotic fluid. The scientist gripped the knife a little tighter, and gritted her teeth. She tried to concentrate and pull herself together. There was no other way if she wanted to survive. It was either her or him. It was a mistake of nature, a twist of fate. If Eckhardt or the others found out what she had done and what had happened...
Suddenly, the little life's clear eyes, as clear as her own, looked into her ringed and exhausted eyes. And despite her inner struggle, Boaz felt the tension suddenly drop. She let out a big sob and dropped the scalpel, unable to use it. She found herself completely lost, her brain seemed to work in slow motion, and yet she had never been so aware of the danger lying ahead. She couldn't help but look down at him and observe him, she felt as if nothing was real anymore. That it couldn't be real. She felt her heart clench in her chest, and then start to race again. The obvious suddenly struck her.
If he was born from a reaction of her body to the Nephilim cells...
...that makes him a hybrid baby, and therefore half Nephilim
She took deep breaths to try to calm down. She was thinking fast. On the surface he looked like a normal human being, but if he was born of modified cells, then chances were he was, on the inside, or at least technically speaking, a monster.
Trembling, the Argentine gently took the baby in her hands, being careful to hold its head. The touch of his skin against hers felt strange, she shivered. She grabbed the gown that was tucked under her chair, and wrapped the child in it, taking care to wipe it dry. Instinctively, she held him close. Despite the pain in her body, the doubts, for the first time in a long time she felt a glimmer of hope and a gentle warmth awaken. The baby squeaked again, and this time she smiled at him.
My creation
She cradled him gently. If she had nothing left of this cold and unforgiving world, she knew she would have him at least. Her ray of hope, her creation, her very own creature. Her baby, her family. The family she had always hoped for. If he was what she thought he was, then a whole new world of possibilities opened up for them. She had created a whole new world.
I have created a line of extraordinary beings. You and I are extraordinary beings
But soon sadness and despair returned and took over. All her hopes and dreams vanished, her smile faded. If the child was half Nephilim, then Eckhardt would take him over and make him a mere puppet at his command. Or worse, perhaps he would force her to use him for her sordid experiments. And if he saw him as a direct threat...
She couldn't think about it. After all her efforts and all she had endured, she would not let anyone take away her reward. There was no way the fruits of her labour could be destroyed. She couldn't bear the thought of it being taken away, but she knew the alchemist wouldn't hesitate for a second.
Boaz shook her head sharply. She glanced at the metal door, then all around her, then at the baby in her arms. There was only one option open to her.
—
She stopped the car and turned off the lights. For a few moments she enjoyed the snowflakes falling thickly in the dark, thick night, then turned to the passenger seat. The baby was swaddled in a thick cloth, she could only see the tip of his nose from where she was. He had not moved the whole way, no doubt lulled by the vibrations of the car.
She didn't have much time left. She had to be quick before someone noticed she was gone. She had already thought of everything. With a bit of luck, Eckhardt wouldn't even know she'd come all the way here, and even if some of the goons asked questions, she had swing by the old lab on the way back and tell them she had needed to pick up some documents urgently. But in the end, it didn't matter, she would think about it later.
She pulled up the collar of her coat. She turned the door handle and found herself plunged into the freezing cold. The snow crunched under her feet as she walked around the vehicle. She opened the other door and took the baby in her arms. She wrapped him in a thick blanket with holes in it, and slowly turned around. She breathed in the cold air, and walked forward.
Her steps were heavy as she approached the red stone building. Not far away was a small square with a snow-covered fountain, undoubtedly the centre of the village. There were a few old houses with dark wood and white frames typical of here, but at this late hour the place was deserted. Only a faint light, perhaps from a candle, was shining through one of the windows of the building she was heading towards. She climbed the few steps of the forecourt, and stood in front of the large wooden door for a long time.
She couldn't read Same, but she knew she was in the right place. Next to the building, bordered by a pretty wooden fence, there was a kind of small garden drowned in snow, under which one could guess various games for children. She had remembered this address from an old classmate, when she was still a student nurse in Argentina. A girl who had become pregnant by accident, and who had had her baby sent here under pressure from her parents. Strangely enough, the name of this remote village on the Norwegian coast had stuck in her mind, without her being able to explain why. Chance, or maybe a sign of fate, but she wasn't the type to dwell on such details anyway. She simply knew that she would be fine here, and especially protected from the alchemist.
The baby began to move gently in her arms again and made noise. She stroked its cheek with her fingertips.
My sweet little creature
She placed a kiss on its forehead, and reluctantly laid the infant on the steps, taking care to protect it from the falling snow.
"I will come back for you," Boaz whispered. "And I promise you, you and I will do great things together, my little princess."
It took a terrible effort to get to her feet. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Then, after one last look back, she turned around and disappeared into the night.
When the orphanage's door finally opened after a few minutes, a woman discovered with surprise, under a thick blanket full of snow, a tiny baby of only a few days, maybe a few hours, who was watching the snowflakes fall with her big, strangely bright eyes full of life, that shone like two little flames in the night.
—
PRESENT DAY
Time stood still for long seconds, during which no one dared to move. The henchmen scattered all over the room remained petrified, not sure about how to react. There was a dead silence in the laboratory.
The young assistant lowered the still smoking firearm and walked slowly and carefully towards the desk. A large bloodstain had splattered the sheets of paper there, as well as some of the furniture behind. She walked around the furniture and over the overturned stool. She stopped beside the still warm body lying on the floor. A pool of blood was now spreading slowly from under Miranda Svendsen's thick hair, spilling unevenly over the small squares of the mosaic floor. The young woman let out a satisfied laugh and turned away.
She picked up the blood-stained syringe, which had fallen and rolled a little further away onto the desk. Javier, gun in hands, watched her without saying a word, his gaze wary.
She glanced briefly at the Argentinian man, took one last look at the woman lying at her feet, before turning to the mercenary still lying tied to the altar behind them. Her big, strangely bright eyes suddenly shone with great sparks of life and like never before, like two burning flames in the darkness.
"Now, we can seriously get down to business," Saija said with a broad smile.
She gripped the syringe firmly, and stuck it in her own neck without the slightest hesitation.