Ronen #4
The sample had both red and black blood cells, but that was where the similarities between the samples ended.
Stringy, almost curdled-looking plasma surrounded the small disks, and it looked as if the red blood cells were absorbing one another, their union turning them brown, while the black cells seemed to be dissolving.
“What’s happening?”
“Based on my studies, angels can’t share blood without their powers attacking one another unless they have the same power. The foreign red blood cells are creating a catalyst of degradation.”
“Which is why they die, and souls are the perfect vessels,” I finished.
“Exactly.”
“And this blood-bound venom—is it spread only through biting, or is their blood poisonous too?” I asked. The whole reason Lucifer didn’t want Sam studying the blood was because of the hypothetical risks.
“Those infected with the first strain can only spread their toxins through a bite. The second strain, because of its potency, can spread through both bite and blood—but only if the blood enters the body.”
Seven Hells.
That meant my power was practically useless against them, and anyone who so much as received a cut and was exposed to their blood would either turn or die. I’d have to send out another missive today warning everyone.
“How did you figure this out?”
He stared at me calmly.
“Through testing.”
He didn’t say anything more, and since he appeared fine, I let it go.
“Okay, so how do these discoveries help us find a cure?”
“I know almost every color of plasma and the power associated with it. You know the color I’ve never seen before?”
It only took me a second to respond, a heaviness sinking into my gut. “Purple.”
He must’ve seen something on my face because his eager expression smoothed into sympathy. And that was what confirmed my assumption.
I sank back against the counter, the tops of my swords clinking against the glass cabinets.
“You think Lucille’s blood created this new strain.”
He picked up Rodderick’s blood sample, twisting it between his fingers with an expression that almost bordered on admiration.
“Yes.”
“And?”
He quickly set the vial down and composed his face back into neutrality.
“I know that knowledge may be hard to stomach, but if I’m right, then we are one step closer to figuring out a way to at least stop their ability to spread the infection, maybe even halt transitions.
” He gestured to a pile of syringes and empty vials.
“If she’d allow it, I’d love samples of her blood.
It created this second infection, so I believe it may be the answer to stopping it. ”
She wasn’t going to like that. Any of it—knowing Lilith stole her blood and used it to create the new strain of the demon infection. Or someone else did. Nor the fact that supplying blood entailed the use of Sam’s sharp syringes, and my tough little hellion had a phobia of them.
Still, she’d help. I knew she would.
“I’ll bring her in.”
Looking a bit too eager, Sam picked up a syringe.
“I’d also like yours.”
“Mine?”
“Yes, you two are connected. I might need it. My goal is to use the magical properties within your blood to eliminate the blood-bind that causes the mutation and kill the infection completely.”
“Alright.”
After supplying Sam with more blood than I’d thought he would need, a knock sounded at his door. He frowned, crouched behind the counter where I couldn’t see him, and quickly stashed my blood vials away.
The counter beneath my hand suddenly hummed with energy, prickling my fingers.
Another knock sounded.
Sam grumbled beneath his breath and walked toward the door.
While he opened it, I peeked over the counter and found four cabinets with glowing yellow knobs.
Knowing how deadly it could be if my blood fell into the wrong hands, I appreciated his extra precaution.
Sam peered through the crack in his door. He opened it wider, enough for me to see, and searched left and right.
Oliver, surrounded in a wavering darkness, squeezed through the opening. He kept his attention completely on the oblivious healer, unaware of me. He ran his hands through his hair a few too many times, as if working up the courage for something.
Sam didn’t see him at all.
Oliver was shadowing.
Sam shrugged, closing the door.
“May have been Bree—”
Oliver released his power, exposing his state of undress right in Sam’s line of sight, grabbed the back of his head, and kissed him. Boldly. Shamelessly. Without hesitation.
Gabriel would’ve critiqued his execution a bit, and most definitely his lack of clothing in such a display. Especially since Sam stiffened, which meant this was either their first kiss or Sam preferred no audience.
I assumed the latter as Sam melted into Oliver, completely forgetting—or ignoring—me.
“I’ll just see myself out.” I squeezed by them, holding back my smile.
Oliver abruptly pulled back, his eyes widening.
“Shit.”
“Don’t stop on my account,” I said, amused.
I opened the door and left, Sam’s soft reassurances following me out.
Gabriel would’ve been happy for his son and proud of his boldness. Since he wasn’t here, I’d be happy for him.