Chapter 70 #2
“How blind I was,” he repeated to himself.
It had been right there in front of him—the same symptoms he had, the same feeling that there was something he should know but couldn't remember.
However, Zion wasn't an idiot: he'd learned that Serguei never did anything without a purpose, and despite his terrible methods, the psychic tried to care for the people he liked.
And he liked Kyller very much. Perhaps she was the only one he ever showed affection for.
Still, he wanted to kill the man for hiding something so important.
The memory his partner had transmitted to him replayed in his mind: a little girl in a tree, watching her mother be killed by another woman.
That face. The face he'd grown up seeing on his father's apartment wall.
He couldn't believe Serguei had hidden something of that magnitude.
He desperately wanted to understand why, and he couldn't stop thinking about the face of the woman who'd given him life.
That Ravena was alive—or at least her body was—was impossible to comprehend.
He avoided dwelling on the words spoken within the memory about the archangels' connection, which Serguei's book referred to as Kyller's lineage. Could that be real?
However, all these questions would have to wait, because now there was another matter to deal with. Zion had ordered his men to take Zafira safely to the palace. So when Elitium woke up, the psychic sent him a single message:
“Don't look for me, because I'll be on 'vacation' in the special room. You'd better not show up here, boy.”
That only complicated the situation further.
The “special room” was a place lined with iron, which would limit Serguei's powers.
That meant he could no longer help Zion with information and espionage.
The phone rang in his pocket, and the general left the room to answer the call.
He was a bundle of nerves waiting for an update on Kiara's condition.
“Yes?”
“Hello, General.” It was the receptionist from the veterinary clinic. “Dr. Owen is still with Kiara. He's asking you to come in.”
“How is she?”
“That's something Dr. Owen should discuss with you.”
He looked through the glass at the bed where Kyller still slept and sighed.
“Can't we talk over the phone? I'm at the hospital and can't leave here.”
“The clinic's protocol requires authorization from a responsible party for major surgeries. In this case, only you or Miss Kyller can sign. Dr. Owen asked me to let you know it's urgent.”
Zion looked back at his partner. He didn't want to leave her, but he couldn't abandon the chimera at the vet either. Both mattered deeply to him, and logically, his partner wasn't at risk of death. Kiara was.
“I'll be there in ten minutes,” he murmured into the device.
“The AnimalVet team thanks you. We'll be waiting.”
Zion ended the call and walked into the room, stopping beside the bed.
He reached out and caressed the woman's face.
She was still unconscious. Relief washed over him as he noticed her skin was already returning to its normal color.
He typed a message to Ambrose, letting him know he needed to see Kiara.
The elmedic replied that he'd come up when he could to stay with her.
Then he kissed Kyller's forehead and stepped away.
Δ
The general pushed open the door, and the irritating little bell jangled against his sensitive ears.
The attendant smiled when she saw him and led him through corridors that reeked of dog, alcohol, and medication.
The veterinarian was in his office, staring at the computer screen.
When Zion entered, Owen jumped to his feet and thumped his fist against his chest in a formal greeting.
“Good thing you came quickly!”
“How is she?” The general returned the salute with a fist to his chest and got straight to the point. He had no time to waste.
“Come see.” Owen led him to his desk and turned the old computer screen toward him.
Two graphs filled the display. Zion wasn't a doctor, but he understood the image showed levels of organic components—sodium, potassium, calcium.
“The first graph shows Kiara's results from a month ago.
See, only the sodium is a little elevated, but that's normal for her.” He pointed to a blue bar that exceeded the limit line.
“Now look at the new exam—we drew blood just a little while ago. Look at this.”
Zion studied the graphs and felt his heart start racing as he saw that everything was off. Every component had spiked dramatically.
“What does this mean?” Unfortunately, he already knew the answer. He just wanted confirmation.
“It means if she were a normal animal, she'd already be dead. But she's a chimera, and these creatures behave in ways we don't understand. Apparently, she's not going to die.”
“Then what's happening?”
The old man closed the first graph and opened another, this one dated seven years earlier.
“This graph is from when she first arrived.” He pointed at the screen—aside from minimal differences, the image looked nearly identical to the current one. “Do you remember the first time you came to me?”
Zion ran his hands through his hair, certain he'd have a heart attack before the day was over, and began pacing the room aimlessly.
Of course he remembered. He remembered arriving at the veterinarian's door with a little bundle of cloth in his hands.
He was desperate, and the shadows had gone mad.
The delicate little creature in his arms was so small she fit in his cupped hands, looking up at him with large, round blue eyes.
She grunted and sneezed, seemingly allergic to the fabric she'd been wrapped in.
The moment he'd laid eyes on the little creature lying among the wreckage of the war against the chimeras, he'd felt an inexplicable connection to her.
And there, standing in the rain of ash with a euthanasia syringe in his hands, he couldn't carry out the order to eliminate all existing chimeras.
So he'd disobeyed the king's order and was willing to face an entire army to keep her, since everyone wanted her dead.
She was the last of her species. He'd had to break countless rules to bring her to safety and paid the price—six months' suspension from the army.
Still, it was a decision he'd never regret.
“When she arrived, Kiara was a newborn. On the way here, she got sick, and the bones of her wings started poking through her fur.”
“Yes. She was mutating,” Owen said, and the two turned back to the screen. “We're facing the same situation, so her body's going to change. I believe the mutation was triggered by predation. She killed and tasted blood, and all signs point to chimera genes activating this way.”
Zion didn't know where to look, what to do, or what to say. Kiara was going to mutate. What if, when she woke up, she wasn't the same creature he'd raised, trained, and protected?
“There's no way to slow this down?”
“It's irreversible. Once it starts, there's no stopping it.”
“What do we do?”
“We wait, Zion. All we can do is wait until the mutation runs its course, then assess what's changed and how she reacts. I'm preparing a sedative, in case things get out of control.”
In case she goes mad and tries to kill someone.
In case she turns into a monster and the only option is to put her down.
The possibilities hung unspoken between them, and the mention of a sedative only masked the true message behind the words.
“And the wings?”
Owen looked away, staring down at his hands. Then he shook his head, and Zion braced himself for the worst.
“We'll have to amputate. That's the main reason I called you here.”
Zion felt himself sinking into despair. He'd still held out hope that they could save the wings, even knowing it was nearly impossible. Perhaps that hope was why the doctor had taken his time evaluating the situation and hesitated to reveal the solution.
“We don't have the ability to reconstruct a new wing.
It's complex, and Kiara isn't an ordinary animal—her muscles and bones are different.
Besides, some kind of infection is necrotizing the base of the wing, and at this point, it's already irreversible.
So if we can't reconstruct the lost wing and the other one is in tatters, the only option is to amputate.”
The general scratched his head. He wanted to scream, but he wouldn't do that in front of the old man.
“There's no way to save the wings? Zero chance?”
He refused to accept the situation. Kyller losing an arm was bad enough.
“I'm sorry, but it's impossible. Even if I had the power, it would be easier to build new ones than patch this one up. I could keep the shredded wing, but it would be dead weight and hinder her movement. The chimera would lose her center of balance and suffer terrible pain as the muscles atrophied.”
“Both options are terrible.” Zion shook his head.
“I need your consent to proceed. I've laid out both options—now you need to choose and sign the papers.”
“I need a moment. Can I see her?”
“You can, but be quick. The sooner we act, the better for her.”
Zion massaged his right temple and followed the doctor through the corridors.
Kiara lay on the metal surgical table. She was so large they'd had to push a second table against the first to support her head.
Her fur had been shaved, and several wounds had been healed with the old doctor's elemental gift.
Only one cut had been sutured, probably too deep for the healing power to handle.
It ran along her side from her neck to the middle of her belly—sixty stitches in all.
The general noticed that the stump of one wing was already bandaged and an IV bag dripped beside the table.