Demon's Delight (14 page)

Laughing joyously, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down on top of her. She was human again! And Gabe wanted her.
He loved her.
She intended to show him just how much she loved him in return.

They celebrated for a very long time.

H
OW
was I supposed to know Gertie was an escape artist?” Rachel fastened her seat belt, turned her face to the light, as Gabe opened the sunroof. She hadn't gotten tired of basking in the sunshine, even after six months. “I didn't even know she was in heat. She only got out that one time.”

“Once is all it takes.” Gabe listened to the small, pitiful meows and scratching sounds coming from the pet crate in the backseat, as he put the car in gear. “The kittens will be well loved at the women and children's shelter. And we'll have them all fixed, as soon as they're old enough.”

“They won't dare fool around with Caitria in charge there. She doesn't allow anyone to turn tricks on her watch.”

Rachel grinned as she said that. Gabe knew how proud she was that Caitria and her children had not only thrived at the shelter, but that Caitria's strength of character had helped her rise to the position of assistant director of the shelter.

He reached over to stroke her hair. “Speaking of fooling around, we've done our share.”

“You think?” she asked sarcastically.

He laughed. “I definitely think.” He slid his hand down over her flat belly. “I also think we have a bun in the oven.”

“What does that mean?”

He loved the way her brow furrowed when she was confused. “It's an expression. It means, my love, that you're pregnant.”

“What?”
She stared at him, her eyes huge. “You can't possibly know that…can you? How could you?”

He gave her the arched brow
I'm-an-angel-that's-how
look.

“This can't be right. I can't be pregnant!” She shook her head. “
No.
Absolutely not.”

He could see the panic setting in, and he took her hand. “It's okay, Rach. It's a good thing. You'll see.”

She didn't look convinced. They still needed a little work on the faith issue. “When did this happen?”

“The day we went up on the roof and made love in the rain.”

“Oh,
that
day.” Despite her tension, a small smile teased her lips. “Hmmm. I think I might remember that.”

“
Might
remember?” he asked in outraged male indignation. “Maybe you need a refresher course.”

She ignored him. “A baby? What are we going to do with a baby?” Her panic level was rising again.

“We're going to love her and teach her about free will and how important it is to make good choices.”

“Her?”
Rachel looked terrified and utterly adorable. “It's a girl?”

“Yes, it's a girl.” He felt a burst of joy and excitement. “Don't worry, we'll do fine, and so will she.”

Gabe could already sense the strength and purpose of the soul choosing them for parents. You never knew which way a strong soul could go. Their daughter would either raise hell or lower heaven.

Regardless, he was looking forward to it. He figured he was up to the challenge. He had firsthand experience in dealing with—and loving—a strong-willed woman.

Emma Holly

T
HIS
evening was either going to be the best of Dr. Khira Forette's existence, or it was going to be the worst. A single stroke of Fate would determine whether years of research would be rewarded with career advancement or consigned to the dustbin.

Seeing no other possibilities, Khira smoothed the form-fitting, sky-blue silk of her business tunic and strode across the echoing gray granite hall. Because she had been summoned here after hours, the ministry lobby was empty. The sense of being dwarfed by the shadows had the effect of winding up her nerves even more.

The entry hall alone was the size of a small palace.

In the silence, the perfectly trimmed ends of her ink-black hair swished against her trousered hips. Her silver brocaded shoes had never been worn before, and the matching briefcase was the pinnacle of style this week. She was as sleek as thirty very expensive minutes with a beauty consultant could make a less-than-fashion-conscious scientist.

If only those thirty minutes could have cured her anxiety.

This was Khira's first invitation to speak to the Ministry of Genetic Science. The forest of towering columns overawed her, gold and jewels spiraling up their height in an imitation of a DNA helix. Rumor had it that the first emperor's chromosomes had been their model. If that were true, Khira would be interested to examine, and crack, the gemstones' code. The origins of her people were somewhat lost in the mist. She'd heard things about the early royals that left her curious as to how much tinkering had been done with their genes. Too much, was what graduate students whispered—but only among themselves.

Knowing she was probably being watched from a dozen spy-holes, Khira thrust her curiosity and her nervousness from her mind. She couldn't afford to let either emotion stain her aura. Her fellow Yama would have no trouble reading her energy sheath, and such displays of weakness might mean the difference between approval or rejection of her project. She'd come too far and had too much at stake to let anything stop her now.

Finally, she reached the silver arch the summons had instructed her to approach.

You are more than your eccentric parents' daughter,
she told herself as the small of her back threatened to break into a sweat.
You are the product of a good Yamish education and your own strong Yamish will.

The aide who guarded the door beneath the arch offered a small but respectful bow. “Please go in, Dr. Forette. The minister awaits.”

Khira swallowed.
The
minister? She'd expected an audience with an under-minister at best, or perhaps some subcommittee.

“Thank you,” she said faintly, and proceeded through the door the aide held open.

An elegant conference room lay beyond, its square, gilded windows overlooking the Forbidden City's grand plaza. Outside, large sandstone buildings blushed in the setting sun, a last few streamlined aircars zipping around them toward home. Inside, twelve tiny cameras sat in place of people at a long mahogany table. Every one of the lenses was aimed toward her.

With a jolt, Khira recognized the one Yama who was there in person. Seated at the table's head, he had the appearance of a typical inner circle aristocrat: dark-haired, narrow, and very tall. His robes were crimson, with polished sapphires set into their wide green trim. These were the colors of the emperor's house. This wasn't simply the minister of genetics; this was the emperor's minister of all the sciences, the emperor's favorite brother-in-law.

Apparently, her little project had elicited more interest than she expected.

“Your highness,” she gasped, since all the emperor's in-laws had royal blood. Her own family was barely
daimyo
—strictly lower upper class. Shaken, her knee hit the granite hard as she dropped into an obeisance.

“‘Minister' will do for tonight,” he said with perfect supercilious dryness. He waved her into the seat opposite his.

She took it as steadily as she could, glad for the length of shining wood between them. “Do you wish to hear a precis of my project, sir?”

“A brief one.” He nodded at the cameras. “For our guests.”

She cleared her throat and pushed her new briefcase aside. She needed nothing in it, but it created a good impression. Style mattered in business almost as much keeping one's composure. Detachment was, after all, her people's highest ideal.

“As you know,” she began, willing her nerves to settle, “only about eight percent of our species' genetic material directs the production of proteins and other body processes. In the past, genetic manipulation was aimed at that active portion, to correct inborn defects and enhance desirable traits. The remaining 92 percent of our genome was, up until the last century, regarded as ‘nonsense' DNA and ignored.”

“But it isn't nonsense,” said the minister.

“Not remotely, your…minister. Other researchers besides myself have established that the totality of our DNA forms an organic superconductor that facilitates both the storage and communication of complex biochemical information, on a far higher order than formerly imagined. Now that the special vibrational language that the helix speaks is beginning to be deciphered, we realize that the supposedly nonsensical material may be more powerful than all the rest.

“I believe it contains, in potentia, the codes for every shape life has taken or ever could. Moreover, once you know its operating language, DNA can be given instructions to recode itself—without the deleterious side effects associated with previous cut-and-paste splicing technology. Gene-splicing defies nature. Gene-modulation simply retunes and reshuffles it.

“What is unique about my process, which I have tested extensively through computer modeling, is its ability to isolate and activate the codes for specific traits from other species. To create true, functioning chimeras.”

“Hybrids,” said the minister, as politely as if he hadn't already read and—she was certain—understood her report. The emperor's brother-in-law had a reputation for brilliance. “Tell me, can you create these chimeras from any species at all?”

“Theoretically, yes.” Khira drew and released a breath, calmer now that she was being questioned on topics she knew so well. “I leave the potential benefits for others to determine, but no genetic material need be removed from or added to the host. The dormant traits are simply coaxed into expression from previously unexpressed segments of the chromosomes.”

The minister tapped his lips with one finger, a sign of high excitement for one of his lofty caste. Khira's heart thumped faster as he reached into the breast pocket of his crimson robe and removed a small, clear data sphere. With a deft flick of his wrist, he rolled it like a marble down the long table.

“Could you do this?” he asked as she caught it.

Khira keyed the on switch, then blinked at the hologram that appeared. The image stole her breath.

“Your highness,” she said once her lungs recovered. “You do me honor, but I couldn't possibly move straight from computer models to this! The number of variables affecting higher life forms are complex. The ethical issues alone would—”

The minister cut her off coolly. “I've been following your progress for some time, professor, and you've been running those models for the last six years, with increasingly good results. Have a bit more faith in your gifts than those hidebound idiots you work for. In any case, I wasn't suggesting you use a Yamish subject. A human would do. The races are genetically similar.”

His lip curled slightly in distaste at this admission.

“But why this?” she asked, too shocked to guard her speech.

The minister shrugged. “Because this will interest people who matter. You know how bored the upper circles get. You have to admit, it would make a dramatic demonstration. Funding would pour in.”

“Yes, but—”

A streak of royal blue flared through the minister's upper aura, a deliberate, if subtle, warning.
The blood of emperors flows in my veins,
it said.
What flows in yours?

Khira shut her mouth as the minister leaned forward on his elbows, the royal blue now flowering delicately down his arms. It was the most astonishing display of etheric control she'd ever seen, but the minister was a picture of effortless complacence.

“If you wish to refuse our support,” he said, “you are, of course, welcome to do so. I would, however, hate to see a promising career cut short. I hardly need say that, considering your background, you are unlikely to receive a second such opportunity. From anyone.”

“You have been graciousness itself,” Khira said numbly, because she had to say something. The minister's point was underscored by the presence of the cameras. He could not keep her refusal private even if he wished. Anyone might be watching. The rest of the royal cabinet. The emperor himself. A squad of trained assassins. Given the whispers she'd heard concerning the fate of other scientists who'd fallen out of favor, the last option wasn't as unlikely as she might have wished. Higher placed Yama than she had “disappeared.” She didn't even have tenure yet.

Completely against her will, a fat bead of fear-sweat rolled down her spine.

“I would need extra safeguards,” she said hesitantly. “Technology the university labs don't have. I would hate to…waste any subject, no matter what the race.”

“You need only draw up a list.”

Khira gripped the table's edge. Infinity help her. She wouldn't willingly kill anyone. She knew what to ask for to maximize a positive result, though she scarcely dared say the words. For a researcher as questionably bred as she to make this request was an incredible presumption. Her aura was jumping with terror, big yellow jitters she couldn't hide for the life of her.

Then again, the life of her was what she was gambling with.

“Yes?” the minister prompted.

“The Mount Excelsior Royal Labs,” she gasped. “They'd have everything I need.”

“Ah,” said the minister, a sound of sudden comprehension. He leaned back in his chair. Amusement glittered in his eyes, probably due to her fear. Khira sat back herself and attempted to regulate her jagged breathing into something less uncouth.

“You know,” he said. “If you weren't so patently terrified, I'd think you were a cunning bargainer. Most researchers wait decades to get lab time at the Mount. How long would you need to conclude your experiment?”

Khira shook her head in the hope of getting her brain to work. “Three days?”

It was the shortest amount of time in which she could conceive of accomplishing the bare minimum.

The minister's amusement deepened. “You can have three weeks and a budget I hesitate to share for fear you'll faint. I'll requisition a few black guards for you as well. You'll need them to procure your subject without incident. I'm sure no one wants any diplomatic complications to arise from this.”

“No,” Khira agreed hoarsely. The humans were not fond of having their people abducted—at least not officially.

She stared at her hands where they pressed the table, now white as marble down to their nails. She wasn't going to be killed, or ruined, or obliged to act as a murderer in the name of science. To top it off, she was going to have three weeks in the most advanced genetic facility on the planet. With that extraordinary knowledge coursing through her trembling muscles, she couldn't think of anything to do but stand and bow.

“Thank you,” she said, addressing both the minister and the cameras. “I'll do my best to fulfill your expectations.”

“We anticipate nothing less,” the minister assured her—which wasn't exactly comforting.