Page 11 of Vicious King

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Elias

“This’ll only take a minute.”Dr. Paulson gave me a tight smile as he jabbed a needle into a vein on my left arm. “Strange weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

I usually detested small talk, but he was right. Winter had come late this year—it was already the eleventh of January—but it had finally arrived in a freezing flurry.

I looked out the window. The snow had begun falling overnight, sprinkling the towering cypress trees outside my family’s New Marwick house and draping the ground in blankets of white. The sky was filled with angry gray clouds, carried by gusting winds. Dreary, dark, depressing.

“Almost done.” The doctor pulled the needle out of my arm and capped the sample as I held a cotton ball over the little puncture mark. Then he stuck the cotton in place with a strip of medical tape. “Let me just label this,” he went on, more to himself than me.

“How long will this take?” I asked. “For results, I mean.”

Dr. Paulson finished marking the sample tube and looked up at me. “Longer than you might assume. All those CSI-type shows have ruined everyone’s perceptions. They submit a sample and expect to get their entire genome mapped in five seconds, when really, it can take weeks of work, especially with the backlog at most labs. So you’ll be waiting a while.”

“That’s fine. I’ve got time.” I pressed my lips into a thin line and looked out the window again.

My father had recovered well from his injury and was generally in good spirits again, but he was still cagey whenever I tried to bring up the egg donor issue. It was clear he wanted nothing more than for me to drop the subject entirely, but that only made me more curious. I’d thought about it frequently over the last few weeks, trying to figure out what I could do to get more information, and finally, a friend of mine had given me an idea.

Apparently there were quite a few ancestry websites where you could submit a DNA sample, and your sample would be tested for a number of things, like what sort of diseases you might be prone to, where your ancestors were from, and even information on how much Neanderthal DNA you might have in your genome. The best part was that the sites would connect you with other users who shared close genetic makeups to you. My friend had told me a story of how some girl he knew wound up finding several aunts, uncles and cousins on there when she previously had no idea they even existed.

I didn’t want my DNA on one of those sites—who the hell knew what the company owners might do with the information one day?—but the general scope of the idea appealed to me. If I could get a sample of my DNA tested and compared to all those that were available online (under the table, of course), not only would I discover a lot about my ancestry on my biological mother’s side, I might even find out who she was, if she or any of her relatives used the genealogy sites.

Dr. Paulson was happy to assist with my plan of getting tested without anyone else’s knowledge. He felt as if he owed me after the incident where my father was given the wrong blood. At the time, I held up my end of the deal and took full responsibility for what happened, telling everyone that I forced him to give my father that blood. As a result, he still had a medical license and a job at the Finishing School, even though things had gone so drastically wrong.

I didn’t see it as a big deal that I held up my end of the bargain—I said I’d do it, and I didn’t often like to go back on my word—but the doctor was supremely grateful, and so he’d jumped on the chance to help me out.

“It might take even longer than regular testing, actually,” he said.

I cocked an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Well, you want this done off the record, right? All very hush-hush, no connection to your family?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Why do you think I didn’t offer you or your science buddies any bribes to get it done fast?” I said. I was only half joking.

He snorted. “Indeed. Anyway, I have quite a few friends who work in private labs, but their workload is enormous. Not only that, if they’re doing it under the table, they’ll have to work on it after-hours, which doesn’t leave them a hell of a lot of time to get it done.”

“Right. Well, like I said, I’ve got time. I’ve gone all these weeks without knowing who this damn egg donor was, so I’m sure I can handle a few more.”

Dr. Paulson’s sparse gray brows pinched together. “You sure it’s a good idea to do this behind your father’s back?”

“I have to. Like I told you the other day, he won’t tell me anything.” I paused and shot him a warning look. “Don’t you dare tell him what we’re up to.”

He smiled. “If it was anyone else, I’d refuse to go behind Tobias King’s back. But for you, Elias, I’ll do it.”

“I appreciate that.”

He zipped up his black bag and stood up straight. “I’ll head out now. I have a few things to do in the city while I’ve got the day off. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything from the labs, all right?”

“Sure. Thanks again.”

He turned away, then hesitated for a second and turned back to face me. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping in bringing this up, but I hope things have been sorted with Ms. Marris after the stabbing. I haven’t had the chance to see her, although I understand Nurse Fernandez updated her Depo shot a few days ago?”

“Yes, that’s right. And don’t worry, an incident like the other week won’t happen again. All the other girls’ quarters have been swept for any sort of hidden weapons, and nothing was found. Just a one-off.”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I don’t mean that. It’s just that the girl seems very mentally disturbed. She almost killed your father, Elias. It’s deeply concerning.”

“She’ll be fine.”

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