Page 19 of The Gathering Storm

Chapter Six

Sigrid settled into her desk with a fresh batch of test results. Now that the entire staff was up to speed on testing procedures, the backlog of DNA waiting to be tested was rapidly diminishing. Soon, new samples would be tested upon arrival, and once that happened, she could begin selecting a team to sort through the results and collate them with genealogical records. Any changes in the mitochondrial DNA of the family groups could then be tracked, and if luck held, the specific remains of the Sisters could be identified, by process of elimination if nothing else.

Such a hope stretched luck to the limit and beyond, true, but it was better to prepare for the best outcome along with the worst.

It had been three days since her lunch with Will.

Sigrid closed the report she was working on, a completed test for an immortal Daughter whose origins were well documented, and selected another report. Moira had been right. A few days apart from the dashing young bartender had helped clear Sigrid’s head. She still hadn’t decided what to do about him in the long run, but her desire for him had refused to wane since their last meeting.

Experience was a good teacher. Most men who captured her interest held it only briefly, not even long enough for a good fuck.

Will wasn’t most men. His initiative in claiming a kiss intrigued her. Coupled with his strong will and excellent bloodlines, his boldness had piqued her interest.

She’d give it a few more days before making a final decision. There was no hurry. She wasn’t going anywhere in the near future, and neither was he.

Unless the woman he wanted turned up.

A faint knot clenched Sigrid’s stomach. She frowned and touched her fingers to the unusual feeling gripping her. A stomach bug, no doubt. Immortal Daughters weren’t completely unsusceptible to illness, but it was so rare as to be a myth.

Imagine, a fierce warrior descended from generations of Daughters falling prey to the flu. Such a laughable fancy.

Sigrid shook her head and resumed her study of the report in front of her, supplanting her thoughts of Will and a possible illness. George had been instrumental in training the new staff. He was a brilliant geneticist and, in spite of his unfortunate tendency toward softness, was quite good at integrating the staff into a cohesive, efficient workforce.

A soft knock sounded on her office door. Her heart thumped erratically in her chest. Will. But no, of course it wouldn’t be him. Will hadn’t once tried to contact her since their lunch date.

Had he already forgotten the kisses he’d stolen, and the one she’d freely given?

One corner of her mouth turned down. Why was she so worried about that?

The door opened and George stuck his head inside, forestalling her thoughts from spiraling out of control. “Do you have a minute, Dr. Glyvynsdatter?”

Sigrid pushed away from her desk and stood. “Of course, Mr. Howe. What is it?”

“We had a mix-up in the lab. Two samples.” He edged all the way inside and held up two file folders, one in each hand. “I need permission to request retests.”

“You have the forms ready, I presume.”

“Sure. Ah.” He stepped forward and handed the folders to her. “You’re not mad?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Why would I be?”

“Well, you know. Ah.” He huffed out a breath and his cheeks flushed pink. “We goofed.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time a human has erred.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for wrongs you haven’t committed,” she said mildly, then bent her head to the folders. A moment later, the requisite permission forms were signed, clearing the way for him to draft formal letters requesting new samples. “There. I expect this to be taken care of as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Dr. Glyvynsdatter.”

She sat down, automatically dismissing him, and returned to her own work.

George shuffled his feet.

Sigrid stifled her first response, an irrational irritation, and glanced up. “Is something wrong?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed. “No, ma’am. I’ll get right on this.”

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