Page 27 of The Gathering Storm

“Yup,” he said, his young voice emphatic. “That’s why I waited so long to bring this to you. I had to be sure, right? So I studied published papers, searching for anything that would help me figure out how to be exact, and at the same time, I went through every single DNA sample we have on file that’s been tested, and you know what?”

Impatience joined the excitement. She arched a single eyebrow, expecting him to wilt, and marveled when he plowed ahead.

“Of the samples taken from living individuals—” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “Er, you know. Not from swords and such.”

“George!” she said. “Get on with it.”

“Right. Sorry.” He rocked back on his heels and grinned at her, every inch the excited scientist. “Of all those samples, only a few were as close to being Near Eastern as this one. Wanna guess who else?”

She snapped her mouth shut over a sigh. “Mr. Howe, please.”

“All right, all ready,” he said, but his grin never faltered. “The Oracle, ok? And, bonus points, she carries that odd mutation in her mitochondrial DNA.”

The significance of his discovery appeared to her almost immediately. She dropped the folder on her desk and leaned against it, doing her best to stifle the emotions racing within her, and when that didn’t work, she stated her conclusion aloud. “They’re old.”

“Oh, yeah. Like, Sisters old, or really close.”

“The Sisters died millennia ago,” she corrected, more out of habit than intentional thought. “But these women could be their Daughters, or could have lived at a time when the Sisters were still young.”

“Not long after the curse was implemented, unless I’m mistaken, and I don’t think I am.” His grin faded, and with it, the ramrod stiff posture he’d assumed during his explanation. “Look, maybe I’m jumping the gun here. Maybe I missed something or—”

She cut him off with a slice of her hand. “Trust your instincts, George, and your work. I do.”

His eyes shot to hers and his mouth slackened. “You do?”

“Of course. If I didn’t, you would never have been allowed to set foot here.”

“Right,” he said, drawing the word out. “Ok, then. Do you want me to dig a little deeper?”

“Can you?”

“Yeah. Archaeogenetics is kind of a hobby of mine.”

She shook her head and nearly laughed. Of course, it was. What other hobby could a prodigy like George have? “We should celebrate.”

“Really? Wow. Um, ok.” He rubbed his nape with one hand and tucked the other in the pocket of his trousers. “We’ve never celebrated anything before. Is this that big a deal?”

“Yes, it is. Think of what we could learn, of all the history these two women can share.”

If the one could be tracked down and the other persuaded to talk, but that was immaterial to the point at hand, and a problem for Rebecca to solve anyway. Sigrid glanced at her watch, and did laugh then. It was nearly five o’clock, a perfect time for an early meal.

“Supper and a drink,” she declared. “On me. Is The Omega fine? I’m supposed to meet Will there later.”

George’s shoulders hunched and his head drooped. “Oh, uh. No, that’s ok. I’ll just go on home.”

“And miss our celebration?” She clucked her tongue gently. “Come now. It’s Saturday night. Several of the younger Daughters will be there. I can introduce you, if you like.”

His pasty complexion paled and, impossibly, his posture sank into a morose slump. “I don’t want another Daughter.”

“Don’t want another…” Sigrid leashed her exasperation and attempted a more gentle tone. This child was not a Son, she reminded herself, and as such, needed to be handled with more finesse than she usually reserved for males of the species. “What do you mean?”

“Andrea,” he said, the single word so miserably spoken, even Sigrid could grasp the emotion behind it.

“Andrea?”

“The Daughter I was dating.”

Sigrid hmmd. She hadn’t realized he was dating someone seriously enough for any sort of attachment to form. “You’re no longer dating?”

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