Page 16 of Saint of the Shadows

“So?” Marisol prodded. “How’d you do it?”

“The other day, after you saw those beautiful chromosomes. I clo—synthesized the molecular structure of the fifteenth chromosome. Eureka! Put it in my little mousy friend. To my surprise, its tumors disappeared before my eyes.”

Marisol laughed and shook her head. “You’re pulling my leg. It’s a new mouse.”

“I swear it’s the same one! But I haven’t told you the best part.”

Marisol mimed zipping her mouth shut.

“I dug up old records. I wanted to know who or what owned those chromosomes. Dr. Varian wrote something down but scribbled over it. Kind of like a government redaction? So, I traced my pencil over it and found out who the chromosomes belonged to.” Annie swallowed. She eyed the active dashboard and lowered her voice. “Dr. Varian.”

“His chromosomes created a cure-all? We should tell people. Heck, we’ll see Vincent tonight.”

“Not so fast.” Annie placed her index finger over her lips. She gestured her head toward the driverless front seat and whispered, “No cellular decay and hyper-regeneration? Either Dr. Varian did something to himself, or the Varians are some kind of superhuman. A different species, even. Hence, the fewer chromosomes. No matter which option is true, both are reasons for a cover-up.” Annie gripped Marisol’s arm. “Do you know how Dr. Varian died?”

Marisol shrugged.

“Skiing accident in the Alps almost fifteen years ago.” Annie air-quoted on the word accident. “News said an avalanche threw his body, along with his wife’s, down a steep crevasse. They never found them. You can read all about it. I know I have.” Annie stopped putting on makeup and pulled her faux fur stole close around her. “Their caskets were empty at the funeral. Dr. Varian became something or was something. Something worth hiding. And the conspiracy got him.”

Perhaps rich and radioactive?

“You’re next then?” Marisol teased before chuckling to herself.

“I’m not paranoid,” Annie said, returning to a normal volume. She looked out the dimmed windows of the car. “But I bought a gun a while back.”

“It’s Occam’s razor. The easiest explanation is the right one. Who really benefits from hiding research? Conspiracy theorists always say follow the money. If Varian had an ability or genetic component that could be replicated for therapeutic benefits, there would be so much money. Why would they want it to go away? It makes zero sense.”

“Who benefits?” Annie counted on her fingers. “Population control. The world economy. Shadow governments.” Annie sighed and put her compact in her purse. “How much longer until we’re there?”

The sprawl of the city faded as space grew between streetlights. “Reaching city limits. Five minutes?”

“Good. I have five minutes to rehearse in my head exactly how I’m going to asktheVincent Varian for a sample of his DNA.” Annie sighed. “What did you want to say about your day?”

Marisol shrugged. “Nothing.” She never imagined someone outdoing her Patron Saint versus Izzy story, but compared to Annie’s, her story felt small.

The car pulled into the Varian estate, joining a short line of other latecomers in the roundabout driveway. A row of hulking Corinthian pillars marked the palatial home’s main entrance like a behemoth’s smile. Marisol and Annie walked up the entrance’s stairs. Marisol’s gaze traveled up the pillars to a phrase carved above them. AUT VIAMINVENIAM AUT FACIAM. The words emblazoned the estate with something ancient and ominous. They should’ve entered a darkened cave, but, to Marisol’s surprise, the foyer inside radiated gold.

Annie handed a uniformed attendant her invitation. “Dr. Park and guest.” The attendant crossed them off a list. To be known only as “guest” hit Marisol like a small jab—the continuing tradition of anonymous recognition of Marisol and people like her always received.

The invitation attendant’s white-gloved twin offered to take their coats. Marisol unbuttoned her coat, realizing that some of her buttons hung by a thread. As the attendant helped Marisol out of her coat, she felt a twinge of shame. She should’ve ditched her shabby coat eons ago like a real grownup. “Sorry we’re late,” Marisol said, actually apologizing for her coat.

“It’s okay. Mr. Varian isn’t even here yet.” The attendant held Marisol’s coat away like a soiled diaper before hanging it up.

A belch rumbled from Annie’s stomach. “I need food. Stat.” Annie dragged Marisol inside the ballroom. Marisol stared at the room’s domed ceiling around the massive chandelier. Every item in the room appeared in shades of gold and cream, except for the grand, red-carpeted staircase. The staircase, where two wings of the estate met, split the ballroom in two. Multiple sets of French doors adorned with heavy tasseled curtains stood perpendicular to the staircase. The doors opened toa terrace that overlooked a garden. Above the treetops, Shadowhaven’s skyline glowed in the distance. The riches and excess here mocked those who had so little back in the city. The disparity told Marisol to keep her eyes down and her mouth closed. Although she had to fight the oohs and aahs that threatened to escape her lips at the sight of flaxen swirls of marble shimmering in the soft, warm light.

Most of the attendees gathered around the long tables boasting spreads of fine food or collected around cocktail tables dotted along the room’s edges. Like a soggy puzzle piece to the classical ambience, a DJ played a mix of haunted jazz strings with a hip-hop beat, music far too trendy for this older, stuck-up crowd.

And the crowd was a sea of somber—men in traditional black and white tuxedos and women in dark gowns. Marisol’s sequins reflected fractals of light that buzzed around her like fruit flies. Dressed for the disco, she searched for a good hiding spot.

Marisol tugged Annie into the nook under the staircase. A server followed them, offering a tray of food. Annie took two canapés, stopped the server from leaving, and took two more, balancing a pile in her hand.

Annie stuffed two of them in her face. With her mouth full, she said, “I knew you could pull that dress off.”

“This dress is obnoxious.”

“Please. You wear less when you work out.” Annie looked forlornly at her empty hand and waved over another server. She chowed down on another canapé. “You don’t realize how much you got it. One promenade around here, you’ll have someone offering to take you to Bermuda.”

Marisol crossed her arms to hide her cleavage. “So, you wanted to pimp me out tonight.”

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