Cassidy Jones and the Secret Formula (39 page)

I exhaled a relieved breath.
She may be a mad scientist, but she isn’t an evil one
, I decided. I believed her word, like her son’s, was true.

Leaning forward, she reached across the desk to me, and I took her small hands in mine. I felt as if I stared into the face of hope, only “hope” didn’t look very hopeful.

“You are safe, my dear. I won’t let anything harm you. Now, please—” She gently squeezed my fingers. “Don’t be frightened by what I’m about to tell you…What you were exposed to that day was developed in part from previous research I did for the military.”

A lump formed in my throat. I swallowed it down, choking out, “Assassin?”

Her thumbs stroked mine. “Yes, but do not be afraid,” she repeated. “I was using my Assassin research to develop something good, something beneficial, not destructive. This particular work I kept to myself. Not even Emery was aware of it. How he connected the dots I do not know.” After saying this last part, she lost herself momentarily in thought. During this brief silence, I realized the “he” was someone other than Emery. I assumed “he” must be Arthur King.

Pulling her thoughts back in line, the professor continued, “Emery has only just learned of my past, and that is why it was difficult for him to understand what had happened to you. If he’d known about Assassin, he would have concluded what I’m about to share with you.

“When the liquid compounds combined, I believe some type of retrovirus was created. When you inhaled, the virus entered your body, infecting you. Once the gas dissipated, so did the virus. Obviously, and I’m not sure why this is yet, the virus cannot be passed the way viruses normally are. These microbes appear satisfied with their host. I believe the only way to contract the virus is in the gas form you were exposed to.

“This virus has incorporated itself into your cells, mutating them, if you will. Now, this virus is not attacking your immune system. It behaves in quite the opposite way. Your cells have been enhanced and have developed the ability to spontaneously regenerate. Similar to the way a starfish grows back a lost arm, your cells have that ability now. The mutation has also evolved your interneurons, which is why you can perform incredible physical feats and why your senses are heightened. This is also why you can process information in your environment and integrate it into your memory.”

“Emery calls this imprinting,” I said numbly, pulling my hands from hers. Slouching back in my chair, I let it all sink in.
There are microbes reforming my cells,
reforming me. Into what?
Into another species?
Suddenly, I had a fairly good idea what “transmutation” meant. “Professor Phillips—”

“Serena, please.”

“Serena,” I tested her name. “Are you sure this is what’s wrong with me?”

“I’m almost positive, given what I know about what you were exposed to, but I won’t know for certain until I have a look at your blood.”

“Blood?” I croaked.

“My dear, you aren’t afraid to have your blood drawn, are you?” Glancing at Emery, she added, “Emery is quite good at it. You won’t feel a thing.”

I pointed at Emery. “You mean
he
is going to draw my blood?”

Emery looked like he was about to laugh. “After everything, Cassidy, you doubt I can painlessly insert a needle into your cubital vein?”

Despite the situation, I laughed. “Well, when you put it like
that
.” Then I added, rolling my eyes, “My own personal lab technician. What a lucky girl.”

Emery grinned.

“Yes, my dear, you are quite lucky,” Serena agreed, and then added with a smile, “I’ve been told my syringe techniques are just short of torture.” I gathered this was a little Serena-humor.

A lull in conversation occurred after Serena’s “joke.” I decided this was a good time for some Q&A. “Professor—I mean, Serena—there is something I’d like to ask you about,” I said. “It’s about how I can’t die—”

“We don’t know what you can or cannot do yet,” she interrupted, clarifying. “You’re scientifically uncharted territory. Your cells have been reformed and most likely will continue to evolve. I believe there will still be changes we will observe in you.”

“Well, okay,” I said, moving on before these disturbing words could take hold. “Anyway, I want to know if you think I might stop aging, that is, until you find an antidote or something.”

Her expression became disturbed. “I don’t like to venture in speculation like this, but if you need an opinion to comfort you, I would guess that you will continue to grow until your growth plates close. Again, this is only a guess.” Leaning forward, she continued, solemnly looking into my eyes, “My dear, you must understand that in order for me to help you, I must develop a vaccine. Finding a cure for a retrovirus is nearly impossible because viruses tend to mutate rapidly. Even if I successfully developed a vaccine, the virus would most likely mutate into a form the vaccine would have no effect on.”

“In other words,” I said, imagining a prison door clanging shut and locking, “I’m like this forever.”

“Cassidy, ‘nearly impossible’ isn’t impossible. I’m limited in my own knowledge. However, I believe there is much more taking place in the greater scheme of things, and in that there is always hope.”

I didn’t see an answer in her explanation. “So, you’re
hoping
you can cure me?”

“No, I believe eventually we will find an answer.”

I wasn’t sure what the difference was, but by the way she smiled, I guessed there was one.

She continued, “Together, we will pursue that answer. You will not be left alone in this, and Emery and I will keep you safe.”

Like her son, she said this with such confidence, I couldn’t help but believe her. “Thank you.” I glanced at Emery’s confident face. “What now?”

Serena sounded like she was reading from a typical daily agenda. “I will work here on a solution. During the week, Emery will attend school with you. Every other afternoon, you will come here, have your blood drawn, et cetera, et cetera—”

The
et ceteras
made me cringe.

“In the evenings and on the weekends, Emery and I will continue working.”

I looked guiltily at Emery. “This sounds like a life sentence for all of us. You know, you don’t need to do this. Neither of you do.” Swallowing hard, I feared they’d take me up on the release.

Turning in his chair to face me, Emery looked me square in the eye. “This is my choice. No one has coerced me. It isn’t like we’ll be bound by chains, you know. We’ll have our own lives. For me, this will be like a daily job, and afterward, when I’m off the clock, I’ll continue my own pursuits.”

Great, I’m a job
. “Let me get this straight. You’re giving up Stanford so you can babysit me?”

“No, I’ll give up
being
at Stanford so I can ‘babysit’ you,” he clarified, flashing a quick smile. “Next spring, I’ll continue my education through correspondence.”

Next spring?
He is planning for the long haul
. “You know, I don’t think subjecting yourself to high school every day is necessary.”

A grin tugged at Emery’s mouth. “No, it’s necessary.”

I narrowed my eyes on him. “Why? Because I’m so unstable?”

The grin continued to tug. “I don’t like the word ‘unstable.’ It makes me think of a chemical reaction.” He paused reflectively, throwing on a thoughtful look. But his lips kept twitching. “Never mind. ‘Unstable’ works.”

Emery got a nice jab in the arm, which, of course, cracked him up.

Serena cleared her throat, frowning at her son. “There is another thing we need to discuss, and that is the importance of keeping this among ourselves,” she said, setting a new mood. The new mood had “bad vibe” written all over it. “I’m not so naïve to believe we will be able to keep others ignorant in the long run, but we must try for as long as possible. Cassidy, understand under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t ask any individual to go against the good values they’ve been taught. However, in this situation, secrecy is imperative. It could mean life or death.”

The way she looked into my eyes made my skin crawl.

“If what has happened to you should get out, there are depraved individuals who would stop at nothing to get possession of you. I shudder to think what Arthur King would do if he gained knowledge of you.”

Thoroughly  pulled  into  her  foreboding,  I  did shudder. “But he’ll be in jail.”

Her expression was haunting. “I was not referring to the son,” she clarified slowly. “I was referring to the father.”

“But he’s dead,” I barely whispered.

“No. He is not.”

Simultaneously, my skin crawled and chills ran up my spine. Wide-eyed, I stared at her in horror.

Patting my shoulder, Emery said in a dismissive tone, “Don’t bite the bait. No one will know beyond us.”

Now who’s being naïve?
“What about your dad? He’s already suspicious.”

Emery grinned. “I already told you
how
he is suspicious.”

“This isn’t a game,” I reprimanded.

“No, it is not,” Serena agreed, looking with disapproval at her son. “Emery, your father cannot know. You have no idea how knowledge of this would conflict him.” With an expression of regret, she whispered to herself, “I fear he wouldn’t make the right choice.”

“Ridiculous,” Emery muttered.

Shocked by his blatant disrespect, I gaped at him.

Serena wasn’t pleased herself, but still, she didn’t treat him like a child who had stepped out of line. “Emery, do not allow your brilliance to blind you. Understand that there are many situations that you do not understand, and this is one such situation.”

Emery looked at her with an expression my mom would call “saucy.” After a few tense moments of staring one another down, Emery said to his mother, “Between your doomsaying and Dad’s intensity, you’re going to make Cassidy afraid of her own shadow.”

Bobbing my head, I admitted, “My shadow is becoming a little scary.”

Emery pealed into laughter again, and again, received a jab in the arm from me.

Scowling profusely, Serena switched scare tactics. “I must share a concern with you both. There was something missing from my lab that wasn’t on the evidence list the police provided.”

Clearing the residual effects of laughter from his throat, Emery asked, “What is it, Mom?”

“The towel saturated with Cassidy’s blood.”

The last remnants of Emery’s grin disappeared. “Was the towel in the refrigerator?”

“Yes. In a Ziploc bag.”

“Is this bad?” I asked, my heart in my mouth.

“It depends on who has the towel, or, more precisely, who has your DNA,” Serena answered matter-of-factly.

Emery grabbed my hand. “Cassidy, don’t worry,” he reassured me, glancing at his mom. “Everything is fine.”

Staring at Serena’s smug face, I thought,
Sorry, Emery, my bets are on the mad scientist
.
This will not be fine
. But how could I say this to the boy who had snuffed out his bright future to babysit, protect, and appease a mutant girl?

I smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Emery. I believe it will be, too.”

“Good, Cassidy, good.” He grinned approvingly, patting my hand.

My smile broadened as I added to my previous thought,
But you, you riddle of a boy,
you’re the one I will trust. Don’t let me down
.