The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [89]
The silver ring Glinda had given her at their parting was an intriguing artifact; Deirdre had performed several remote searches in the Seekers’ databases, but so far she had found no match for the symbols engraved on the inside surface of the ring. On a hunch she had even tried a pattern match with runes known to have originated on AU-3—the runes on Grace Beckett’s necklace. There were no similarities. The writing on the ring was spidery and flowing, unlike the angular runes of the world called Eldh. However, the ring had more than just writing with which to tell a story. Deirdre had wrapped it in plastic and had couriered it to the Seeker laboratories. There had been enough skin cells on the ring for them to do DNA sequencing. But the sample must have been contaminated somehow, because the report she was reading could not be correct. She scrolled again to the words at the bottom of the file:
ANALYSIS INTERRRUPTED: ERROR—MITOCHONDRIAL SEQUENCE INCOMPLETE—BAD OR MISSING DATA IN SAMPLE—HUMAN DNA INTERRUPTED BY RANDOM BASE PAIRS.
CONCLUSION: UNABLE TO COMPLETE PHYLOGENETIC ANALYSIS—SAMPLE RELATED TO NO KNOWN HUMAN POPULATIONS.
Farr leaned against the table and bent closer to the computer screen. “What is this, Deirdre?”
“It’s a DNA sequence.”
“I can see that. I mean where did you get it?”
Deirdre shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. The sample is contaminated. The analysis is worthless.”
“No, I don’t think that’s true. May I?”
She glanced up at him, puzzled by the soft intensity of his words, but before she could answer he took the computer and slid it toward him.
“You’re connected to the main system in London, right?”
Farr opened a new session window and typed in his authorization. A menu Deirdre had never seen before appeared, its cryptic options beyond her understanding. Farr selected one, and a list of files appeared. He clicked, and columns of short, alternating bars filled the screen. Another DNA sequence.
“There,” Farr said. “Look.”
He pointed to a portion of the sequence. Deirdre took the computer back. She resized the windows and positioned them side by side. One by one she compared rows. The pattern was identical.
“I don’t understand.” Her breath fogged against the screen. “Where did you get this sample?”
“I didn’t get it. It’s from a relic contained in the vaults beneath the London Charterhouse. In 1817, the Seekers acquired a crystal phial purported to contain the blood of St. Joan.”
“St. Joan?”
“Yes, Joan of Arc—the girl who led the French to battle and who was burned at the stake as a heretic. According to the elderly Franciscan monk from whom the relic was obtained, the blood was collected by a faithful friar, taken from one of St. Joan’s wounds while she was imprisoned, and preserved in the phial of crystal. It was several years ago that I obtained permission from the Philosophers to open the phial and have a sample of the blood sequenced. I was performing a study on genetic anomalies in individuals with extra-Earthly experiences.”
“You’re saying Joan of Arc had otherworldly connections?”
He shrugged. “She spoke to God, didn’t she?”
Deirdre didn’t know how to answer that. But if Farr was correct, then whatever St. Joan had possessed that set her apart from other humans Glinda possessed as well. As did, perhaps, her unborn child. Deirdre closed her eyes, picturing Glinda’s lovely, fragile face.
No one knows how, but they’ve gotten themselves a pureblood. They don’t need any of us now.…
But what did it mean? Who had Glinda been talking about? She opened her eyes and started to reach again for the computer, then froze, her eyes locked on the front page of the battered London Times Farr had thrown on the desk when he entered. A buzzing filled her ears.
“Where did you get this sample, Deirdre?” Farr said, his voice low, excited. “I had thought my analysis at an end years ago, but once again you’ve opened a door for me. We should dispatch a Seeker to keep watch on this Glinda subject immediately.