I would <b>have </b><b>nodded</b>, but the machine held my head still. As Anthony stepped back <b>and </b><b>turned </b>it <b>on</b>, and the whirring <b>began</b>, <b>my </b>heart rate <b>spiked</b><b>. </b>But a warm smile <b>from </b><b>Tony </b>calmed <b>my </b>nerves, and <b>soon</b><b>, </b>the test over. I hadn’t <b>felt </b>a thing.
The rest <b>of </b><b>the </b>appointment went much the same. The Anthonies marched me around from machine to machine, performing various tests on all the different parts of my <b>body</b>. They spoke little as <b>they </b>worked, wholly focused <b>on </b><b>the </b>tasks, but the soft piano music ying from the speaker in the corner soothed <b>me</b>.
Every <b>so </b><b>often</b>, I would nce over at Maria’s picture and feel a little pang in my chest for the girl I had never known. I wondered if she had once sat in these spots, performing these same tests. Maybe I never <b>knew </b>her and we had different reasons for being here, but for some reason, I felt a strange sort of connection to her.
But I knew that was just my mind trying to find warmth in a space that felt foreign and confusing
Finally, the testing wasplete. All that was left was a blood draw. Tony took three vials of blood, and <b>when </b>it was over, he had me hold a gauze pad to the spot while he prepared a bandage.
“So,” Tony said as he worked, “your son–was he affected by the rebirth in any way?”
“Not as far as I’m aware.” I pulled my finger away from the gauze so he could secure the tape over it. “I died shortly after I gave birth to him.”
“Hm. It still makes me wonder…” Tony exchanged a look with his husband.
“Would you ever consider running some tests on him?” Anthony asked. “If only to find out if he carries the rebirth gene?”
I stiffened at that. “Sorry, doctors, but my son is off–limits.” I stood, forcing a smile. “It’s not personal. I just don’t want to subject him to that.”
“Fair enough.” Tony smiled warmly and guided me back to the curtained–off area, and by the time I emerged, dressed once more, I had all but forgotten about the interaction.
The Anthonies were standing by theb table, already putting my blood samples through the centrifuge. They didn’t look up as I approached.
“How long until we see any results?” I asked.
Anthony picked up one of the vials and swirled it at eye level, watching the crimson liquid spin and separate behind the ss. “Not for a few weeks,” he replied.
“What are you looking for, exactly?”
“Since these are just preliminary tests, we’re looking for anything atypical,” Tony replied. “Anything in your DNA that might be tangible and collectable. Anything to indicate that your rebirth was biological in origin and not simply magical.”
I tilted my head. “And if it were biological, what then? Would you collect more of my blood? Try to make… I don’t know, a vine or something?”
Anthony turned to me and smiled. “We’ll have to cross that bridge when wee to it.” He gently guided me
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toward the stairs. “Not to be a bad host, dear, but we really must get started on these samples before they sit for too long. You know your way out by now, right?”
“Of course.” I turned to say goodbye to Tony, but he was bent over the table and writing something doen, and seemed so absorbed in his work that I didn’t want to disturb him. Anthony turned away and joined him before 1 could say goodbye to him, either.
I stared at them for a moment, and for the first time, something ufortable about all of this churned in my gut. But I chalked it up to nerves and left.
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<strong>Sara Lili</strong> is a daring romance writer who turns icyndscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of d’s breathtaking cold.