We already knew that Ashmole 782 was valuable because of its text and its genetic information. If Mulder was correct, there was no telling what else might be in it.
“Have the DNA results come back from the sample you took a few weeks ago, Matthew?” Maybe if we knew what creature the vellum came from, it would shed some light on the situation.
“Wait. You removed a piece of this manuscript and ran a chemical analysis on it?” Lucy looked horrified.
“Only a very small piece from the core of the page. We inserted a microscopic probe into the edge.
You can’t see the hole it made—not even with a magnifying glass,” Matthew assured her.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Lucy said.
“That’s because Professor Clairmont developed the technology, and he hasn’t shared it with the rest of the class.” Chris cast a disapproving look at Matthew. “But we’re going to change that, aren’t we, Matthew?”
“Apparently,” said Matthew.
Miriam shrugged. “Give it up, Matthew. We’ve used it for years to remove DNA from all sorts of soft tissue samples. It’s time somebody else had fun with it,” she said.
“We’ll leave the page to you, Scully.” Chris inclined his head toward the other end of the lab in a clear request for a conversation.
“Can I touch it?” Lucy asked, her eyes glued to the page.
“Of course. It’s survived all these years, after all,” Matthew said. “Mulder, Scully, can you help Ms.
Meriweather? Let us know when you’re ready to leave, Lucy, and we’ll get you back to work.”
Based on Lucy’s avid expression, we had plenty of time to talk.
“What is it?” I asked Chris. Now that we were away from his students, Chris looked as if he had bad news.
“If we’re going to learn anything more about blood rage, we need more data,” Chris said. “And before you say anything, Miriam, I’m not criticizing what you and Matthew have managed to figure out.
It’s as good as it could possibly be, given that most of your DNA samples come from the long dead—or the undead. But DNA deteriorates over time. And we need to develop the genetic maps for daemons and witches and sequence their genomes if we want to reach accurate conclusions about what makes you distinct.”
“So we get more data,” I said, relieved. “I thought this was serious.”
“It is,” Matthew said grimly. “One of the reasons the genetic maps for witches and daemons are less complete is that I had no good way to acquire DNA samples from living donors. Amira and Hamish were happy to volunteer theirs, of course, as were some of the regulars at Amira’s yoga classes at the Old Lodge.”
“But if you were to ask for samples from a broader cross section of creatures, you’d have to answer their questions about how the material was going to be used.” Now I understood.
“We’ve got another problem,” Chris said. “We simply don’t have enough DNA from Matthew’s bloodline to establish a pedigree that can tell us how blood rage is inherited. There are samples from Matthew, his mother, and Marcus Whitmore—that’s all.”
“Why not send Marcus to New Orleans?” Miriam asked Matthew.
“What’s in New Orleans?” Chris asked sharply.
“Marcus’s children,” Gallowglass said.
“Whitmore has children?” Chris looked at Matthew incredulously. “How many?”
“A fair few,” Gallowglass said, cocking his head to the side. “Grandchildren, too. And Mad Myra’s got more than her fair share of blood rage, doesn’t she? You’d be wanting her DNA, for sure.”