Chapter 109 The Exhumation
PROFESSOR CORNELIUS FELL
The laboratory is beneath the British Museum. Three levels underground. Climate controlled. Magically warded. Perfect conditions for experimentation.
I'm examining the bodies collected from the Rookeries battle. Fifteen specimens so far. My mages are efficient. Collecting during chaos. Transporting while everyone's distracted.
Body one: Young wolf. Female. Seventeen years old. Turned six months ago. Still has human memories. Perfect for cognition studies.
Body two: Hybrid child. Male. Three years old. Werewolf-human cross. Rare. Valuable. Dead from crossfire.
Body three: Dhampir. Female. Twenty-one years old. Valentina Corvino's cousin apparently. Died fighting vampires.
Wait. She's not dead.
I check vitals. Weak pulse. Shallow breathing. Critically wounded but alive.
Even better. Living specimens are more valuable than corpses.
I preserve her in magical stasis. Healing her enough to survive but keeping her unconscious. She'll wake in my facility. Become permanent test subject.
The other bodies are arranged on examination tables. I'm extracting samples. Blood. Tissue. Genetic material.
Combining them. Werewolf DNA. Vampire DNA. Human DNA. Fae DNA.
Creating hybrid embryos. Seeing what combinations are viable.
Most fail. Genetic incompatibility. Rejection at cellular level. Miscarriages in test tubes.
But one succeeds.
Dhampir-werewolf cross. Female embryo. Using Valentina's cousin's genetic template. Combined with alpha werewolf DNA from Callum Brennan's blood samples.
The embryo is stable. Growing. Developing properly.
I preserve it in magical stasis. Name it: Specimen L-001. Future designation: Lucia.
This embryo represents years of research. Proof that dhampir-werewolf crosses are possible. Controllable. Weaponizable.
"Imagine it," I say to my assistant. "Controllable hybrids. Strength of werewolves. Speed of vampires. Loyalty of humans. Human-led supernatural army."
"Is it ethical?" my assistant asks.
"Ethics are luxury for people not advancing science." I prepare another embryo combination. "Supernatural exist. They're stronger than us. Our only advantage is intelligence. Research. Control through knowledge."
"But creating life just for experimentation..."
"We're not creating life. We're creating tools. Weapons. Resources." I implant the embryo in artificial womb. Magical incubation. "This hybrid will never know freedom. Will never have choice. Will exist only to serve human masters. That's not life. That's property."
My assistant looks uncomfortable but doesn't argue.
Smart. Arguing with me gets you dismissed. Or worse. Becomes specimen yourself.
My phone vibrates. Encrypted message from the battlefield.
Battle proceeding. Capture spell destroyed by fae interference. Alternate plan: wait for mutual exhaustion. Collect survivors when both sides are too weak to resist. Prepare for mass intake.
I smile. Alternate plan is actually better. Living specimens are more valuable than dead ones.
Let them fight. Let them bleed. Let them exhaust themselves.
When the battle ends, whoever's left standing will be too weak to resist collection.
Easy harvest. Maximum specimens. Minimal resistance.
I turn to my laboratory. Need to prepare for mass intake. Space for dozens of subjects. Stasis chambers. Containment wards. Everything required for long-term imprisonment and experimentation.
"Expand the holding facilities," I tell my assistant. "Prepare for fifty to one hundred new subjects."
"That many?"
"Battle has over two hundred combatants. Casualty rate is high but we'll collect whoever survives. Wolves. Vampires. Fae. Dragons if possible. Everything."
"What do we do with them?"
"Study them. Breed them. Extract their genetic materials. Create controllable hybrid army." I organize my notes. "This battle is disaster for resistance. But windfall for Hermetic Order. We'll gain decades of research in one day."
The embryo marked L-001 pulses in its magical incubator. Growing. Developing. My greatest achievement.
Dhampir-werewolf hybrid. Born from battle. Created from death. Designed for service.
She'll never know her genetic parents. Valentina's dead cousin. Callum Brennan who might die today. The battle that created her.
She'll only know servitude. Experimentation. Control.
Perfect human-led supernatural weapon.
I imagine armies of them. Hundreds. Thousands. All loyal to Hermetic Order. All serving human interests.
That's the future I'm building. One embryo at a time.
"Prepare reception protocols," I order. "When survivors arrive, we process them immediately. Document everything. No specimen goes unrecorded."
My assistant nods. Starts organizing.
I return to the bodies. More samples to collect. More combinations to attempt. More experiments to conduct.
The Rookeries battle might end with everyone dead. Or with resistance victory. Or with Parliamentary triumph.
Doesn't matter to me.
I win regardless.
Every corpse is data. Every survivor is specimen. Every outcome advances my research.
That's the beauty of being scientist in war.
You don't need side to win. You just need bodies.
And this battle is providing plenty.