When they returned from shopping, Diana went upstairs with her small bag of new clothes while Jordan left his in the kitchen and went down to find Carl in the weight room. Carl jumped up. "Jordan! Thank God, you're back. I've spent the whole day studying and eating. Come into the lab with me, I need to ask you some questions.”
They strode into the clean, white room and Jordan looked at the main computer screen. “I want you to look at these two images and tell me what you see," Carl perched on the stool, bracing himself with his hand on the seat between his sprawled legs. He tapped several keys with one hand and two squares appeared on the screen, each framing a motley collection of alien images that reminded Jordan of what people called modern art. As Jordan peered at the screen, he recognized the appearance of red blood cells, as well as at least two other types of cells and some random things that might or might not be cells. He realized he was probably looking at a comparison of Carl's blood from a week ago and the other from a few hours ago. A quick look at the image labels showing at the top of each frame confirmed it.
"I had some of my blood from last week, and some from today. This is the fresh stuff," Carl said, watching Jordan's face.
"You mean this, on the right?" Jordan asked, peering at the image.
"Yes. The other is a week old." Carl kept watching him, apparently expecting a reaction.
Jordan glanced back and forth between the two. After a long moment, he sighed and shook his head. "It's Greek to me, Carl. They look the same."
"No, look closer at these yellow cells. See how this one in the new blood window matches this other in the same window – look here at the nucleus, see how it's approximately centered in the cell, and the edge of the cell is distinct? Look over here at the one from last week," Carl pointed to the other image. "The edges are often ragged, and the nucleus is frequently right up against the cell wall, if not missing entirely. Then all this stuff in the serum, I believe that's the nuclei and other internal parts of these cells."
Jordan looked at what Carl was pointing to. "You said the second one is old?"
"Yes." Carl had one arm folded and a thumb against his lips as he stared back and forth at the images.
Jordan’s eyes narrowed as he looked carefully at the screen. "Looks like a mess, now that you mention it."
Carl dropped his arms and began pacing as he answered, thumbs in his belt loops. "Yes. That seems to be the problem."
"But that would mean something that happened since then has changed your blood?” Jordan looked at him, puzzled. “They both have the same cells, but the ones from today are in good shape."
"But why?" Carl asked, exploding with frustration. "And what is it that makes me a werewolf? The cells themselves, or the fact that they're broken and leaking some… I don’t know… wolf's DNA into my bloodstream? How does that make sense?"
Jordan sat down on the stool Carl had vacated and watched him pace. "Well, what about that DNA test? Where did the wolf DNA come from, the yellow cells? Would the test have detected wolf DNA if the cells weren't broken?"
"I wish I knew, dammit!" Carl paced back and forth, hands now in his back pockets. "And if I ask my father, I'll have to tell him why I care."
"Why don't you tell him? It's not like you accidentally broke someone's window with a baseball! You're… " Jordan's voice trailed off.
Carl stopped pacing and leaned against the counter. "Dying. I know. But of what? What would I say? ‘Hello Father, I'm a werewolf, and I'm dying. Can you tell me what you know about this?' My father's only lapse in scientific belief is his religious beliefs. He'd have me exorcised until the demon left me or I died. Better dead than possessed, you know." Carl shook his head.
"Oh." Jordan continued watching Carl as Carl began to pace again. Carl almost never talked about his family, that he could recall, and when he did it was often in anxiety or grief. It had to have been hard being raised almost entirely by servants as his parents were elsewhere nearly his entire life. He remembered Carl looking at the bleachers at football games, scanning as if looking for someone that wasn’t there. Then he remembered Diana. “Oh hell, that might fit in with my latest theory on why Diana is really here. She was talking about God, the devil, good and evil, and it sounds like she’s a spy of some sort, and thinks you’re in the devil’s camp. I don’t want you alone with her from here on out.”
Jordan decided to keep his comments about Carl's family relations to himself, but it reinforced his view that the perfect family was a myth. He waited while Carl slowed to a near stop, then resumed pacing back and forth across the room.
“Jordan," Carl said finally, stopping in front of him, staring downward at nothing.
"Yes?" Jordan watched him, waiting for a reaction to what he’d said about Diana, but as usual Carl’s mind was on the problems he could find answers for and left the rest of it to Jordan.
Carl looked up. "I need your blood."
"Why?" Jordan exploded off the stool.
Carl took a step back, then answered. "I want to—"
"Want? To hell with your want!" Jordan’s chest was almost pressed against Carl’s belly, his head thrust forward so that his nose was almost against Carl’s chin.
"Shut up and listen to me for once! I need to infuse your blood with mine to see what those cells will do—" Carl glared fiercely back, not giving an inch.
Jordan stood stock still, eyes barely visible behind his black lashes. He closed his eyes for a moment, then stepped back and looked down, cursing, "Shit! You said you wouldn't need any more!"
"The hell I did! I said I didn't need any for the standard tests. This isn't a standard test."
"Fucking vampire," Jordan clutched his arms in his white-knuckled hands.
Carl drew himself up. "Let's hope not," He answered stiffly, and Jordan's blood ran cold all the way to his toes.
"Is this something I can do myself?" Jordan asked.
"Not really, why?"
"It's just… your… " Jordan looked at the tracks on Carl’s arms.
"You mean you're afraid I'll slip up and infect you." Carl stared into Jordan's eyes.
"Yeah, well, you know… " Jordan answered lamely.
"This must be what it feels like to have AIDs," Carl said, almost to himself.
Jordan winced. "I didn't mean—"
"Yes, you did, and I don't blame you, but I'm dying, Jordan. You said it yourself. This isn't some baseball-through-the-window variety of problem, and you're all I've got. Are you with me or not?"
Jordan stood for a moment longer, but he couldn’t deny the logic. He sat down with reluctance and rolled his arm over so that the inside of his elbow was exposed, turning his head aside and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “Don't slip."
While Carl slid a drawer open, Jordan faced the wall, eyes closed and trying to picture himself on a warm tropical beach... Carl found his vein, wrapped a piece of rubber tubing above his elbow, then reached for a needle and a small vial. Carl noticed Jordan's tense expression, then slid the needle in the projecting vein and filled a vial with Jordan's blood.