staff would respond to any of her requests. He said nothing.
“Very well, tell me of this theory of yours. And would you mind, terribly, removing your dog from my chair?”
Mr. Lange-Wilsdorf swooped down and scooped up his energetic little animal. The creature immediately relaxed into a floppy, partly comatose state in his master’s arms. Draping the dog over one arm as a footman would a dishtowel, Mr. Lange-Wilsdorf proceeded to use the beastie as a teaching tool for his explanation.
“Let us assume that there are certain particles in the human body that bond to ambient aether.” He prodded at the dog with one finger unhelpfully. “I shall call these particles ‘pneuma.’ ” He raised his poking finger into the air dramatically. “Supernaturals have broken this bond, losing most of their pneuma. They become immortal by reconfiguring what trace amounts of pneuma they have left into a flexible bond with ambient aetheric particles.”
“You are saying that the soul is not a measurable substance after all, but is in fact the type and rigidity of this bond?” Alexia was intrigued despite herself, and she switched the bulk of her attention to the German.
Mr. Lange-Wilsdorf shook Poche at Alexia in his enthusiasm. “Ya! It is a brilliant theory, ya? It explains why we had no luck over the years measuring soul. There is nothing to measure—there is instead only type and strength of bond.” He swooped the dog about the room as though flying. “You, Female Specimen, as a preternatural, are born with the pneuma but no bonded aether at all, thus you are always sucking the aetheric particles out of the air. What you do when you touch the supernatural creature is break their flexible bond and suck all the aether out of them, turning them mortal.” He made a grasping motion with his hand over the dog’s head, as though scooping out the little beast’s brains.
“So, when the vampires called me a soul-sucker, they were not so far from the truth of it. But how does this explain the child?” Alexia attempted to refocus the little man on the most important part of his explanation.
“Well, the problem with two preternaturals is that they are both trying to suck aetheric particles at the same time. Thus they cannot share the same air space. But”—and in a triumphant crescendo, Mr. Lange-Wilsdorf held his little white dog over his head in victory—“if the other parent is a supernatural, the child can inherit the flexible bond, or as we might think of it, a bit of the leftover excess soul.”
Poche gave a funny little howl as though to punctuate his owner’s final statement. Realizing he was waving about his pet in a most indiscriminate manner, the German put his dog back down on the floor. Immediately, Poche began barking and bouncing about, eventually deciding to launch a full-blown attack on a small golden throw pillow that was now not long for this world.
Alexia hated to admit it, but Mr. Lange-Wilsdorf’s theory was a sound one. It explained many things, not the least of which was why such children as the infant-inconvenience might be so very rare. Firstly, they required a supernatural to preternatural pairing, and the two species had hunted each other for most of recorded history. Secondly, they required either a female soulless, a female vampire, or a female werewolf. Preternaturals were rarely allowed near hive queens, and female werewolves were almost as rare as female preternaturals. There simply wouldn’t have been much of an opportunity for interbreeding.
“So, the question is, what kind of child am I going to produce, given Conall’s, uh, flexible bond?” Said in conjunction with her husband’s name, and considering his carnal preferences, Alexia found the terminology salacious. She cleared her throat, embarrassed. “I mean to say, will it be born preternatural or supernatural?”
“Ah, ya, well, difficult to predict. But I am thinking, perhaps, in my theory, that is to say, neither. The child, it could be simply normal. Perhaps possessing less soul than most.”
“But I will not lose it as you had previously thought?”
“No, no, you will not. If you are sensible with your own well-being.”
Alexia smiled. True, she was still not quite settled into the idea of being a mother, but she and the infant-inconvenience did seem to be arriving at some kind of arrangement.
“Why, that is superb news! I must go tell Genevieve immediately.” She stood, with every intention of dashing off to the infirmary, regardless of how this might upset any Templars she barreled into along