isn’t that how talents work for you guys?” Amy asked. “If you can do the thing, that means you have the ability? If you can’t, you don’t?”
“Not in this case.” Mr. Forkle turned to the room’s largest window, parting the curtains and scanning the yard. “All I have is a handful of dormant Inflictor genes, which I wasn’t ever supposed to be able to use. They were simply part of a test.”
“A test,” Sophie repeated, not sure why the word made her stomach feel so squirmy until she realized, “You’re talking about Project Moonlark.”
“I am.” Mr. Forkle turned back to face her. “Despite our abundance of research, much of our genetic work was purely theoretical—and I wasn’t about to implement those theories on an innocent child and risk that something could go seriously wrong—even with the flexibility we were designing. Every tweak planned for your genes had to be properly vetted before I allowed it to be added to your genetic code. And since I wasn’t willing to risk anyone else’s safety, it meant playing the role of test subject myself. My brother and I split it up—he tested your Polyglot genes and I tested your inflicting. That way we could examine the effects in isolation.”
“What about her teleporting?” Amy asked. “And that other one—what’s it called again?”
“Enhancing,” Mr. Forkle said, beating Sophie to it. “Both of those abilities were ‘unplanned side effects’ of our other genetic modifications, so we weren’t aware that we needed to test them. In fact, we didn’t know about the teleporting until Miss Foster discovered it while trying to escape the Neverseen’s attempt to capture Silveny. And the enhancing I discovered during this incident.”
“Because it triggered the same time as my inflicting,” Sophie guessed.
Mr. Forkle’s smile was equal parts impressed and reserved. “I’d wondered if you would notice that part of the memory, with all the other chaos happening.”
“I did,” Sophie told him. “And I’m assuming it had something to do with your inflicting, since you were only able to do that after you touched my hands.”
“That’s my assumption as well—and it was definitely a surprise, in case you’re wondering, as well as a true testament to the strength of your enhancing ability, considering the ridiculously insignificant amount of Inflictor DNA that’s a part of me.” He lifted the hem of his tunic to reveal a palm-size round blotch on his hip where the skin was so pale, it almost looked translucent. And when the light hit the patch, his skin shimmered with tiny flashes in every color of the spectrum.
Amy gasped. “Did that hurt?”
“Of course,” Mr. Forkle told her, lowering his shirt back into place. “Definitely one of the top ten most painful things I’ve ever experienced. But that was a price I was willing to pay in order to guarantee that everything we were planning for your sister would be both safe and effective.” His eyes shifted to Sophie. “I know you’re frustrated by the guesswork that sometimes comes into play with your abilities, and I wish I knew a way to eliminate that completely. Someday we’ll hopefully get there. In the meantime, I hope this at least proves how far we’re willing to go to ensure your safety.”
It did and it didn’t.
Whatever he’d done to himself—whatever risks he’d taken—still hadn’t spared her from staring down another ‘this could kill you’ decision.
“I don’t understand,” she said, sticking with a safer answer for the moment. “How can your DNA be different right there?”
“The same way that someone’s DNA can be different in a place where they’ve been exposed to intense radiation,” Mr. Forkle explained.
Amy sucked in a breath. “But radiation like that would kill you.”
“It would,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “Or, at the very least, it would certainly make me very, very sick. Which is why our team had to devise a much safer method for our tests. Calla was the one to realize that light was the answer, but we needed something stronger than any of the Sources on their own—or even any of the Sources combined. Something elemental.”
“You used quintessence,” Sophie realized, shivering as her palms remembered the burns she’d suffered after she’d accidentally bottled some of the fifth element during a school assignment. “Wait—does that mean the DNA in my hands—”
“No,” Mr. Forkle cut in. “Those burns were from exposure to the extreme cold of Elementine—not exposure to the quintessence itself. I also had to prepare a sample of my altered DNA and apply it to my skin before we added the