Blood Like Ice

"To live and move among men, the heart must break or harden."
-Sébastien R.N. Chamfort

Ravensbrück, Northern Germany - 1944

The cocoon was cold to the touch, condensation forming on the outer shell. Inside, a creature that had just minutes before warmed the glass prison hung limp, eyes blank and dead, mouth slack with the thick, serpentine tongue lolling down one side. Herr Richard Karel found himself sneering in disgust, watching his failed creation in silence. He felt a palpable anger stir in his chest- this attempt could have worked, should have worked. Everything had been done correctly.

Turning on one foot, he cast a glare in the direction of the scientists that had manufactured the abomination before him. They stood in rows, ever the model soldiers, faces blank- oh, but they were afraid; he could feel it, could smell it on them, the putrid stench of their terror suffocating him.

"I assume there is some sort of explanation for this disaster?" he murmured, his voice even and deceptively calm.

One stepped forward, hands beginning to shake almost imperceptibly. "I-if I may say, sir...you would not have wanted to keep the specimen fully alive. It was far underdeveloped and would h-have functioned in a bestial manner similar to a snake, nothing more."

A snake. How ironic. "Perhaps I was not clear when I asked for explanations and not excuses..." He took two steps toward the researchers.

One of them stumbled over his own feet as he backed away. "The DNA! It was...it was dead to begin with."

Karel stopped, his expression changing from anger to confusion. "How could that be? The Grigori specimen is still fully alive in it's dormant state."

"The DNA rapidly decayed shortly after introduction. We tried multiple times but this was our only result- there's a shred of the Grigori's DNA in there to be sure, but the body itself cannot handle the effects of it nor support it."

"Why?"

"Certain living tissues rejected the introduced DNA- namely the human ones. Trying to function with that little brain power…it suffered a massive trauma and shut itself down."

Karel turned to face his abomination once more, his jaw set. Behind him the theories and hypotheses continued to fly as his researchers struggled to redeem themselves. The cacophony of their voices deafened his thoughts. "Leave me."

Abruptly the discussion stopped, the fear resumed. "Sir?"

"Leave!" he shouted, losing his composure for the briefest of moments as he spun and took a threatening step in their direction, his eyes flashing in anger. They obeyed immediately, all hurrying from the room and closing the door firmly. The silence settled once more.

Karel pivoted to face his work once more- his work, their work, the Great Work, the goal of every Nephilim that had ever walked the earth, unable to take their deserved place in the status quo. The expression on the creature's face, grotesque and contorted, seemed to mock him, insult his efforts.

He released a steady breath through his nose, lifted his gloved hands to smooth down the stray blonde hairs that had come loose during his outburst. Though gratifying, directing his frustration toward his aides would not help the situation in any way, nor would killing them, as his hands itched to do.

For a short moment he allowed his appearance to waver, to lose some of the perfect façade he upheld in every waking moment of his life. Ridges and scars appeared on his jaw, markings of his lineage intertwined with the large wounds that cut a path through his mouth and eyes, these still painful even centuries later- a constant reminder of why he fought as he did, why he did not just give up and live out his days among these fragile creatures around him. What they had done to him, to his family, to his race could never be forgotten.

Joachim shook his head to lock away the memories once more, and in that brief second he returned to Herr Richard and the vision of Aryan purity that these Nazis around him valued so deeply.

"One of you, back inside," he called, turning to face the entrance. A single researcher stepped hesitantly back through the door, standing as straight as he could manage in an attempt to appear confident. "Yes, sir?"

"What if Grigori DNA was introduced in utero?"

The man considered the suggestion for a moment. "In theory, introduced early enough, the DNA would be indistinguishable from the normal human counterpart. After all, there is record of human and angel copulation in the bible; how much truth it holds I couldn't say, really."

"But it's worth an attempt," Karel persisted, his tone one of finality.

His heels snapped together in salute. "You give the word and we'll try, sir. We'll need to acquire a human volunteer, likely not hard around here." He smirked, reminding Karel of exactly what sort of people he currently worked with. "Then it's a matter of introducing the Grigori to-"

"No." Karel's met the man's gaze. "I have a better idea. One far more likely to be successful. Find me a carrier for the offspring and I will handle the rest."

Nodding, albeit in confusion, the man started back toward the exit. Karel's hand snapped out to grip his elbow, and the shaking resumed.

"This is to remain off-the-record and between our team, you understand?" Karel murmured in the man's ear, his grip tightening to the point of discomfort. The scientist grimaced and nodded. Releasing him, Karel watched as he rushed to the door, slamming it behind him.

Joachim smiled, excitement coursing through his body. This should have occurred to me sooner. He crossed to the examination tables near his dead specimen and retrieved a syringe from the group of tools laying on a silver surgical tray. The form he was inhabiting wavered and released back to a natural state and Karel sighed in physical relief. Maintaining his human form was much like being restrained for months on end.

Careful not to damage the pristine fabric of his uniform, Karel drew his sleeve up to the elbow. The grey skin underneath was stretched taught over blue veins. He applied a torniquet and waited a moment, then bit the cap off the syringe and inserted the point of the needle into his arm. He drew the plunger back slowly, watching blue liquid swirl as it flowed into the glass tube. Confident there was enough, he pulled it from his arm and replaced the cap.

"My apologies for not giving you a second chance, but it will come," he whispered to the silence, addressing an absent figure. "Carpe diem, fallen one, carpe diem."