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I saw Nick’s eyes shift incredulously to Black.

“Y-y-yes,” Wicker said, sounding defeated.

Truthfully, he’d had more mental strength than I would have credited him. The softer touch honestly struck me as working better on him than what Black was doing.

Yeah, I noticed,Black growled, glaring at me.It gave him a hard-on, too. Not to mention me. And probably Nick.

Not my problem,I sent haughtily. I folded my arms.Pragmatic, remember? I thought that was one of the traits you valued in me?

Sometimes,he grumbled back.

I felt that annoyed part of him relenting, though.

Go on,I urged Wicker with my lighter touch.Keep talking to us. You were being so good before.I sent another pulse of warmth and persuasion, even knowing it would possibly annoy Black.Please, Leon. I’d be so grateful. Please tell us––

Jesus, Miri,Black sent again, annoyed.

I didn’t bother to respond.

I didn’t need to, because again, it worked.

“Y-y-yes,” Wicker stammered to me, eyes glassy. “It’s an implant. Similar to Ms. Gorren’s. Mr. Rucker’s has more f-f-functionality. More memory. It’s slightly more a-a-advanced version than Ms. Gorren’s, but r-r-roughly the same. Same f-family of models, but n-n-next gen. And if we get it out in time, and put it in a new host, Mr. Rucker might not have to be reported dead, so––”

“And why is that?” Nick growled, cutting him off.

I heard a touch of that vampire glamour thing in Nick’s voice, too.

Wicker looked over at him in surprise. His eyes grew even glassier. He stared at Nick with undisguised lust, likely stoned on the multiple pushes.

“Well, because he won’t be d-d-dead, of course,” he said to Nick, as if that were obvious.

11

THE BRUSH OFF

All four of us stared at one another as Wicker’s words sank in.

Wicker himself paled slightly at our silence, right before he shook his head.

“It’s u-unlikely,” the scientist clarified. “It’s very, v-v-very unlikely,” he added. “I m-maybe should have l-led with that. The b-b-bullet appears to have destroyed it… the implant. It’s a f-f-flaw of the c-current design. It d-d-doesn’t protect from something catastrophic happening to the implant itself at the time of d-death. Skull fragments and the b-b-bullet ripped the d-device apart. Some of the d-d-data will have been uploaded… b-b-but not enough. The technology hasn’t been p-p-perfected yet…”

Black, Nick, and I exchanged glances, eyebrows raised.

Wicker himself seemed shocked after he spoke, like he couldn’t believe what he’d just told us. He probably couldn’t. I suspected they had it drilled into them pretty hard to never discuss any element of their work with outsiders.

My suspicion was confirmed when I saw how pale Wicker got once he’d absorbed the full content of our conversation.

He gaped up at Black, his eyes round and terrified.

“S-s-she told you?” His mouth opened wider, making him look like a flat-faced fish. From his expression, Black might have just told him the other Rucker employee, Ms. Gorren, had confessed to the murder herself. “S-s-shet-toldyou about the The Fountain?”

Black blinked at him. So did Nick.

I opened my mouth, about to speak, but another voice interrupted.

“No,” that voice said coldly, emphatically. “No… she most certainly did not.”

All four of us turned towards the office doorway.