Rebel Born (Secondborn #3)(84)

“I get edgy when I don’t know where you are,” he mutters with a low rumble. His long talons smooth over the texture of the scale. “Spectrum assigned me as your bodyguard. Even though I don’t have a device rattling around inside me anymore, I still feel responsible for you.”

“I don’t mind you checking on me.” I ease against the backrest. “What have you got there?”

His sharp eyebrow quirks. “I took a walk to that building—the one with the dragon on it. This was in a glass case in the lobby.”

A smirk forms on my lips. “You stole it?”

He looks somewhat surprised by my insinuation. “It’s not as if it belonged to them. I knew this dragon, and since I’m the only dragon here . . .”

“So . . . property rights don’t apply to you?” I try to hide my smile and fail miserably. A giggle slips out. “Why did you take it?”

“It’s my past.”

“Why do you want it, though?”

“I’m the only one of my kind. No more dragons . . . and it appears that humans are next.”

Extinction. We’re on the precipice again. Soon people won’t exist—not in their original form.

“We have to stop Crow,” I say with an apparently contagious shudder, as Cherno shivers, too.

“How long, do you think, until he gets here?” he growls.

“Soon.”

“Then let’s prepare.”

“I may have a plan.” I stiffen, feeling Ransom near. “I have another visitor.”

“Who is it?” Cherno growls.

“My technician.”

His scaly nose wrinkles with disdain. “I’ve been avoiding him.”

“Why?”

“I have this intense impulse to kill him.”

“Has he done something to you, Cherno?”

“He’s done something to you.”

I grin. “Do you have feelings for me, Cherno?”

“I find you physically repulsive, Roselle,” he replies with another shudder.

I snicker. “Don’t kill him. Make us a fire. I’ll go let him in.” I rise from my seat and return inside. Reykin isn’t in bed. Among the twisted sheets, there’s a depression where he had been, but he’s gone. So are his clothes.

Maybe he’s not ready to tell anyone else about us?

I open my door just as Ransom raises his hand to the intercom. “Come in, Ransom.” I gesture with a sweep of my arm. He’s disheveled, in sleeping attire—a dark robe and slippers. Exhaustion hollows out his eyes. “Cherno and I were about to discuss a plan.”

“The dragon’s here?” he asks, gulping. “Isn’t it late for that?”

“No. We should already have met tonight instead of having a dinner party.”

“No argument here.”

“We’re just in my garden.” I direct him outside without further explanation. Cherno carries material made to look like real wood from a stack in the corner to the grate of the fireplace. Curling red heat sparks from his mouth, and he blows on the pile. Flames engulf it, causing snaps and hisses. Filters cover the chimney, converting the smoke back to breathable air. “Have a seat,” I tell Ransom, indicating a chair.

Ransom sits. Cherno sits as well, but I pace.

“I have a plan for the box,” I say, using the name Cherno coined to describe Crow’s torturous world.

Ransom grimaces. “You know about the other world now. You have my memories of it. I came here to thank you for not killing me.” Apparently he’s been stricken by fear of my reprisal.

“You shouldn’t thank me for that. I have no plans to kill you. I promise. I’ll never chop you up in little pieces and feed you to the sea, no matter what happens.”

The frown lines around his mouth deepen.

“We’re family, Ransom,” I explain. “All of us. You gave me a weapon, and I intend to use it. I need you.”

“You don’t need me. Not anymore.”

He’s right. I don’t. I only said it to make him feel more at ease. “It’s true, I don’t need you, but you’re still an intelligent man. Your ingenuity makes you an asset. Without you and the chances you’ve taken, we wouldn’t have this opportunity now, so I thank you for that.”

Ransom relaxes against the seat. “What’s your plan?”

“We locate all the external gateways to Spectrum and decimate them.”

“The implants are the gateways—internal gateways,” Ransom replies.

“Spectrum’s moving everything it wants off site . . . or more like off-world. Think of it like cell division. Spectrum’s a malignancy that grew from us, but now it’s autonomous. It plans to kill us on this plane and keep replicating its worlds with the copies of us that it retains. It’ll also search for new worlds to invade.”

Cherno frowns. “To what end?”

“We’re just a small part of a bigger whole. Let’s call Spectrum a gang of pirates. They built their world from ours. That’s their pirate ship, and all their flags are flying now. When they locate another world—another ship—they’ll latch on to it, tie up to the side, and pillage. But they’re still anchored to our world, too, and like pirates, they take hostages, who become part of the crew. The pirates see no advantage in allowing other ships to go free once they’ve been plundered, and I’m afraid they’ll burn the other worlds as they sail away. I want to find these tie-ups—the anchors keeping us tethered to Spectrum’s ship—and destroy them before they sink us.”