Rebel Born (Secondborn #3)(98)

“What do you want to know?” I ask.

“Everything.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

I pull my hands from him and sigh. “Let me . . .” I pause, considering how best to say this. “I want to reorganize your mind to make it . . . more efficient. Faster. I can remove your VPMD implant, but it’ll collapse your brain if I don’t create something to take its place. I want to give you an implant like mine. It’s organic. It will grow with you. It’s sustainable, but there are side effects.”

“What kind of side effects?”

“You’ll obtain abilities you may or may not want.”

“Like what?”

“Like being able to jump off balconies without getting hurt . . . and if you do get hurt, you’ll heal, even after you die.”

“You’re saying it will make me immortal?”

“Yes, you might not be able to die. And in this world,” I whisper, “that might not be a good thing.”

“I’ll be like you?”

“Similar, but I can’t accurately predict your abilities or how they’ll manifest. There are infinite possibilities based on your unique brain and DNA.”

“I could degenerate into an evil monster like Crow?”

“I don’t think so—not with your personality. I think it’ll make you more . . . you.”

“But you don’t know for sure.”

“No, I don’t. Roselle’s much easier. I can predict what she’ll be like—basically me.”

“If I die, she’s alone here?” Hawthorne asks.

“She’s alone here with a billion or so mind-controlled Crow underlings. And there’s more. The way I came in . . . It didn’t feel like it was the only world that this one’s anchored to. I think there might be other worlds Spectrum is exploiting.”

“You’re kidding me?” he asks with growing anger.

I shake my head.

“Then do it, on one condition,” he says. “I want to know everything that’s happened to you since I saw you at the Halo Palace right after you left my room.”

“You mean the night you thought I was a Fate traitor? You don’t remember anything that’s happened after that?” I ask. “You don’t remember seeing me after Gabriel died?”

“No, and you wouldn’t tell me anything about how you were taken by Spectrum.” He gestures in the direction of the other Roselle.

I glance at her. She nods once, agreeing to his terms. “You’re sure you want to know?” I ask. “It doesn’t matter. It’s the past. I haven’t figured out a way to time travel, or we wouldn’t be speaking right now.”

“I need to know,” he insists.

“You don’t—you only think you do.”

“Please?” He gives me an imploring look.

I sigh. “First I upgrade your implant. If you want to know after that, I’ll show you.”

“Then I agree,” he says.

“I think you should lie down.”

He indicates the grassy lawn. “Here?”

“Yes.”

“What if Crow comes?” He glances over his shoulder at the forest.

“You said you haven’t seen him in days, right?” I reply. “Let’s hope he stays busy.”

“That doesn’t make me feel good,” Hawthorne gripes with a sigh. He lies down on the ground. Roselle kneels on one side of him. I take the other.

“This probably won’t either,” I say under my breath.

He grimaces. “Awesome.”

I hand him a handkerchief that I manifested. I give another to Roselle. “Here. Just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Hawthorne asks.

“It could get messy. I’ve never done this before.”

“You’re killing me,” he grumbles.

“Let’s hope not—I’m kidding,” I add when he frowns. “It’s going to work.” I place my hands on his temples again. My palms glow with golden light. “How do you feel, Hawthorne?”

“My head feels hot.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s just pressure and heat.” Silver liquid drips from his nose and ears. “Is my nose bleeding?”

“Not exactly. I’m dissolving your implant. It’s coming out.”

He grunts and lifts the handkerchief to catch the liquefied implant. Roselle does the same, sopping up more of the tepid, metallic ooze. When it’s done draining, I take my palms from his head and rub them briskly together, concentrating on creating a seed that will grow into an interfacing organ—a neuro-enhancement.

“I don’t feel well,” Hawthorne slurs, and closes his eyes.

“You will,” I assure him soothingly. I lift a glowing orb of light near his face. It floats upward and disappears inside one of his nostrils.

“Is this working?” Roselle asks in a hushed tone. She’s on the verge of panic.

My hands touch his temples again. “Yes. It’s perfect,” I reply with a reassuring smile.

Hawthorne doesn’t open his eyes for several minutes, but when he does, they’re a much brighter shade of gray, bordering on silver, but steelier. “I’m beginning to really like that there’s two of you. I can tell you apart now. Your eyes glow.” He points at me.