Human Bait

Chapter 30: Fortress

"Find anything yet?"

I slipped a bookmark into my mother's book and glanced up at Rekkan. He leaned against the headboard of his bed, one bionic leg and one muscular one bent in front of him. He cradled a glass jar in his hands.

"There are a few inconsistencies and a bit of a tone-shift toward the end, but... nothing about a Head Chef." I blew out a breath and scrubbed my itchy eyes. "Nothing to support Stogg's claims."

"Ah." He dragged the syllable out a little too long.

I snapped the book closed. "Ah, what?"

He trailed a finger up and down the glass jar, following the movement of the scuttling critter. "You don't want to hear what I think."

I rolled my eyes. "I always want to hear what you think."

His eyes lifted to mine. "You should forget Stogg, burn that book, and get some sleep."

My fingers clamped over the binding as if he threatened to rip it from my hands. "Burn the book? Seriously, that's your advice? My one connection to my mother, and I should just chuck it in the fire?"

He dropped his gaze to the jar once more. "Told you you wouldn't want to hear it."

I clucked my tongue. "Rekkan, the button I pushed to shut down the machine was labeled 'End First Trial.' What if the Head Chef was just waiting for someone to take care of his mess so he could start over and try again?"

He shook his head. "I'm starting to think you don't even want the world to be saved, Zaf. You'd prefer to go on saving it."

The accusation caught me off-guard. "That's not true," I said. "I'd prefer to just be with you."

"Well, I don't know if you noticed," he said, "But you're with me right now."

I opened my mouth—then closed it. He was right, in a way. I had sworn to myself I would protect Rekkan and put his desires first, but now I was right back where I had been before, obsessing over clues. Chasing some altruistic fantasy of saving humanity while ignoring the human who mattered to me most.

Before I could form a reply, a rhythmic pit-pat drew my attention to the door. A small girl skipped into the room. 

I laid the book on the bedside table and offered a tired smile. "Hi, Fennikk."

She halted a few feet from us and propped both fists on her hips, cocking sideways to fully display her bionic arm like a bird spreading feathers. Her shiny new appendage flashed emerald green, sleek molded metal swooping from her bony elbow to her fluttering bionic fingers.

Her eyes flitted to Rekkan, who failed to observe her bionic peacocking. For a bare second, a frown twisted her face. Then she noticed the jar on his lap, and her face lit up once more.

"Whoa," she breathed. "What's that?"

    "Cockroach." Rekkan unscrewed the cover of the jar, pinched a breadcrumb between his finger and thumb, and dropped it in. The roach scuttled over the bread, legs twitching and antennae flicking.

    Fennikk shuffled forward as if drawn by a magnet, eyes fixed on the bug. "What's her name?"

    I shook my head. "It doesn't have a—"

    "Fluffy," said Rekkan.

    My eyebrows shot up. "Fluffy?"

    He shrugged. "Yep. That's its name."

    "Fluffy," Fennikk repeated, resting her hands on her knees to lean closer. "She's so cute."

    "She?" Rekkan itched his scruffy beard, examining the bug. "What makes you think Fluffy's a girl?"