o’ this, bit o’ that. Whether how the Change transformation the vampires and werewolves can do is a quantum entanglement of some kind, and whether the famed identification or prediction of evil the fanged ones claim can be derived from one single, huge algorithm. Spooky action at a distance, you know? But what I was working on at that precise moment I died was how some of these artifacts might have been created.” He stroked his beard, his eyes unfocused, thinking hard. “This might be a match made in heaven, Zoe, m’girl.”
I nodded. “If you can help me in any way, it would be a serious relief. Right now, what would help most is some kind of index, or a schematic, or a guide for the DIY newly enhanced Fangborn,” I said. “I don’t know if such a thing exists, but maybe you can create a rough version? Anything that might lead me to a better understanding of how to use, make, or fake the artifacts I had, might mean, literally, the difference between life and death. And not just mine.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“So what about this thing?” I held up the scarab and chip.
“Not Fangborn, not entirely. It looks like something the Order pieced together, trying to make a Fangborn artifact work without . . . the right . . . components? Energy?” He looked confused. “We’re going to need a whole new vocabulary for this.”
I nodded. And we were going to have to get Lisa up to speed in a hurry if I had any hope of making progress here.
Then again . . . we had no time. Claudia and I were both certain that Dr. Tarkka was not out to hurt me. And then there were my own skills in mundane artifact analysis. This was too pretty to be used in torturing Fangborn. The gold curlicues of the circuits, the way the scarab had been set into the chip . . . It almost looked like jewelry, meant for a lady.
It was no riskier than the other artifacts I’d assimilated, I decided suddenly. “Okay, I’m going to plug it in.”
He was up for it. “Where do you reckon?”
I shook my head—it didn’t matter. Pre-bracelet, I would have assumed it went behind my ear or I should eat it. Now, I knew, I could put it anywhere, so long as my intent was to internalize what powers it might have. I found a suddenly available square slot on my bracelet, exactly the right size for the chip. I slotted it in. It fit perfectly.
I’d had my healing powers on deck, just in case the thing was booby trapped, but so far, so good. No sparks, no smoke—or the metaphysical equivalent thereof. Also good.
I thought there would be pain—there had been a load of hurt other times, with just the straight-up Fangborn artifacts that I was pretty sure would end with my death. There was nothing here, a frisson, something barely noticeable, like clothing that doesn’t fit exactly right. But it was manageable. All I felt was a vague brushing of minds outside me, very indirect, very primitive. Nothing like my own proximity sense. These minds were far away. They didn’t feel like human minds, however, or Fangborn. They felt more like dragons, if anything.
I unslotted the chip and tossed it to Geoffrey.
“Nothing?” he asked.
“Not a lot. Maybe you can find something. I’ll catch you later.”
No further enlightened, I met up with Heck and Elizabeth Nichols, who said they wanted to record me giving a dry run of what was going on. Later, they’d review it and we’d add anything I’d left out for the official version.
I took a deep breath, tried not to squint too much, and looked into the camera, as silly and self-conscious as I felt doing it. I thought about how I was so very much the tail wagging the dog, all these important people acting on my say-so, and how I knew that I was responsible for so much happening right now. I tried not to sound too weary or uncertain as I started.
I took a deep breath. We were on the brink of I-Day. I was going to tell people in high places about the Fangborn, the Order, the Makers, the dragons, and just the thought of that was scary.
“Hi. I’m Zoe Miller and I’m a werewolf, one of the Fangborn. If you don’t know . . .”
Chapter Eleven
I didn’t get released from the taping until about ten that night. I