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McBrid glanced at Charlie, but he was actually looking at Glassick. That little thing sure loved to ride around on the Guard. It was always hiding in Charlie’s pocket or scurrying up the Guard’s chest and playing along his collar. The creature’s leg had mended quickly. The other morning when he’d arrived, Glassick had already removed the tape. The little Brush-Man’s gait was uneven but it didn’t seem to slow him down. Too bad the outside of his body wasn’t working as well.
He looked back at the computer. He needed blood, blood from the Brush-Man. That was going to be tricky but he had a plan. “Hey Charlie, I have to talk to you.”
Charlie stopped straightening the cabinets and walked over to him. “What’s wrong?”
“We should talk alone.” His eyes darted to Glassick who was standing on Charlie’s shoulder, holding onto the Guard’s ear.
Glassick tugged on Charlie’s lobe.
“Hold on.” Charlie held his hand out and the Brush-Man jumped onto his palm. “I think he wants to hear.”
“Don’t guess, Charlie. He can communicate with us if he wants to.” He raised his brow at the little Brush-Man. “We taught him yesterday.” He’d used a similar strategy to what he’d done with Fersia except Glassick was to raise his hands instead of touching the bars of a cage. Left was no. Right was yes and both were either he didn’t know or couldn’t answer. “What I have to say is about you, Glassick, and it’s not good.”
The Brush-Man’s eyes widened.
“Are you sure you want to hear it?”
Glassick nodded and raised his right hand.
“Okay.” McBrid stared down at the little Brush-Man. “I’ve tested the skin samples that you allowed me to take.”
“And?” asked Charlie.
“Your skin is brittle.”
Glassick raised his right hand again.
“Yes, I’m sure you realize that.” Unfortunately, the little thing didn’t know what it meant. He still wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to say anything unless he was positive. “I need a sample of your blood to see if there’s anything we can do to make your skin more flexible.” It needed to be supple enough to grow with Glassick’s body and right now it wasn’t.
Glassick backed across Charlie’s palm, shaking his head and raising his left hand, stopping when he bumped into the Guard’s thumb.
“I don’t think he wants to do that.”
“I can see that.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve prepared a needle. A small one.” He pulled a tiny syringe from his desk drawer.
Glassick’s eyes widened and his head shook furiously.
“That’s still pretty big,” said Charlie.
“It’s the best I can do. The only other option is to cut him and gather the blood that way.”
Glassick chirped, his left hand waving in the air.
“Please. We need to do this.” He had to calm the little thing down.
“Why?” Charlie pulled his arm to his chest.
“I’d rather not say anything unless I’m sure. I don’t want to scare him or you.”
Glassick raised his left hand, waving it in the air.
“He doesn’t want you to take his blood. I guess you’re going to have to tell us if you expect him to change his mind.”
He could force them but they all knew he wouldn’t. He stared at Glassick and Charlie. “His skin isn’t growing.”
“He is kind of small, but so what.” Charlie smiled. “I like him this size.”
Glassick rubbed his face on Charlie’s thumb.
“You don’t understand. His skin isn’t growing but his organs are.”
“What does that mean?” Charlie’s hand trembled and Glassick froze, his bright blue eyes on McBrid.
“It means that eventually, his insides will outgrow his outsides.”
“No. That can’t be. He heals fast. His hand. His leg. This will heal too.”
“Charlie, his outside isn’t growing. It repairs itself quickly, yes, but it’s not getting any larger and his cells are multiplying very fast. He should be growing but he isn’t.” He shifted his gaze to Glassick. “Are you any bigger than when you hatched?”
Glassick nodded, raising his right hand.
“See. He’s fine,” said Charlie.
He frowned sadly at the little Brush-Man. “How much bigger?”
Glassick shrugged.
“A lot? Four times the size you were?”
Glassick shook his head.
“Two times the size you were?”
Glassick looked down, shaking his head again.
“Are you sure, you’re bigger than when you hatched?”
Glassick raised both his hands.
“That’s why I need the blood sample.” His gaze drifted to the enclosure and his heart began to claw its way up his throat. “I’m going to need samples from the smaller Brush-Men and the original hosts too if we want a chance to save Glassick’s life.”