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“Wake him up. We need to get this done.” It was Scottsmoor’s voice.
McBrid had no idea why he was sleeping anywhere near Scottsmoor. He tried to sit up but he was on his stomach with his hands tied behind his back. Someone slapped his face. It wasn’t hard but it stung.
“He’s coming to.” Topper was bent, hands on knees in front of him.
Now, McBrid remembered everything. His gaze darted to the door. It was closed, but where was Glassick? Had the Brush-Man gone to help Charlie or was he still cowering under the cabinet?
“Stand him up.” Scottsmoor was at the desk. Dozens of pieces of the computer were scattered across the floor.
“That wasn’t all the copies. Conguise will find out you were breeding siblings,” he threatened as the Guards pulled him to his feet.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I swear. I have copies.” At his home, blown to bits.
“I’ll take my chances.” Scottsmoor walked over to him. “You see, while you were unconscious Stink went to retrieve your computer from the Aranea lab.” His eyes darted to the mess on the floor.
Stink shivered.
“And”—Scottsmoor’s gaze narrowed on Stink—“somehow, he bumped into another Guard.”
“I told you. Jose was patrolling the hallways.”
“You went to get help,” muttered Topper.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Scottsmoor. “Apparently, there was an accident at your place. Everything’s gone. I’m sure you were supposed to be part of that everything.” He strode to the control panel on the wall. “I’ll admit I was a little nervous when Conguise told me to use your Guards as my new hosts. You do know a few things that I’d rather the professor never discover. I should’ve known Conguise had a plan.”
He had nothing left to barter. Conguise wanted him dead. No one here would go against that. The only thing that might save him was his advancement with Fersia and his information about Glassick, but he couldn’t use them, not again.
“Get him to the top of the cage.”
McBrid lunged at the Guards but it was a desperate attempt, with his hands tied behind his back he was impotent.
Topper punched him in the gut, causing him to buckle and the two Guards each grabbed one of his arms, dragging him toward the ladder.
“You don’t have to do this.” He jerked and then let all his weight drop, his legs loose beneath him.
The Guards stumbled but continued to pull him forward.
The Brush-Men were smashed together at the front of the cage, trying to see when they’d get dinner. As the Guards move toward the ladder, they hurried to the center of the enclosure. Their clicks of excitement causing a buzzing roar as they pushed and shoved to get the best position under the opening.
“Please, Scottsmoor. Don’t. I wouldn’t do this to you.”
“What do you think Conguise would do to me if he knew the first set of Rattus hosts were siblings?”
“I never would’ve told him.” He had to find some way to stop this, but each moment drew him closer and closer to that ladder.
“Please, McBrid. Go with some dignity.”
He should, but he couldn’t. He’d seen what these things could do, would do. “I have copies in a safe deposit box.”
Stink went up the ladder first, pulling him by the arms while Topper held his waist. He wiggled and kicked as they pushed and pulled him onto the first step of the ladder. He tried to lean back but Topper’s bulk kept him in position as his feet slid onto the second rung.
“I don’t believe you.” Scottsmoor sounded bored.
“I swear.” They pulled him up another step and then another. “I’ll give them to you. Them and everything I have on everyone else.” He had to clamp his mouth shut from offering the real prize. Dying was better than letting them know about Fersia and Glassick.
Stink yanked and McBrid was on top of the cage. His legs crumbled and this time it wasn’t a ploy. The chirping and chattering of the Brush-Men below was a cacophony of death and his body understood. The hair on his arms was standing up and he couldn’t pull his eyes from the scene below him.
He didn’t want to die like this. He didn’t want to die at all. Maybe, he didn’t have to. They’d discover Fersia could understand them whether he said anything or not. They might find Glassick or the poor little thing would die of starvation. Talking about this, telling Scottsmoor everything was the best thing to do. The only thing that might save him.
Topper pulled him to his feet. Stink grabbed his other arm and they moved toward the hole—the big, gaping hole where terror and pain waited for him.
“I-I know things. Things that can help you advance.” He wanted to clamp his mouth shut, to retract the words. He couldn’t do it to them or to others like them.
“Wait,” said Scottsmoor. “What do you know? What secrets do you think are worth your life?”
The Guards stopped a step away from the opening. McBrid’s brain froze as he stared at the horde of Brush-Men below him, jostling for position. Their blue eyes stared up at him in their skinny faces. Some of them opening and shutting their mouths, showing sharp teeth. Their claws were at the ready, prepared to rip and tear flesh—his flesh.