An hour later, Serigg slumped over the desk in Rekkan's room, face in her hands. "I can't believe any of the Sentries would Implant Zhina. The first four were violent and divisive, but Zhina... she was our stronghold. Our voice of reason."

Rekkan's shoulders shifted up and down against the headboard behind him. "Not everyone likes reason."

I sat cross-legged beside Rekkan and flipped through the pages of my mother's book with trembling fingers. Though I had almost memorized the words by now, each passage landed differently knowing the writing was not my mother's. The conversation between my new teammates interlaced with the words dancing before my eyes.

Serigg — "Uzmed certainly doesn't like reason. And he always hated Zhina."

The Seven Sentries = humanity's only hope.

Rekkan — "Yeah, but Ivogg is the one who spent the night in the lab."

More successful trials required before mass experimentation.

Serigg — "And we can't cross Mekkar off, either. He is exactly the kind of coward who would try to dispose of a problem without getting his own hands dirty."

Recommended course of action: exterminate. Exterminate, like the Implanted were simply mice, or...

Rekkan — "Yeah, like with the flies."

I glanced up from my book. "Serigg, will you come look at this writing? Maybe you will know whether Mekkar could have written it."

Serigg shifted onto the bed and scooted close enough to see the book. Her drooping eyelid twitched as she studied the note. Then she dipped a hand into her pocket and withdrew an engraved bracelet.

"The writing is similar," she said, "But I don't think the slant is the same."

I blinked at the engraved name, carefully scrawled into molten metal on the wedding day. Mekkar.

"You still have the wedding bracelet?"

A little shrug, too quick, too casual. "He still has his, too."

"But you said Mekkar might have taken you away from the Headquarters to kill you."

She swallowed and pocketed the bracelet. "It's possible, but I still..." 

"You still love him?"

"I don't know." A strange kind of humor strained her voice. "That's strange, isn't it? Some days, I wish I had never met him. Other days, I wonder if I should have told him to stay. If he could have learned to love this ugly face, and we could be as in love now as we were twenty years ago."

Rekkan's head swayed to the side against the headboard, and he raised a brow at Serigg. "But he failed you. He abandoned you. How could you move past that?"

"He made mistakes, yes, but..." Her eyes flitted to Fluffy's jar on the bedside table, and her voice dropped quiet. "Rekkan, I made mistakes, too. I abandoned you. And I told Zafaru he should leave you, too. I told him you were dangerous."

His eyes fastened to her for several silent seconds. Then, carefully-measured words: "You weren't all wrong."

Her droopy eyelid glistened. "You were made to feel that way. I made you feel that way."

"What way?"

"Like something was wrong with you. Like you were unworthy of love."

Rekkan licked his lips. Opened his mouth. Shut it again. Never before had I seen him so defenseless, so confused, so... childlike. Remembering Fennikk's words, a rush of protectiveness squeezed my chest.

I rubbed his thigh beside my hip, an action carrying a promise: I'll protect you whenever you feel small.

His large hand settled over my smaller one, a contrast of rough skin and gentle touch.

I addressed Serigg. "Well, it's probably not Mekkar. Ivogg was in the lab with Zhina last night, so he's our top suspect."

Her eyes remained on Rekkan for a moment before redirecting to me. "Not Uzmed? He's never around, so we have no idea what he's up to."

"Yeah, but whoever is turning people into mindless puppets seems to think they are saving the world. Freedom and all that, right? Uzmed doesn't care about saving the world."

"He might do it for Razalu, though," said Serigg. "And he's always hated Zhina, so he wouldn't hesitate to Implant her."

A chill tickled my spine. "Uzmed used Zhina's keycard to enter my room last night."

Rekkan's hand tightened over mine. "He has her keycard? Fuck. If there are only three options for who can be Head Chef, can't we just kill them all?"

Serigg snorted a laugh — a startled outburst that brightened the room and lifted her sagging features. "A tempting suggestion, I'll admit, but even if we ignore the questionable morality, it's too risky. Zafaru said the Head Chef could cause a power outage the moment he feels threatened. A power outage would trap us all in here. The air in the dormitories would become poisoned within minutes, and the cafeteria within an hour."

A silence followed while we all grappled with our poor odds.

Rekkan broke the silence. "I have Ivogg's platinum keycard, so I can get my rifle, and we can get ourselves — uh, get everyone out."

"A bell chimes whenever anyone sets foot in the entry area, including the weapons storage," said Serigg. "The Sentries will be the first to know. And even if we could escape, the Head Chef would follow."

Rekkan's head thumped the headboard. "Then what's your better plan?"

I sat up straighter as something occurred to me. "Below the schedule, it says 'two days until Integration.' That handwriting is the same as the rest of the schedule, right?"

Rekkan nodded slowly. "Which is the same person who scribbled all over your mother's book."

Serigg frowned. "But what makes you think the writer is the Head Chef? Why would the Head Chef bother to edit Lazora's journal instead of just burning it?"

"I don't know if the writer is the Head Chef," I said, "But whoever wrote this is definitely hiding something.So we need to keep an eye on the three suspects. Hopefully we'll see one of them update the schedule, and maybe we'll find some clues about the location of the power switch or the new Implantation method."

Serigg drew a breath. "But we'll have to figure out all of that without the Head Chef realizing we're watching him. Otherwise, we'll be next on the menu."

* * *

We decided that Rekkan and I would attend dinner as usual and chat with Mekkar and Ivogg. Meanwhile, Serigg would meander the hall, keeping an eye on the schedule. 

Rekkan and I were the first to sit down at our usual table for dinner. Next came Figgel, sporting a magenta dress, not-quite-matching lipstick, and a ratty gray purse that looked almost like a dead squirrel.

Oh, nope. That was actually a dead squirrel.

She plopped into Ivogg's seat and spun to face me and Rekkan. "Boys, let me tell you a secret," she drawled, stroking the stuffed squirrel. "You want to get married someday, right?"

"Uh..." I glanced at Rekkan, who appeared equally baffled.

Figgel continued. "Having been married five times, I'm something of an expert. Let me offer you some advice. If you want to keep someone interested, you gotta switch things up."

I furrowed my brow, eyes dipping to the eerie stuffed squirrel. "Switch things up like... bringing a dead animal to dinner?"

She flicked a disdainful wrist, copper bangles clanking. "It's not just the squirrel; it's the whole persona. It's like he's meeting someone new each day! Never boring, you see? Unpredictable is the most attractive."

"I see," I said, eyes still fastened to the squirrel. Beady black eyes appeared to stare back at me. "So, who are you attempting to attract tonight?"

Figgel's eyes fixed on the Northern entrance. "Shh! He's here now."

Mekkar shuffled through the doorway and locked eyes on a different table, where Serigg's seat sat empty. His heavy eyebrows furrowed and step faltered, like a forgotten beat of a dance.

When he started toward our table, he met Figgel's gaze, and a wince passed over his features before his face contorted into a smile.

"Good evening, Zaf and Rekkan," he chimed as he slid into his seat. And, less cheerfully: "Hello, Figgel."

Figgel passed a finger over the beads of her shimmering necklace. "Oh, hello Mekkar." She lifted the forever-frozen furry corpse and squeaked words from the corner of her mouth. "Hello, Mekkar!"

Mekkar's eyes widened. "Uh, that's... what is that?"

"How's Zhina?" she asked, lowering the stuffed animal only slightly.

"She's..." Mekkar's eyes flitted to me and Rekkan and then back to the squirrel. "Still acting strangely."

"Well, you know what I think?"

"I'm sure I don't," said Mekkar.

"I think if people are dropping like flies, we might as well hump like rabbits." She lifted the unfortunate prop once more.

"That's not a rabbit," said Rekkan.

Figgel shrugged. "Point remains."

Mekkar frowned. "Figgel, this is a serious problem, not something to joke about."

"Give me a television, and I can take care of this 'serious problem." Figgel mimed smashing the squirrel over an imaginary stranger.

Mekkar eyed the imaginary collapsing man, and his Adam's apple bobbed and face paled. "Well, that's very... excuse me, I'm feeling a bit ill." Then he shot out of his chair and beelined for the Northerner entrance.

Rekkan and I exchanged another glance. With Mekkar scared off and Ivogg and Uzmed yet to arrive, we were zero for three on our suspect-tracking goal. Plus there were the lab experts, who could be off Implanting someone new as we ate.

Figgel propped her elbows on the table, squirrel on her hands and chin propped on the squirrel's hardened body. "I swear, every time I find a man who doesn't smell terrible, he turns out to be some kind of pathetic..."

She trailed off as a very different person drifted over to our table and plunked down in the seat Mekkar where had been. Billowing white hair framed tan skin and eyes like green gemstones.

"You're fucking crazy, Figgel," said evil-grandma.

Figgel's scowl creased her forehead. "Who are you calling crazy, Mazamu? You're the one who's —"

"I'm crazy, too."

Figgel stared at Mazamu. "You... you're saying we're both crazy?"

Mazamu clicked jagged nails on the table. "Of course we are. That's how we two old ladies have survived this shit show of a world. But I think two crazies is enough, and we don't need any more of these 'freedom-lovers.' What do you think?"

"Well, I..." Figgel stroked the squirrel as she contemplated. "I think you smell very nice."

"I know," Mazamu replied. She flicked a finger toward the ratty gray corpse. "I like your squirrel."

"Everyone does," said Figgel.

Both women turned toward me and Rekkan.

"So," said Mazamu, "How can we help?"