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“You’re sure you’re clean?” Jax asks. He doesn’t take a step back from us, but I sense that he wants to.
“Trust me,” Erik says. “You can see it. Plus, it infects quickly. By the time we saw the first victim, the woman’s skin was rotting off. She hardly looked human.”
“She reminded me of a Remnant,” I admit. I can’t get my last image of Valery out of my head, nor the words she whispered as we passed.
Valery and I had a trying relationship on Earth, but we had been friends once, in the way I had been friends with Enora, my mentor and her lover. We were kind to each other, helpful even, but neither of us truly shared who we were until it was too late. Standing here now, I realize we weren’t so very different. We both lost loved ones. Neither of us ran until it was too late. The only thing that separated us was my skill. It bought me time and chances I deserved no more than Valery.
“You say their skin was rotting off?” Jax asks as we find our places at a long conference table.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Erik tells him.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Jax tells me in a soft voice. “She wanted to make things right with you. We talked about Enora and what she could remember. I tried to help her reverse more of the alterations they’d done to her.”
“Were you successful?” I ask. Perhaps Valery’s legacy would live on in helping us save the Remnants or the people affected by this disease outside.
“A little. Altering in reverse is tricky.”
I think of Amie and how eager she is to remember our mutual past, despite having gone through multiple alterations.
“Whatever these things are,” Dante says, “they aren’t natural. They infect quickly. We encountered several infested people on our mission, all at varying stages, even the girl’s adoptive mother.”
“But the mother didn’t hurt you?” Jax asks.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” I say.
“The Guild considers it genetic warfare,” Albert says, settling into a seat across from me. “Why waste valuable material if it can be used to fight your enemy? A common pest becomes an ally in warfare, even something as simple as Tineola bisselliella.”
“What?” Erik asks.
“Tineola bisselliella—a common fabric moth,” Albert explains. “I’m afraid this is my fault. When we considered initial concerns regarding the Cypress Project—theoretical issues and such—we discussed whether certain species on Earth might negatively impact the artificial weave. I made a joke about fabric moths.”
“Do I want to know what a fabric moth is?” My stomach churns as the conversation recalls the memory of Valery’s final moments.
“An insect that eats away at fabric.”
“Let me guess. In this instance we’re the fabric?” I say.
“I’m afraid so.”
“But why? Why unleash something like that here? These people were already as good as dead,” Dante points out.
“The Eastern Sector was rebelling. This ensures no one here can fight back,” Loricel says.
“How was anyone in the Eastern Sector going to fight back?” I ask.
Loricel gives me a grim smile from across the table. “Cormac is a thorough man.”
That’s an understatement.
“And yet you escaped him,” I point out.
“Patton can’t stand to waste resources,” Dante says.
“You knew she was alive then?” I ask, gesturing to Loricel.
“I guessed. Alive is relative to a Tailor, anyway. Cormac’s like Kincaid in that way. When he thinks people might be valuable to him, he keeps them around.” Dante shrugs as if to say this isn’t a big deal.
“But how did you rescue her?” I ask.
