Then I hold my head high as Eric Smith approaches. His suit is perfectly designed to integrate his baku, so that his panda’s red, bushy tail with a triangle of white at the end curves over the lapel of his jacket, tailored to be there. His eyes appear to light up as he sees me, which makes me feel nervous. I have to control my expressions though; I could quite easily feel a sense of awe or admiration, but the overriding sense is of disgust. Remember what he’s done, Lacey. I just wish I didn’t get so overwhelmed by the awesome tech.

“Lacey,” he says, pausing in front of me. “What a surprise to see you here. I didn’t realize you were still in such close contact with your classmates after you unfortunately had to leave Profectus.”

I swallow, carefully maintaining eye contact even though I want nothing more than to run away. “Thankfully my invitation to Tobias’s annual Christmas cottage celebration didn’t require having a level three baku,” I reply.

His eyes tighten at my sass, losing some of their pleasure. “Ah yes, and is that him?” He gestures to Slick, who is sitting docilely on my shoulder.

“Yes—a level one scarab beetle.”

“An excellent choice. And have you been keeping him up to date?”

I nod automatically.

“Good, good,” he replies. The tension in his shoulders drops, and he grabs an hors d’oeuvre from a passing tray. “Got to make sure you never miss an update or else you risk that little baku malfunctioning. This is much better for you—I’m sure you will be happy this way. Enjoy the convention, won’t you?”

He moves on, swept away by the crowd, who are all clamoring to meet him.

The visible sigh of relief at having Eric believe I’ve been “updated” fills me with a strange warmth of pride. Eric Smith is still afraid of me. Eric Smith, acting CEO of Moncha Corp, is afraid of me. A nobody—just somebody who happened to have my eyes on him at the wrong (or the right) time. I straighten my spine. It’s going to take more than an update to keep me down.

But behind Eric is someone standing there, who only has eyes for me.

Carter Smith.

Jinx is in my head again.

>>Keep your cool. He’s going to look to get a rise out of you, but he won’t be able to because you’re supposedly updated, remember? Just pretend that you are perfectly happy and content where you are. Bore him with whatever you have to—talk about St. Agnes.

Got it.

I try not to change my expression from calm and serene. I know I must look like a spaced-out weirdo, but Carter’s opinion is one that I really could not care less about.

His boar comes snuffling up first, and I try my hardest not to recoil.