Y FIRST THOUGHT wasJeb . He’d created the first Ari—maybe he’d had enough DNA left to create another one. Then I thought about how distraught Jeb had seemed at Ari’s funeral.

I took another look.

There were slight differences. The curve of his eyebrows, the wave of his hair. Maybe it wasn’t really Ari’s genes. Just a similar thing made to freak me out, like Fang said.

“So where are these guys from?” Fang asked quietly, crouching next to me on the floor. “They were in Mexico City. Now they’re here. What do they want?”

“They want me—us—to quit working for the CSM,” I said. “Remember when I came back with my new, ventilated wing? They did it—they took me to a guy called Mr. Chu. Short, I think he’s Chinese, major bee up his butt. Mr. Chu told me he’d find a way to make me stop working for the CSM. He said he represented a bunch of super-powerful businessmen.”

“And your response was…”

“Unsatisfactory, I guess.” I peeped through the window again: The things had moved closer. They were about twenty yards from the house. The leader was still out front, and I sensed he was about to mispronounce my name again.

“And you didn’t tell anyone because…” Fang had that too-patient tone in his voice that let me know that

he knew that I knew that he knew that I’d screwed up.

“I wanted to do some research,” I said too defensively, which let him know that I knew that he knew that I may have conceivably perhaps not chosen the best possible route in this particular instance. “Later I mentioned it to the Jebster, and he went pale like someone had sucked all the blood out of his head.” Okay, I guess that’s a gross image. But still. “And then he convincingly said, ‘Gee, no, haven’t heard of him.’ As if I’d had my brain removed and I might believe that.”

Fang said nothing, which meant that he was thinking. He says nothing and thinks more than anyone I know.

“Max-HIH-mum Ride,” said the Ari wannabe.

“How hard would it be to program him to say my name correctly?” I fumed.

“You must not leave the area,” said the voice.

I peeked out through the curtain again. The Ari-thing was closer, standing directly in the moonlight. I peered at him, and something about him made my blood run cold—and it wasn’t just his Ari-ness.

“Fang,” I whispered. “Look at him. He might not be a robot.”

Fang rose slightly and took a look. “Hm.” There was a whole unspoken paragraph there. You had to read between the lines.

I looked out again. The combat-bots were huddled together, forming an almost perfect circle that I assumed went around the whole house. Their knees were bent, their Uzi-arms raised and braced. Primed and ready for action.

But it was the main guy who stuck out. Despite his jerky movements and mechanical voice, he seemed oddly—human.

“Ew,” I whispered, struck by a thought. “You know how Itex stretched skin stuff over their ‘bots to make ‘em look like Erasers, or just more humanoid? This guy—it’s like they took a person and then built a robotinside of him. Going from the inside out instead of the outside in. You know? Gross.” My nose wrinkled as I pondered this.

Fang looked at me silently for a few seconds. “Is it hard, being you?”

“Yes, itis, actually,” I said snidely. “For the record. But are you saying that that’simpossible? That no one couldpossibly be twisted enough to take a person and then grow acyborg inside it? Gosh,that couldn’t happen, not in today’s world!” I made my eyes big. “That’s almost as unbelievable as a bunch of scientists graftingavian DNA into human embryos! It’s the stuff of science fiction! It couldn’t possiblyever happen!”

“Why are you shouting?” came Gazzy’s whispered voice from the stairs.

“I’mnot shouting!” I said, lowering my voice. “Just scoping out the enemy, as usual.”

“Oh,” said Gazzy. “Well, keep scoping, ’cause they’re about to blow up.”