Amelia set the trap the next night.
I knew it was a trap.
This should have prevented me from approaching.
It did not.
She sat at her desk rather than on the bed, one sleeve rolled to the elbow, her forearm resting beside an open book.
Skin exposed.
Pulse visible.
No cultivation.
No frost.
No Mayra.
A small lamp cast warm light over the desk.
Everything about the scene said: Please bite me, harmless ordinary mosquito.
Which meant: Come closer so I can discover why you survived my blood.
I remained beside the smoke detector and watched.
Amelia turned one page.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Then fifteen.
She did not look toward me once.
Excellent acting.
I respected it.
I would not fall for it.
My Frost Resistance had stabilized.
The Codex showed 2.81 Evolution Energy—enough to matter later, not enough to justify stupidity now.
The obvious solution was to avoid Amelia and find ordinary food.
Sugar.
Fruit.
Anything that did not come from a woman who could create frost by thinking.
Amelia turned another page.
Her forearm remained still.
The scent reached me.
Warm.
Dense.
Evolutionary relevance extreme.
No.
I began explaining the situation to myself.
Approaching would be reckless, humiliating, predictable, and potentially fatal.
I released the ceiling.
Idiot.
I flew high at first, then descended behind Amelia where her peripheral vision was weakest.
She did not react.
I landed on the desk lamp and waited.
Amelia turned a page.
She was not reading.
Her eyes moved at the correct pace; her attention did not.
Still a trap.
Fine.
I circled toward her wrist, then turned away sharply.
Test.
No reaction.
I approached again and landed on the desk three inches from her arm.
She continued pretending to read.
I walked closer.
One inch.
Half.
Blood moved beneath her skin, impossible to ignore.
I lowered my proboscis.
The air froze around me.
Not the room.
A tiny sphere, perfectly formed, compressed cold holding me in place without touching my body.
My wings moved.
Nothing happened.
Amelia looked directly at me.
No surprise.
No triumph.
Only calm interest.
“Got you,” she said.
I gave one long, high buzz.
Idiot.
She could not understand it.
Yet.
Amelia lifted one finger.
The cold sphere rose with it, and I rose too—caged in air.
Frost Resistance kept me conscious.
It did not let me escape.
She brought me closer to her face.
Her gray-blue eyes were enormous at this distance.
She examined my abdomen, wings, legs, and proboscis, then the almost invisible darkening in my chitin where Frost Resistance had altered my tissues.
“You are the same one,” she said.
No.
Impossible to prove.
There were billions of mosquitoes.
I assumed the emptiest posture I could manage.
Amelia moved one finger left.
My eyes followed automatically.
Damn.
She moved right.
I deliberately looked left.
Her eyebrow rose.
Bad.
She placed two bottle caps on the desk.
One contained plain water.
The other sugar water.
She lowered the cold sphere around both without releasing me.
An experiment.
Amelia pointed toward the sugar.
I ignored it.
She waited.
I ignored harder.
My body wanted the sugar.
I flew into the cold wall instead.
Tink.
Again.
Tink.
Amelia watched.
“Either you are unusually intelligent,” she said, “or exceptionally stupid.” Success.
Probably.
She moved the sugar closer.
I turned away.
She moved the plain water.
I approached, then pretended to lose interest.
Excellent stupidity.
Award-worthy.
Amelia changed tactics.
A faint cryogenic aura gathered around her fingertip.
My Frost Resistance activated, and my body remained functional.
Her eyes sharpened.
There.
A normal mosquito should have slowed.
I did not.
She increased the cold, careful not to injure me.
I continued flying.
The disguise was failing.
Amelia released the aura, then made a sudden swatting motion beside the sphere.
I dodged before her hand moved halfway.
Damn.
Instinct.
Amelia stopped.
So did I.
We stared at each other.
The corner of her mouth moved.
“Interesting,” she said again.
I hated that word.
Then she released the sphere.
Unexpected.
I shot toward the ceiling with no hesitation and even less dignity.
Amelia did not try to catch me again.
Instead, she set the sugar-water cap near the window and returned to her book.
The bait remained.
I stayed hidden for seven minutes.
Then ten.
This time, Amelia was actually reading.
The sugar smelled excellent.
I waited until her gaze dropped to the page, flew down, and drank.
When I finished, Amelia was looking directly at me.
I froze.
She said nothing.
The corner of her mouth curved into a small, unmistakable smile.
I had been caught, tested, and almost certainly identified as abnormal.
But not killed.
That mattered.
The Codex appeared.
— Host relationship with high-grade biological source altered.
Threat assessment: Reduced / uncertain — Relationship?
No.
She was a dangerous food source with a growing research interest in me.
Nothing more.
I flew toward the curtain.
“Good night, little anomaly,” Amelia said.
I gave the idiot buzz very quietly and disappeared into the folds.