Nexus

  Next door to the chosen house was the problem. The side windows were open, the sounds of a TV trickling out.

  ‘You see that?’ Nate asked her softly.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said.

  They crossed the front lawn in a pack, carrying backpacks and plastic grocery bags – nothing suspicious here! – and arrived at the front door just as Thibault opened it. Kelsie’s exhaustion, spiked with nervousness, finally broke into relief as they piled through.

  ‘Close the door,’ Nate said. ‘Keep the shutters closed.’

  ‘Wait a sec,’ Flicker countered. ‘Crash, go dump the car. About—’

  ‘About a mile away, unlocked, keys in view,’ Chizara recited. ‘And check the neighborhood for security cameras.’

  ‘Shouldn’t I dump the car?’ Thibault asked. ‘If it gets reported, we don’t want anyone to remember who left it.’

  Suddenly everyone was waiting for Flicker to answer. They knew she didn’t want Thibault wandering off alone.

  ‘Both of you go,’ she said. ‘Anon can practice keeping someone else hidden.’

  She checked his expression through Chizara’s vision, but he wasn’t giving anything away. Did he buy her reasoning?

  ‘Yeah,’ Ethan said, heading into the kitchen. ‘You’re going to have to work hard to beat Bellwether at that shit.’

  ‘Okay,’ Thibault said. ‘Take my hand, Crash?’

  ‘Away we go,’ she answered, and a moment later the room felt a little emptier.

  Flicker listened for them leaving through the front door, but got distracted by Ethan moaning about the lack of food. Kelsie’s light footsteps flitted upstairs, and the rumble of running water soon filled the old house’s pipes.

  ‘I could’ve gone with Chizara,’ Nate said. ‘I can always flip my power inside out.’

  ‘If he runs off, she can read the tracker.’

  ‘Good point.’ He unzipped his bag, and a thump sounded, of wadded dirty clothes hitting the floor.

  Glorious Leader getting ready to do laundry. Maybe the prison industrial complex was actually good for something.

  Flicker cast her vision out into the neighborhood, checking to see if their arrival had drawn any interest toward the house. There were people watching TV, staring at computer screens. (Porn. Yay.) Someone playing a sax, far enough away that her ears couldn’t catch the sound.

  ‘What do we do next?’ Nate asked.

  ‘Why ask me? Coming to New Orleans was your idea.’

  ‘That was strategy. This is tactics.’

  ‘Whatever,’ Flicker groaned. ‘Okay. Thibault and I should head out to the local FBI field office. Check if our friend Agent Phan is in town.’

  ‘And Verity,’ Nate said. ‘We should send Ethan to that weird-hunter meeting. In case they know something about Piper.’

  ‘Right. And let’s send Crash and Mob out together,’ Flicker said. ‘Kelsie’s seriously crowd-starved, but I don’t want her starting a ten-block conga line. Chizara’s grumpy yin might calm her raging yang.’

  Or was it the other way around? Thibault had explained yin and yang to her a dozen times, but Flicker could never remember which was which.

  She hoped he was okay out there, with the Curve of a real city threatening to pull him away.

  ‘Okay,’ Nate said. ‘But what exactly are those two looking for?’

  If he was testing her leadership skills, it was annoying as hell. But maybe prison had changed him in some profound way, and he was willing to cede control.

  ‘Mob can search the crowds for weird stuff,’ she answered. ‘Anything that smacks of other Zeroes. And Chizara can look for surveillance vans and other signs of FBI.’

  There was a moment of silence, and Flicker went into Nate’s eyes. He was sorting the laundry, separating darks from lights.

  Wow. He should have gone to prison years ago.

  ‘Does that make sense?’ she asked, then hated herself for sounding needy.

  Nate looked up at her – her hair was a disaster, and what color even was this T-shirt? – and his vision shifted with a shrug.

  ‘Seems like you’ve got it all under control.’

  Flicker frowned. Was he being sulky? Or just admitting that she was the leader now?

  She wasn’t even sure she wanted to be in charge. She had Thibault to think about. And she missed Nate simply being her friend. Not a rival.

  A sudden absence of sound tugged at her ears – the TV from next door had gone silent. She sent her vision searching, and found eyes staring at the kitchen window.

  Ethan stood there, drinking a glass of water.

  ‘Shit.’ She turned and called softly toward the kitchen. ‘Ethan! Someone’s watching you. Go out and make with the voice!’

  She crept into the kitchen in a crouch, jumping into Ethan’s eyes. He stepped out onto the back porch, leaving the door open.

  ‘Hello there?’ he called in his calm, assured Scam voice. ‘Mrs. Lavoir?’

  ‘Yes, that’s me.’ An older woman emerged onto the veranda.

  ‘Well, hi there!’ Ethan said, taking a step forward. ‘Mr. Barrow said I should introduce myself.’

  ‘I see,’ the woman said. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Karl Lucas,’ the voice said warmly. ‘I’m a friend of the Barrows’ son, Max. They’re having a great time in the Tetons!’

  ‘Are they?’ Mrs. Lavoir looked unimpressed. ‘He didn’t mention you were coming.’

  Nate, crouched behind her, took Flicker’s shoulder.

  ‘Last-minute trip,’ Scam chattered on. ‘There’s a few of us here, but we won’t be around much. It’s our first Mardi Gras!’

  Flicker could practically see his cheerfulness bouncing off the woman.

  ‘Well, I don’t know. It isn’t like Ed Barrow, letting a crowd of young people stay over. He’s very particular about his house.’

  Ethan gave a friendly laugh. ‘I know what you mean. He made us promise to set the alarm every time we leave. Said his system was the best money can buy.’

  Mrs. Lavoir folded her arms, but gave a curt nod like she’d heard that line before. In his bedraggled camping clothes, Ethan probably didn’t give the impression of a master thief who could disarm a high-end security system.

  ‘Well, see that you behave yourself. This is a quiet neighborhood, and we like to keep it that way.’

  ‘Of course, Mrs. Lavoir. We’ll do all our partying on Bourbon Street!’ Ethan backed up on the veranda, nearly into the door.

  ‘And how long are you folks planning to stay?’

  ‘Till Fat Tuesday.’

  Four days, Flicker thought. The voice would have chosen a date that made sense to Mrs. Lavoir, which meant the Barrows wouldn’t be coming back before then. Unless she didn’t know the exact date.

  You could never trust the voice.

  Mrs. Lavoir gave Ethan one last suspicious look, then turned and went back inside without a good-bye, which seemed like a bad sign to Flicker.

  ‘Think she bought it?’ Nate asked softly as Ethan came back in.

  ‘Course she did,’ Ethan said. ‘The voice wouldn’t say anything if it wasn’t going to convince her.’

  ‘Well, there’s impossible and there’s fifty-fifty,’ Flicker said, throwing her vision next door into Mrs. Lavoir’s eyes.

  ‘What’s up?’ Kelsie was in the kitchen doorway, smelling of wet hair, soap, and shampoo.

  ‘Nosy neighbor,’ Ethan said.

  ‘Damn,’ Kelsie said, sending a spike of disappointment through the room. ‘I really like this place.’

  ‘Relax. The voice handled it,’ Ethan said. ‘Not that we have a choice. We’ve got no car, Crash and Anon are gone, and our stuff is spread all over the house.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Flicker said. Mrs. Lavoir was pacing down the hallway, eyeing a landline phone on a small table. ‘She’s thinking about calling the Barrows. Or the cops.’

  ‘If only we had someone who could crash phones,’ Ethan said. ‘But no, we sent her off to park t
he car.’

  ‘Be quiet, Ethan,’ Flicker said. But he was right. She’d separated the group before the situation was secure, like a general dividing her force in enemy territory. Maybe she’d been too busy worrying about Thibault.

  Nerves spread through the room.

  But then Nate spoke, sending out a shimmer of calm. ‘Kelsie, get the Anon file. If we have to run, everyone grab one bag.’

  ‘She’s right by the phone,’ Flicker whispered. Her vision blurred for a moment as Mrs. Lavoir took off one set of glasses and put on another. ‘Rummaging in the drawer…damn.’

  Kelsie and Ethan thumped off into the other room. Flicker heard the whisper of vinyl as dirty clothes were shoved back into duffel bags. A zipper closed too fast, caught on something. A muttered curse.

  Nate stayed beside her, his hand still on her shoulder.

  ‘If she’s looking for a phone number, she’s not calling 911,’ he said, radiating calm. ‘We’ll have plenty of time to get away.’

  ‘She’s found it.’ A sticky note from deep in the drawer, the yellow edges faded with age: ED BARROW – JACKSON HOLE. And a number. ‘Looks like she hasn’t called them in a while.’

  ‘Should we head out?’ Nate asked. ‘Your call.’

  Flicker hesitated. Having to run so soon would send the group reeling. It would put them all out on the street, with Crash and Anon alone and invisible.

  She couldn’t leave them out there if there was any alternative.

  ‘We wait.’

  The woman lifted the sticky note, pressed it to a cork board on the wall above the phone. Its aging adhesive peeled away, so she stuck it with a red pushpin.

  Flicker smiled. ‘Hot damn.’

  ‘What?’ Ethan’s duffel bumped into the door frame as he came back into the room.

  Mrs. Lavoir was walking down the hall, away from the phone.

  ‘She believed you,’ Flicker said.

  ‘Told you!’ Ethan said. His bag hit the floor with a thump. ‘The voice doesn’t waste energy. It gets shit done.’

  ‘Big talk, Ethan,’ said Kelsie with a giggle. ‘But I saw your face when you were packing that bag.’

  ‘She’s got their number ready,’ Flicker warned. ‘We have to be perfect neighbors.’

  ‘Um, okay,’ Ethan said. ‘That really doesn’t sound like us.’

  Flicker couldn’t argue. How long would it be before some Zeroes-borne disaster descended on the neighborhood? Or before Mrs. Lavoir called the Barrows for a friendly chat about their motley house sitters?

  Typical. Scam’s lies might work in the moment, but the voice never thought more than five minutes ahead. Flicker was going to have to monitor the situation closely.

  The thought exhausted her. Was she ever going to relax again?

  ‘Maybe we should relocate once Crash and Anon get back,’ Nate said.

  He wanted her to decide? Or was this another test?

  Whatever.

  ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘This place is perfect.’

  Kelsie cleared her throat. ‘Except for the impending doom part.’

  Flicker ignored her. ‘Here’s how this works. We learn our escape routes, but also behave like perfect neighbors. And the moment Anon gets back, he goes over to switch that sticky note for a forgery – with Ethan’s burner number. So if Mrs. Lavoir decides to call the Barrows, we’ll get a heads-up.’

  Nate chuckled softly. ‘He can pretend to be some family member she’s never met. Sing the praises of their fine, upstanding house sitters.’

  Kelsie laughed. ‘Hilarious. I hope she does call now!’

  ‘Not even slightly funny,’ Ethan said. ‘The voice hates phones. Whatever mind-reading trick it pulls doesn’t work long distance.’

  Flicker turned to him.

  ‘Really, Ethan? After sixteen years of riding on the voice’s coattails, it’s about time you learned how to bullshit on your own.’

  ETHAN PACED BACK AND FORTH ON THE PEDESTRIAN BRIDGE INTO CRESCENT PARK, TOO NERVOUS TO STOP MOVING.

  His shoulders were hunched. His Saints cap was pulled so low over his sunglasses he could barely see. Keeping a low profile was in his veins now, but it was giving him serious neck cramps.

  ‘You made it!’ someone shouted. Sonia’s voice.

  Ethan spun, hissed, ‘Keep it down.’

  Sonia ignored his frantic gestures to play it cool, marched right up, and hugged him. She squeezed the air from his lungs, and when he could breathe again, he caught the chlorine whiff of hotel pool – she smelled like vacation.

  ‘You recognized me?’ he said, when he got his breath back. ‘Even with the bleached hair?’

  ‘Duh!’ Sonia said. ‘You could use some serious help with that, by the way.’

  She reached for his cap. When Ethan pushed her hand away before she could whip it off, she laughed. It was weird. He hadn’t seen someone this relaxed in weeks.

  His neck unclenched a little.

  Seeing Sonia in the flesh made him miss home even more. It felt almost normal, talking to someone from Cambria.

  Well, not normal. Her lip gloss was so shiny it hurt his eyes. Her hair was bright purple. She was strictly not a low-profile kind of girl.

  It was ridiculously dangerous meeting up with her, but he needed to talk to someone who wasn’t a Zero. The cabin fever was sucking his will to live, especially after that two-day drive to New Orleans.

  ‘Can we walk?’ he asked. ‘I have to watch out for cops. All the time. It’s like an instinct now.’

  ‘Cool.’ Sonia swung her head around, taking in the park, the train tracks under the bridge, the broad, still river. ‘Can I watch too?’

  ‘Sure,’ Ethan said. ‘But try not to look like you’re watching.’

  They crossed the bridge into the park, and he chose a direction at random. There weren’t many people, and none of them looked like an undercover Fed.

  ‘Are the others here?’ Sonia asked.

  ‘We split up,’ Ethan lied. ‘In Saint Louis.’

  No point Sonia knowing the truth. She might blab it to her weird-hunter friends.

  ‘Smart move!’ Sonia said. ‘You guys are too recognizable in a group. They’re looking for the Cambria Five, not the Cambria One.’

  Ethan grunted. ‘How’s your conference?’

  ‘WeirdCon is the best. You should come and see!’

  ‘No way.’ She’d wanted to meet at the con hotel, but a whole crowd of weird-hunters? He’d be recognized inside a minute.

  Like one weird-hunter in his life wasn’t enough.

  Was Sonia in his life? In the last month they’d only texted a handful of times, whenever he could get a burner and some privacy. But somehow those moments had seemed more real than his endless hours with the other Zeroes.

  And here she was, in the flesh. Talking to a non-Zero he wasn’t trying to scam felt wonderful. The FBI-Most-Wanted tension was slowly leaking out of his body.

  ‘Get this,’ Sonia continued, grinning. ‘The local ghost hunters hate us for invading their turf. And the vampire hunters are even—’

  ‘Vampire hunters?’

  ‘Duh. This is New Orleans,’ Sonia replied. ‘Centuries of monetizing the uncanny! But why are you here?’

  ‘The others sent me to check something out.’ Ethan rummaged his brain for the name. ‘Do you know someone called Piper?’

  Sonia froze. ‘Know her? She’s, like, a legend here. The local boss of weird.’

  Ethan came to a halt beside her. ‘Does anyone know what she’s up to?’

  ‘Something big. Everyone says she hates us normals.’ Sonia’s voice dropped. ‘Is that what you guys call us? Normals? So rude.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think of you as normal,’ Ethan said.

  ‘Awww.’ She smiled and took his hand. ‘Anyway, no one knows specifics, but it sounds like Piper wants to blow up normal world. Which seems like a bad thing.’

  Ethan nodded. It did. ‘Can you try to find out more?’

  Sonia beamed.
‘On it. I’ll get everyone asking around. Knowing you personally makes me a total celeb.’

  He stopped dead in his tracks. ‘You told them about me?’

  ‘Everyone’s seen my video, and they know I used to hang out at the Dish.’ Sonia shrugged. ‘Besides, it’s not like I can spill that much. You’re a mystery wrapped in an enigma!’

  Ethan stared at her, his shoulders winding up tight again. Flicker had been betrayed by her own blood, and here he was trusting someone he barely knew.

  He looked around. No federal marshals jumping out of the bushes yet.

  ‘You didn’t mention I was here, did you?’

  Sonia looked serious. ‘Would I ever put you in danger, Ethan?’

  ‘No?’ Ethan felt himself relax. ‘I guess not.’

  Sonia smiled at him. ‘Exactly. I’m not giving up my exclusive rights to the Cambria Five.’

  ‘Six,’ Ethan murmured, out of habit.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Ethan started moving again.

  Maybe meeting Sonia hadn’t been completely stupid. Nate had told them to scout New Orleans for federal activity, after all. What better way to do that than talk to the world’s nosiest blogger?

  ‘What can you tell me about the FBI?’ he asked.

  ‘They questioned me a few times back home. I didn’t tell them a thing!’

  ‘What did they ask about?’

  She shrugged. ‘This was before the big prison break. They mostly wanted to know about your parties at the Dish. Like, were you giving out drugs.’

  ‘Great,’ he said. Mom would love seeing DRUG DEALER next to TERRORIST on his wanted poster. ‘How’s Cambria?’

  ‘Paranoia City,’ Sonia said with a disgusted noise. ‘That awkward moment when someone brain-melts your whole police force.’

  ‘That wasn’t us! It was that guy who…got shot.’ He pushed the uncomfortable picture of Quinton Wallace in a pool of blood out of his mind.

  ‘Yeah, us weird-hunters know all about him.’ Sonia shuddered, then her voice lightened. ‘I saw your sister on TV, by the way.’

  ‘Jess? On TV?’

  ‘With your parents, doing an appeal for your safe return,’ Sonia said. ‘They think you have Stockholm syndrome.’