Swarm (10 page)

HART'S CASTLE WAS DECORATED FOR
the wedding, but it was still a castle, a
fortress
, brought stone by stone from Europe by some rich guy a hundred years ago. Pennants flew from battlements in the ocean breeze. Flowers and banners were draped over the arched gateway where metal teeth hung, waiting to clang down on intruders.

Coming up the red carpet with Flicker, Thibault tried to breathe through his nervousness. He'd lifted an invitation from two wedding guests at the back of the line, but what if the couple were famous enough that he and Flicker couldn't pass for them?

There were
real
celebrities on this carpet. The watching crowd's attention swept this way and that, like long grass in a helicopter's downdraft.

Flicker laughed. “Man, people just glue their eyes to these B-listers!”

“And take pictures,” Thibault said uneasily. “Nate's going to go ballistic when he sees we walked down the red carpet.”

“Easiest way in.” Flicker took a spin, whirling the hem of her long red dress. “And haven't you always wanted to?”

Thibault was about to say
never
, but Flicker took his hand and said, “Sonia Sonic. One o'clock.”

Yep, there was Cambria's social-media queen, right by the gate, her silver-and-magenta hair gleaming.

Thibault frowned. “I feel like we should hide.”

“Relax,” Flicker said. “Sonia told us about this wedding.”

“I know. But Nate's new strategy of working with her seems like a
really
bad idea to me.”

“It was my idea, actually.”

“That doesn't make it any better.”

The crowd's attention had been clumped thickly on the woman in front of them, so tall and beautiful that she
had
to be a model. It let go reluctantly as she went through the gate, and searched the line for a new target. Thibault snipped it from himself, but it lingered on Flicker a moment.

“Who even is that?” asked a woman behind the rope.

“No one,” said her friend.

The words sent a jolt of anger through Thibault. He was used to being ignored, but since when did not being famous mean you weren't real?

But Flicker squeezed his hand and smiled beatifically back at them all.

Also near the gate was a guy holding up a big heart-shaped sign:
I'M STILL HERE FOR YOU, K-MO!
Other people waved white roses and little white flags with the couple's names.

But not everyone was here to celebrate. Farther back, a small pack had been corralled together by security. Their biggest banner said
NICE DAY FOR A RED WEDDING
. No tall guy with a half-shaved head, though.

“Observation,” Thibault said. “Crowds not always awesome.”

Flicker shrugged. “Don't read the comments.”

A sudden gasp filled the air, and the glittering attention snapped away down the hill to where the limos pulled up at the start of the red carpet. In the vacuum left behind, Thibault and Flicker walked unnoticed between the heavy wooden doors.

The forecourt of the castle was even busier. Guests filed through, bodyguards and assistants peeled off to the staff area, wedding staff fussed and consulted, and security looked menacing in suits and headsets. A pile of white gift bags leaned unsteadily. The air was thick with darting arrows of attention—curious, nervous, dutiful, watchful, bored, all kinds.

At the head of the guest line, the greeter held up a hand to stop them, then put his finger to his wired-up ear to listen.

“If this doesn't work,” Thibault murmured, “stick close to me.”

Flicker's grip tightened in his.

The greeter finally beckoned them forward, and Thibault handed the invitation over.

“The Gormans!” His gaze skated straight off Thibault and onto smiling Flicker. “Welcome!”

Okay, the Gormans were fellow nobodies, then. The guy laid the invitation on the neat stack beside him, and his assistant tapped the screen of her tablet and nodded.

“Please follow the Rose Path to the chapel,” said the greeter with a suave sweep of his arm, already looking at the guests beyond them.

“Oh, I had a question,” Flicker said, and their attention swung back to her. “Does
everyone
get a gift bag?”

As the greeter answered, Thibault sliced away every glimmer of the staff's attention, stepped closer to the assistant, and tapped the grayed-out
GORMAN X 2
on her tablet so that it brightened again.

Then he reached for the discarded invitation on the stack.

*  *  *

A few minutes later Thibault was back at Flicker's side on the Rose Path. When he took her hand, she smiled at him without a moment's surprise.

“Look,” she said. “They dug up the whole lawn to plant roses! Did you get the invite back to its owners?”

“Yep. Used one of Kelsie's distraction moves. It's handy when your housemate's a pickpocket.”

She laughed. “Like you need it. Come on, I found a place for us to sit.”

She drew him into the side porch of the chapel. Hungry gazes crisscrossed the air inside.

“Whoa,” Thibault said. “Too much fame.”

“I know. It's like
Entertainment Weekly
threw up in there.”

A beautifully groomed couple was just entering the chapel. The space around the guy practically fizzed, and the quick hiss of whispers faded into awestruck silence as everyone's gaze latched onto him. Man, how would it feel, being
bombarded
like that?

The guy ignored everyone, fixing his own attention on the ushers. The woman, clearly more comfortable with fame, smiled and waved to a friend, diamonds sparkling on her hand.

Thibault shook off his own awe, not at these celebrities—he didn't watch a lot of TV, especially not reality shows like K-Mo's—but at celebrity itself, its hypnotic effect on a crowd.

Man, Glitch would just
love
to suck the starstruck adulation out of this gathering.

“See them anywhere?” he asked.

Flicker paused, sifting through the web of gazes shimmering around the chapel.

“Not yet,” she said. “There's space upstairs. Think that's far enough away to not get Glitched?”

Thibault looked up over the sizzling attention arcs. In the
choir loft, the organist was playing background music, and the choir sat waiting in white angel gowns.

“Perfect,” he said. “Quick, before someone throws us out for not having Daytime Emmys.”

“It's cute that you know what Emmys are,” she said, leading him to the staircase at the back. With everyone feasting their eyes on more glamorous guests, Flicker was practically as invisible as Thibault.

She walked a little tentatively, still scanning the chapel for Glitch and Coin. But Thibault knew how to guide her.

“Spiral staircase ahead. But I'll catch you if you fall.”

“Ooh, romantic.” She hiked the front of her dress up and started to climb.

Upstairs, the choir sat in steeply raked seats, their attention cascading over into the main chapel, star-spotting like everyone else. They barely noticed a couple of wedding guests creeping up to join them. Thibault followed Flicker up to the highest seat in the house.

It was like sitting on a cliff top. Down below, dappled by all the stained glass brought over from Europe, sat rows of astonishing hats, sharp haircuts, and fabulous hairdos. Among them everyone's stares formed a fine living net, bright against the shadows. Some people tried to play it cool, only sneaking glances. The truly famous didn't care who else was here. They sat in big asterisks of arcing attention, all flowing in, none out.

“Smell those flowers!” Flicker whispered in his ear.

“
Kind of hard to breathe, huh? Everything's so over the top.”

She elbowed him. “Seriously? You don't think it's sweet?”

He shrugged. “I can show someone I love them without cutting down a field of flowers. But I might be tempted to hire a choir. For a
very
special person.”

She leaned closer, coiling her senses around him. “Oh really?”

“Yes, but someone too mature for schoolgirl fantasies about red carpets and celebrity weddings.”

“God, you really suck at weddings,” Flicker groaned. “We might as well have gone to the hockey game.”

Thibault tried not to laugh too loud. “I wish Nate had sent us to the horror film. No jacket required.”

“Hey, I
like
you in this jacket.” Flicker adjusted his collar.

“I'm returning it tomorrow. I can't steal anything that cost five hundred bucks.” He surveyed the shifting net of attention over the congregation. “Anyone down there with a shaved head?”

“Not yet. Kind of dizzying, all those eyes
swooping
to the door when anyone walks in.”

“Creepy, huh?” Thibault watched as the sheaves of sight lines bent to some new spectacle below.

“But wouldn't it be kind of fun, getting all that attention? I mean, if your superpower
wasn't
disappearing.”

“Right. Because I'd totally love paparazzi stalking me.” He
shuddered. “This whole wedding has convinced me that forgettability is my natural element.”

“Well,
I'm
not gonna forget you.” Flicker smiled and bumped him with her shoulder.

“Don't even joke about it.”

“Oh—” Her eyebrows went up again. “Here comes the groom!”

Some hoots and a little applause echoed up from below. The choir rose from their seats with a swish of robes and a rustle of hymnbook pages.

“Oh my God, and the bride!” she said in a whisper-squeak. “I hate her show, but she looks
amazing 
!”

Flicker's attention was fraying fast, joining everyone else's focus on the front door down below, and Thibault felt a little stab at his heart as she pulled away.

“Not as amazing as you,” he said, and kissed her, just to keep her with him a little longer.

The organist struck a triumphal opening chord. The choir, ignoring the two teenagers lip-locked in the back pew, took a breath as one and burst into song.

“GEE, NATE. GREAT IDEA.” ETHAN
slumped back in his plastic seat, hunching his shoulders. “Bring me to a stadium full of police. No way
that
could go wrong.”

Nate shrugged. “I told you to wear a hoodie.”

“So those cops can just shoot me and say I looked threatening?” Ethan pulled his cap down harder. It only made his ears more conspicuous. “No way.”

“Just keep your eyes open,” Nate said. “You need to see those cops before they see you.”

The horn sounded, echoing through the stadium, and the players skated out onto the ice to raucous applause. The lines of attention in the giant space converged into a spiky mass as all eyes turned toward the rink.

The stadium hosting Cambria's annual police-versus-firefighters hockey game was almost full. Every off-duty police officer in town was guaranteed to be here. Including, hopefully, the two that Ethan had bribed with fake money last night.

Nate wanted to find out who they were, to offer apologies and make restitution
before
they showed up at the Dish again.

While Ethan looked for the cops, Nate scanned the stadium for Glitch and Coin. First responders didn't seem like the right crowd for their recognition-vampire act, but who knew? Maybe the fact that half these guys were carrying guns would be an even bigger turn-on.

Nate wasn't sure what he could do if Glitch skated onto the ice to wield her power on the crowd. Was he strong enough to pull the focus off her? Last night he'd barely kept his own ego together.

“I don't even
like
hockey,” Ethan whined. “You should have sent me to the horror movie with Kelsie.”

Nate didn't bother answering. Ethan's crush was old news, even if he was too chickenshit to tell Kelsie about it.

With another blast of the horn, the puck dropped, and the geometries of the game exploded before Nate.

Sports on TV always bored him. But live was way more interesting, watching the players' attention slice great sizzling arcs across the ice. Nate knew nothing about hockey, but the plays unfolded with a logic that was written in the air.

Maybe he should give being a coach a try someday. It was
big money, and sports always looked good on college applications. They were even a path into politics.

The problem was, you had to actually
play
the stupid game first. And taking orders from some other coach was not Nate's thing.

“You boys enjoying yourselves?” came a voice from behind them.

Nate turned, and found four older men in police blue behind them.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“Who you rooting for?” the man continued.